by Syrie James
She played out the scenario in her mind:
Your Lordship, I have something to tell you. My name’s not really Lexie Watson, it’s Alexandra Atherton. You may have read about me in the papers. I’m one of the heiresses to the Atherton fortune, the one who’s gone missing. Yes, I’ve been lying to you since the day we met, sorry about that. I’ve never worked as a governess a day in my life, but thanks all the same for giving me the job, because I really need the money.
No, no. It was impossible.
She’d have to wait until she’d proven herself as a valued employee he could trust and couldn’t do without. Then, maybe she could make him understand, and he’d be willing to keep her on for the three months she needed to earn the money to go home.
If she had any more dreams like that, however, three months was going to seem like a very long time.
A fire burned in the nursery hearth when Alexandra entered at 8:30 a.m. Julia was eating a bowl of porridge at the table, which was draped in white linen and set for two. Lillie was nowhere in sight.
“Good morning,” Alexandra said as she sat down. Julia didn’t respond. “Good morning, Julia,” she tried again with a smile.
“Good morning,” Julia shot back without raising her eyes, and without an ounce of warmth.
“Where’s Lillie?”
“I don’t know.”
Alexandra rose, opened the adjoining door to Lillie’s bedroom, and glanced in. The bed had been made, and the room was unoccupied.
What an odd state of affairs, Alexandra thought. Returning to her seat, Alexandra stared at her bowl of porridge. She hadn’t eaten porridge since she was a girl, and hadn’t liked it even then. There wasn’t even any sugar or fruit to make the offering more palatable. Alexandra added milk to the bowl and tried a spoonful. It was as tasteless as she remembered. But it was food, and she was hungry, so she ate it.
The meal was consumed in silence, as Alexandra puzzled over what to do about Lillie. Just as she finished, Martha appeared and began piling the breakfast dishes on a tray.
“Martha, I’m concerned about Lillie. She’s not here, and no place was set for her at breakfast.”
“Oh, never you mind,” Martha answered. “Lillie was up and dressed at the crack of dawn. She et her porridge with us in the servants’ hall.”
“Does she do that often?” Alexandra asked, surprised.
“Aye, miss.”
“Can you tell me where I might find her now?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t know, miss. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Lillie since half past seven.” Martha headed out the door with her tray, just as Mrs. Mitchell entered.
“I thought I’d check and see if you have everything you need, Miss Watson?” Mrs. Mitchell announced cheerfully.
“Actually, no. I seem to be short one pupil. And I checked the schoolroom. The only books I could find were one on etiquette, a religious text, some children’s morality books, and old French primers.”
Mrs. Mitchell looked at her. “Will you need more than that?”
Alexandra returned her stare. “Well, yes. I—”
“The last few governesses found the books sufficient,” Mrs. Mitchell interrupted. Indicating a mahogany hutch, she continued, “Sewing and embroidery supplies are in that cupboard. There’s sheet music in the piano bench. As for Lillie, I don’t know what to tell you. That girl plagues my heart out. If I find her, I’ll send her in. In the meantime, I suggest you proceed with lessons for Julia.” Mrs. Mitchell took her leave.
No one seemed to be the least bit bothered by Lillie’s absence or behavior. Alexandra was shocked. She’d been hired to teach two girls, and was determined to do so. Which brought up another point. What was she expected to teach?
Turning back to the other occupant of the table, Alexandra mustered her best smile and said, “Well, Julia. It looks like it’s just the two of us. Can you give me an idea of what you were studying with your last governess?”
“The usual subjects on the schedule,” Julia responded bluntly.
“Schedule?”
Julia pointed to the hutch. “Top right drawer.”
