2. Chapter Two
two
Chapter Two
Mrs. Purser was called so, although she’d never married. She was proud of it. She’d told Honor so herself.
“I never had need of a man when I was young, and I certainly don’t need one now that I’m old.” The spindly, severe housekeeper had said upon her introductions.
Honor had liked her immediately.
The housekeeper was not as old as she seemed, but she was just as stern as she looked. She was a tall, stern, shrewd lady who didn’t miss a single thing. She had looked Honor over as she showed her to her room. “Your attire is suitable.” She said. “Far more so than the previous girl. I should hope you are as respectable as you seem.”
“I assure you, I am.” Honor brushed her hand over her skirts, making sure they were perfectly even. Her dress, a simple thing the color of old cobwebs, had been picked especially to please in its practicality.
“I warn you, Miss Holt. I run a practical, productive household. I do not tolerate fools or liars.”
“I am neither.” Honor said.
“Then you should fit in well. Herecross Manor is more than a country house. It functions like a body. A very well-exercised, well-regulated body.” Mrs. Purser shot a particularly severe look to a maid who was cleaning the floors. The maid quickly began to scrub even harder. “Anyone who brings disorder or chaos to this body will be removed, just as a surgeon would remove a cancer.”
Just as a surgeon would remove a cancer. How severe. Honor hoped they would be great friends.
“I am sure I will cause you no trouble.” Honor insisted. “When shall I see the children?”
Mrs. Purser’s expression softened ever so slightly. “Lady Anne is currently on her afternoon stroll by the sea. When she returns, I am sure Lady Jane would be more than happy to make the introductions. I warn you, Lady Anne is quite fond of the seaside. If you wish to get in her graces, I would read up on your shells.”
Honor smiled. “I shall.” That was at least more interesting than sewing. Oh, Honor would teach that of course. But teaching the child something of substance also appealed to her. She'd always held that a lady should learn something of substance, even if it was just to waste a few hours before dinner.
Yet the mention of an unfamiliar name made Honor pause. “Lady Jane?” She asked. “Forgive me, Mrs. Purser. I am not familiar with her. The society papers I consulted did not mention a third child.”
“The society papers.” Mrs. Purser scoffed. “No Linton would be mentioned there unless it was for a wedding or a funeral. They’d only be caught there if they were dead, Lady Jane especially.”
Honor didn’t have the heart to mention that the Lintons had indeed been mentioned in the papers, albeit in the context of being pitied for their troubles. “Forgive me, may I ask who her ladyship is?”
Mrs. Purser sniffled. “Lady Jane Linton is the only daughter of our late lord, and the elder sister of our current.”
“Oh.” Honor had heard nothing of her in her research into the Lintons. “I look forward to helping serve her ladyship.”
This was evidently the wrong thing to say. Mrs. Purser looked at her with a frosty glare. “Her ladyship is a proper lady, as all Linton women are. I wouldn’t expect any closeness beyond what is dictated. Indeed, the last governess was dismissed for over-familiarity with Lady Jane. I pray you do not follow in her steps.”
Honor blushed. She couldn’t help it. The force of Mrs. Purser’s words brought the blood to her face. “Forgive me, I-.”
“Her ladyship certainly won’t, if you attempt to get too close.” Although her words were sharp, Mrs. Purser’s frosty face thawed a fraction of an inch. “Her ladyship is a solitary, quiet soul. She prefers the isolation of the countryside to the fuss and bother of places like London. Indeed, she rarely leaves the estate, and usually only to attend church on Sundays. But she is devoted to the children. She cares as much for Lady Anne and Lord Henry as their own mother did. I am sure you will see her in the course of your duties, but you would be wise to keep your distance. Her ladyship likes her distance.”
Honor nodded. “I understand. I would hate to do anything to offend so noble a lady.”
How strange. As Mrs. Purser showed Honor to her small room just off of the nursery, Honor mused over this latest piece of information. Honor had heard nothing of this mysterious lady. She’d not been mentioned in any of the gossip papers discussing the Lintons. If she was older than Lord Linton, she would be considered a spinster indeed. Perhaps that was why? Perhaps she had withdrawn from society for some reason. It would be sensible. Society was filled with pratfalls and fools. So why did Mrs. Purser have such an extreme reaction? Why so much secrecy and isolation in regards to this mysterious lady?
