They had arrived inside the house.
Joseph had met the Wimplestows’ butler, because he often doubled as their driver, which while odd, was not when you related it to the family he served.
Big, solid, with not a hair on his head, he looked more like a bare-knuckle fighter than a butler, and just added to the air of odd that encompassed this household.
“Good morning. This is Miss Higglesworth,” Joseph said, as the baron appeared to have vanished. “She is the new governess to Miss Wimplestow.”
The butler’s face creased in a wide smile, which swallowed up his eyes. “It’s wonderful to have you here, Miss Higglesworth. Please, both of you, follow me.”
“Should I not go to my room?”
“You’re not going anywhere.” Joseph grabbed her elbow. “If I have to suffer through this, then so must you.”
“Suffer through what?” she hissed. “And I’m sure it’s highly improper for you to be dragging me about this way.”
“Quite possibly, but I’ve always found in this household, there is safety in numbers.”
“My lord, I should not be seen in your company. I am a governess, and as such I need to spend time with the servants and—”
“Yes, yes, the servant thing again,” Joseph said, ignoring Milly’s attempts to get away. He continued walking. Loud voices greeted them as they approached the dining room, and Milly turned a questioning look at the butler.
“Do the Wimpletstows have company?”
The servant shook his head and moved to open the doors, and Joseph felt unease permeate the pit of his stomach, but placed a determined smile on his face as he entered the room.
“I’ll take your dog, Miss Higglesworth.”
Joseph took the lead from Milly, as she seemed incapable, and handed Mugwort to the butler.
“Lord Ellsworth!” the butler bellowed in strenuous tones. “And Miss Higglesworth.”
Silence descended as all eyes swung toward Joseph and Milly. Joseph could see that Lord Wimplestow had made haste to tell his family of their arrival. Every one of them was on the move, stuffing things behind furniture, or tidying themselves.
“Come, come, both of you. Take seats!” Lord Wimplestow boomed. “You are in the country now, and as you see our manners are easy.” Lord Wimplestow waved Joseph and Milly to chairs, as the rest of his family scrambled to do the same.
“I will take a cup of tea with the staff.” Milly attempted to back away from Joseph, but his hand held her in place.
“No indeed, we do not stand on ceremony here, Miss Higglesworth,” Lord Wimplestow said. “Come, sit. We will share your first meal at Wimplestow House together.”
Joseph swallowed his smile at the small noise Milly made as she took in the scene before her. It was a mild shriek.
Milly’s position as governess meant she should not be sitting down with the earl and the Wimplestow family, but was unsure how to stop that from happening, as Lord Ellsworth and the baron seemed intent that she do so. She perched on the edge of the seat she had been waved to, and tried not to shudder at what lay around her.
The house was a mess. Papers, clothes, and items everywhere. There was a pair of muddied boots resting by the fireside, and a set of dirty prints leading to it. She was not one to comment; after all, people had the right to live as they chose... but really, this was beyond anything she had seen before.
“My lord, I know you have met all my family, but I shall make the introductions for Miss Higglesworth. To your left is my Fanny, the prettiest filly I ever saw. Bore this brood and still looks as sprightly as she did that day twenty years ago when I found her knee-deep in her father’s sty.”
Milly coughed to hide her surprise as she turned to face the lady of the house. Tight gray curls surrounded what could only in half-light be called a homely face, with large round eyes of undetermined color. Milly nodded, as she was seated, rather than curtsy, as surely she should to this woman.
“I shall have to watch you, my lord; most men find my Fanny irresistible.”
Loud guffaws greeted these words, and not, as Milly had instantly expected, from the baron; no, they were from his filly.
“Indeed, there is little doubting her... her....” Lord Ellsworth seemed momentarily lost for words, but managed to rally. “Ah... charms,” he added lamely. This however seemed to please Lord Wimplestow, who now accompanied his wife in a symphony of off-key guffaws.
“And this fine young heifer, Miss Higglesworth, is my Angus, named after my favorite breed of cattle, you understand.”
Milly felt the swell of hysterical laughter rise in her chest as she studied the eldest Wimplestow child. The eager gaze of Angus Wimplestow looked wide-eyed back at her. Round apple cheeks sat in a round pink face, and a thatch of sandy hair stood out in every direction, with not an ounce of curl in sight. Indeed, a large, healthy, ah... a specimen, she thought, for want of a better word, as she studied the dinner-plate-sized hands with grubby fingernails clasped around a glass of ale.
