Chapter 8
The driver brushed the snow off the footstool of the carriage, then held out a hand to Guinevere to assist her to the decorative marble step, which was freshly covered with sand to prevent slipping.
Guinevere hopped from the step to the snow-dusted cobblestone path that led to the manor.
The path circled a large empty fountain that appeared to have been imported from Italy.
Marble sculptures of women frozen in graceful poses surrounded an urn on a column high above them.
The fountain must have been magnificent when it flowed with water.
“Driver, please assist Alice and Wendolyn,” Guinevere instructed the young man.
Although her command was pleasant, it carried a dismissive tone typical of the wealthy towards those they employed.
Alice detested such arrogance, but Wendy appeared to be quite taken with it as she smiled like a lady being helped by a handsome suitor.
Alice observed the driver, who kept his eyes cast down, and from her vantage point she could see just how strong his nose was, the bridge of it rather wide.
Noble, Alice thought. Wendy reached the cobblestone path and began to politely praise Guinevere for the beauty of the enormous columned manor behind them.
Alice felt out of place. Wendy played the gracious guest so well.
“Alice,” the driver said as he reached out his hand. Alice quickly took it, realizing, yet again, she had been lost in her own thoughts.
With one foot on the marble and the other on the footstep of the carriage, Alice knew immediately that she would slip.
The moment the thought entered her mind, she did slip, and she did so grandly.
If not for the driver’s quick reflexes, she would have fallen into a full split over the marble step.
Instead, as soon as her foot slipped forward, his free hand firmly grasped her back, and he leaned into the direction of her fall.
He turned her around his body and guided her to the ground on the other side.
Standing before him, Alice felt her stomach drop into her pelvis, like she’d just gone over a hill too quickly in a carriage.
Was it from her near fall, or his touch?
She couldn’t be sure as she noticed his eyes were not quite hazel, but almost a cranberry red.
It was difficult not to fixate on them, as his lashes were almost white.
She had observed him previously as fair, but today, up close, she saw that his skin was nearly devoid of pigment entirely.
But his jaw was sharp, and with his broad forehead balancing his noble nose, there was something unquestionably handsome about his features.
“How fortunate for Alice that the Headmistress was kind enough to offer our young driver’s assistance,” Guinevere teased, in a tone that was not entirely kind.
“I’m happy to help,” the driver replied, turning to Guinevere and finally breaking the gaze he’d held with Alice. Alice’s face burned in the cold air.
“Come, girls,” Guinevere said, climbing the steps to the manor of washed brick and marble. Spindled snowcapped topiary bushes loomed high above Alice as she followed. Wendy trailed behind Guinevere so that she could meet Alice on the steps.
“You are as graceful as a ballerina,” Wendy said under her breath. Alice gave her a gentle tap on her forearm. She would have had something wittier if she were not so befuddled by the close encounter with the driver.
“How on earth would Miss Marker also release the driver, Wendy? What sense does this make?” The suspicions that grew in Alice nagged relentlessly.
“Oh, Alice, let it be behind us,” Wendy said, with a glance over her shoulder and a scan of the sky before she hurried ahead.
The driver unloaded their luggage from the carriage back, but his eyes remained locked on Alice.
Again, there seemed in them a longing to speak with her.
He knows something of this, Alice thought.
There is something he wishes to tell me.
Alice nodded with a look as if to say, I understand, and the driver returned a nod that let her know her hunch was right. There was something he needed to tell her.