by Jessica Wolf
When the clock on the mantle struck one, he rose from his chair, walked down the hall, and around the corner. The nursery door hung open, poor Mrs. Peters fast asleep in a rocking chair beside the bed. Reed tucked Esther in her sheets and kissed her forehead before heading to his own room a few doors down. He tugged off his boots, dropped back against the bed, and fell asleep seconds after he blew out the candles.
The next morning was greeted with a raging headache and a shriek outside his door. Reed sat up, cradling his forehead. Apparently he’d drank more than he’d realized the night before. White spots swam before his eyes. He staggered as he rolled out of bed. His toes curled as they touched the cold wood floor.
“Miss Esther, please don’t hold it like that! Argh! Miss Esther!”
“But, Brigette, it really won’t hurt.”
The mingled sounds of his daughter’s imploring voice and Brigette’s screeching were too much for Reed and his poor head to bear. After buttoning his shirt and drawing his hair back into its usual low tie, he threw open his door. The words poised on his tongue failed at he took in the sight before him. Brigette stood pressed against the wall, hands covering her face. Esther held a rat up by its tail. The creature squeaked and grabbed at the air, wiggling and thrashing.
“Esther, what on earth are you doing?” he demanded.
Esther spun around on her heel, pushing the rat toward him. “Look at what I found. Isn’t he wonderful?”
Reed grimaced. “No. It’s disgusting and not something a young girl should be playing with, nor torturing the staff with. What has gotten into you?” He took a hold of her shoulder. “Apologize to Brigette and let the animal go.”
Esther’s lower lip puckered, but Reed was determined to win. He held her gaze and when he didn’t relent, she did, turning to Brigette. “I’m sorry, Brigette. Forgive me?”
Brigette sagged away from the wall. “‘Course, miss. I can…take that outside if you like, sir?” She worried her lower lip as she awaited his answer. When Reed nodded, her shoulders drooped and she hastened down the hall, holding the squirming rodent by its tail.
“Wasn’t that funny, Father?” Esther asked, turning her doe eyes to him.
“No, Esther. Far from it. You’ve been idle too long. It’s time you returned to your studies.”
She pouted. “But I hate studies.”
“All the more reason for you to return to them.” He guided her down the hall toward the staircase. “I’ve asked Miss Renaldi to consider becoming your governess.”
Esther stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. “You have?”
He held up his hand. “Don’t get your hopes up. She wasn’t exactly jumping to say yes when I asked her yesterday.”
“But she still might.”
He nodded and resumed walking toward the dining room. “She still might.”
As he neared the dining room, his heart began to beat faster. He seriously doubted she would accept. She wasn’t qualified, and he’d been rash to offer her the position in the first place. None of it made any sense and, like any responsible father, he should retract his offer. He cursed the part of himself that still hoped for her acceptance. It made his palms sweat and his throat dry. His hands twitched at his sides incessantly.
Esther bounded through the dining room door. She rushed to Luciana’s side, grabbing the arm of her chair. Luciana paused, the fork in her hand poised in midair. Across the table, Jack raised his eyebrows and lowered his spoon.
“Miss Renaldi, please say yes.” Esther folded her hands beneath her chin.
Luciana lowered her fork and shifted in her seat. Ignoring the way her gaze followed him as he crossed the floor, hard and unyielding, Reed made for his seat. For once, he was thankful for the grandiose arrangement of flowers in the center of the table. They partially obstructed Luciana from his view. With the wave of his hand, he got Peters to pour him a cup of coffee and shot of whiskey.
“Say yes?” Jack, like always, was the first to speak. “Say yes to what? Reed, have you proposed already?”
Reed’s guts twisted. He set his empty shot glass back on the table and pointed to it. Peters filled it again and Reed downed it, refusing to give Jack the satisfaction of an answer.
“Father asked Miss Renaldi to be my new governess,” Esther said. She bounced on her tiptoes, leaning closer to Luciana, who leaned back in her chair, away from his daughter, her eyes averted. No, this wasn’t a good idea. Not at all.
