Isabella did hot even question the homey arrangement of having the earl’s valet sitting down to breakfast with the family. She had already learned that Jenkins occupied a unique position in the household that went well beyond that of a normal servant.
The room was silent as Isabella observed its occupants. Then the children suddenly noticed her presence. They immediately put down their spoons, ceased eating their breakfast, and openly stared at her. Isabella’s spine tingled as mild tension began stirring in the room. Apparently the earl felt it also because he slowly lowered his paper and peered over the top. When he beheld the new governess hesitating in the doorway, he scowled slightly at her.
Isabella ignored the earl and turned toward the children. She pasted on a smile, hoping it conveyed the right amount of friendliness, and bravely stepped into the room. No one spoke a word. The floor boards creaked loudly with each step she took, but she boldly marched forward until she reached the unoccupied chair next to Jenkins.
“Good morning, Miss Browning,” Jenkins called out cheerfully, as Isabella seated herself. “I trust you slept well last night.”
“Very soundly, Mr. Jenkins,” Isabella lied. She murmured appropriate greetings to the children and then focused her attention on the earl. He had already resumed his intent perusal of the morning paper, but Isabella was not about to allow him to hide behind his newspaper for the duration of the meal. She cleared her throat loudly and stared boldly at the top of the earl’s head, the only visible part of his anatomy.
After a few awkward moments, he tentatively lowered his reading material.
“Was there something you wanted, Miss Browning?” the earl challenged, a touch of annoyance in his deep voice.
Isabella’s violet eyes sparkled with fury, but she did not indulge it. The earl was being particularly difficult this morning, but he was not her first concern. Isabella inclined her head pointedly toward the children, waiting impatiently for the earl to grasp her meaning.
“Oh, yes, of course,” he responded. “Miss Browning, these are my children, Catherine and Ian. Children, this is Miss Browning, your new governess.”
The brief introductions completed, the earl snapped his paper loudly and once again buried himself behind it. The children shifted their attention from their father to their new governess and stared at Isabella as though she were some strange, exotic creature.
Eventually Catherine, the older of the two, mumbled an incomprehensible greeting while staring rudely at Isabella. Ian did not speak at all, but his small face gleamed with undisguised curiosity. Isabella flashed them a warm smile, which caused them both to quickly lower their heads and resume eating their breakfast.
Isabella was disappointed with their reaction but she took it in stride. Not an encouraging beginning, to be sure, but she had endured far worse. The first time she had met the Braun children, young Robert had thrown a screaming tantrum. At least the earl’s children had remained calm, if somewhat unresponsive.
Damien observed the entire exchange from behind his raised newspaper. He was inwardly pleased that Isabella did not make an issue of Catherine and Ian’s lackluster greeting. Damien’s children were independent by nature, as well as circumstance, and would certainly rebel at being fussed over by a stranger.
Feeling for the first time that he had made the correct decision in hiring a governess, Damien threw down his newspaper and stood up.
“If you are going to work with me today, Jenkins,” the earl said, “I suggest you change your clothes. I plan on completing the new section of stone fence on the eastern borders by darkness.”
The Grange was a working, productive agricultural estate, and all the men who served within the house also worked out of doors when needed, including the earl.
“I thought I would stay in today and help Miss Browning get acquainted with Whatley Grange,” Jenkins announced, ignoring the earl’s frown.
“That is most kind of you, Mr. Jenkins,” Isabella said diplomatically, “but I am sure one of the other servants can show me about the house. Besides, I shall be spending the majority of my day with Catherine and Ian.”
Jenkins wiped his mouth with his cloth napkin and rose from the table. “If you are certain you do not need my help, Miss Browning, I suppose I must accompany the earl today,” Jenkins replied in a disappointed tone.
“How kind of you, Jenkins,” the earl muttered sarcastically under his breath, as Jenkins walked past him. The valet chuckled softly.
After Jenkins left, the earl turned a critical eye toward his children and their new governess. Catherine and Ian were still glued to their seats and Isabella was pushing her food absently around on her breakfast plate.
“I shall see you all later this afternoon.” He strode to the door, but turned toward them before he left the room. Staring hard at Ian and Catherine, he admonished in a strong voice, “Children, behave.” Then he closed the door with a resounding bang.
A great amount of the tension eased from the room with the earl’s departure, and Isabella felt relaxed enough to finish her meal. The food was mediocre and not very hot, but she was hungry and within a few moments her eggs, kidneys, and toast were gone. Daintily brushing the remaining crumbs from her fingers, she looked across the table at the children, who had long since abandoned their meal in favor of watching her consume hers.
“After you have finished your breakfast, children,” Isabella began in a soft voice, “you may show me around the manor. I don’t think I have ever been in such a large house before.”
Catherine and Ian exchanged quiet glances, then nodded in agreement. “I don’t want any more porridge, do you?” Catherine questioned her younger brother. When the little boy agreed that he too was finished, they stood up and moved away from the table. Carefully picking up their plates, they began walking toward the door.
“What are you doing?” Isabella asked, curious at their odd behavior.
“We are carrying our dishes into the kitchen,” Catherine answered.
“I see,” Isabella replied, although in truth she had no idea what was going on. She had never seen any of her charges lift a dish from the table, dirty or otherwise. There were always a bevy of servants to attend to every domestic need. “I am sure the kitchen staff appreciates your assistance, children.”
“What is a kitchen staff?” Ian whispered to his sister as he followed close behind her.
Catherine shrugged her shoulders and replied in a loud whisper, “I don’t know. I guess she means Mrs. Amberly. Or maybe Maggie and Fran.”
