I’ve tried everything to console her, but I know the one thing that she needs- is the one thing I can’t provide.
“You’re stuck with just me, I’m afraid.” I attempt to console her with a pat to her rounded belly.
My back aches from carrying her back and forth. Yearning for sleep has become my norm. I exist in a zombie like state and my business is suffering from it.
I’d placed an advertisement in the papers, hoping for someone qualified and trustworthy since the agency I’d been using had sent me nothing but one failure after another.
Is there no one in England who can provide adequate care for my children?
“Daddy!” Royland’s small voice pierces through the continuous wails. His chubby hands wrap tightly around the middle of my calf, squeezing hard. I feel numb to the affection. Too lost in grief and exhaustion. He deserves much better than me.
They both do.
I just hope I can find a new governess to fill in the gaps I’m missing.
MARIGOLD
Iarrive at Blackford Manor, with my carpet bag in hand, umbrella in the other. Taking in the splendor of the manor, I puff up my chest to settle the nerves fluttering against my ribs. A loud caw bellows above me as Alfred picks up on my frayed emotions. We’ve always stuck together, my birds and I since I’d left my father’s house. His picked over corpse in my wake. I didn’t mourn for him, but I did wonder what I would have been like had he actually loved me. Alfred caws again the nosey little buggar.
“Shh.” I chide, poking my umbrella up into the air. The sleek black handle is fitted with the skull of a raven while the fabric lining the top is intricately woven into a black lace pattern. It’s my favorite statement piece that I own. One must always leave the house prepared for dodgy weather, especially in London and if you have to carry an umbrella, you might as well make it spectacular.
The lane to the house is dotted with bare cherry trees that loom overhead, creating long shadows over the crooked cobblestones. The gnarled branches claw into the fog, causing the abandoned path to carry an air of foreboding. I breathe in the crisp air, welcoming the challenge.
Alfred lets out a bellowing screech, his wings beating against the strong wind that careens about the street, picking up bits of crumpled dead leaves on its way. “Keep watch.” I instruct him. He puffs up his chest and flies off into one of the trees.
My black heeled shoes clamor against the uneven cobblestones. The house waits patiently at the end of the lane, as if it’s been holding its breath for me to arrive.
The intimidating property stares me down while a shiver worms its way down my petticoat clad spine. The manor is ominous with its black broken shudders and dilapidated shingles hanging off the roof.
The state of the manor surprises me. It’s well known that the Blackfords are incredibly wealthy. Something dreadful must have happened here.
A cold wind bashes against my body as I take to the stone steps, gathering my long skirts in my hand as to not trip and smash my face in. It’s nothing I can’t fix with a snap of my fingers, but I prefer to avoid unnecessary pain. It’s my belief that pain should only be accompanied with pleasure- if at all possible.
Pulling on the bell gives me a moment to right myself, pressing my gloved fingers against my low-sling chignon to catch any flyaway hairs. I run my tongue along my teeth to rub away any stray red lipstick that might have accidentally ended up there on my journey here. Taking out my perfume from my bag, I give myself a spritz, letting the scent sink into my skin. I formulate a plan knowing that with this perfume, he won’t be able to refuse me. I’ve seen it work time and again. Men falling all over themselves to accommodate me.
After a few moments, the large, deteriorating door squeaks open revealing a stout woman with reddish brown hair pulled back into a maid’s cap. Her dingy, wrinkled gray dress reaches past her feet, making her appear as if she’s being swallowed up by the uniform. “May I help you?” she asks, blinking her beady eyes at me.
“Yes, I’m here for the governess position.”
I feel her cold glare run over me, taking in my impeccable attire. She purses her lips after her blatant perusal and opens the door enough for me to pass through. I’m greeted by a towering foyer that reaches up to the third floor. The black painted walls seem to reach endlessly up into air meeting a vaulted ceiling that holds a golden chandelier that’s lost its shine. My shoes clatter against the filmy tile, making the expansive space feel empty. Devoid of life, even though the place is clearly inhabited. The cold from outside lingers in the air here, leaving my skin shivering. A sense falls over me that I’m being watched, though there is no one but myself and the maid.
“Wait in there.” She gestures to a living space complete with several chairs and a dwindling fire before venturing up the stairs. As she leaves, a gnawing feeling opens in my chest, pressing down on me toleave, leave, leave. This just won’t do. I glance around, certain the maid isn’t within eyesight before I snap my fingers together. The fire roars in response, becoming a writhing lively thing. Embers crackle as warmth fills the space chasing away whatever menacing presence I’d felt lingering nearby. Disgruntled spirits thrive in cold dark places, I should know for I’m well familiar with them.
My lips pull into a hint of a smile. “That’s much better.” I say to myself as I take in the room around me. It’s devoid of any personality. No pictures of the children or the family. The decorations are ones you’d expect to find in any home. A patternless throw pillow adorning the settee, an oval mirror on the wall, and a long dead floral arrangement sitting on the side table. Ears straining, I hear no hint of children playing. Perhaps it is their nap time. My fingers find their way to the petals as one breaks off in my hands, crumbling into dust. My good friend, Lady V, would have an absolute conniption at the mistreatment of such beautiful plants. When I write her next, I’ll be sure to leave it out. I wouldn’t want her to send a box full of venomous snakes like last time.
I allow my hand to drift over the dust lined mantel, leaving a divot exposing the mahogany wood in its wake. It’s clear this place has been deeply neglected. I love it instantly, feeling akin with its cobwebs and dust bunnies littering the floor. Like calls to like.
“Achem.”
I whirl around meeting a rigidly tall man with dark, disheveled hair and a piercing stare that captures my breath with how devastatingly tortured it is. His chiseled mouth is pinched together as if trying to keep in words he dare not express. A moment passes between us as we take in the other. His clothes are wrinkled and he’s missing a few buttons at the top of his dress shirt, showing off a sprinkle of trimmed chest hair on a muscular but lean frame. Additionally, it’s clear that he hasn’t shaved in some time, but that only adds to how appealing I’m finding him in this moment. I shake myself, knowing it isn’t a good idea to get attached, no matter how delectably handsome this one may be.
“How might I help you?”
“Mr. Blackford, I presume? Are you still in need of a governess?”
He nods his head, gesturing for me to take a seat. I tuck my dress neatly beneath me as I sit, ever the perfect picture of grace. He joins me in the opposite chair, leaning back, his long fingers scratching at his chin. He has a dark and twisted air about him with a hint of danger lurking beneath the surface and I find myself intrigued.
“What experience do you have?” He asks flicking his eyes over my face and landing on my lips. His dark brown eyes look heated for a moment, before turning cold as if someone had dunked his head in a vat of ice.
