My Arrival
I stood in front of Whitefield Hall staring at the impressive, white-stoned residence. A long pebbled walkway bordered with green boxwood hedges lined the path to the front door. The landscape was impeccable. Every blade of grass appeared to stand at attention, and there was not a stray leaf anywhere in sight. I reveled in the quiet countryside. Compared to London, it was heavenly. The fresh air filled my lungs, and the sound of songbirds serenaded the atmosphere. Perhaps I had been too hasty in judging the north.
The footmen busied themselves unloading my trunk from the back of the carriage. As needed, I spent nearly my entire savings updating my wardrobe. Nevertheless, the investment would soon be recouped with an ample pay of fifty pounds per annum.
Before I had the time to knock, the front door swung open. A tall, lanky man with a partially baldhead greeted me with a smile.
“Miss Gleadhell, I presume. My name is Mr. Grove, and I am Lord Beaumont’s butler here at Whitefield Hall,” he announced with pride.
“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance,” I replied, nodding my head.
“I have been instructed to show you straightaway to your room. During afternoon tea, Lady Beaumont will receive you but not before then,” he declared.
“Thank you. I am quite tired from a long journey. A short rest would be most welcome.”
“Follow me,” he said, walking toward the staircase. “You have been given a comfortable room in the east wing overlooking the front gardens.”
Mr. Grove led me up the grand staircase to the second floor and afterward made an abrupt turn to the left toward the end of the hallway. He held the door open for me, allowing my entrance first. The accommodations were far beyond my expectations, surpassing my last position. Of course, I entered into the world of aristocracy and not that of a clergyman, as Lord Beaumont so pointedly stated.
“I trust your accommodations are agreeable?” Mr. Grove asked.
“More than agreeable.” I glanced around the room with pleasure.
“The room has an adjoining bath chamber, and Francis, the maid, will help you with anything you need.”
“What time is tea? I don’t wish to be late meeting Lady Beaumont,” I asked, eager to make a good impression.
“Quite wise,” he said. “Punctuality is something her ladyship takes seriously. Tea is at three o’clock.”
A moment later, the footmen arrived hauling my trunk. Out of breath, they placed it at the foot of the bed.
“Well, I shall leave you to unpack. Tea is served in the sitting room off to the left of the front entrance.” Mr. Grove departed with the footmen and closed the door softly behind him.
I stood for a moment surveying the surroundings, thinking I would be comfortable. They placed me at the end of the wing, which afforded a front window view to the west and one to the north. Drawn to the sight, I walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. The manicured landscape appeared even more perfect from up above. The panoramic countryside with its tall trees and rolling landscape brought a sense of peace.
Unable to control myself, I unlatched the lock on the pane and pushed open the window. A slight breeze brushed across my face, bringing fresh air to my nostrils. It was a welcomed replacement to the unpleasant, lingering smells of London. Of course, I knew the weather in northern England was often gray and rainy, but today there was not a cloud in the sky. Perhaps it was a sign my new job would be one of pleasure.
After a few minutes of taking in the scenery and fresh air, I turned around and surveyed my accommodations further. A canopy bed with lace topping sat in the middle of the room covered with an ivory spread and pillows. The interior walls were wallpapered with a delicate rose pattern, light in color and not overwhelming. A small sitting area with a writing desk and chair sat to the right of the bed. The vanity and armoire were on the left along with a door to a private bath chamber with a claw-foot tub.
The trunk caught my attention, reminding me it was filled to the brim with clothing wrinkled from the trip. I turned my attention the next hour to the task of unpacking, being mindful of the time. A clock on the fireplace mantel chimed the hour of one o’clock, giving me the opportunity to organize my belongings and freshen up before my introduction to Lady Beaumont.
Rather than feeling apprehensive over the meeting, the calming atmosphere put me at ease. Even though two others had come and gone before my arrival, I hoped my position would remain agreeable for some time. Regardless of the reasons for the departure of the other companions, I was determined to succeed. Being the next to leave in a long line of failures was not an option.
