3. Chapter Three
three
Chapter Three
Herecross Manor was a veritable heaven on earth. Honor was not inclined to hyperbole, but she could not imagine it as anything else but divine. Once, Cousin Kathryn had told her that the families from the north had a reputation for cheapness. If that were the case, Honor couldn't imagine what the southern great houses must look like.
Herecross Manor was a place of soaring stone walls and thick ivy creeping up from the ground. It perfectly built to endure the harshest of winters. No matter where Honor was in the house, be it in her own room or the draftiest drawing room, the manor was as snug and as warm as could be. At night, when the wind howled across the desolate moors, the house took on an almost magical quality. It seemed like the last bastion of warmth, like some great warming brick pressed into the earth by God. The whole place seemed to whisper: Here you are safe. Here, you are welcome.
Inside, Herecross was just as much a sanctuary as it looked. The high ceilings of the entrance hall, the great sweeping staircase, and the long corridors all seemed to scream a sense of safety. The Lintons had build this place to last, and last it would. Herecross Manor was one of the few buildings of its era still standing. The confidence and assuredness the building put across seemed to say that it would be here forever. Honor merely had to come back inside after a few hours outside to be bathed in the warmth the house radiated. This was no haunted house conspiring against a governess, like in all the stories. This house was a home.
Honor had been here for three weeks now, and though each day felt like the last in its quiet, steady rhythm, there was a unique pleasure in experiencing the house through the changing seasons. Winter, with its soft white snowfall and cold winds, made the warmth of Herecross all the more precious. She could not imagine ever tiring of the place, nor of the new corners and rooms she had yet to explore. Even the passages she had thought she knew well seemed to change in the light of the winter days, the shadows of the hallways darker and more mysterious, the fireplace glow casting everything in a golden hue.
Three weeks. She’d been kept on after all, even after Lady Linton had tried to dismiss her. Something had happened between her Ladyship and Mrs. Purser. It must have been a clash of wills indeed. In the three weeks she’d been here, Honor had found both to be masters of stubbornness and willpower. The clash must have been legendary, but ultimately Mrs. Purser won. And Honor had been able to carry on. She stuck to her day's routine, and did her best to avoid Lady Linton. Mrs. Purser had told her there'd be no problems, but Honor did not wish to seek out any.
The day’s routine was just that, routine. It started with Honor rising and dressing, slipping into a simple dress that allowed ease of movement. Then she would go and wake the children. Baby Henry was being served breakfast by his nurse by the time she arrived. Usually the Lady Linton would be there to sit with Henry while he ate. Honor and her paid no more attention to each other than they must. A curtsey, a nod. That was the best way to court safety, Honor thought. Don't cause trouble, and trouble wouldn't find her.
Lady Anne would be awoken by Honor. She was a sweet child, shy and quiet, but affectionate once her heart was won. The first day they’d met, Honor had sat while Anne explained her seashell collection to her. The child was passionate about the ocean, and had collected box after box of specimens. She could be dreamy, and cried if spoken to too firmly, but she was empathetic and gentle. Honor found a fondness growing for the little ladyship that only continued as days past.
They would eat breakfast together, with Anne looking out the window and Honor reviewing her lesson book. Then they would have their lessons. Reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, the sciences, all would be reviewed. Evidently the Earl of Morewood was something of a supporter for female education. He had sent instructions that Anne was to be educated just as a boy was. She had a special fondness for the sciences, and peppered Honor with question after question about the ocean. What Honor didn’t know they would look up in the library. Honor found herself returning to the library after hours to find answers to questions. She even had several volumes tucked into her own room for her own education. Being a governess was more intellectually challenging that Honor had expected, and she relished the challenge.
After morning lessons it was time for tea. Lady Linton returned to dine with Anne, and they would make uncomfortable small talk over crumpets and cakes. Lady Jane was as fond of Anne as she was of Henry, and she would ask about her lessons and about whether or not she’d liked them. Honor got the sense that Jane was trying to see if there were any grounds for dismissal, but Anne was too enthusiastic about their studies to take the bait.
After that there was a break in the day. Anne was easily tired. It seemed to be a trait that all Lintons shared. Lady Jane required a nap throughout the day, and Henry always seemed to be dozing in his nurse’s arms. Anne too needed a nap. Honor had tried to insist she carried on, but she quickly fell apart without some rest. After she awoke, it was time for more lessons. They studied French then, primarily. Anne wasn’t very interested, but it was required. French could be very useful, Honor had tried to explain. At most Anne liked it when she thought of it as a pattern, as a puzzle. She enjoyed puzzles.
Then there was free time. Anne would play while Honor sewed or read or played with her. She’d learned a number of games since she’d arrived. It had been a long time since Honor was a girl, and she’d forgotten how delightfully macabre children could be. Anne’s favorite game was something she called ‘Shipwreck’. They would sit on the floor and play pretend that they’d been lost at sea.