Jack curled his lips; Reed could see the restraint it took for him to hold back a smirk. “Did he? Well, what is your answer, Miss Renaldi?”
Luciana looked toward Reed. Her eyes implored his and she swallowed before looking briefly at Esther. A grimace flickered across her face. “Can I have more time?” she asked. Her voice wavered, but she held her shoulders straight.
Reed nodded. “Certainly, but I’d like an answer by the end of the day.” He pushed his fork around the rim of his plate. It let out a small, unpleasant squeak. “If you’re unable to take the position,” he continued, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be on your way.”
Luciana’s eyes widened. She went pale and her eyes fell to her plate. Her hand twisted the cloth napkin neatly laid out before her. After a moment, she looked up and nodded.
“You’ll have your answer before dinner, signore.”
Reed pursed his lips. “Good.” He nodded towards Esther’s chair. “Sit down, Esther, and eat your breakfast.”
The rest of the meal was consumed in uncomfortable silence.
After breakfast was cleared and Reed given liberty to leave his guests to their own devices, he asked Peters to fetch his coat. Though it was early summer and the sun often warmed Reed more than he liked, today promised to be a dreary one. And all the better for it. Dreary days were the most conducive to pleasant walks, so the gray sky and fog hanging over the ground did nothing to deter him.
When Peters brought him his coat, Reed shrugged it on and hurried outside. Loose gravel crunched beneath his boots as he walked towards the beach. How long had it been since he’d stepped foot there? Three weeks at least. Three long weeks filled with shipwrecks, illness, and seemingly-permanent visitors.
Today, he hoped to return to the way things were. He hoped for solitude, quiet, and the promise of no one—
“Mr. Hargrave!”
Reed curled his hand into a fist and stopped walking. He drew in a deep breath, tilting his head toward the sky for a brief moment before turning around on his heel. “Montgomery.”
A short, balding man, rapidly nearing the age of fifty, jogged toward Reed. His black hair—what was left of it—was greasy and parted down the middle, flapping in the wind. Red circles colored his fat cheeks. His labored breathing worried Reed. A man of his size should not attempt to jog.
“It’s been quite a while, Mr. Hargrave,” he managed between gasps of air.
“That it has.”
“You haven’t forgotten about your promise, have you?”
“Of course not,” Reed said, giving his head a firm shake. “I’ve simply been preoccupied. I assume you heard about the shipwreck a few weeks ago?”
Montgomery clucked his tongue, shaking his head. He held the lapel of his blazer with one hand and stuck the other behind his back. “It’s such a shame. I did hear you took in some of the castaways? You are such a generous man, Mr. Hargrave.”
“One of the castaways has remained here at Yellow Brook, yes. The others have moved on.” Reed paused. “Was there something you needed, Montgomery?”
Montgomery held up his pointer finger, chuckling. “Ah, yes, there was indeed. I was wondering if you might have a few moments to talk business?”
“You mean you want to talk about your firm proposal?”
Montgomery nodded. He wrung his hands before his over sized waist and shifted on his feet. Pebbles crunched underneath his worn shoes. “Yes, sir. You promised you would think it over…”
“And I have.”
Three months earlier Reed had
met Montgomery on one of his few trips to London. The pair had struck up an unlikely conversation regarding Reed forming an investment firm. Montgomery seemed to think that, as Reed had substantial funds, he would do well as an investor.
It had been months since Reed sat down to talk business with anyone. He was sure Montgomery had a list of ideas and proposals for the firm. He could put it off no longer. Just as he instructed Esther to be responsible, he himself needed to put that into action. He shot a wistful look toward the beach. It would still be there in the evening.
He clapped Montgomery on the shoulder then and motioned toward the house. “There’s a chair in my office waiting for you.”
