Maggie bit her lip, and they walked on a little way in silence.
“You will take breakfast and luncheon with Miss Emma and Jenny in the nursery,” Mrs Thornton resumed. “Your evening meal may be taken in your room or below stairs, as you prefer.”
“I think I should like to dine with you below stairs,” Maggie said after a pause.
Mrs Thornton shot her a surprised glance. “Indeed? All the previous governesses chose to eat alone.”
Curses,Maggie thought.Have I blundered already? Am I not being aloof enough?
Aloud, she only said, “I find it rather lonely to eat in my room.”
The tone had been meant careless; it emerged far too sad. She felt Mrs Thornton’s eyes upon her but kept her gaze ahead.
Steady, Maggie. You’re not established yet. Mind every step.
“Well, as I say, you are welcome,” Mrs Thornton said at last. “We dine at six. You may take a light supper later if you choose.”
“Thank you. I shall.”
They halted at the nursery door. Mrs Thornton glanced at her.
“I trust you have prepared a plan for tomorrow’s lessons?”
“Yes. Ought I to have submitted a copy to you and to his Grace?”
“Yes, you should—but never mind.”
Maggie smiled faintly. “I meant to begin with literature—an easy start, you know. Today I shall assess Miss Emma’s progress in the other subjects and plan accordingly.”
Mrs Thornton looked almost impressed. “Sensible. A word of warning—his Grace dislikes the modern habit of learning everything by rote.”
“So do I,” Maggie said. “We’ll begin with literature, then arithmetic, geography, and the sciences in the morning. After luncheon: history, Latin, and of course Art. I made certain to allow time for Art.”
Mrs Thornton smiled properly at that. “I am glad to hear it. And be sure to let Miss Emma paint properly. Mrs Ruthborne—the last governess—disapproved of painting altogether, insisting that young ladies confine themselves to delicate water-colours of genteel landscapes. Be sure to do better. Now, we have left them waiting long enough. Let’s go in.”
Without waiting for a response, Mrs Thornton opened the door and walked in, leaving Maggie to follow.
Jenny and Emma were already at breakfast, Emma’s legs swinging beneath her chair. The little girl brightened instantly.
“You’re here!” she cried. “I thought you might have gone. Did Uncle not frighten you away?”
“He must try harder if he hopes to do that,” Maggie said, taking the third chair.
Emma beamed. Mrs Thornton had already slipped quietly from the room.
“We fetched out some of Miss Emma’s schoolbooks,” Jenny said. “So you can see her progress.”
“How kind of you, Jenny. Thank you,” Maggie smiled. “I can tell already that you and I shall be friends.”
Jenny beamed back. “I’m glad you say so, Miss Winter. The last governesses didn’t like me much. Miss Swaddle especially—because I told her off for flirting with Mr Middleton, and I’ve no regret for it.”
Maggie laughed. “Good for you. And who is Mr Middleton?”
A faint flush crept over Jenny’s pale cheeks.
“That would be Mr Simon Middleton, Miss Winter—his Grace’s cousin and the estate steward. A very important gentleman. When his Grace is absent, Mr Middleton’s word is law.”
“I like Uncle Simon,” Emma announced. “You will too.”
