by Lark Watson
It was not something I let myself dwell on, but small joys were acceptable. They kept life peaceful and full.
As Christmas week drew closer, there seemed to be a heightened level of anticipation. It could be that the decorations were all being pulled out. Or that the landscapers had made a special visit to set up flowing white lights across the front of the house and then lining the courtyard, pathway, and trees by the lake as well.
The sweep of snow that had been promising to fall moved in, blanketing everything and making it look clean like only fresh snow can. The lights sparkled and created (in my imagination) a dance of little fairies. I was glad for my new boots because I did want to walk out in it. It had been a while since I’d been down to the lake, and, as the other houses began setting up their lights as well, the way was shoveled and lit and safe. And so I set out one evening after dinner when the air was still and I was bundled against the cold.
At the gate, I stopped, surprised that I had let my obsession with the little house drift away so easily after the fire. But now, out here at the head of the trail, I couldn’t help but glance its direction, not surprised to see the snowy footprints and lights extended to the cottage as well.
I’d learned in my time here that wealth meant not measuring the usefulness of something that might please you.
And so, as I turned to walk back up to the house I was surprised at the small track of prints that darted from the house and across the path as if a woman not much larger than I had gone for a romp in the cold the night before.
I was tempted to follow prints, see where they went—wondering if it had anything to do with the mysterious lights or the just as mysterious fire—but as I turned to do so, Tower House came alive before my very eyes.
Lights were turned on across the back, lighting up the sloping lawns and courtyard. I watched as one by one the second story bedrooms were lit up in the private wing and wondered whatever could be going one?
Mrs. Fairfax had said they’d have guests, but she’d also said he wasn’t close to his family. Were there people coming to stay?
I walked up the path, annoyed to find the new back gate to the courtyard had been locked and latched. Instead, I had to tromp through the snow around to the front door, since Frank locked the kitchen door at dinner each night.
As I made my way around, the noise of cars being parked and doors slamming reached my ears. At the edge of the house, I saw a collection of men hauling bag after bag from the trunks of long black cars to the house. I made my way through the madness, pulling off my hat and feeling the static rising through my hair as I pushed into the house. Inside, past the glass French doors that lead into the library, a throng of people stood around, sipping whatever drinks Mrs. Fairfax had set out for them as she’d rushed about readying the house.
I turned to head up the stairs, when a voice rose above the rest.
“Really, Thorne.” It was an overly cultured, purposefully purr meant to reach my ears. “You need to train the help to come in the back door. Your maids can’t just flit around the house however they want.”
Mr. Thorneton’s gaze shifted past her to me, the hard stare of it like a slap to the face.
“Don’t worry, Violet. She’s just the nanny. She comes and goes as she pleases.”
He gave his back to me, letting me stand there suffering in the snub as I turned to finish my path to the stairs. As I did, another figure caught my eye.
Micha stood sentry at the bottom of the stairs , watching over the collection of men in black carrying luggage to the guest rooms. He gave me such a look of pity, that I couldn’t stand it. I tipped my nose up as I went by, climbing to the sanctuary of my room.
When I got there, I did the smartest thing I’d done in months.
I closed the shade of my window seat.
Chapter 25
And so it began. A party had come to Tower House.
No matter the warning I could have been given, I would not have guessed Tower House could become the scene of such a lavish and indulgent party. I was accustom to the quiet, staid peace of the small group of us here. While I hadn’t forgotten my initial reaction to the land and the house itself, it had become more like…background noise, not setting.
It was just the place I worked now.
But, the guests themselves were more than willing to make the most of the revelries to be had. To them, you’d think this were a treat beyond all else the way they acted, instead of just a country house escape from the cities they usually toured.
Even below stairs had become busier as Mrs. Fairfax had brought in three girls from town who had worked their events before. Because of the hours and weather, they were sharing a room on my hall. I could hear the giggles at night and complaints in the morning—giving me yet one more way I felt out of step with the rest of the house as the population seemed to explode around me.
Each morning the girls were up and out before I even had to roll over and turn off my alarm. But, I usually timed my trip down to breakfast with when they got a chance to sit down. Apparently, some of the ladies of the house enjoyed breakfast in bed—or breakfast back in bed as Fiona called it.
There were, to say the least, shenanigans afoot.
They especially loved to chat about Violet Ingram…when her own girl wasn’t present. I’d never expected a single woman to travel with a maid as if this were the 1800s, and yet, Ms. Ingram did. She called the poor girl her personal assistant. But maid definitely felt more appropriate from the stories the other girls told.
And, because of that, my drapery of the window overlooking the courtyard stayed firmly shut.
It was something I hadn’t expected to draw comment until the third afternoon when Mr. Thorneton caught me on my way up the front stairs.
“Nanny.” I paused, the typical shiver running up my spine at the thrill of hearing his voice. I’d been missing it as I’d been missing him, though I’d lie about both if asked. “I’ve been meaning to speak to you.”
