Chapter Three

J uliet sat, watching her hostess pace across the parlor before the fireplace, which had a painting of what appeared to be the kindest woman on earth. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but upon being escorted into the parlor and seeing Lady Belinda Mabry's portrait, whom the school was named after, she'd immediately felt comfortable. The duchess had explained the school's name and purpose and was now attempting to find a position for her.

She was quite glad Noah had mentioned the need to welcome new ideas and possibilities because she'd never met a duchess like Lady Northwick. Despite being every bit a lady, her black hair done up except for a single long curl and her bearing that of a true duchess, her ideas were quite unconventional.

The lady in question stopped in midstride. "What about horticulture? Do you know anything regarding plants?"

It was the third such question in the last fifteen minutes, and though she was anxious to answer in the positive, she shook her head, beginning to lose hope.

"No bother. I will think of something." And the woman continued on her journey, her jewel green skirts swishing as she walked.

The school didn't teach young women such skills as the pianoforte or writing letters or any of the usual subjects. It was a rather odd school and one Juliet was quite sure she would have enjoyed when she was younger.

As if the duchess had read her mind, she stopped. "If you could study any subject, what would it be?"

"I'm not sure."

The duchess waved off her comment and sat in the chair opposite her. "Come, think. What did you most like to learn about as young child? There must have been something your governess taught you that you enjoyed."

Thinking back, she remembered liking all her lessons. All but painting. She'd been terrible at painting, preferring to read instead. "I did enjoy reading very much."

The duchess leaned forward, her hazel gaze almost gray in its intensity. "Tell me. What did you like most to read? Philosophy, history, literature, foreign—"

At the mention of literature, her heart leapt. "Literature." She'd so loved reading stories and poems and deciphering what they meant.

The duchess jumped up, actually jumped. "That's it! I need a literature teacher. One of our young ladies far exceeds my own knowledge on the subject." She winked. "I prefer arithmetic, myself. Now, do you live near or would you like to live here? We have plenty of rooms available. Though we've expanded to a dozen girls, that hardly fills this place."

Her joy at hearing she had a position was tempered by the question. While living in such a grand house would be much like what she was used to, her instinct told her both Noah and Orinda would be very disappointed in her. She wasn't sure why the opinion of a dead ancestor and a commoner should matter, but it did. "I think to begin, I'd prefer to ride over, if that is acceptable."

The duchess smiled warmly. "Of course. Since you have just moved to our corner of the world, I'm sure there's much for you to do to settle in. I'm so pleased you will be one of our teachers. The ladies work on their studies in the mornings, which is why we haven't been interrupted, but the afternoons are for physical activity. If you can return tomorrow, I will introduce you to Lady Sophie and explain our process here. I believe three days a week would do nicely."

Her heart beat hard in excitement and she rose. "Thank you, Your Grace. I'm pleased I can be of some help."

The duchess linked arms with her and walked her to the door. "I shall see you tomorrow morning, then. You have no idea what a relief it will be to have you here."

Within moments, she had said farewell and was fairly running down the steps to tell Noah. Her heart said he'd be proud of her, and she couldn't wait to hear him say it. As she reached the bottom step, he approached, a wide smile on his face.

"From your gay demeanor, I can only surmise you have a new position."

She barely held herself back from embracing him. "I do. I will be teaching literature!"

His brows rose. "Literature? Not writing invitations or the playing the pianoforte?"

She shook her head, laughing at his surprise. "No. It's a very different kind of ladies' school and the duchess is just wonderful."

Noah cupped her face. "You're wonderful. I'm very proud of you."

At his words her heart melted. Suddenly, in that moment, all she wanted was to make him happy.

He dropped his hands and moved to her horse. "Why don't you tell me about your visit as we ride back."

Her heart flipped over. No male relative or acquaintance had ever asked her to tell them everything. She volunteered information, but more often than not, they clearly listened out of politeness only. "I will. There is so much to tell." She strode forward, and he helped her get her seat.

After he was mounted, they walked the horses back to Brambling Cottage, which barely gave her enough time to relate all that occurred. He asked questions, wanting to know everything about her new experience and position. She found herself honored by his attention.

But once there, he took his leave, saying he had to confer with his brother about business and she found herself disappointed he couldn't stay for tea. It was silly. The man obviously had many responsibilities. After watching him ride into the wooded path across the road, she entered Brambling Cottage.

