Maribel followed the butler—Mr Jones, he had told her dryly when she had enquired—to the staircase and was then handed over to a maid. No names were given, and this time she did not ask, suspecting they had met one too many governesses to bother with introductions. The wooden balustrade was smooth under her fingertips as she glided her hand across it, using her other to hold up her skirts. She was so thrilled to be dressed in her new governess clothes that mother had made for her, and the muted colours did not dampen her excitement. Her mother was a talented seamstress, and without her, new clothing was impossible. The soft wool skirt made a satisfying swoosh when she walked, and paired with her freshly-polished half boots, she felt ready for any challenge
The maid led her down a long hallway, right to the very end.
My new room.
The maid held the door open for her, and she crossed the threshold and came face-to-face with a room more than double her own back home. The furnishings were rich—even with her half boots, she could feel the plush rug beneath her feet. A large four-poster bed tempted her to throw herself upon it like her younger brothers would have.
Decorum, Maribel.
An elegant desk was positioned against a large window framed by yellow drapes, and the natural sunlight poured in.
A beautiful space to review my lessons!
There were two dressers, a washstand, a long mirror, and a bed almost twice the size of her own back home. It was all so beautiful. So beautiful that it made her feel out of place. The room was fit for a lady, not a simple governess.
“I assume the room is to your liking, Miss Lewisham?”
“Yes, it is. Lovelier than I could have ever imagined.”
“His grace wants you to be comfortable. He has requested one of the maids to attend you each day, and we will arrange a bath for you upon request.”
Maribel found the information surprising. She had truly not expected to be treated with so much care. Perhaps the duke was not as cold as he had seemed.
“I can help you unpack.”
“Can I do that later? I am eager to meet Lady Clara and spend some time with her before we start our lessons tomorrow.”
Maribel was hoping to get some insight into her new charge and consider the best approach.
“I will check with Mr Jones and be back momentarily.”
Taking this as her cue to begin the apparently very important unpacking, she opened her trunk and gave the maid a small smile. Maribel bit her lip and started to unpack her clothing, turning her back on the maid. She has been warned of this, that some of the staff would take a disliking to the station she now found herself in. She was not titled nor did she have any relation to anyone in the peerage. She was also not lower-class, born into a life of potential destitution and eager for any work. She was middle-class, genteel, and born to a family where she had had a privileged upbringing compared to many. Well-fed, educated, and clothed, Maribel knew she was lucky. Her own hands were soft and smooth, while a maid’s were dry and rough from cleaning and caretaking. So, she understood why there was an instant hostility. But this did not mean Maribel had not hoped to make a friend.
“How long have you been in employment with His Grace?”
“Not very long.”
“It is a very beautiful home to be working in—that is how I feel, anyway. I have never been in such a lovely home.”
Moving to the dresser, she fingered the mahogany. The piece was clearly a Hepplewhite, and the rug beneath her feet was obviously another Aubusson. Even though she was hired help, her role as governess still allowed for certain privileges.
“If you say so. Cleaning is cleaning, no matter where you are. It is still dusty and dirty and leaves your hands raw.”
Holding back a sigh of disappointment, Maribel realised she would need to admit defeat. On this occasion anyway.
A throat being cleared drew her attention to the doorway. Mr Jones was waiting for her.
“Lady Clara will see you now, Miss Lewisham.”
Maribel felt her spark reignite at the thought of meeting her new charge. Eagerly, she followed the butler back down the winding hallway to another large room, this one filled with anything a young lady may want and need: a desk, a pianoforte, an easel, shelves full of books–it was incredible. And sitting in a large armchair that engulfed her small body was her charge. All fair curls and bright blue eyes, like a little cherub wearing a yellow day dress, she watched Maribel with narrowed eyes. Suspicion? Reproach?
I am very unpopular for the second time today, it seems.
“Miss Maribel Lewisham, may I present you to Lady Clara.”
Maribel gave a small curtsey and beamed her biggest smile at the unhappy little girl.
“It is so wonderful to meet you, Lady Clara.”