Talking business with Montgomery would be droll and painful, but it would take Reed’s mind off of the one thing he didn’t want to think of—Luciana’s answer. He hated the way it plagued his mind. Always his thoughts returned to what she would say. Why did he care? He shouldn’t. He should have sent her away the moment she returned to her normal health. She would have eventually found work in town or elsewhere. Why did he ever let her stay?
Shaking himself free of anymore thoughts of her, he practically pushed Montgomery toward the house. Business would be good today; business was welcome.
Chapter 10
Luciana didn’t know what to do. The choice seemed simple, the answer clear. Either become Esther’s governess or leave Yellow Brook. She should abandon the comfort of her room and accept Reed’s offer posthaste. So why was the decision suddenly so hard?
She stood from her bed and crossed to the vanity, grabbing a loose sheet of paper from one of the drawers. Setting a pencil to paper, she drew a line down the center of the page. As a child, her mother had always made lists, lists of the good and the bad.
Good things. What were the good things? She wouldn’t have to search in vain for a job she might never find in town. She would have a home, somewhere to put her head at night. She would have pleasant company. As long as Jack intended to stay, Luciana knew she would find a friend in him. Maybe even in the girl from the kitchen. Reed wasn’t so horrible, either.
Bad things. Luciana disliked children. Writing it on paper made her laugh. A governess who disliked children. Who would have thought?
Her fingers brushed against the scar on her chin. It was tiny and unnoticeable, but every time she felt it, tears rose to her eyes.
Living in Viareggio had been difficult. People came and left often. And she couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t much in the way of healthy livelihoods or safety. Because few families stayed for longer than a year, it was a miracle when a family with a girl Luciana’s age had moved next door. She had been thirteen and eager for a friend.
Isabell and Luciana did everything together. Everything. They were inseparable from the start. Until Jonas moved across the way. Three days after he moved in, Isabell was gone.
Looking back, the fight was silly. It was over an apple. A dumb, half rotten apple. But Jonas had wanted to give it to Luciana. Why, she never found out, but he had. And she had accepted. Isabell, jealous, pushed her to the ground and clawed her face until Luciana relinquished her hold on the piece of fruit.
From then on, she’d sworn never to get too close to another child her age lest they turn on her like Isabell again. Children were fickle and cruel. They ruined meaningful friendships over the silliest of things.
So Luciana looking after a child? Teaching a child? It was like asking a blind man to describe a country hillside. She knew nothing about teaching children. Where would she begin? Groaning, she wadded up her list and tossed the paper aside, crossing her arms over her chest.
Someone knocked on the door. It was a gentle knock. Luciana breathed a sigh of relief. It couldn’t be Reed asking for her answer. There was nothing gentle about his demeanor. She still had time. She rose from her chair and opened the door.
“Signore Lipold,” she said, unable to keep the smile from her face.
“Miss Renaldi.” He bowed at the waist. “I was wondering if you might be willing to show me the conservatory? Esther said you’ve been spending a lot of your time there as of late, and seeing as how I know next to nothing about plants, maybe you could teach me a thing or two?”
The conservatory, despite its appearance, smelled fresh thanks to the open windows. Luciana had never seen a conservatory before arriving in England, but she doubted it was supposed to look like this. It was a circular room, medium in size, the ceiling a dome formed out of glass panes. Some of the glass was cracked, a few panes even missing. Rain pattered softly against the roof, dripping through the cracks onto the array of dead plants. In the center of the room was a fountain. A statue of a woman carrying a pitcher stood in the middle, but no water flowed from the jug into the pool below her. Stagnant water rested inside, brown and covered with leaves. Behind that, a wrought iron bench rested against the wall.
“So this is the conservatory,” Jack said. He plucked the dead head of a St. John’s wort flower.
Luciana nodded, her eyes sweeping the room. “I find it relaxing, though it does need a lot of work.”
“Last time I was here, there was a lemon tree in that corner.” He pointed to the left. “Mind you, it was small, but it produced a lot of lemons. Mrs. Peters enjoyed it the most. She didn’t have to buy any lemons from the market because of it.”