And then there’d be dinner, and bed time. It wasn’t really in Honor’s job description to read her a bedtime story. Most children were sent to bed with nary a word. Honor always had been treated thus. Her mother had died when she was very young, and she had been raised by a maiden aunt with less kindness than a piranha. Anne didn’t require a bedtime story.
Honor read her one anyway. They were working their way through a book about the sea. As much as she claimed to be professional, it was hard not to care about the children. There was something fulfilling in
The worst thing about the job was Lady Jane. She was sardonic and snappy. She at least had the grace not to undermine Honor’s authority in front of the children, but she knew that Jane watched her like a hawk for any mistake. Honor had given her none. The children seemed to adore her. Lady Anne was already quite attached to her, and the baby smiled whenever she entered. The children’s affection for her only seemed to make her antipathy for Honor grow larger. It was always a relief when the day came to an end and Honor could break away from that shrew of a woman and indulge herself in peace.
After Anne was abed, Honor had her time to herself. She would mostly read. The library at the estate was wonderful. The Lintons evidently had been collecting rare books for ages. Honor would take a plate of biscuits from the kitchen and sit and read in her room. The Lintons had books on everything. From the Conqueror to the Prince Regent and everything in between, there was something for all eras. Honor was currently working her way through a book on Isabella of Angoulême, the Queen of the notorious King John. This night, some few weeks after she had moved in, that was what she was enjoying. Tucked up snug in her bed, with a candle and a few biscuits for company, Honor indulged herself in the world of the past.
For all her proprietary and politeness, Honor had a weakness for the sordid nature of the early kings. She liked to read about nobility behaving badly. Isabella of Angoulême had been considered the ‘Helen of Troy’ of her day, but others had considered her the wicked ‘Messalina’. Some say she had bewitched John with her beauty. Honor believed that it was more likely she was just a beautiful thing kept captive by her husband’s greed. That was often how it was. Beautiful women were kept caged by men’s desires.
Honor had seen it far too many times.
She had thought of Lady Anna, and her heart had hurt. So she had shut her book and moved to return her plate to the kitchen.
The halls of Herecross Manor were not frightening, even at night. The place was simply too warm and accepting to be horrifying. If Honor had sought to be the protagonist of some mystery story, she had picked wrong. There would be no haunted governesses here, no mysterious lord chasing after a beautiful waif who had taken on the care of his children. Herecross Manor was too wholesome, too bright.
Besides, Honor was not interested in lords, no matter how mysterious they were.
She nipped down into the kitchen and quickly washed any remains of her snack from the plate. Perhaps it was improper for her to wash her own dish, but Honor didn’t want to bother somebody else about it. In London, she and her father had done most of their work themselves. They had a day maid for basic things, but Honor had dressed and cleaned all by herself. Things were different in the Linton’s domain. Herecross Manor was manned by an armada of servants. There was somebody at the children’s beck and call if they ever needed them, and that authority had somewhat transferred to Honor. She was a servant just as them, but she was the sort of servant who could direct others rather than merely obey. Those servants were often alone in the household.
Fine. That suited Honor just fine. She didn’t need friends. She didn’t at all feel jealous when she saw them conspiring and chatting together, heads bent over food or over their work.
Honor looked out the window as she scrubbed at the dish. The weather was growing colder with every day. When she had set out for the north, it had been late October. It was now early December, and the countryside showed every inch of it. The ground had frozen solid, and the world had seemed to grow still. It hadn’t snowed yet, which Honor had come to learn was unusual. Anne was quite cross about it. She’d already wrung a promise from Honor that they’d build a snow fort the second a decent snowfall fell. But no snow had fallen. It seemed as if the sky was withholding something, waiting for just the right moment.
A mild cough issued from behind Honor.
Honor spun around in surprise. Lady Jane was standing there, eyes narrowed in disapproval. Even at this late hour she was well dressed. She wore a simple house dress and a man’s dressing gown, probably for warmth. Her hair was bundled up into twin knots. It was an old fashioned style, and it reminded Honor of the double buns queens wore in the middle ages. Jane assuredly had the same look of cold contempt of those long gone battleaxes.
“Miss Holt,” Jane said with an icy sort of politeness. “What are you doing here?”
Honor felt her face flush and she was ashamed of it. Why did she blush in the face of this spoiled shrew? Honor was shocked at her own thoughts. She’d always had a healthy respect for her betters, if only out of survival instinct. But something about Jane drove her wild.
“I was merely returning a dish to the kitchen,” Honor said, keeping her voice level. It wouldn’t do to show how much Jane’s mere presence annoyed her. “Forgive me if that is out of line.”