There was no choice but to turn and come back down the stairs. I was sure I was about to get some grand directive, some order I would only take from him. What other cause would he have to call me back?
It had been hell these three days—him so near but with others. Violet Ingram’s throaty laughter was one that filled the house. It filled my dreams as well. I avoided the front of the house at all costs, but the occasional conversation drifted up from the courtyard where huge heat lamps had been placed to allow everyone to roam inside the shelter of the building.
When I reached the bottom of the stairs, I gained my spine and forced myself to look up at him.
“Yes, sir?”
He’s brows came together as if he was trying not to scowl at me, but then he shook his head, shaking it off.
“Is the party disturbing you, Jane?” He asked this in all seeming sincerity, as if I would complain about anything in this house—especially anything that was specifically his.
“No, of course not.” Because the ways it was disturbing me were far from what he asked.
The noise, the people, it was like being in the city again—the dull chatter of humanity drifting and swaying around one another. I’d missed the bustle and movement. But, disturbed I still was.
I’d managed to not have another viewing of Violet Ingram and her claws—as Mrs. Fairfax had called them—sunk into Mr. Thorneton. His dismissal still stung, and standing here before him now I felt it afresh.
“We’re not keeping you up at night? You’re getting your…beauty rest?” Ah, I see. He was upset with me for something and so the cruelty would now slip out between the kindnesses he let brush by me occasionally.
Or maybe it wasn’t me. Perhaps he was just tired of the company he kept, but could not lash out at any of them. And here I was, his willing target.
I took a step forward down one more step so that we were nearly eye-to-eye, closing the distance between us. And, even perched on the first step, I still had to tilt my head just the bit to be sligh
tly equal with him.
“No, sir.” I kept my gaze steady. He was, as he had been in the beginning, looking for the weakness that would let him run roughshod over me.
“Your rest isn’t being upset? You’re not bothered by the comings and goings of certain people?” He leaned an arm against the banister, bringing him even closer to me.
We were now, as much face to face as two could be and I wished that I could pay him back his snub from when he arrived.
“No, sir. I don’t know why you would think that.”
Of course I’d avoided the guests at all costs, but what was to be expected after the introduction he’d so kindly made through a glass door to my detriment? They were not people who would appreciate a simple, plain nanny among them. I’d be an object for ridicule and laughter. And, even knowing that, I knew my own value was more than that. Perhaps not valued thus in his eyes, but at least in my own.
“Don’t you?” He stared, his gaze hardening.
He was annoyed with me and I didn’t know why. Hadn’t I done everything he’d wished, including stay out of the way of his beautiful new lady? He had dismissed me and so I had stayed absent. I had kept Adelia—who was desperate for a moment of his time—from underfoot. I had even been polite to Micha when he had stepped into the kitchen for a slight reprieve, because who could blame him?
What more could he want from me?
“I couldn’t help but notice your drapes have been pulled since we arrived home.” The ‘we’ shook me to the core.
He was considering the arrival of him and his guests—or some of them—to be coming home. I saw the long, slow slope to the end of this job as it appeared that everyone, including his Ms. Ingram was taken with Tower House and its loveliness and proximity to town.
And then, it dawned on me what he’d actually said. He had noticed my drapes were closed and was accusing me of…something.
“Well, I thought it would feel intrusive if your guests felt as if one of your servants was constantly looking down on them from above.” I too could play the subtle digs game.
Mr. Thorneton, while believing himself in charge of everything and everyone, as well as responsible for them, nearly flinched at the word servant.
“There’s nothing subservient about you. Stop being a martyr and open the damn drapes.”
“I’m happy with them closed. The lights and noise and cold are kept out and I am kept in.”
“There is no need for you to be kept in,” he snapped, his anger beginning to show.
“Ah, but I’m just the nanny.” I used the same dismissive tone he’d used when pointing that out to Ms. Ingram a few nights prior. “There’s no need to pay any attention to me.”
“Jane, stop being stubborn. I’ll not have it.”
“I’m not being stubborn. What right do you have to force your festivities upon me in the sanctuary of my little room? Do you own my free time and my rest as well now? Is there a reason I must live and breathe and die by the noise your guests make?”
He shoved a hand through his hair, obviously out of odds with his own thoughts.
“No, that’s not what I’m saying, but…” he paused, looking away before coming back to me, annoyed and frustrated. “Jane, their presence has stolen some of your joy. I know how you love your little seat and your books. Is it too much to believe that you are sacrificing that pleasure for the fact of guests?”
I could not tell him the full truth. I could not mention that I wished not to see him below with his new lady on his arm or on his walks…or in his rooms. I could only force myself to meet his gaze and say, “No, sir,” and wait as he smoldered at me before sending me on my way with a dismissive nod of his head.
I scurried up the stairs, all but running to my room. I hated this. Hated the house, hated that even now my sanctuary above had been touched by it all.
I closed the door behind me and leaned heavily on it, staring at the window seat and the closed drapes on the far side of the room.