“What happened to it?”
He shrugged. “After Katherine died, the whole house wasted away. I admit I didn’t do as much as I should have to help Reed recover, but I’m making up for lost time now.”
“It’s a shame.” Luciana touched a cold window. “This is such a bellissimo room.”
“Now you’re here to take care of it, though. That is, if you’ll stay.”
Luciana sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She shook her head. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Well, you certainly don’t have many options if you decide to leave Yellow Brook.”
Nodding, she turned down an aloe vera leaf. “I doubt I’ll be of much use as a governess.”
On either side the fountain, rows of dead plants separated into aisles. Jack walked back and forth between the aisles, rarely stopping to glance at a plant. Luciana, on the other hand, walked slowly, her hand brushing through the brittle leaves and bent stems.
“Why do you say that?” he asked. “Is it because you don’t like children?”
She looked up so fast her neck cracked. Eyes wide, her mouth parted but no words came out. Jack laughed. It echoed throughout the cold room.
“I know you try hard to pretend that you do, but, honestly, you don’t do a very good job.”
She shook her head, heat pouring into her cheeks. “I—I don’t know–”
He held up a hand, silencing her ramblings. “It’s all right. I’m only surprised Reed asked you.”
A smile pulled up the corner of her mouth and she nodded, snickering despite her racing heart. “As am I.”
Jack leaned against the edge of an aisle, crossing his arms. “Reed, he’s—he’s lost, for lack of a better word. Esther is curious and wild and he doesn’t know how to handle her. Having a governess would ease his mind, I think. Even though it doesn’t look like it, he has a lot on his plate. Esther adds to it considerably and he doesn’t want to have to worry about her all of the time.” He paused and raised an eyebrow. “Forget about Reed. What do you want to do, Miss Renaldi?”
The words “Go home” settled on the tip of her tongue, but she pushed them away. She shrugged. “I have no where to go. It seems logical that I should stay here.”
He leaned forward, coaxing her onward. “But?”
Luciana scoffed and flung her arms out wide. They dropped back, slapping against her sides. “But I don’t like children.”
“Yes.”
“And I don’t know much, really. My education was limited.”
“You know about plants?”
She nodded, glancing down at the dead plant before her. “You can’t teach a child about pl
ants and expect them to do well in life.” She licked her lips and looked toward the door. “My English isn’t good–”
“Tosh! It’s fine.”
“–and I don’t know about England. I can’t teach her about Italia. I suppose I could teach her to speak Italian, maybe, but nothing else of value. Signore Lipold, I have nothing to offer her.” Her voice had risen toward the end of her spiel. She sounded desperate and afraid, two feelings she hated most.
Jack’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So what’s keeping you from deciding?”
Uncertainty. Fear. Confusion. “Everything.” She snorted. An unladylike sound, but one she couldn’t help. “And nothing.”
“If it makes any difference, I would be delighted if you stayed.”
It didn’t make much of a difference—she was still lost—but Luciana supposed it was the thought that counted. She offered Jack a smile. “Thank you, Signore Lipold.”
“But, whatever you decide, I’m sure it will be the right decision.”
Luciana ripped the leaf in her hand into shreds and let the crumbs float to the floor. She changed the subject. The time for making her decision would come later. For now, she wanted to think on other things. “This place could use a good cleaning, couldn’t it?”
Jack glanced about the room and laughed. “You can say that. I don’t know why Reed ever added this place.”
“I’m glad he did.” Luciana put her hands on her hips. “Even the grandest houses in Viareggio never had anything like this.”
“You must miss it there.”
“I do.” Just how much she wasn’t willing to admit. “I’d give anything to be there again.” She cleared her throat. “But that’s not my reality now.”
He didn’t say anything. He only blinked.
“Do you think Signora Peters would lend me a bucket?”
Jack’s face broke into a grin, shrugging. “There’s only one way to find out.”