by Lark Watson
Chapter 35
The next morning, all was quiet in the house.
The hustle and bustle of packing the guests and sending them on their way, had turned into a gaily relieved party at the end of the previous day—leaving the girls and I all lulling about in our beds past our typical rising time.
As they stripped the guest rooms and began to put things to rights, I dealt with Adelia and her very annoyed mood. Her Mr. Thorne had left—with just a short goodbye in her room—and did not know when he was to return. She was not pleased to say the least and everyone was feeling her wrath because of it.
Sophie said that she heard the girl up in her room most of the night, but let her putter around in her sulk, hoping she’d wear herself out.
Apparently, she did not.
Instead, it was decided—against her wishes—that her morning lesson would instead be a nap. You would think the little diva would enjoy the break from the typical lessons, but more change was not what she wished for.
Of course, all the adults longed for a nap instead of their own chores.
At lunch I went down to join Mrs. Fairfax in the kitchen and enjoy my meal without my charge or being called to deal with a guest or other interruption. To my surprise, Fiona was still there.
“Hey.” She gave me a smile and handed over a plate as Mrs. Fairfax served out the day’s meal. “I’m on until the house is back to normal. A few more days till it passes The General’s inspection.”
Mrs. Fairfax smacked her with an oven mitt, a type of affection I’d noticed between the two before. The banter was more relaxed without the other girls present. The trust level was higher between the women and obviously they brought me to at least a higher tier than the girls who had gone home, bringing what could only be local gossip with them.
As we ate, that same gossip was rehashed and the fortnight. I tried not to think of the long days ahead with just the regular household in attendance. I’d never been one to be bothered by the holidays before, by the loneliness some felt because of a lack of family. But now, here surrounded by people who seemed to have some caring for me, I began to feel it – a loneliness that signaled only that Mr. Thorneton was absent.
We sat after finishing our meal, enjoying our tea a bit longer than normal, just relaxing.
“Mail for you.” Frank came in dropping a bulky envelope in front of me and kept moving, hanging up his jacket and heading down to his basement.
I stared at the package while Mrs. Fairfax flipped through the rest of the delivery, setting things aside or opening them as she did.
“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” Fiona asked.
“I’ve never gotten a letter before.” I thought back and even my taxes from the agency were picked up at the office.
“You’re kidding me.” Fiona seemed even more intrigued now.
“No.” I finally lifted the package and examined it. It came from the secondary agency that placed me here.
But, when I opened it, there was no letter, only another envelope. This one from my standard agency. When I opened it there was yet another envelope forwarded inside.
“It’s like those Swedish doll things,” Fiona pointed out as she watched.
Inside, one more envelope sat, directed to me via the agency, from a law firm I’d never heard of before. Of course, I’d never heard of any of them that didn’t have a tacky commercial on TV, so there was that.
“Well?” Fiona prompted and I realized that I was stuck opening the news in front of everyone.
When I slit the top of it open, a short, official looking page fell out, again addressed to me so there could be no mistaking its destination.
“Well?” Fiona asked again.
I scanned the letter and saw things I’d only heard on crime shows and in suspense novels.
“It’s about abuse, neglect and wrongful death suits from a private house I was in.”
“Oh no!” Fiona scooted around to sit next to me. “You’re being sued. Can they sue nannies?”
“No, I’m not being sued.“ I scanned the letter. “It’s from about a house I lived in when I was younger. They want me to come in and give a deposition because they’re preparing a case against the owners.”
“Wait, you lived in a private house?”
“Yes. I’m an orphan,” I explained as reread the letter again.
It was, if nothing else, a small bit of justice for Michelle if the owners were brought up on charges. For her, I couldn’t ignore this request. We had all had difficulties in the home but this was the one thing that would have me cooperating.
“You’re an orphan?”
It struck me as odd that that’s what Fiona latched on to. “I can’t imagine. I feel like I can’t pee in a public restroom without running into a Donahue or O’Sullivan. Jaysus. That would be a treat to go somewhere alone.”
I glanced up as her slight brogue came out again.
“I mean, you know, not the orphan part though.”
I gave her a reassuring smile. “I know.”
“Well, dear. When do they expect you in?” Mrs. Fairfax had set her letters aside to listen to the two of us.
“They set the date for this Monday.”
“Pfft.” Mrs. Fairfax rose and brought the dishes to the sink. “Leave it to a rich lawyer to assume he could just call you in two days before Christmas. We’ve got to get you to the train early. I’ll have them put a room for you in the house in town and you can come back the next morning.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought of all the travel and cost. “I can’t take up space at the other house. I’m sure they're dealing with the holidays also.”
“Same as us,” she said dismissively. “Empty ‘cept the staff. I’ll call Mary, she’ll have a room for you.”
I closed the letter and started making plans of what would need to be done.
“Frank!” She shouted down the stairs. “Frank, you’ll be taking Jane to the train day after tomorrow.”
We waited for a response, when none came Mrs. Fairfax went back to her shouting.
“Frank?”
“I heard ya. No need to shout.”