“It isn’t out of line,” Jane said. “But I am glad to see you. There is something that I wished to discuss with you. Something that I did think was out of line.”
Honor grit her teeth together as she forced herself to smile. “Yes, of course, my lady. I would be happy to discuss this in the mor-.”
“I overheard your lesson today.”
Honor stiffened. What had been wrong with it? It had been a simple history lesson. She had been engaged in discussing queen consorts of England with Anne. What on earth could be the matter with that? She fought to keep her expression neutral, though she could feel her pulse quicken.
"Yes?" Honor asked.
Jane took a step closer, and Honor could feel the air grow tense. The firelight fell upon Jane’s face. Her face was severe in the light, but still terribly beautiful. What right had she to be so beautiful and so awful?
“Yes,” Jane replied, her tone biting. “I could not help but overhear your…history lesson. You discussed all the sordid details of the royal family.” Her eyes narrowed. "It was little more than gossip. I'll thank you not to teach my niece to gossip.
"Gossip?" Honor almost laughed. "I told her historical facts. Her primer was discussing Henry VIII and his six wives. I simply filled in the gaps-."
"It is gossiping, and I do not care for it," Jane said stiffly.
"You consider history gossip?" Honor asked.
"I do when it is on subjects most shocking."
"It was British history, and I merely told her that he had six wives, some of who met a dismal end." Honor crossed her arms. "I was hardly discussing pagan soirées."
That was the wrong thing to say. Jane drew closer, her eyes almost narrowed to slits. There was so little space between them that Honor could have reached out to touch her face. "Let me make things as clear as possible to you, as it appears they were not made so. You are a governess. You are to teach Anne deportment and good behavior. Nobody needs a bluestocking for a wife. When Anne comes of age she will be expected to make as good a match as possible. Her future rests upon it. Filling her head with gossip about the family of our King and Queen will only lead to trouble."
Honor spoke without thinking. "The Tudors are not the family of our King and Queen, Lady Jane. Henry VIII's children never had heirs of their own. The descent went to the Stewarts of Scotland. Perhaps you would know that if somebody had taught you."
Jane's eyes widened in shock. Honor immediately regretted her words, but it was too late to turn back. Like Caesar crossing the Rubicon, her die had been cast. The two women stood looking at each other before Jane spoke.
"You speak out of place," She said, voice low and dangerous. "I should have you thrown out of the house this instant."
She should, and she could. Honor knew it. But she just stood there, looking at her. "Continue your lessons," She said finally. "But I shall be keeping a very close eye upon them. I do not want to hear anything else of the sort of rubbish you taught. Do I make myself clear?"
She was backing off, and both of them knew it. This war wasn't over. It had hardly begun. But this battle was finished – the noble lady was retreating and the governess had won the night. If she won the day was yet to be seen. Honor lowered her eyes the appropriate amount.
"Yes, my lady."
"If you do not, I will have you removed from your post."
"Yes, my lady."
"Only Anne's affection saves you now. If this happens again, I will fling you out of doors before you can even spell the word 'Tudor'. Do you understand?"
Honor swallowed a nasty word. "Yes, my lady."
"Good," Jane reached over and tilted her chin up. Her skin was shockingly soft. "You are a governess, Honor Holt," Her eyes bore into Honor's own. "Pray you remember that."
With that, she turned on her heel and walked out the door. Her footsteps echoed down the hall, growing quieter and quieter until they were finally gone.
Honor stood in the center of the room, eyes wide and hands trembling. She shoved them into her skirts to try and stop the shaking. Her chest rose and fell with her rapid breathing. For a moment she was quite still. And then she picked up the plate she had just cleaned and threw it at the wall. It shattered into shards as it slid to the floor. The 'L' embossed on the china plate still shone, as proud as sin.
Honor had half a mind to resign the post in the morning. There was nothing she could do here, not for somebody as pig-headed as Lady Jane. But the thought of the children being left in the care of such a…fool of an aunt! It was enough to make her sick. Honor's logical mind began to cool as the heat of her rage seeped away. Or, rather, she forced it to seep away. She took a deep breath, and then another. Getting angry wouldn't solve anything. She'd have to get even.
Yes, she wanted to even the score. She would be a governess, and she would be above reproach. She would handle things so terribly well that all would praise her, even Lady Jane. And she would do it starting tomorrow. And she would do it while providing instruction. Already her mind was moving towards books and topics to educate her charges with. She didn't want a Bluestocking for a niece? Too bad. Too bad.
As Honor crept away to lick her wounds and seethe, she felt something strange. Something unfamiliar and wild tickled in Honor’s stomach, all at the thought of seeing Jane again. It wasn't anger, and it wasn't apathy. She had no idea what it could be.
Perhaps she was destined to be the protagonist in a mystery story after all…