Gentlemen claim to treat all ladies with respect, but those with beauty or wealth garnered more gentlemanly assistance than a plain governess such as herself. If her complexion were porcelain or her nose were more proportional to her face, the gentleman would have paused in his assistance and met her eyes (which would be devoid of their usual puffy appearance that made her look as though she’d been crying) and be immediately entranced by her loveliness.
Wasn’t that how it was supposed to unfold? A random meeting in which their gazes locked, and he would be taken with her as quickly as she was taken with him. He would insist on accompanying her and carrying her bundles without prompting, and they would meander along as they lost themselves in a conversation that proved equally diverting for them both. An instant connection.
Instead, Judith was left to imagine what it would be like to receive such instant adoration and then shake her head at the silliness of indulging her romantic heart. But it was a fun diversion while it lasted. And she would much rather get lost in vivid fantasies of what courting would be like than think about what was to come. Or to fret over her shopping excursion.
Judith went through her checklist yet again, certain she had missed something, which was ludicrous. The haberdasher had so many lovely trimmings for the children’s costumes that Judith had purchased far more than intended. Which was even more ludicrous. Judith didn’t think of herself as a foolish person (other than allowing herself to conjure up romantic dreams from time to time), but what other descriptor could be used for a woman who allows herself to get so at odds over the return of her employer that she charges far more than is necessary to the household accounts? It wasn’t an exorbitant amount, but Judith knew so little of Mr. Byrnes. Was he a miser who would begrudge the extra farthings?
Fretting about what had passed was a useless endeavor, so Judith tried to banish it from her thoughts, but the imminent arrival of the mysterious Mr. Byrnes loomed over her. Starting with a new household was always daunting, and though she’d taken charge of the Byrnes’s children a year ago, the return of the head of the household was much like beginning anew. Parents were always the more difficult aspect of her position, and Judith wished she could simply teach the children and never speak to their progenitors. That would be delightful.
Laughing to herself, Judith followed the route to the Slades’ door as she mulled over that impossibility.
Perhaps Mr. Byrnes was as disinterested as the rest of the fathers, leaving Judith free to teach as she saw fit. Helen had a keen mind for naturalism, and Portsmouth was rife with opportunities to study the ocean life that captured her attention. While Griffith and Leah were still too young to show much aptitude towards any subject (and they were not wholly under her educational care), the port offered so many possibilities for experiences—ones Judith longed to share with them.
Jerking free of those ruminations, Judith recalled the letter awaiting her in her pocket. Her quarters at the Slades’ home were not conducive to reading and writing, and it was too difficult for her to capture a few moments alone when she was outside her bedchamber. If Judith wished to read her cousin’s words without interruption, she would need to do so now.
But it seemed a shame to waste the beautiful afternoon on Chloe’s missive. The weather wasn’t particularly fine but having a few hours to herself made even the dullest day a sight to behold, and she far preferred to spend it admiring the countryside. Judith grimaced as a prickle ran across her skin; such an uncharitable thought was not becoming nor was it fair to Chloe. Her cousin was a dutiful correspondent, and Judith ought to be grateful for any news of the family, even if Chloe’s reports were more voluminous than entertaining.
Shifting her basket, Judith reached into her pocket and thumbed open the seal, unfurling the pages all tucked together. Good gracious, Chloe! Judith couldn’t imagine what of any significance could’ve happened in the past sennight that warranted a full six pages of writing. Heaven knows Judith hadn’t enough news in her life to occupy so many words. But the source of Chloe’s verbosity became quickly apparent when her cousin moved past the usual trite things about her children and her health and threw herself into sentences that utilized more exclamation points than necessary.
From Chloe’s description, one would think losing a governess was the greatest burden a mother could bear. Judith wished she could say the exuberance with which Chloe wrote was due to her delicate condition and the nearness of her confinement, but Judith was fairly certain this loss was truly devastating to her cousin and the emotions were a genuine reflection of her disheartened mood.
…You cannot imagine the agonies of such a thing, Judith! It is so upsetting to the nursery and the household in general, and the act of finding a replacement is so odious! It is unfeeling of Mrs. Timmons to leave us at such a time…
Judith’s thoughts sprung to life with arguments concerning the apathy most employers bestowed upon their governesses, but she doubted her cousin would accept such truths. Far too many employers expected loyalty and adoration from their servants without giving any themselves.