I watched as Mrs. Fairfax slammed the door muttering under her breath and considered what this would mean.
I hadn’t left the small village since my arrival and hadn’t even thought to. The idea of going back to the bustle of town seemed draining, but perhaps was a good test as Mr. Thorneton had hinted that might be my not too distant future.
I rose, ignoring the continued banter of my peers, and headed to my room, figuring I’d take my unexpected afternoon to sort through my thoughts and prepare.
Michelle’s death had been a tragedy I’d tried to avert, but as a teen, and a small, typically ignored one at that, there had been little I could do. I could care—and I had. With the caring had come the caring for. And, when she had died, it had been a hard lesson to me that no matter the path you try to pull someone onto, they’ll walk their own.
I packed my small bag for overnight, bringing along the same skirt and cardigan I’d worn the second night I’d been called to sit with the guests, and set them by my door, ready for the trip.
To hear Fiona speak of it, it was an adventure in the making. She had thought it would be great fun for us to go together, but the idea of keeping Fiona amused as I worried about not only the deposition, but the overnight stay in another of Mr. Thorneton’s homes ate at me far too much to entertain the idea.
My one consolation—or perhaps disappointment—was that Mr. Thorneton would not be in residence. Mrs. Fairfax had been clear and checked to be certain that the house was empty beyond the staff. She said I would be quite comfortable and welcomed by Mary—Mrs. Mansfield—and to worry not a whit about it.
I tucked away a notebook to capture my thoughts and memories on the train ride there as well as a book. The couple hours each way would be a vacation of sorts for me. As I wasn’t the one on trial, I was sure the deposition would be emotionally draining, but hopefully
not frightening.
The next morning, I bundled up and conveyed my borrowed carryall down to the front hall to wait for Frank.
The ride to the station was—of course—silent, but that was okay. I was already inside my mind remembering everything about my years at Brookfield. The lack of rooms and the guardians’ disregard for safety. The fact that we were raising ourselves while they took the checks. Their reactions in difficult situations. I made some notes and sat back, waiting to get to the train station.
Frank dropped me off, walking my little carryall down to the bench and glancing around as if to ensure that my safety wasn’t at risk. It was oddly comforting to know that even the aloof caretaker was looking out for me.
The train arrived on time and pulled away almost immediately with me as its only new passenger. I found my way to a window seat with no one on my aisle. With my notes done, I pulled out my newest book and locked out the world around me, enjoying the closest thing to a vacation I’d had.
Even on my days off at Tower House, I felt as though I were still part of the household and that at any moment I could be called on.
So, falling into the book for my few hours of downtime relaxed me and allowed me to prep my emotions for what was to come.
Chapter 36
When the train slowed to a stop at my destination, I already had my belongings collected and was waiting near the door, afraid I would be too slow to get off and find my way to the offices.
I shouldn’t have worried. While the stops outside of town were quick, this stop was weighted with crowds of people waiting to embark or depart. I was one of many and had to squeeze my way off the train as people didn’t wait for the way to be clear.
Once off the train, I cut through the station, my bag tucked under my arm, all my city instincts kicking back in as I realized I probably looked like a tourist and not a girl raised on these streets.
Only once did I have to offer a glare at a man approaching me, his gaze dropping to my belongings.
The legal office was downtown, only a few windy blocks from the station. I was able to grab a quick bite to eat on my walk, enjoying the idea of fast food as something I’d secretly missed while being spoiled by home cooked meals every day.
When I arrived at the tall glass and steel building, the receptionist took my coat and offered me a hot tea and a conference room to wait in.
I expected to be left sitting for quite a while, my presence forgotten by the very people who had summoned me. But, after a few moments, the door opened again and a sharply dressed woman in her forties walked in, a recorder and notebook in her hand.
“Ms. Byrne?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for being so prompt. I know this must have come as a surprise and the timing isn’t great with the holidays.” She seemed genuinely apologetic which surprised me. “I’m Helen Godfrey, the attorney taking point on the case.”
She sat down, opening the notebook and setting the recorder between them.
“We’re trying to beat the clock on this, thus the holiday schedule. I really can’t tell you how much I appreciate you coming down so quickly. I was glad you were local.”
“Oh, I’m no longer living in town. But, the address I’m at isn’t exactly mine either.” I shrugged, a bit embarrassed as I tried to figure out how to explain the weird home-but-not I’d lived in for an unknowable future. “I’m a nanny with an open-ended contract.”
“Ah.” Helen made a note on the sheet she had with my name at the top. “A nanny. I shouldn’t be surprised from the things I’ve heard about you.”
I wasn’t quite sure how to take that, but since she said it with such a warm smile, I chose to assume no offense was intended.
“But, let’s start this the right way. I’m going to turn on the recorder and state the time, date and our location. Then I’ll ask you to identify yourself and state that you’re giving this statement without duress, okay?”
At my nod, she turned the recorder on and walked me through the process she’d just outlined.
Then the questions began. I pulled out my notebook and placed it in front of me so I remembered everything I wanted to cover on my end as well as to make a note of something I might want to come back to.