It made no sense. And Honor hated it when things made no sense. It wasn’t reasonable, or logical, or any of the things she set her life by. But it was what it was. And Honor did not like it. She would figure this out. True, she would no doubt have to be very quiet about it. Offending her ladyship would mean immediate dismissal. But Honor was nothing if not subtle when she was nosy.
Her room was far nicer than anywhere she’d ever stayed before, and far larger than any room she’d had before. The walls were a pale shade of pink, precisely the same color as the inside of a shell. There was a large window with a view to the ocean, and the bed was large and luxurious. Catching Honor’s wide eyed look, Mrs. Purser almost smiled.
“The rooms that connect to the nursery were built with the Countess in mind. With no Countess in residence, we’ve given them out to the person who would have most need. Lady Jane has the other suite of rooms on the other side, but our room for the governess has always been bigger. I hope it is to your liking.”
Liking? Honor would be mad if they weren’t. She simply nodded, already trying to think of where she’d put her few things. It almost seemed improper to sully such a room with her meager possessions. “I thank you.”
“I will let you get settled in. You will be summoned for introductions when the Lady Anne returns from her constitutional.” Mrs. Purser said. “Until then, Miss Holt.”
She left, and Honor was alone again. She walked over to the window, her dress swaying around her legs, and she pressed her forehead to the cool glass.
This was far more than she’d ever expected. Honor hadn’t grown up poor. Indeed, she’d been raised in quite a well-off household. But her father had new money. He’d had not a coin to his name when he was a child. They’d lived simply and practically, always aware that money could be lost just as easy as it had been won. Honor had never allowed herself to forget who she was: a plain, simple, blunt woman who lived in her means. She was luckier than many girls in London, but she was not a member of the elite. She never would be, and that was fine. Honor had long since learned not to dwell in dreams.
But this was different. Herecross Manor was different. There was something about the shell pink walls of her bedroom that promised comfort, and safety and…decadence. Decadence in the most positive sense. It was nice. Pleasant. Enjoyable. Honor feared those things. She feared them more than anything. Comfort meant relaxing, and Honor could never relax. She could never let her guard down. Not when she knew what she was. Not when she knew who she was.
The image of blonde hair and a wickedly sharp smile bobbed up into Honor’s thoughts, like a lure bobbing to the surface of a pond, ready to snag a fat fish. Try as she might, this time Honor couldn’t shake the thought of Lady Anna Price. She felt as if she had swallowed a fish hook, and it was about to rip out her throat.
She’d told herself she’d never think of Lady Anna again. But she always seemed to come to the surface, rising up with her blonde hair like Delilah the Traitor.
She had been Honor’s friend. She had been her dearest friend. They had met at a soiree Cousin Kathryn had held, and they’d gotten along in an instant. They couldn’t have been more different. Lady Anna was a glittering socialite, a diamond of the first water that could have whatever she wanted brought to her in an instant. She was rich, clever, and so terribly beautiful. She could have had anyone. Princes fought for the right to dance with her. Dukes would have dueled to make her their bride.
She could have had anyone.
She had been Honor’s friend.
She had been more than Honor’s friend.
And she had cut her off, with only a letter of dismissal and a public notice of her engagement to a man she’d sworn she hated. She had cut her off, and left her with a fish hook of pain in Honor’s belly that she’d never been free of. It was the knowledge of love lost, and love had. It was the knowledge of having been known, and being put aside.
It was the knowledge that Honor would never be a girl who liked men, no matter how she tried. And that knowledge was the worst of all. Lady Anna was able to pretend. Honor wasn't. Honesty was a virtue, but at times it felt like a vice. Honor couldn't lie, especially not to herself. Perhaps Lady Anna could. Perhaps that was all Lady Anna did. But Honor could not. She knew what she was.
Lady Anna had shown Honor that she was wicked. For a time, being wicked had been worth it if Lady Anna was there. And then she was gone, leaving only her fish hook smile behind to haunt Honor’s dreams.
