by Abby Ayles
Edmund moved through his home fluently, knowing the corridors like the back of his hand. Better, perhaps, having lived there since the day he was born in an upstairs room.
Much of the estate was tied in painful memories of his mother and father, but all the same, this was where he would stay. It was his birth right, and his heritage.
This home had belonged to the Hardwickes since they took the seat of the Earl of Kelt some centuries before. He was not going to be the first to abandon it.
He slowed his pace as he approached the schoolroom, favouring silence and caution above speed. He waited until he could see into the room, through a small gap where the door had been left ajar, and paused there.
He had to know whether his brother and sisters were receiving the education they required. And if this new Miss Warrick were to raise her voice at them or mark the back of their hands with a ruler, well, she would hear from him about it.
“That’s beautiful work, Miss Patience,” he heard Miss Warrick saying.
Edmund leaned forward a little, and he could see Patience bending her head over some needlework. She was resting the hoop on her knees, and he could not see the design. Miss Warrick stood behind her, looking over her shoulder.
“Perhaps you could try a more complex stitch for the roses. Some French knots, perhaps, with couched threads to form the lines,” Miss Warrick continued.
Patience twisted her face. “I dislike French knots. They always twist on the needle and get too tight, and I get a knot in my thread that pulls right through the fabric.”
“Show me now,” Miss Warrick said, tolerantly.
Edmund and she both watched as Patience drew the thread against her finger, spun it around the needle three times, and then attempted to push it back through the fabric.
“Ah, there,” Miss Warrick said, reaching out to guide her fingers. “Keep some pressure on the thread, so it will stay in place. You see? Now draw it through…. Yes, like that… Very well done.”
Edmund smiled at the self-satisfied look on his sister’s face, but then swallowed it. So, the woman had managed to teach her a single stitch; it was hardly a grand accomplishment.
Whether the lesson would hold was another thing entirely again. He watched still, shifting his weight until he could just make out Amy’s small form through the slightest space between the wall and the door.
“How are you doing with your writing, Miss Amy? Let me see,” Miss Warrick said, leaning over the second girl now.
“Oh! That’s very pretty indeed. But perhaps you might draw me some flowers during our art classes, little one. You must focus on your writing today.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Warrick,” Amy said, and she sounded so plaintive that it made Edmund’s blood rush for a moment.
Surely, she was not afraid of the woman! Had she shouted at her, or punished her in some way?
“That’s alright,” Miss Warrick said. Her voice was kind and soft, and Edmund caught a glimpse of her smoothing down Amy’s hair affectionately. “Now, do you remember what to write?”
Edmund puzzled over it. She sounded gentle now, and did not remonstrate with the child.
Perhaps she had changed her demeanour – perhaps even heard a sound of someone stepping outside.
Had he not been careful enough? But no, there was no indication that Miss Warrick had heard him at all.
“Is Edmund home today?” Samuel piped up. Edmund shifted his position, but from where he stood in the hall, he could not see his little brother, try as he might.
“Why, yes, I believe Lord Kelt is working in his office here today,” Miss Warrick said.
“Can I go watch him?”
Edmund smiled to himself. Samuel was turning into a nuisance. He always wanted to watch his big brother work. For a short while, when they were between governesses, he had even allowed it.
But it was no good; the boy asked thousands of questions, so much so that Edmund had not been able to get anything done at all.
“No, no,” Miss Warrick laughed. “You’ll have to keep at your lessons. Your brother won’t be too pleased if I let you escape me.”
“I’ll take my books,” Samuel tried.
“I’m afraid the answer is no,” Miss Warrick said. “You will see him at dinner. The harder you study, the quicker the time will pass. I should bury my nose in that book if I were you.”
“I like it here better anyway,” Amy said, her voice still so child-like compared to that of her older siblings. “Miss Warrick’s so nice and pretty.”
Miss Warrick laughed again, heartily this time. “Oh, Miss Amy, aren’t you the sweetest thing,” she said. “But you can’t get around me that way. Come, let me see your script… oh, that is well-written.”
“How do you think I should sew this part?” Patience asked. She sounded strangely shy, not at all like the strident young lady she normally was.
It took Edmund a long moment to realise that she was probably quite unused to asking for help. He had never heard her say such a thing, not to all the governesses whom he had employed.
“Let me see now… Ah, yes. Why don’t you take this part, like so…”
Edmund shifted his feet and watched Miss Warrick sew deftly, having taken the embroidery hoop from Patience’s hands. Her eyes were narrowed in concentration, and she quickly handed the hoop back, pointing out some technical details for Patience’s benefit.
