“If you think this is bad, heavens, you’ll be apoplectic when you see Elverton Bridge,” he quipped.
Susanna felt her mood lift. It may have merely been an aside, but if Mr. Sedley was suggesting she might see the family’s country home, he must still harbor no serious reservations about keeping her on. Susanna offered the Lord her silent thanks.
“My family has never done anything by half measures, as you’ll soon learn,” he said, an edge returning to his voice.
She turned to look at him, but he wasn’t facing her. All she could see was his thick, dark hair interspersed with gray, which offered no further insight into Mr. Sedley’s feelings about his relatives.
They halted at the end of the hall, in front of a pair of large glass doors. She peered through them, hoping to spot her new charge within. Mr. Sedley then held one open, and Susanna drifted in, still searching.
A large, ornate cage flanked by benches housed a flock of chaffinches, their chirping filling the heavy, moist air. Behind them, two rows of potted palms formed a charming walkwaythat highlighted the intricate pattern in the tile flooring. Susanna swept her eyes from side to side, catching sight of a riot of blooms spilling from a variety of pots, the curling flourishes of wrought iron against the paned glass, and a delightful little fountain toward the space’s center. The effect was spectacular: a little square of lush gardens, secreted away from the chill of autumn.
It wasn’t until she and Mr. Sedley had moved deeper into the conservatory that she caught sight of a dark figure at the back, staring at the gardens outside the glass wall from a wicker chair. Long dark hair, adorned with a large purple bow, spilled over the back of the seat. She did not turn, nor did she make any other acknowledgment of them as they approached. So this was Charlotte.
Susanna was about to say something, to allow the girl the opportunity to correct her manners, when Mr. Sedley cleared his throat.
“Charlotte, darling. You have company.”
He passed in front of Susanna, and she nearly started at his worried, penitent face.
He hesitated, hand on the back of the chair, fingers dancing as if they didn’t know what to do or where to go. Charlotte craned her head up to face him, and Susanna caught her profile. She was struck by how somber she appeared. Jane and Emily had been such bright, merry girls, twinkling lights forever giggling and twittering about, never in repose. Their youthful energy had seemed to burn as intensely and ceaselessly as the stars. This girl was something else, though. Some other celestial body.
Before Susanna could puzzle it out, Charlotte spoke.
“Hello, Father,” she said in a voice that felt far too heavy for its owner.
Mr. Sedley gave her a weary smile. His eyes anxiously sought Susanna’s, their silent plea for help as plain as if it were written on the glass wall behind them.
Other uncertain situations in life might give Susanna pause, and bring out the passivity that had been drummed into her. But not this one.
“Good morning. I’m so pleased to meet you.” Now in front of the girl, Susanna gave a brief curtsy. “My name is Miss Abbotts, and as I am sure you have heard, I shall be your new governess.”
Charlotte didn’t move, only watched her with eyes that seemed as large as florins. Two huge pools of black.
Checking the impulse to speak again and cajole her new charge into politeness, Susanna sat across from the chair on a matching rattan loveseat.Let Charlotte take the lead.
To her surprise, Mr. Sedley sat down next to her, and she felt a jolt of excitement. There had been another chair next to Charlotte; the ensemble consisted of a wicker couch and two chairs, much like a salon suite. But perhaps he felt he and Susanna were a united front, and he only wished to lend her his support.That was likely his thinking, Susanna reasoned, willing her nerves to settle.
“It’s not morning anymore,” said Charlotte nonchalantly.
“No. That would be correct.” Susanna smiled, not wanting to dwell on her late start and the reasons for it.
The girl held herself in a dreamy, aloof fashion, nearly swallowed by her black parramatta silk mourning dress, her large eyes drifting over the two of them. The weight of her scrutiny felt more like that of an older widow’s, with decades of disappointments to inform her opinions.
“I’m so pleased to finally meet you. I do hope we will get on.” Susanna spoke each word as if she considered it separately from the whole. “Would you mind telling me what your interests are?”
“Everything.” The single word was flat, but not cheeky.
“She likes watching people. An observer,” Mr. Sedley cut in, matching his daughter’s detached tone.
“Yes, that’s true.” Charlotte paused before adding, “Father.”
“You don’t need to address me as ‘Father’ every blasted time you speak.Darling.” Mr. Sedley let his displeasure slip, evident in the way he dragged out the last word. Not to mention his cursing. “And if you must, you should use ‘Papa,’ not ‘Father.’ It’s coarse.”
“Thank you so much for the edifying instruction.Papa.” Charlotte reached for her throat and fiddled with the necklace she wore. No, not a necklace; it was a large gentleman’s watch fob, gold-toned with a carved stone—a carnelian, perhaps?—hanging from a heavy chain.
“What is that? Around your neck, that’s new. Or… is it? I…”
Mr. Sedley’s audible confusion brought the ghost of a smile to Charlotte’s lips, the corners of which raised ever so slightly. Yet she refused to answer her father, clearly pleased with the way she’d maneuvered the conversation thus far.