* * * *
“Your ladyship,” Mr. Grove announced. “Miss Gleadhell.”
I stood posture perfect at the threshold of the drawing room, keeping my presentation with dignity and a neutral countenance. While I waited for a greeting, my mind focused on making a first good impression. In fact, I was so intent on doing so, I could barely observe anything regarding Lady Beaumont, who sat a few feet away.
“Please come in, Miss Gleadhell,” she said. Her head tilted sideways as her eyes traveled from the top of my head to the pointed tips of my shoes, which peeked out from underneath my skirt. “Welcome to Whitefield Hall.” Her ladyship had the same monotone, dull voice as her son’s, sounding cold and detached.
“It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Beaumont.” I took a step forward and curtsied. I expected an elderly woman with gray hair and a frail body. However, to my surprise, Lady Beaumont appeared nothing as I imagined. Her brown hair appeared lighter than her son’s and slightly graying at the temples. After observing Lord Beaumont’s pale complexion and that of his mother’s, I was convinced the sun rarely shined in northern England. Either that or they never left the house to enjoy it when it emerged from behind a cloud. Before I could make any further scrutiny, her ladyship spoke.
“Now let me take a look at you,” she said, wiggling her finger at me standing a few feet away. “Turn around and let me observe you, Miss Gleadhell.”
With my spine straight as an arrow, I slowly rotated, giving Lady Beaumont ample time to inspect my physical qualities. When I had come full circle and stopped, I raised a faint but proud smile at the corner of my lips.
“You are quite pretty, my dear. I am afraid men will relentlessly pursue you during our outings. Nevertheless, every woman needs a little male attention now and then, don’t you agree?”
Male attention had not been one of my previous experiences. “Yes, your ladyship, I suppose a woman does. However, I have no personal knowledge of the matter.”
“You may sit down in the green wing-backed chair.” Lady Beaumont nodded to a seat a few feet from the settee upon which she sat. “Pour me a cup of tea,” she firmly requested, “and one for yourself.”
A lily-patterned china teapot sat upon a silver tray with two matching teacups nearby. I leaned forward, placed the strainer over the cup, and poured the brew. “Do you take it with milk or sugar, your ladyship?”
“I take it with neither. A good cup of tea should not be watered down or sweetened to such an extent it loses its taste. It masks the very essence of the brew, don’t you agree?”
Making sure to forgo milk and sugar, I handed the teacup to her and poured another for myself. Plainly, her comment was a test to see if I agreed with her opinion. It mattered not because I usually took a slight spot of milk. From this day forward, however, I would drink it as my new mistress preferred. Perhaps my agreeableness in this small matter would set the stage for acceptance.
“You are quite right,” I replied. “Good English tea should not be altered but enjoyed as nature intended.”
Her ladyship took a sip while keeping her brown eyes upon my movements. “Well now, from what I gather from my son, you made quite an impression on him, being the first to arrive for an interview.”
Quite an impression? I found her announcement surprising. “You are correct. I am afraid, though, in my zealousness to apply, I came
a few minutes before the hour of ten o’clock.”
“So what do you think of my son?” she asked, changing the subject.
The question caught me off guard. I had not spent enough time with him to form an opinion other than his rudeness when a lady entered the room. As I pondered how to answer, Lady Beaumont’s lips tightened into a straight line, indicating a distinct lack of patience over my pause.
“I am afraid I had no time to form an appraisal of his personality. The interview took a few minutes, and he appeared anxious to attend to other business.” Her ladyship lifted a single brow over her right eye. Reacting to what I surmised was her displeasure, I swiftly embellished the statement. “However, I can report he was respectful and attentive.”
“Ha!” she blurted. “Respectful, yes. Attentive, no.” She drew in a breath and spewed her displeasure. “You need not make excuses for him—ever.”
Astonished that she caught me in a lie so fast, I admitted the truth. “You are correct,” I said, lowering my head in embarrassment. “Attentiveness lacked during our short meeting, especially upon instruction.” I honestly wanted to add his respectfulness lacked, as well, but held my tongue.