Edmund waited in the corridor, a frown settling deeper on his face as time wore on. There was nothing he had heard that lay any fault at Miss Warrick’s door.
No, she was all but the perfect governess: kind, patient, measured, and graceful. She used the same light deftness to correct a mistake as to deflect the children’s attempts to leave their books behind and play, or seek Edmund out in his office.
In fact, there was nothing he could reproach in her at all.
It was quite dissatisfying.
The grandfather clock in the main hall chimed, and Edmund quickly straightened up. He had quite lost track of time, listening to the children at their lessons.
Normally it would take him only a short while to form an assessment of a new governess, but he had been lulled into a relaxed state by Miss Warrick’s calm and gentle voice.
She had attentively moved between the three children, despite the differences in their lessons and their development.
Now, to his alarm, he realised he had quite overstayed his intentions. The chime was a signal of the end of lessons, which meant –
The door to the schoolroom burst fully open, and Samuel nearly ran head-on into him.
“Edmund!” he exclaimed. “Why are you standing outside?”
“I’m… not standing,” Edmund said, keeping his eyes on Samuel so that he would not have to look up at Miss Warrick.
“I was walking over to fetch you for dinner. I didn’t know if your new governess had been told about the significance of the chime.”
“We stopped for dinner yesterday,” Samuel pointed out.
“Ah, yes,” Edmund said. “Right. Well, come along, Amy and Patience. I’m sure Jenkins is ready to serve.”
He looked up and noticed Miss Warrick lingering by the doorframe, watching them.
“They were well-behaved, I trust?” Edmund asked, though he knew the answer for himself.
“Little angels,” Miss Warrick replied, smiling and tidying away a rogue strand of curls on Amy’s head.
“Wonderful,” Edmund said, hesitating. The way she stood there – did she think he would invite her to dine with them? He had made things clear the evening before.
She made no move to follow them, however, and after a moment he supposed that he was perhaps putting a meaning onto her actions that was not really there.
He took Amy’s hand, nodded to Miss Warrick, and led Samuel away towards the main hall. Patience followed, brushing her long hair back over her shoulder with a careless grace.
After changing quickly to clothing more suitable for dining, Edmund sat at his tab
le, watching his siblings attack their evening meal.
“So, are you enjoying your lessons?” he asked, trying not to sound too concerned.
“I love Miss Warrick,” Amy said, grinning and popping a pea into her mouth with her hands. “She’s really nice. And she drew me a horsey.”
“It’s called a horse, Amy,” Patience said, sounding bored.
“Leave her be,” Edmund chided. “And what of you, Patience? Do you like your new governess?”
“She’s satisfactory,” Patience said.
Edmund was taken aback. That was high praise, indeed. “Sammy?”
“I think she’s really clever,” Samuel said, furrowing his brow seriously. “She knows things.”
“A good trait for a governess, I have to admit,” Edmund said, amused. “So, you’d like to keep her.”
“Yes, please!” Amy shouted, making Samuel jump in his chair and Edmund laugh.
“Don’t shout!” Patience scolded her.
“Alright, everyone, that’s enough,” Edmund chuckled. “We’ll keep her. For now, at least. Now, you be sure to tell me if you feel that something changes.”
“Edmund, when is Christopher coming home?” Patience asked, changing the subject abruptly.
Edmund sighed, and put down his fork. He did not relish the idea of talking about Christopher. His closest brother in age, but perhaps the least in maturity.
Even Samuel had his moments of wisdom and insight, between his childish play. Christopher was in his own world, and wherever it was, it was not where he was meant to be.
“I’m not sure,” Edmund admitted. “I have heard from our friend, the Captain, that he did indeed enlist as he was supposed to. This time. They have him in training to be an officer. I expect he will be allowed to return home once he has completed his training.”
“Is it dangerous?” Amy asked, her little round face transforming into a worried pout.
“I’m sure he is in no danger,” Edmund told her. Privately he added to himself, not from the army at least. It was what Christopher got up to in his spare time that worried him the most.
The lad had always seemed right on the verge of causing a scandal. Edmund had supposed it might be better when he was enlisted securely, but with him away from home and no way to keep track of his actions, it somehow seemed even worse.
“Will he bring some friends back with him when he comes?” Patience asked.
Edmund threw her a sharp glance. What interest of hers was it if Christopher should bring home some soldiers? That did not sit well with him at all.
“I should hope not,” he said. “Though, as you know, Christopher does as Christopher wishes. It’s possible that he shall bring some fellow officers on leave.