Honor’s eyes closed. She forced herself to focus on the cool glass under her head. Things were different now. Very different. She was about as far away from London as she could go without leaving England. She had put as much space between there and here as she could. Lady Anna was gone. Gone, never to return. It was time for Honor to do the same.
She breathed in and dabbed at her eyes. Some water must have been on the inside of the glass. She wouldn’t think anymore of the past. It was impractical.
The sound of a crying baby snapped her out of her haze. That must be the little Lord. Honor waited to hear the sound of a footfall, but nobody approached. Could this be a test? Honor waited another moment, but still nobody came. It wouldn’t do to leave the child crying. Honor knew more about older children, but she didn’t like the thought of a babe weeping. She quickly crossed the room and pushed open the door.
The nursery was a sun-soaked room, all cream and gold. It reminded Honor of the descriptions she’d read of Marie Antoinette’s farmhouse chateau. It was large and bright, with giant windows and beautiful furniture. Toys lay scattered carelessly on the ground, happiness evidently meaning more here than neatness. The babe was not in his crib. He was held close in a woman’s arms.
The woman standing in the room was a bit taller than Honor. She was slight, but with a figure that would have been praised to Heaven in the Ton. Her pale blonde hair was pinned back in a cascade of fashionable curls, and sealed with a simple red hairband. Her dress was a dark navy that tumbled to the floor in a gentle wave. It was elegant, and terribly in style, although Honor couldn’t recall having ever seen this woman before. She was hardly a member of the Ton, but this woman was so beautiful that she would have been written about, wouldn’t she?
Because she was beautiful. She was so beautiful, Honor was taken aback. Her skin was pale, her only fault evidently being a lack of sunshine. She looked a trifle sickly, but somehow this delicacy only made her more fetching. Honor stared at her, this wraith of a woman, and she found herself at a loss for words.
The blonde turned her head, and her eyes widened. “Who are you?” She asked. Her tone was shockingly imperious. This was a woman accustomed to ordering and being obeyed.
Honor instinctually bent her head. “Forgive me, I-I heard the child, and-.”
“I do not know you.” The woman said. “I will call for the housekeeper. I am not accustomed to being barged in on by a complete stranger.”
This could only be one person. Honor sank into a curtsey. “Forgive me, my lady. I am Miss Honor Holt, the new governess.”
Honor had hoped this would set her at ease. But the lady’s eyes narrowed. “I was not informed there would be a new governess. I do not believe your services are required. I can more than manage the children.”
This, of all replies, was not what Honor expected. “Forgive me, but I was hired by the housekeeper. I have excellent references-.”
“I’m sure you do, but they do not compare to family.” She looked to say something else but the baby stirred in her arms. The lady glanced down, and her eyes softened. “We will speak later. But I will speak to the housekeeper about this.”
“Yes, Lady Jane.” Honor said.
“How do you know my name?” She asked.
“Forgive me,” It didn’t seem as if Honor could say anything right. “I was told it by Mrs. Purser. Forgive me, I meant no disrespect.”
“I’m sure you didn’t.” Jane held the baby closer to her chest. “You are dismissed, Miss Holt. I will speak with Mrs. Purser.”
Defeated, and with nothing else to say, Honor nodded and left the room. Her hands were trembling as she closed the door behind her. She had come into this position with the intent to be the perfect servant. And yet here she was, only a few minutes into her job, practically shaking with- anger? Yes. Yes, she was angry .
What a shrew! Honor wasn’t somebody easily angered. Her practicality had long since evened itself out into a even temper. But something about Lady Jane Linton simply got under her skin. Her haughtiness- yes, that was it. She was haughty. She carried herself as a lady, with all that entailed. Honor had been in the presence of ladies of the ton, and while they all had known who they were, none had held themselves so prickly and painfully proud as Jane Linton. Honor had expected a Linton to be a Linton- but this woman seemed almost too Linton for her own good.
Honor’s face was flushed, and her heart pounded. It was a strange reaction for somebody as stoic as she. As she moved to unpack her things, she told herself it was because of how rude Lady Jane Linton had been.
It was out of rudeness that her face colored and her cheeks burned.
It was not at all because of her beauty.
Not a bit.