Alexandra opened the indicated drawer. Inside, she found a piece of paper on which had been inscribed the following:
DAILY SCHEDULE OF INSTRUCTION
9 am.: French
10 am.: Manners and etiquette
11 am.: Singing and dancing
12 noon: Luncheon
1 p.m.–3 p.m.: Fresh air and exercise
3 p.m.: Rest
4 p.m.: Piano practice (Julia)
Needlework (Lillie)
5 p.m.: Dinner
6 p.m.: Piano practice (Lillie)
Needlework (Julia)
7 p.m.: Supervised personal time
8 p.m: Bed
Alexandra stared at the list, dumbfounded. “Is this truly your entire curriculum? French, etiquette, music, and sewing?”
“Of course. I’m fifteen. I’ve already learned everything else I need to know from my preparatory governesses.”
“Did you really?” Alexandra struggled to hold back a smile. “And what is a preparatory governess?”
A crease formed in Julia’s forehead. “You mean you never had one?”
“No, I attended school.”
Julia made a face, as if this meant Alexandra were irretrievably stupid. “A preparatory governess is for ages eight to twelve. After that, girls have a finishing governess.”
Alexandra’s heart sank. So, that was to be her job. She’d been hired as a finishing governess, like the detested Madame Dubois, who’d bored her and her sisters to tears during the longest and most frustrating year of her life. “Have you found this curriculum satisfying?”
Julia shrugged. “It is necessary, if I am to find a husband.”
“A husband? Aren’t you a bit young to be thinking of marriage?”
“No. I intend to be married the day I turn eighteen.”
“I see. Do you already have the young man picked out?”
Julia’s cheeks turned crimson, and she glanced away. “No.”
Alexandra wondered if Julia had a crush on someone. “Well, you never know what the future holds. You may change your mind and not wish to marry so early, or at all.”
“I will not change my mind. I am the daughter of an earl. I must marry. You do not know anything!”
“I know that in America, girls are encouraged to learn and grow and expand their minds well past the age of twelve.” Alexandra paused. “Tell me: what books have you read?”
“I don’t know.”
“You can’t recall the title of even one book?”
Julia shrugged again. “Miss Larsen said libraries made her sneeze. Miss Haverstock read aloud to us while we sewed, boring things about what happened to children who did not say their prayers. Sometimes Miss Treethorn made us read us aloud from books of poetry. Promise me you will not make us do that, Miss Watson.”
“Okay, no poetry.” It seemed that Julia had never been introduced to the delights of literature, and that she’d had a great many governesses who hadn’t stayed long. With Julia’s poor attitude, and Lillie not even present, Alexandra was beginning to understand why. “What do you like to do for pleasure, Julia?”
“I read the Lady’s Illustrated Magazine.”
“That’s it?”
“There’s nothing else to do, not since Papa and Grandmamma died.”
It was a sad statement, and the first time Alexandra had heard about a grandmother. “Did you know your grandmamma well?”
“She lived with us until she died three years ago, right after Papa.” Julia frowned as she drew invisible designs with her fingertip on the tabletop. “When I was little, Thomas used to go riding with me.”
Alexandra reminded herself that Thomas was Lord Longford, Julia’s brother. “Do you have any friends you could ride with?”
“I did. Helen Grayson. But Thomas won’t let me see her anymore.”
“Why not?”
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p; “I don’t know.”
Alexandra tried another tactic. “Mrs. Mitchell mentioned that you have your own horse?”
Julia nodded, her eyes briefly flickering with a positive emotion. “Windermere. She rides like the wind. Riding is my favorite thing in the whole world. But Miss Larsen would only allow it once a week.”
“Would you like to ride Windermere today?”
Julia glanced at Alexandra in wary surprise. “Yes.”
“Well, if you apply yourself to your studies this morning, I believe we can make time in the schedule to allow you to ride this afternoon, and hopefully a few days a week after that.”
“Do you mean it?”
“I do.” Alexandra stood. “I think I’m up to speed now. Let’s move into the schoolroom and start with the first subject on the agenda: French.”
With the promise of a ride later that afternoon, Julia settled into her lessons with a degree of resigned submission, and the morning passed quickly.