“But if he does, I will stress this: you are absolutely not, under any circumstances, to fraternise with them. You will keep to your studies.”
Patience looked upset, but she said nothing. She was becoming shrewd, that girl.
Edmund knew he was going to have to watch her closely. A failure to argue with him today likely meant a disobedience tomorrow.
“Off to bed, all of you,” Edmund said, waving his hand since it was clear that they had all finished eating. “You have lessons in the morning, and I’m to London. We all need our rest.”
He retired to his own chambers, pausing as he passed the short walk to the servants’ quarters.
This new governess might be suitable, after all. He was just going to have to watch her closely to make sure of it.
Chapter 5
Joanna began to adjust to her new life. It was not so difficult as she had feared, largely because of the fact that the children made her feel welcome.
Even if Patience would rather be anywhere else, and often made that known, Joanna felt that she was warming to her.
The idea that she might guide them through life had slowly begun to excite her. It gave her a purpose, a reason to strive every day.
And if the adjustment from lady to servant was harsh, it was softened many times over by the intervening months since the collapse of her family’s fortunes, which had seen her sleeping in homes that were far less comfortable.
“Now, let’s practice again, starting from the beginning,” Joanna said, stretching out her arms to Patience.
She was teaching her a new dance, so that perhaps she would be able to enjoy dancing with a young gentleman at a ball in the near future.
At least, if Edmund should allow her to attend one.
“Have you ever danced with a man?” Patience asked, her eyes dreamy as she repeated the steps she had been taught.
Joanna knew that look well. She had seen it in her sister’s eyes when she, too, was preparing for her first ball.
“Yes,” Joanna admitted.
They both had: and it had been magical. Esther, her older sister by one year, had fallen head over heels for the son of a baron at that very first ball. Fortunate for her, as it turned out.
They had already married by the time Lord Warrick had lost the family fortune, and so she was protected by her husband from the worst of it.
“What was it like?” Patience asked.
“Oh,” Joanna gave her a half-smile. “It was nice. Not so magical as I was led to believe. But then, I have never danced with a young man that I was falling in love with. I hear that is something quite else.”
“From who?” Patience asked, spinning in place. “And where did you dance with them?”
“At a ball, of course,” Joanna said.
She wished there was some way to change the subject away from her happier times. It was inevitable, really.
The girl was dreaming of life beyond the gates of the Hardwicke estate. Such things were natural.
“And my sister told me all about it. She’s already married.”
“Married!” Patience exclaimed. “How wonderful that must be.”
“I’m certain she is very happy,” Joanna said.
“But why were you at a ball?” Samuel asked, frowning from his seat in the corner.
“She used to be rich,” Patience said, gracefully slipping behind Joanna and around her to complete the final steps of the dance. “Don’t you ever remember anything?”
“Pay attention to your books, please, Samuel,” Joanna said. She was grateful to at least have some way to divert the subject.
“So, you didn’t fall in love with anyone?” Patience asked, standing and waiting now that she was done.
Joanna sighed. So much for a new topic. “No,” she admitted. “But I am glad.”
“Why?” asked Amy. She was supposed to be practicing her alphabet.
“Because if she had fallen in love, she would not be able to marry him now,” Patience said slyly. “Not now her family is ruined.”
“Enough dancing for today,” Joanna said, feeling harried. “Miss Patience, fetch your French book. I want to hear a translation of chapter five when the clock chimes three.”
Patience groaned, but went to sit with her book.
Joanna went to the blackboard and began cleaning off the morning’s lessons as an excuse to keep her back to the children while she composed herself.
It was hard, truly. She would need to strengthen herself against these kinds of conversations.
The truth of it was that all that was gone, forever gone, and the sooner she accepted it, the better it would be.
She would have to train first Patience and then, if Edmund allowed her to stay long enough, Amy in the rules of deportment.
She would help them find their own suitors, and then husbands, and perhaps even serve as a governess to their children one day if she was fortunate.
Marriage, and children of her own, were out of her reach now.
Joanna breathed deeply, wiping the chalk dust from her hands onto the front of her gown, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment to gather herself. Then she turned back and walked over to Samuel’s seat to see his progress.
“How are you doing with your world map?” Joan
na asked.
Samuel sighed. “I’m almost done.”
“What’s the matter?” Joanna asked, crouching down in front of his table.
The boy had a miserable expression, and he was resting his head on his hand, idly moving a pencil as if by automation.
Samuel cast an eye towards the window of the schoolroom, which looked out onto a vast grassy area to the side of the house. “I want to go outside.”