Born to Scandal. Diane Gaston
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Did you also enjoy yourself?’
Charlotte nodded, her blonde curls bobbing. ‘I did! Very much.’ She pulled Anna over to the chairs by the window. ‘But you must tell me about your interview!’
Anna sobered. ‘I am hired. I start within a week.’
Charlotte jumped out of her chair, looking stricken. ‘No!’
‘It is true.’ Anna watched Charlotte sit again. ‘But it is a good thing, Charlotte.’
Lines of worry creased Charlotte’s brow. ‘Maybe you should not take the first position offered you. I’ve heard things. People talk as if there is something wrong about Lord Brentmore. Something about his past.’
‘It does not matter.’ Anna took her hands. ‘I cannot afford to refuse. I have nothing to recommend me. I am very fortunate the marquess agreed to hire me.’
‘Why did he hire you, then?’ Her tone turned petulant. ‘If you have nothing to recommend you?’
‘I believe he was in urgent need of a governess.’ She squeezed her friend’s hands.
Charlotte lips pursed. ‘You sound as if you met the man.’
‘It was he who interviewed me.’
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. ‘What was he like? Was he as grand as a marquess should be?’
The image of the panther, restless and dangerous, returned. ‘He was formidable, but I doubt I shall have to encounter him much. I will be at Brentmore Hall with his children.’
‘So far away?’ Charlotte cried.
Far away from all she knew.
Charlotte’s lip trembled. ‘I am telling Mama I will refuse all invitations. I’m going to spend every second of this week with you. It is all we have left!’
The prospect of being separated from Charlotte tore Anna apart inside. This bond between the two of them, borne of sharing a childhood together, was about to be shattered. They could never again be together like they had been before.
Not even for this last week.
Chapter Two
Only three days later Anna was again riding in Lord Brentmore’s carriage, this time travelling alone to Essex, a long day’s ride from London.
The countryside and villages passed before her eyes, becoming indistinguishable as the day wore on. From one blink of an eye to the next, her life had changed and each mile brought her closer to something new and unknown. With each bump in the road, she fought a rabble of butterflies in her stomach.
‘This is an adventure,’ she said out loud. ‘An adventure.’
Such an adventure would test her mettle, certainly. She’d often acted braver than she felt, because that was what was expected of her as Charlotte’s companion. She must do so again here. At Charlotte’s side she’d tackled each new lesson, mastered each new skill. This should be no different. Except this time she had no instructor guiding her, no friend looking up to her. This time she was alone.
The sun dipped low in the sky when the carriage approached an arched gate of red brick. Atop the gate was a huge clock upon which were written the words Audaces Fortuna Juvat.
‘Fortune favours the bold,’ she murmured.
She laughed. Fortune certainly put her in a position to be bold.
She girded herself as the carriage passed through the gate and a huge Tudor manor house came into view. Also made of red brick, it rose three storeys and had a multitude of chimneys and windows reflecting the setting sun. Two large wings flanked a centre court with a circular drive that led to a huge wooden door where the carriage stopped.
The coachman opened the window beneath his seat. ‘Brentmore Hall, miss.’
Her nerves fluttered anew. ‘Thank you, sir.’
She gathered up her reticule and the basket she’d carried with her. A footman appeared at the carriage door to help her out. As she stepped on to the gravel, the huge wooden door opened and a man and woman emerged.
The man, dressed as a gentleman and of about forty years of age, strode towards her. ‘Miss Hill?’ He extended his hand. ‘Welcome to Brentmore Hall. I am Mr Parker, Lord Brentmore’s man of business.’
She shook his hand and summoned the training in comportment she’d received at Charlotte’s side. ‘A pleasure to meet you, sir.’
A gust of wind blew her skirts. She held her hat on her head.
Mr Parker turned to the woman, who was more simply dressed. ‘Allow me to present Mrs Tippen, the housekeeper here.’
The woman perfectly looked the part of housekeeper with grey hair peeking out from a pristinely white cap and quick assessing eyes.
Anna extended her hand. ‘A pleasure, Mrs Tippen. How kind of you to greet me.’
The woman’s face was devoid of expression. She hesitated before shaking Anna’s hand. ‘You are young.’
She stiffened at the housekeeper’s clear disapproval, but summoned a smile. ‘I assure you, Mrs Tippen. I am old enough.’
The housekeeper frowned.
Mr Parker stepped forwards. ‘The previous governess was of a more advanced age.’ He gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we go inside? The footmen will see to your trunk and boxes.’
The trunk and boxes contained all her worldly belongings, sent from Lawton to London so that she could carry them with her.
Anna entered a large hall with grey marble floors and wainscoted walls. A line of flags hung high above her head. A larger-than-life portrait of a man with long, curly, blond locks, dressed in gold brocade, filled one wall and one of a woman in a voluminous silk dress faced it on the other wall. The hall smelled of beeswax from the burning branches of candles and the polish of the wood.
Intended to be majestic, Anna supposed, the hall seemed oppressive. Too dark. Too ancient.
So unlike Lawton House, full of light and colour.
Another man crossed the floor and Mr Parker spoke. ‘Ah, here is Mr Tippen, Lord Brentmore’s butler.’
This butler was as stern-faced as the housekeeper. His wife?
‘Mr Tippen,’ Mr Parker went on, ‘this is Miss Hill, the new governess.’
The butler nodded. ‘We have been expecting you.’
Mrs Tippen spoke, her face still devoid of expression. ‘You’ll be weary. Come with me to your room and then dinner.’
‘What about meeting the children?’ Her whole reason to be here.
‘Asleep. Or nearly so,’ Mrs Tippen said.
‘Did they not expect to see me?’ She would hate to fail them on her first day.
‘We did not tell them,’ Mr Parker said.
‘You did not tell them I was coming today?’ Should the children not have a warning that their new governess was arriving?
‘We thought it best not to tell them anything at all.’ Mr Parker inclined his head in an ingratiating manner. ‘Go ahead and refresh yourself. I will see you for dinner.’
Anna had no choice but to follow Mrs Tippen up the winding mahogany staircase.
Was she to be another surprise to the children, then? Had they not received too many surprises already, with the death of their mother a year ago and now the death of their governess?
She followed the housekeeper up two flights of stairs. ‘Your room is this way.’ She turned down one of the wings, stopping at a door and stepping aside for Anna to enter.
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