Alexandra wished she could teach the young lady more than the assigned subjects, but for the first day, felt she ought to stick to the schedule. It turned out that, although Julia had no real aptitude for French, she had a fine singing voice. For her etiquette lesson, Alexandra instructed Julia on some of the finer points of letter writing.
All morning long, every time Alexandra heard a footstep in the hall, she glanced up, wondering if it might be Lord Longford stopping by the nursery or schoolroom to see how things were going. But he didn’t appear. She hadn’t had so much as a glimpse of him since her arrival the evening before.
Lillie still hadn’t made an appearance when Martha brought up the lunch tray at noon, which turned out to be plain boiled mutton and an overcooked, tasteless vegetable.
At one o’clock, as promised, Alexandra allowed Julia to change into her riding habit and race off to the stables. With Julia dispatched, Alexandra’s thoughts returned to Lillie. She wondered where the girl had been hiding all day, and why no one seemed to care. Alexandra felt guilty that the girl had missed an entire morning of instruction.
With a few unscheduled hours ahead of her, Alexandra decided to employ them in trying to find Lillie. No sooner had she left the nursery than she caught a glimpse of a young girl dashing around the farthest corner of the hall, long brown hair, pale pink skirts, and pink ribbons trailing behind her.
Chapter Ten
Alexandra raced after the mysterious figure, but when she turned the corner, the girl had vanished. Proceeding down the hall, Alexandra tried the door to various rooms, but all were locked. She soon came to a room that was open, and couldn’t help entering to admire it.
It was a grand library, entirely paneled in oak, and fitted with tall bookcases stuffed with many thousands of old volumes. Alexandra was tempted to choose a book from the shelves, sit down in one of the wingback chairs by the hearth, and read. But she couldn’t allow herself to be distracted from her mission. Lillie was not here; there were no conceivable hiding places in the library.
Alexandra continued on. Rounding a bend, she came upon another room so vast, it nearly took her breath away.
The long, paneled chamber was hung with so many portraits and other oil paintings, it could only be considered a gallery. It was of such size, however—it made up the entire east wing of the house—that it could easily be used as a ballroom. Alexandra strolled in, agog as she took in the features of the ancient but exquisite space. A superb white plasterwork ceiling curved overhead like the inside half of a barrel, illustrated with unusual beasts and scenes from the Old Testament.
Two gigantic marble fireplaces bisected long rows of immense windows, each of which was inset with a window seat covered in faded cushions and framed by heavy, red velvet draperies that hung to the floor. The furnishings, though shabby, could not take away from the magnificence of the overall setting and design of the room.
Alexandra’s eyes were drawn to the drapes of a window seat at the farthest end of the gallery; they were fluttering, as if they’d just been hastily drawn shut from the inside. Alexandra’s pulse thumped as she moved toward them.
She deliberated whether or not to say anything. Staring at the velvet curtains, Alexandra was reminded of a scene from one of her and Madeleine’s favorite novels, where a little girl was similarly concealed in a window seat, reading a book. An idea came to her.
Quickly making her way back to the library, Alexandra scanned the titles to get some semblance of their method of organization. Unlike many libraries she’d seen in great houses, where the books were shelved by size and binding for a more uniform appearance, these books were for the most part shelved by subject. Most looked very old, and appeared to be well loved. She was delighted to discover a section devoted to novels.
She spotted a set of carved mahogany library steps standing three stairs high. Dragging the library stairs into position, Alexandra climbed up and studied the fiction titles until she found the novel she sought. It was a three-volume set, beautifully bound in burgundy leather. She hesitated, wondering if she should ask for permission before borrowing it.
But who would she ask? She hadn’t seen Lord Longford since the evening before. She had no idea where Mrs. Mitchell was, and if she went in search of her, Lillie might be gone. Taking down the first volume, Alexandra returned to the gallery, to the drawn curtains behind which the little evader was hiding, and said in her friendliest voice, “Hello, Lillie. My name is Miss Watson. I’m your new governess. I’m sorry to have missed you today, and hope you’ll join us this afternoon. In the meantime, I’ve brought you the first volume of a novel that was my favorite when I was your age. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I do every time I reread it. There are three volumes in all. When you’ve finished the first, I’d be happy to give you Volume Two.”
