Chapter 5 #2
Mrs. Merryweather went ahead of everyone else, her head high in the air, while the rest of the female servants followed in clusters of two or three, talking and giggling quietly.
The only other servant I’d spoken to, Hannah, talked to two other girls, covering her mouth with her hand as she did so.
Her audience alternately gasped or laughed, until Mrs. Merryweather turned and said sharply, “Quiet. It is the Lord’s Day, not a festival. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” they murmured. When Mrs. Merryweather was no longer looking at them, they grinned at one another.
The walk was quiet, except for the birds overhead, and I did my best to enjoy the spring weather, but there were no flowers on the roadside here.
The church was not much bigger than the one in Milford, but the large square tower and the crenellations across the top, as well as the grayish stone, made it resemble Lowndesbury House.
A thrill went through me to imagine all the people who had come and gone, been married and buried, experienced spiritual epiphanies, and brought their babies to be christened there.
And Lord Brookhaven’s family likely had always been the patrons of this parish, and as such, were in charge of hand-picking the clergy.
As I entered the church, I glanced around but did not see Lord Brookhaven.
Everyone was a stranger. I thought I saw a woman who looked like Mrs. Southey, but when she turned to the side, I wondered that I ever thought such a thing.
After seeing the same few dozen faces since I was five years old, it was a bit like becoming a child again to be confronted with only unfamiliar faces.
And then, all at once, everyone in the church seemed to turn and stare at me.
Where should I sit? What should I do? If I sat in someone else’s seat, I’d be embarrassed when they came and asked me to move. I tried not to look so obviously self-conscious and out of place. At home, the students and teachers from Mrs. Southey’s school had their own rows of seats at the back.
Behind me, the servants began climbing the stairs to the balcony. Of course. The servants would naturally sit in the least desirable place. I started to follow them up when Mrs. Merryweather placed a hand on my arm.
“Come,” she said.
We sat on the outside end of a pew near the front of the church.
Moments later, Lord Brookhaven entered with Samuel and Annabelle. They sat at the other end of the same pew, next to the center aisle, and I realized Mrs. Merryweather and I were sitting in the family pew of the Earl of Brookhaven.
Another reason for the other servants to hate the governess. I was sitting in the place of the family of the earl. Or, more accurately, I was seated with his housekeeper on his family seat.
I forced myself not to stare at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at the children, who sat beside him. When he did, his gaze then went straight to me.
I quickly focused my eyes forward, on the large vase of flowers at the front of the church, which was impressive for its variety of colors.
But I was so nervous, all I saw was the colors.
After a few moments of careful breathing, I began to notice that some of the flowers were familiar, while several more were new to me.
What a great variety of flora there was in the world.
God created so many different types of people and flowers and animals.
As grateful as I was for Mrs. Merryweather allowing me to sit with her, I would have been more grateful if she’d talked to me to pass the time.
Samuel and Annabelle also noticed me. I gave them a very discreet little wave and smiled. They waved back, but then faced forward, as all children are instructed to do in church.
Finally, the rector came forward and began the Sunday morning services. He was rather young, not hideous, but . . . he had a wedding band on his finger.
So not only was the steward not a possibility, but the rector also was not. My choices were dwindling. But this was not a thing to be dwelling on in church. I scolded myself and pushed my thoughts back onto the words the rector was speaking.
It was not so different from the service at home in Milford, although with more Scripture reading and fewer long rants about the virtues and vices—mostly vices—of mankind. When it was over, Mrs. Merryweather said, “Come.”
We walked together all the way back to Lowndesbury House.
I was thankful, at first, not to have to walk by myself, but she barely said two words to me the entire way.
She also surprised me with how briskly she was able to walk at her age.
I suppose it was due to her small and wiry frame and years of hurrying up and down corridors and stairs at Lowndesbury House.
I was able to keep up with Mrs. Merryweather, but only just. Although I loved a good long walk, and I tried to take my exercise every day even in the rain and snow, I spent the largest part of my days studying, teaching, sitting, and standing. I was out of breath when we arrived back home.
It was my day off, so I took my midday meal in my room and wrote letters to Susan, Mrs. Southey, a few of my fellow teachers, and even some of my students who’d begged me to write to them.
Hours later, I stood up to stretch. Then I took my letters to the tray for outgoing mail, which would be franked with Lord Brookhaven’s seal.
I felt a bit guilty for allowing him to save me from paying the postage.
Why did poor people have to pay to post their letters but because I was employed by an earl, I could send my letters free of charge?
I would have taken the letters to post and paid for them myself if he hadn’t asked me directly to let him frank them.
And even now, seeing the unusually large stack of letters I was posting, it seemed egregious.
I forced away the guilt. After all, I could always take the money I would have spent on postage and put it in the donation box for the poor.
I’d grown quite restless, sitting so long and writing so many letters, and I set out on a walk. Unfortunately, the sun was already sinking low, so even though I’d wanted to explore the lanes around Lowndesbury House, I headed into the garden instead.
The air was cool and damp, as it had rained earlier, but I was wearing my sturdiest shoes and would simply take care not to slip in the mud. I kept to the stone-lined walkways until I grew tired of the sameness and moved into the wilder part of the park.
I was examining a clump of delightful red-capped mushrooms when I smelled pipe smoke, then heard someone clearing his throat. I turned to find Lord Brookhaven standing beside a tree, gazing up at its branches and holding a pipe in his right hand.
I was disturbing his solitary evening. I shouldn’t have been wandering around the earl’s private park. I turned to leave.
“There is a goshawk’s nest up in this tree, and if you’re very quiet, you can hear the nestlings chirping when the mother bird is near.”
I glanced around, but there was no one else. He must be talking to me.