Chapter Seven #2
With an effort Isabella managed to refrain from answering Ian.
Since the boy addressed his question to his older sister, Isabella did not feel it was prudent to offer an explanation.
She knew that she needed to gain the children’s trust and confidence before she could effectively establish a relationship with them, and Isabella instinctively sensed that they would not react well to her sudden interference.
Catherine and Ian appeared to be extremely close and dependent upon each other, and any unrequested information thrust upon them by the new governess could be perceived as a threat to their sibling relationship.
“We don’t have a schoolroom, Miss Browning,” Catherine declared bluntly.
“Oh, I am fairly certain a house this size has a schoolroom, Catherine,” Isabella countered gently. “I imagine your father used it when he was a young boy. I am sure if we search together, we shall find it.”
Catherine seemed dubious, but willing to try. “I know where Father’s study is,” she volunteered. “It is across the great hall and three doors over.”
“I too have been in your father’s study,” Isabella said, pleased that Catherine appeared to know a few of her numbers.
“Although I am not certain I could find my way to it on my own.” She smiled encouragingly.
“Generally the schoolroom is located on the upper levels of the house. Shall we climb to the top and search there first?”
At Catherine’s acquiescent nod, the trio set out on their quest. As they climbed the numerous steps, Isabella could not help but notice the dusty furniture, abundant cobwebs, tarnished brass wall sconces, worn and stained flooring, and areas of soot-blackened walls.
It was obvious The Grange had been neglected through the years and had not had a thorough cleaning in a very long time.
The children paused when they reached the third floor landing. “Molly, Fran, Ned and Joe, Penny, Maggie, Fred and Norman all live up there,” Catherine explained, pointing toward the fourth floor.
It took a few moments for Isabella to realize Catherine was showing her the servants’ quarters. “In that case, I believe we should begin our hunt on this floor. All right?”
Catherine reached for her brother’s hand and admonished in a mature voice, “Stay close to me Ian. You don’t want to get lost up here.”
The little boy nodded solemnly and tightly clutched his sister’s hand. Isabella was touched by their need and trust in each other. She followed quietly behind them, assisting with a stubborn latch or stuck door as needed. At the fourth door they located the schoolroom.
“Here it is,” Isabella declared brightly, as she crossed the sunny, dusty room. She struggled mightily with the window hinges, finally succeeded in opening several of the leaded glass windows. The warm, fresh air helped to displace the musty odor.
“I am sure that after a good scrubbing, the room will be quite adequate,” Isabella said. She continued exploring the room while Ian and Catherine watched in silence. Reaching into a wall cupboard, Isabella found several slates and a few pieces of chalk.
Mentally, Isabella began compiling a list in her head of supplies that would be needed.
Writing tablets, ink, watercolor paints, drawing paper, primers and other appropriate books.
Isabella hoped the castle’s library would hold many of the reading materials she needed.
She always enjoyed reading aloud to her charges, especially at bedtime.
Ian and Catherine also began exploring the room, and Catherine gave a loud shout of enthusiasm when she discovered a large tin box filled with toy soldiers.
“Aren’t these wonderful, Ian?” Catherine said excitedly. “They are ever so much nicer than the other soldiers we have. With all of these soldiers, we shall have much larger battles.”
Ian nodded in agreement and eagerly helped his sister sort through the box. In a short time, the children’s hands were filthy, covered with the dust and dirt of the toy soldiers.
“I think we should get some soap and buckets of water so that we may begin cleaning up in here,” Isabella announced when she saw the children’s blackened hands.
“You and Ian may give your soldiers a bath. I am sure Mrs. Amberly will be able to provide us with all the necessary cleaning supplies. Perhaps one of the maids can be spared to help us also.”
The children seemed unimpressed with the notion of cleaning up. “We will wait here for you to return, Miss Browning,” Catherine decided, lining up several infantrymen.
It was not an unreasonable request, and normally Isabella would have been inclined to agree. But she was reluctant to leave the children alone and besides, she could not find her way back to the kitchen without the children’s guidance.
“I believe it would be best if we all go find Mrs. Amberly together,” Isabella insisted.
At first she thought Catherine would continue to protest, but with a last longing glance at the dirty soldiers strategically lined up on the floor, the little girl stood up.
Ian instantly imitated his sister’s actions.
They took a different, more direct route down to the kitchen.
As they negotiated around numerous wooden crates cluttering one hallway, Catherine abruptly stopped.
A large painting, carelessly placed among the crates, claimed the child’s attention.
Leaning over, she stared closely at the painting, a sober expression on her sweet, innocent face.
After a careful examination of the picture, Catherine announced importantly to her younger brother, “This is our mother, Ian. I remember Jenkins showing it to me when it used to hang in the long gallery.”
The little boy moved toward the painting. His expression was unreadable as he stared at the beautiful woman on the canvas.
Unable to hide her curiosity, Isabella also stepped toward the portrait, exceedingly interested in viewing the likeness of the woman she was suppose to so closely resemble.