…Will you please reconsider? The children adore you, and it would be such a relief to know the nursery is being overseen by someone I trust, and it would please Martin and me so very much to see you settled in a comfortable situation. You are family…
And thus, the letter continued in that vein, repeating the words Chloe had employed from the moment Judith had announced she was leaving her aunt and uncle’s home to pursue a position as a governess. Thank the heavens her cousin had been without children at the time, for if Chloe had offered her a proper position (other than that of companion, which to Judith’s thinking was not one), Judith might not have had the fortitude to strike out on her own.
…and Martin is standing over my shoulder, insisting I add a line asking after you on his behalf and to send you his love…
Judith folded up the letter, tucking it back into her pocket. Yes, thank the heavens she’d chosen to leave the comfort of her uncle’s home and hadn’t exchanged it for her cousin’s. If the difference between the first and second half of her life had taught her anything, it was better to be a governess with a clear hierarchy and standing among the family than the nebulous role of poor relation.
Such musings occupied her attention as Portsmouth proper petered out into the countryside. Though some miles inland, the breeze carried the biting scent of the sea, mixing with the scent of grass and growing things as the harbor gave way to fields and farms. Before long the outer buildings of Whitmouth appeared.
Being employed in various counties had afforded Judith a wide exposure to the country, and though each corner maintained a similar appearance that was synonymous to England, each had its variations, and Judith adored the southern coast. The buildings were laid out much the same as any other part of the country, yet so many of the cottages covered the exteriors with the offerings of the beach, pressing the small shells into the plaster. From a distance, they looked delightfully weathered, as though the sea winds had worn away bits of the stone, but as one got closer, the facade became a collage of textures.
Whitmouth was much like the other villages nestled around the bustling Portsmouth, though on a grander scale than some. Many of the residents found their occupation in that larger town, but Whitmouth was growing into one in its own right, and the Slades resided in the center of it all. The family’s mercantile had an impressive array of goods, far more than a shop its size warranted (though Judith supposed that was due to the proximity to such a large port), and the Slades themselves were poised to be both the literal and figurative center of Whitmouth society. What little it had.
Their townhouse sat atop the shop, though it was quite finer than any rooms one expected for a tradesman. If not for the unfortunate placement—and even more unfortunate owners—Aunt Lavinia mightn’t be opposed to passing a morning visit there. Even if the rooms were not so very different from many found in London, visiting a tradesman would be inconceivable to that delicate lady’s nerves. No doubt, Aunt Lavinia would suffer apoplexy if she knew the full extent of Judith’s living situation. Not that Judith had any plans on informing her aunt of that.
Moving to the back of the building, Judith took the steps to the servants’ entrance and found the servants’ hall empty, which wouldn’t have been such an unusual sight for the middle of the day, but when Judith moved to the family’s rooms, she found the household teeming like an agitated anthill. The menservants were moving crates to and fro while a maid bustled past with an armful of the children’s linens. Mrs. Farris fairly bowled into Judith as she barked commands at the others.
“What has kept you?” she demanded, but before Judith could answer, the woman shook her head. “Dawdling, no doubt. We’re all in an uproar, and you’ve been out shopping…”
Judith held onto a placid expression, ignoring the string of accusations the housekeeper leveled at the tardy governess—never mind that she neither reported to Mrs. Farris nor was employed by her. Various defenses sprang to mind (some being more wicked than others), but Judith held her tongue. Having lived in many households in the nineteen years she’d served as a governess, she knew well enough how to keep her own counsel even if she wanted to give that uppity woman a firm set-down; Judith was no silly young miss to be scolded, but with that age and wisdom, she knew better than to make an enemy of someone who had the ear of the mistress.
“The nursery is being packed, the children readied, and you must gather your things immediately,” said Mrs. Farris, waving Judith away like a bothersome fly.
The housekeeper gave no other explanation, and Judith did not require one as the entire household had been awaiting this day. Though she’d hoped for a few more weeks of blissful peace before this upset, there was no need to wonder any further when Mr. Byrnes would return home.
Chapter 3
Children were not quiet things. A single one may be prone to tranquility, but in multiples, they increased in volume and energy exponentially. The Byrnes children were no different, but at present, they were proving to be anomalies to that rule. The carriage rocked in a manner that might’ve lulled Judith into a peaceful doze, but the silence in the vehicle was not restful. Helen sat on one side, staring out the window. The girl had hardly spoken since Judith arrived at the Slades’ home, but it was not because she had naught to say; Helen’s lips pulled tight, and she frowned at the passing world, and Judith longed to ease the scrunch of her little brow.
“I don’t want to go to Stowell Cottage,” mumbled Griffith from her other side.
“We cannot return to Aunt Ruth and Uncle Christopher,” snipped Helen.