Lady Beaumont gazed at me and took another sip of tea while I continued to remain in constant eye contact.
“Tell me about your last position. From what I have been told, it was in a clergyman’s home,” her ladyship inquired.
Her tone sounded as demeaning as the baron’s remark. For the past three years, I resided in a caring home with an incredible woman who I had grown to love. However, something in my heart told me that this companionship would be far different.
“Yes, the bishop’s mother was in her early eighties, but physically spry and mentally astute in spite of her age. With his busy schedule overseeing the diocese, his ability to be a companion to his mother suffered.”
“It sounds as if you were more of a nursemaid than a companion.” Her tone sounded rudely sarcastic. “Obviously, I do not need nursing.”
“Pardon me for asking, but what do you need, your ladyship?” I knew my audaciousness might get me in trouble. Nevertheless, I found the Beaumont attitudes about clergymen bothersome.
“Well, you get right to the point,” she said. “I like a girl with gumption.” She emptied her teacup and set it down on the table.
“Would you like some more tea?” I asked.
“Perhaps later,” she said. “I will be honest with you, Miss Gleadhell. My son seems to think I need a companion, but I vehemently disagree with his assessment.”
I began making mental notes of each statement, the first being unwanted. “If you don’t mind me asking, do you feel lonely when he is not here? I am assuming there are no other family members present.”
“My son is not married and is my only child,” she said with a disappointed tone.
I could not help but wonder why she had not borne more children, but felt it not my place to ask such a delicate question. Rationally I attributed the matter to some medical inability to conceive.
“Of course, I am widowed,” her ladyship added, showing no sadness. “I enjoy entertaining friends with afternoon tea, hosting soirées, and occasionally enjoying a night out in Manchester attending the theater or whatever else suits my fancy.”
“And when you are not, what do you do to pass your time?” I thought it a logical question since the countryside must be quiet and lacking engaging pursuits.
“Read. We have an ample library.” Her ladyship answered with little enthusiasm.
If that was her only pastime, surely Lady Beaumont had to be bored and unchallenged.
“Dudley enumerated a long list of accomplishments in his advertisement, and it appears you fill them all. I am impressed.”
Her statement pulled me out of my pondering state. “Dudley?” I asked, scrunching my brow over the surprising informality.
“My son, of course,” her ladyship replied.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware of his given name.”
“Dudley Horatio Andrew Beaumont,” she recited with pride. “You must address him as Lord Beaumont at all times. I do not tolerate familiarity where my son is concerned.”
By the strict tone of her voice, I understood she would be displeased if I became too familiar—not that I desired such closeness. “Of course,” I replied, slightly offended she insinuated I did not know the protocol.
“As for myself,” her ladyship continued, “I will make an exception and allow you to address me privately as Lady Catherine. However, at social functions I do not permit such forwardness. You will address me as Lady Beaumont when in the company of others.”
After been schooled again in preferences, I took note in my mind of the growing list of expectations. Black tea, Lord Beaumont, Lady Catherine. Something told me the list would soon grow to be a long one.
“Back to your accomplishments. Apparently you are artistic, do needlework, dance, sing, and play the pianoforte. What finishing school did you attend?”
“Thornsbury Academy in London.” The school was not as prestigious as others were in the city. Nevertheless, it adequately prepared me as a young lady.
“I have never heard of it,” she swiftly replied. “And what of your parents, are they alive?”
I lowered my eyes to the remaining tepid tea in my cup while I recounted the sad fact. “They passed away a few years ago during the typhus epidemic in London. My father was an executive at the National Provincial Bank.”
“Oh, dear, how dreadful. My condolences, Miss Gleadhell.” Lady Beaumont sounded empathetic. “Well, it is a good thing, I imagine, for you to procure a position in our home.”
“Indeed, it is,” I replied with a modest smile.
“Have you no siblings?”