With an annoyed glare, I left the drapes where they were and got ready for bed, crawling into my overstuffed chair instead of my window seat to read for the evening.
Probably the smallest rebellion in history, but still…my rebellion.
Chapter 26
The next morning, I sat through the discussions of the party and the guests and the bitching about Ms. Ingram’s girl and her inability to be either guest or employee.
She—Ms. Ingram’s girl—timed all her meals to sit alone in the kitchen. This small thing was grating on Mrs. Fairfax in a way I couldn’t have foreseen.
At first, I thought it was because it added extra work to Mrs. Fairfax’s day. This, as complaints went, was more than fair. She had a house filled with guests—most of them very needy—and the last thing she needed was to have to make three meals a day accessible to one more person on her own schedule.
But, as I helped her clear the table after lunch one day as Sophie brought Adelia up to change before our classes, Mrs. Fairfax’s tongue got the better of her.
“Can’t help but wonder when herself will be wandering in. As if I don’t have enough to do feeding the extra hands and the guests and running for extras when one of the girls misses a call down. You’d think she was royalty the way she strolls in on whatever schedule she wishes. And,” she took a deep breath before rushing on. “She comes in here like she’s a princess to be waited on by those of us beneath her. As if running this big house year round with only Frank to help is a cuppa tea just sitting out next to my knitting.”
I didn’t have the heart to point out that each evening she really did have a cup of tea and knitting.
Instead, I made a sound of agreement as I stacked plates in the dishwasher.
I let her prattle on, listening to the very clear reminder I needed about the separation of the classes at a place like Tower House.
When the dishes were set and Mrs. Fairfax’s rant had wound down, I headed up to the nursery where Adelia had been consigned during the holidays. To say she was any happier than Mrs. Fairfax would be a bit of a stretch.
As the day wore on I found myself managing more and more of the emotions around me—petulant children, frustrated housekeepers, exhausted maids. I looked forward to the evening that stretched out quietly in front of me. A storm was rolling in and the weatherman had mentioned snow lightning, which I’d never seen in the city. Figuring no one would be outside, I slid into my window seat, book in hand, and waited for the dark clouds to roll our way.
The storm washed in, more quickly than expected. The wall of white felt like it was rushing toward us and as I watched transfixed, I wondered how the other half just drifting out of dinner would deal with being snowed in.
The lightning flashed in the distance, lighting up the white falling from the sky like a spotlight for the moment it was live.
I set my book down and settled in for the show. It was just a moment before there was a knock at my door. I shifted toward it, surprised by the solid sound telling me it was not Adelia who was just beginning to understand the process of knocking and was the reason my door now had a lock.
“Who is it?” I asked, afraid to open it to one of the strangers from below.
“It’s Fiona, miss.” I pushed the blanket off my lap, leaving it curled in its warm ball where I wished I was and went to unlock my door.
“Fiona, what’s wrong?” I was already going back for my shoes to help with whatever brought her to my door.
“Nothing.” She glanced around my room, taking it all in. “Ooohh. This is nice. You have a bath and everything.”
Her momentary sidetrack into my accommodations stopped me in motion. Fiona was too levelheaded to admire a bedroom if the house was burning down.
She came in, running a hand over my comforter then shifting to look at my bookshelf. “You have it good here. I wish they’d take me on full time. I’d stop worrying so much then.”
I glanced her way. I hadn’t know Fiona well enough to know what she worried about
, but who didn’t have worries? Besides the people downstairs. Their worries were things I couldn’t understand.
I stood there, near the door, wishing for my quiet again but not wanting to be rude if she’d come to be friendly. There was nothing wrong with being friendly with someone if they were genuine, I supposed. But, the number of people in the house was exhausting me just by their presence. I found myself battling to stay invisible as they spilled over their half of the house and into hallways and foyers and private spaces.
“It’s nice. I like the privacy up here.” I looked around, appreciating my little world again.
“Oh, sorry.” She moved back toward the door.
“No, no. Not you.” I laughed, because honestly the extra girls were so easy to be around. It had been a long time since I’d enjoyed other people. Maybe it was knowing they weren’t here to stay.
Of course, the guests weren’t here to stay and I definitely didn’t like them being around.
“I meant Adelia.” I lowered my voice. “You wouldn’t believe how many parents put you in the room with the kids. Like, you go on their trip with them and they’re staying in some luxury suite and you’re in a room with three kids and two beds. I like that I have my own space.”
“Oh,” she looked so relieved I almost laughed again. I wasn’t used to be someone who people didn’t want to offend. “Well, sadly, I’m not here to hangout.”
Oh, is right. I had no interest in working tonight. I couldn’t imagine what Mrs. Fairfax could want me for that one of the girls couldn’t do, but I’d told her if there was an emergency, I’d pitch in. I didn’t want to create a habit of doing extra work, but the hours, pay, and kindness here would definitely allow it on occasion.
“Let me get my shoes. Is there something wrong, or is she just fretting again?” I asked as I opened the closet to pull on my shoes and grab a sweater.