Alexandra parted the draperies just enough to thrust the book within. There was a pause; then she felt the book being pulled from her grasp. “Happy reading,” Alexandra said, before turning and hastening back through the gallery.
Relieved that she’d found Lillie and had given her a worthy occupation, Alexandra decided to take a walk in the gardens.
On her way out of the gallery, her attention was caught by a portrait of a well-dressed man who looked to be in his early twenties. His attire suggested that it was a recent addition. The brass nameplate beneath the portrait read Thomas Carlyle, Seventh Earl of Longford. Alexandra’s eyes widened. This was the present earl?
As she retrieved her hat and moved down the servants’ staircase, Alexandra surmised that the portrait must have been painted three years ago, when Longford inherited the title. At first glance, she would never have guessed it was him. In the portrait, his hair was much longer, reaching his shoulders; he had no mustache; and he wasn’t wearing glasses. Slight changes, but enough almost to make him appear to be a different man.
Leaving the house through a rear door, Alexandra found her way around the massive building to the walled gardens she’d spied from her bedroom window. What might once have been extensive flower beds were just long stretches of dirt featuring straggly, untended plants.
Beyond the garden walls, towering trees seemed to call to her. The afternoon sun warmed Alexandra’s back and shoulders as she made her way across a vast green lawn, where sheep grazed in small clusters. She spotted a half dozen lambs, bouncing along after their mothers like wooly springs with feet, an enchanting sight that made her laugh. A gravel path wound into the shade of a grove, which was alive with birdsong. She’d never before heard such a chorus of bright, natural music, and although she couldn’t name the birds she was hearing, every chirp and tweet filled her with delight.
Wandering on, Alexandra discovered embankments choked with weeds, through which wildflowers and the strangled remains of other plants strained to make their presence known. She recognized yellow jonquils, daffodils, and white narcissus, their scent floating about her like an incense. A seemingly endless series of paths beckoned, but each one was fighting a battle against burge
oning undergrowth. She clambered up and down broken steps, discovered the ruined remains of a marble fountain, and peeked into cracked, weedy urns and pots.
Despite the gardens’ neglected state, Alexandra was entranced. Although several of the moss-and ivy-covered redbrick walls sagged dangerously, and some bricks had tumbled to lie in heaps at their base, they were so old and picturesque, they spoke of centuries gone by, and of all the people who’d strolled that way.
To think that Lord Longford owned all of this! Her family’s garden in Poughkeepsie had been small. Nothing much had grown beyond grass and the hardiest of bushes. And they’d no garden at all in New York City.
This reminder of home brought Alexandra to a standstill. Although she was captivated by all that she was seeing and thrilled to be experiencing it, she was suddenly filled with such a deep longing for home, it made her chest ache. She imagined the joy she’d feel if Madeleine and Kathryn were to emerge from around the next bend of the path. What fun they would have exploring these gardens together! It would be so wonderful to be in their company again.
A tear leaked from one of Alexandra’s eyes and she wiped it away, blinking rapidly as she took a steadying breath. She was only going to be here a few months, she reminded herself. She’d see her sisters soon enough. In the meantime, she ought to enjoy the delights of this lovely place.
Moving on, Alexandra spotted an old man on a ladder wearing a rumpled waistcoat and tweed cap, pruning an enormous hedge. A task which, at the rate he was going, would take him days to complete.
“Hello,” she called out. He looked to be at least eighty years old.
The old man glanced down at her and touched his cap. “Ye mus’ be the new governess from Ameriker, I’m guessin’.”
Alexandra smiled. News traveled fast, even among the groundskeeping staff. “Yes. I’m Miss Watson.” The name still felt foreign on her tongue.