“I do. An elder brother, but he is in the Queen’s service in India.”
“And inherited whatever your father left him, leaving you penniless,” she said. “Dreadful laws that keep young ladies like yourself seekers of husbands or bound in service. Of course, there are a few fortunate women, like you, who are companions in a respectable estate.”
“It is the way of things,” I replied. Nothing would change in my lifetime, so I never pined over my situation. Being a lady’s companion appeared easier than trying to seek a husband. The thought of impressing a male suitor brought distinct discomfort to my soul. I could never consort with the opposite sex, so I possessed no reference to convince me that I missed anything spectacular.
“Well, I think I have a good idea of your talents and background, Miss Gleadhell. I warn you, however, that I am not the type of individual who readily attaches oneself to strangers. You will need to earn my respect and friendship.”
“I fully understand,” I said. Honestly, I held the same sentiments about my new employer, whose plummy voice I found irksome.
“I have employed two others as I’m sure my son has told you,” her ladyship said.
“Yes, he mentioned it.” My curiosity for the reason behind their departure heightened.
“Frankly, he is as responsible for their departure as I am,” she divulged.
Lady Beaumont’s cheeks flushed, and she brushed away a wrinkle in her skirt. Apparently, her confession heightened some hidden emotion, and I questioned the secret behind her snide remark. Speechless, I merely replied, “Oh.”
“Good. Then you comprehend where your position lies in regard to your predecessors who have come and gone.”
Lady Beaumont rose to her feet, and I followed.
“Come with me, and I’ll show you around the house and grounds. Afterward, I will introduce you to the staff, but I forbid any consorting with the servants. You are not their equal, so do not lower your standards while in my house,” she instructed. “They live downstairs, and you possess a different station.”
“As you wish,” I said, surprised over her newest edict but adding it to the growing list of dos and don’ts. Her ladyship demarcated my status, but I worried about isolation. In the pa
st, no such lines existed between being a companion and the household staff. Of course, I had to remind myself that I no longer served in a clergyman’s home but one of an aristocrat. The atmosphere, in which I now resided, had dramatically altered. One thing had been made clear to me—my new situation would be an adjustment.
The Baron’s Return
After the end of my first week, I began to wonder what I had gotten myself into as Lady Catherine’s companion. Even though we spent a considerable amount of time together, I felt little endearment, if any, toward my employer. Her personality was cold and detached, giving me a glimpse into why others departed before my arrival. Nevertheless, to my utter surprise, on the surface it appeared she enjoyed my company.
To make sure my qualifications were true as reported, her ladyship tested me thoroughly in each area of my skills. I could draw landscapes and buildings proficiently, but did not do well with portraits, which she did not seem to mind. My first attempt to sketch Whitefield Hall from the end of the pebbled walkway impressed Lady Beaumont. I kept the scene precisely as it presented itself that day, with dark clouds of a brewing storm in the distance. As I finished the drawing, the heavens opened in a deluge of rain, causing me to sprint to the door with my sketchbook tucked under my arm.
In the evening, I sang and played the pianoforte. After my first recital, Lady Catherine praised my skills, esteeming them as far exceeding those of my predecessors. Even though I had yet to display my social skills amongst the Beaumont’s acquaintances, I hoped to do so in forthcoming gatherings.
On gloomy days of rain and gray clouds, I worked on needlepoint projects. Lady Catherine despised needlepoint as a pastime but thought it relaxing to enjoy the sight of another woman toiling over a new creation. Regardless of Lady Beaumont’s sentiments, I loved needlepoint as a leisure activity rather than reading.
By the seventh day, I settled into a mundane routine. In spite of my newly formed opinions regarding Lady Catherine, I kept a thankful heart for employment. It provided me a safe and comfortable place to reside. Whatever slight uneasiness I experienced in settling in as a valued companion, my thoughts remained hopeful for a bright future. Positions would come and go in my lifetime, and no situation ever needed to be permanent.
Whitefield Hall: Novella Page 2