Helen seemed pleased by this which caused me to wonder how many of the other residents had been as serious about this. Of course, with nothing to gain except justice for Michelle—and who knows who else—perhaps many didn’t feel the need.
The interview took a little under an hour, but then there were a million pieces of paper to sign and a witness and notary.
At the end, she asked me if I had any questions and the only thing I’d asked was to be kept in the loop about what happened to the people who had run Brookfield. She seemed surprised, telling I’d know as soon as they knew anything. By the time I got out of the office it was nearly dinner.
Mrs. Fairfax had texted me the address of Mr. Thorneton’s house which I was to go to. She explained they were expecting me and dinner would be in the kitchen when I arrived.
A few minutes later she texted again to say if I had friends I wanted to see, to just let her know and she’d tell Mary not to hold dinner. I could see Fiona’s hand all over the second text.
But, no. There was no one who I wanted to see.
I actually found myself anxious to get back to Tower House and my collection of friends there.
I made my way along the dirty-snow lined sidewalk, to the tall brownstone at the address on the text. I made my way up the front stairs, a bit afraid that this time I would be expected to go around back. Unfortunately—or perhaps not—the buildings were so close to one another as to share a wall and figuring out if there was a servant’s entrance was impossible.
Almost immediately upon ringing the bell, the door flew open and a woman who matched Mrs. Fairfax in looks and manner stood ushering me in.
“Come in, come in. Franny told me you’d be here and here you are. Just as she said.” She took my bag, handing it off to a quiet girl who passed by at just the right moment. “My, you are a little thing, aren’t you? She said you were tiny, but I hadn’t expected just so small. I’m sure she isn’t feeding you enough, is she?”
As she asked me questions so rapidly there was no need to respond, she ushered me back to the kitchen.
“I’m just finishing the roast for tonight. Maria, John, and Darsie will be joining us of course. Have a seat, have a seat.”
I found myself delighted by the welcome, but also a bit exhausted. Mrs. Fairfax was as warm and welcoming, but I found the repeated phrases a bit irritating. Perhaps it was an ungenerous thought, but the idea that this woman was Mrs. Fairfax but here scraped my nervous as it led me to question how many of each of us were stored in houses around the world.
I studied Mrs. Mansfield as she puttered around the kitchen, wondering at the similarities.
She finished at the stove then checked her phone before joining me at the table.
“Well then, dear, I just texted Franny letting her know you’re here. She’ll be relieved. She’s been checking in for the last two hours. Always was the worrier. Our ma never had to worry about none of us kids with Franny mother-henning us all.”
Ah, sisters. Well then, that seemed less odd—and less invasive.
She chattered on, saying so much and nothing at all, as she continued pulling the evening meal together and denying my offers of assistance.
It was almost time for the others to join us when a loud bang echoed down the hall.
“Jane! Jane Byrne!”
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Mansfield whipped her hands quickly on her apron before discarding it on a hook next to the back door before the roar reached us.
The kitchen door was flung open and Mr. Thorneton stood there radiating anger.
“Grab your things. We’ll be taking you home.”
“Would you like your dinner set here, Mr. Thorneton?”
“No.” He was glaring at me as I turned to hurry off and seemed t
o realize he’d overstepped with his housekeeper. “Forgive me, Mrs. Mansfield, but we’re needed at Tower House tonight.”
I was already halfway down the hall when I heard this explanation, but wondered at the roar he’d sent my way. I had gotten to the front stairs before I realized I had no idea where I was going. Luckily, the roar had been heard by others and the young maid stood there with my bag in hand as she rushed to grab my coat from the front closet.
“Miss,” she said, giving me more importance than I typically garnered.
“Is that it?” Mr. Thorneton stared at my little overnight bag as if he expected it to be two carloads of steamer trunks.
“Yes, sir.”
He opened the front door and glared at me as I hurried through it to the car outside. At the car, I slid in the back as Mr. Thorneton dropped down into the front passenger’s seat.
“Hello, little mouse.” Micha turned around to offer me a grin over the front seat. “Did Thorne make you scurry?”
“Micha.” Mr. Thorneton’s warning was clear, but his man was obviously unbothered by it.
“Hello, Hawk,” I answered over Mr. Thorneton, amused at my own daring as Micha grinned at me in the rearview mirror. “He made the housemaid scurry for sure. Perhaps scared her half to death, if that matters.”
“Ah, well, he should send her flowers or whatnot, don’t you think?”
“Micha.” Mr. Thorneton seemed to be coming to the end of his patience.
I covered my laugh as a cough and pulled out my book as it became clear the men were going to talk business on the drive.
It wasn’t until a few moments later I tuned back in when the car pulled to the curb and a man in his late twenties hustled down the steps of a nondescript building, his bag and coat in hand. When he got to the car, he opened the back passenger’s side door before noticing me.
Where Micha was all blond Adonis good looks, this man had jet black hair and eyes so pale blue as to be almost ice, framed by black lashes. He was good-looking, but not with the striking model looks Micha possessed. His strength was more obvious, with a lean build and hard, corded muscles where he pushed his sleeves up.