Chapter Fifteen #2
If I could have, I would have licked the plate clean.
Draining the last few drops of ale, I slouch back on the bench, nursing my swollen stomach, fatigue taking over.
Myles rests his head on his hand, while his eyes blink closed.
I pull him up by the arm and drag him upstairs.
Immediately, he falls onto the bed, his bag dropping at his feet, and snoring as soon as his head hits the pillow.
In desperate need of a bath, sleep for me will have to wait.
At the far end of the washroom is a large ceramic tub, already filled with boiling hot water.
A maid must have guessed my wishes. Pouring in some liquid soap from the cupboard, the room fills with the sweet scent of jasmine.
Carefully, I dip one foot in before being unable to wait any longer, I submerge myself in the water hot enough to scald my skin.
I lay soaking for a moment, letting the water heat my frozen bones, then scrub my hair and body raw, letting the water drain away the remnants of the past few weeks.
The calming jasmine and hot water soothe my body, but my eyes twitch as I struggle to stay awake.
Forcing myself to leave the comfort of the tub, I grab a towel, wrapping it around myself while I hunt for fresh clothes.
Atop the bed, Myles is fast asleep, the blanket locked under his rigid body.
I tiptoe over to him, tugging off his boots and edging the blanket from underneath him, draping it on top.
Leaning in to kiss his head, his body flinches as droplets of cold-water drip on him from my wet hair.
My eyes droop as I climb into bed, falling into a deep slumber.
The aromatic smell of coffee drags me from my peaceful sleep. The sun burns my eyes, it’s so bright, the entire room is lit with a warm yellow glow. How long have I slept?
“It’s midday,” Myles answers as if hearing my thoughts. My body creaks and groans as I sit on the edge of the bed, reaching for the mug of coffee.
“You were up early?” Taking in his clothes and boots already on, the smell of fresh air hangs from him.
“I was checking out the job board. There are a few things on there we could both do while we recuperate. I’m heading to the blacksmiths this afternoon.
” He takes a few pieces of paper from his pocket, leaning back on his elbows.
“For you, there’s: a model for a local painter, dairy maid, wet nurse, forager, or tutor? ” He looks at me optimistically.
“I’m sorry…” I say, trying to hold in my laugh. “Did you say wet nurse? Do you even know what that is?” I stifle a laugh. “I don’t think I’m able to do that. Since I have no breast milk.”
Myles gazes at me, eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. “Oh, I thought it was another kind of nurse.” Crumpling the piece of paper, he tosses it over his shoulder. “Moving on. Can’t go wrong with tutoring.”
“I’m guessing you have never tried to teach an unwilling child.” I raise my eyebrows at him. “Let’s hope they’re better than Elana was.”
Pinching the piece of paper out of his hands, I read: ‘Governor Thran requests a tutor in assisting his young daughters with their education.’
Young daughters, it can’t be that bad.
After finishing my coffee and tidying up my clothes for a more presentable front, I head out to the governor’s house.
“Largest buildin’ in t’town. Hard t’miss,” the friendly innkeeper told me before I left.
The most destitute building by far in this endearing town.
Not to say that many of the buildings could do with some restoration, with their slightly peeling paint, cracked wood panels, and worn holes in the road, but as far as towns go, it’s not too shabby.
The governor’s manor, however, resembles the very meaning of deprivation.
Watching my step, I walk up to a giant gated wall, overgrown with ivy and rust, surrounding the governor’s house.
Through the bars, the dense garden is overrun with wild bushes and flowers about a foot tall.
I fiddle with the gate, trying to open it, when a man walks up to me with long auburn hair, dark brown eyes, and glasses sitting sloppily on his nose.
“Yes?” he asks sternly.
The groundskeeper, I presume.
“Hi, I’m here about the tutoring job?” I say, holding out the advert to him.
He snatches it through the bars, and without giving me a second look, he unlatches the large, rusted gate.
It creaks at the hinge’s reluctance to open; the bars and hinges are a deep, rusted colour from years of neglect.
The man pulls the hefty gate open, just enough for me to squeeze through and walks towards the house without another word.
I follow him into the large, dark, and grimy house, with a thick layer of dust coating every surface. Clearly lacking a housekeeper. Whether the governor can no longer afford to keep one or because he chooses not to, I couldn’t say.
The walls are layered with beautiful wallpaper, or it would have been beautiful if it were not peeling and mouldy.
The patterns are ones I haven’t seen before, with gold and navy spirals cascading up an emerald-green backing.
Mum would love a pattern like this at our cottage, to match Dad’s emerald armchair.
The man leads me into a sitting room, gesturing to sit on the ripped couches. Each is torn and damp, and I politely decline. The groundsman’s downcast expression reflects the bleakness of the house and grounds.
“The girls are upstairs. I will get them.”
He leaves, walking up the stairs that creak with each step.
I take in my surroundings; cobwebs cover the ceiling and hang from the golden chandelier.
Dark, damp patches sit in the corners of the room, dripping straight down onto the scratched and sodden wooden flooring.
Water has been seeping into it for some time.
No light comes through the windows, dark, thick curtains hanging from poles blocking all sunlight.
Every sense tells me to run.
Before I can take a step, a scamper of feet stampede down the stairs.
Spinning on my heel, two girls come rushing into the room.
Both girls have brown hair with a reddish tinge; loose curls fall on their shoulders, and they neatly have half their hair tied in a bow.
Their faces are almost identical, except one has blue eyes and one has brown.
So similar in features, if it weren’t for the slight height difference, they could be mistaken for twins.
“Hi,” I say with a wave, “my name is Andi.” The girls gawk at me before grinning at each other with a mischievous look. Like they’ve found a new toy.
I gulp down my fear, hoping I have read them wrong. Maybe they’re just not used to folk. Maybe they’ve been stuck in the house with only their dad, and a new face excites them.
Or maybe they’re going to eat me alive.
“These are my daughters, Megan and Eliza.” The man follows them through the door.
Startled, I take in the man once again. The governor, not the groundsman, like I thought, not that you could tell. His clothes match the house, old and worn, in dire need of repair or replacement.
“Megan is my oldest, at eleven years, and Eliza is the youngest, at seven. Both need to improve their vocabulary and basic math skills; this was their mother’s responsibility before...
Well, they can be a handful, but I’ve warned them to behave.
This will be their last chance before I send them to become wards.
” The governor walks away without another word despite the girl’s protests.
They turn back to me, eyeing me up like their next meal.
“Okay, um, it’s nice to meet you both. How shall we begin?” I ask the girls, both of which stand staring at me with their hands clasped behind their backs, rocking back and forth on their heels.
“Where do you normally do your studying? What was the last thing you worked on?” The awkward silence makes me feel uncomfortable, more so than I already do.
Maybe I should have taken the modelling job instead. Compared to this, sitting hours on end for some eccentric artist would be a relaxing experience.
Megan and Eliza giggle and run away from me upstairs.
This is going to be a long day.