“It smells funny,” Ian said, wrinkling his nose.
Isabella bent her head and caught a heady wiff of brandy. How odd. Ignoring the strong scent of spirits, she squinted in the dim hallway and stared in amazement at the stunning, vibrant woman painted on the canvas. Isabella felt a strange twisting in her stomach.
Isabella acknowledged there was a faint, distant resemblance between herself and the woman in the portrait, especially the shape and color of the eyes, but in Isabella’s opinion that was the extent of the similarity.
How could the earl possibly have mistaken her for this exciting, beautiful creature?
He must have been very drunk indeed to believe she was the enchanting Emmeline.
“Your mother was a very beautiful and elegant lady, children,” Isabella remarked, still not believing the earl had mistaken her for this woman.
“Yes, she was pretty,” Catherine agreed nonchalantly. Continuing in the same tone, she added, “but she was also a meddlesome, disloyal, spoiled little bitch.”
“Catherine!” Isabella admonished in her sternnest voice. “What a positively horrible thing to say. And about your own mother. You must never, never again speak of your mother or anyone else in such a disgraceful, ill-bred manner.”
The little girl raised confused eyes toward Isabella, obviously not understanding why her governess was so angry. “That is what father says about her, Miss Browning.”
Isabella bit her lip hard to prevent herself from shouting at the child.
“I am certain you have misunderstood your father’s remarks, Catherine,” Isabella insisted, yet she suspected the little girl had most likely repeated precisely what the earl had said.
“In future, you will not repeat such malicious words.”
“All right,” Catherine agreed, with a shrug of her shoulders.
The incident momentarily forgotten, the trio proceeded to the kitchens. They managed to reach their destination without further incident. Mrs. Amberly was rocking comfortable in a wooden chair by the fire, while two young maids were washing and drying the breakfast pots and dishes.
“We found the schoolroom, Mrs. Amberly,” Ian told the housekeeper in an excited voice. “ ’Tis up on the top floor. Father used it when he was a little boy.”
“We found a large box of soldiers, too,” Catherine added importantly. “Miss Browning said we may give them all a proper bath.”
“Sounds as though you children have had a busy morning,” Mrs. Amberly remarked. “I’ve missed you. Come and sit by the fire and tell me all about it.” She turned her attention away from the children and regarded Isabella with narrow eyes. “Was there something you wanted, Miss Browning?”
Isabella refused to be intimidated, deliberately ignoring the uncomfortable tension. For some reason the housekeeper had taken an instant and rather strong dislike to her. Isabella was determined to answer her hostility with a civil, polite voice, no matter how much she was provoked.
“The children and I will need rags, soap, and water to begin our cleanup of the schoolroom,” Isabella instructed, knowing there would be no servants to do the work. “And any members of the household staff that can be spared to assist us would be appreciated.”
Mrs. Amberly stood up, stiffening her spine. “Penny and Molly are cleaning the earl’s bedchamber. And as you plainly can see, Maggie and Fran are still busy with the breakfast dishes.”
“Fran and I are nearly done, Mrs. Amberly,” Maggie volunteered. “We can come upstairs as soon as we put away the last of the china.”
“I for one would certainly be grateful for your help, Maggie,” Isabella answered the maid.
She turned to the housekeeper and added, “I assume you will be joining us, Mrs. Amberly? I am sure the earl would prefer his children to have their lessons in a clean environment, rather than a dirty, dusty schoolroom.”
Mrs. Amberly fairly bristled under Isabella’s criticism. “If the schoolroom isn’t a fit place for the children to be, then they should stay here in the kitchen with me, like they always do.”
“Catherine and Ian are under my care now, Mrs. Amberly,” Isabella replied firmly, realizing the housekeeper had just revealed the cause of her underlying hostility.
Isabella felt a pang of sympathy for the housekeeper, but she had no intention of allowing her position to be undermined.
The sooner Mrs. Amberly accepted her presence and her authority over the children, the better for the entire household.
“The children and I will be spending a great deal of time in the schoolroom.”
Isabella’s calm statement of authority increased Mrs. Amberly’s anger, and she rose from the chair in mounting emotion. The inevitable clash of wills between the two women was momentarily diverted by Fran. The young maid stepped forward, carrying two large buckets, each brimming with sudsy water.
“I’d be glad to bring these up to the schoolroom if you’d like. May I go now, Mrs. Amberly?” Fran asked.
There were several tense minutes of silence while everyone awaited the housekeeper’s reply.
After casting Isabella another scalding look, Mrs. Amberly finally agreed with a curt nod of her head.
Isabella tactfully decided not to pursue the matter further.
She turned to Fran to express her gratitude, and her eyes widened in surprise.
Fran was a country lass, a tall girl with a large, sturdy frame. She was pretty, in a robust, fresh way and she held the heavy buckets of water easily, with no apparent discomfort. Yet even Fran’s wide hips could not conceal the fact that she, like Maggie, was in an advanced stage of pregnancy.