Closing the door, she took off her gloves and started for the stairs, but still filled with such happiness over her accomplishment, she moved to the fireplace instead and stood before the portrait. "I know you can't hear me, Aunt Orinda, but I'm fairly bursting. I think you'd be proud. I have just obtained a position as a literature teacher at the new Belinda School for Curious Ladies, which is at Silver Meadows. I imagine you would know of the estate as I understand it's quite old. I hope you're pleased. Noah read that you had been a governess, so I decided since I'm of your blood, I must have at least a little of your courage."

She stared at the face so similar to her own, wishing the smile could widen, though it didn't. "If only I could have known you when I was small. I know I would have loved you. Though we never met, I feel your love in this happy haunted haven. Thank you."

Wanting to connect with her aunt, she kissed two fingers then laid them on the cheek of the portrait. "Now, I'd best unpack the few books I brought with me. If I'm to be a teacher of literature, I'll need to reread a few stories." She paused. Was it silly that she spoke to a portrait? Was that normal for people who lived by themselves?

A creak sounded in the far corner of what was the small dining room, freezing her to the spot. Slowly, she turned her head in the direction of the sound to discover a cabinet door had opened. Surely, it was just a loose latch that had finally let go. Still, she approached the cabinet with caution. She didn't touch the oak furniture at first, instead staring at the latch on the door. Finally, she peeked inside to discover it filled with books.

A chill raced down her spine, and she looked back at the portrait. "Did you open this?" Of course, there was no answer, so she turned back to examine the cabinet. It was an old bookpress with its number still engraved on the top. Gathering her courage, she opened the other door and pulled out a book. " Robinson Crusoe . Now this is one I have not read." She set it on the table and pulled another. "Ah, this one I have read." Setting the book titled Pamela to the side of the other, she continued until she had two piles.

Pleased with how many there were, she closed the cabinet, then addressed the portrait from across the room. "It seems, Aunt, that we have a love of reading in common." Picking up Robinson Crusoe , she moved into the parlor and settled herself on the settee.

A few hours later, she was visited by an older lady, sent by Noah, who prepared a few meals and taught her how to cook them when needed. After finishing the one that she made, she rose from the table to go back to her reading when her gaze landed on the diary. She picked up the book. Maybe there were more pages stuck together that she could read.

Walking into the parlor, she reclined upon the settee. Carefully, she turned each page, pleased when she found another written passage. Orinda was settling in as a wife and a governess. She must have loved Ambrose very much to leave her family and life behind, but there was no longing for her past comforts.

The passage ended, and she slowly turned more pages. Pleased to find writing on yet another one.

I've had a feeling, but the cook confirmed my suspicions. I'm to bear a child. I cannot wait to tell Ambrose. I know he will be as happy as I am. I admit to being apprehensive about the birth, but Cook assures me there is an excellent midwife nearby. I am going to start sewing clothes immediately .

She looked up at the portrait over the fireplace. She had distant cousins in the area! She'd have to ask Noah if he knew them. It would be so lovely to meet them. She would feel far less alone.

The next page explained Ambrose's reaction and their discussion over names. At the end of the page Orinda had written, I'm so pleased we finally agreed. If it's a girl we will name her…

Turning the page, she found it blank. She groaned, whining aloud, "Orinda." She couldn't help her disappointment. She glanced at the portrait. "Are you teasing me or is there something I'm not supposed to see?"

Turning her attention back to the page, she froze. It was filled with words. She swallowed hard and looked at the portrait. Orinda remained as she was… smiling, happy in her life… and in death?

Returning her gaze to the diary, she found the name Agnes. A warmth flowed over her like stepping into the sun and she closed her eyes. "Thank you, Aunt." When she opened her eyes, she smiled. She could no longer ignore the fact that Orinda's spirit was still in the cottage. It was a happy haunting in her opinion, and one she was grateful for. Comfortable with her conclusion, she continued reading.

*

A fortnight later, sitting at her dressing table, Juliet readied herself for Noah's arrival. She found herself in a pleasant routine. He escorted her to Silver Meadows where she enjoyed coaxing the shy young woman named Sophie Dowling to look beyond the story being told. Afterward, she and Noah conversed all the way home, mostly regarding her day. She often asked him about his, but he said he preferred to talk about what she had done.

In the evenings, she read books and Orinda's diary. There were many more pages with writing on them now. It had become obvious the diary was haunted as well as the cottage, though she still didn't understand why certain passages appeared and others didn't. Noah said it was Orinda's doing. She half believed it, but didn't dare question it, since she was thoroughly enjoying learning about her great-aunt's happy marriage and the birth of her two children, one boy and one girl. Orinda's husband continued to be very successful and built a large house nearby, but as they grew older, they left it in the hands of their son and moved back into their cottage.

She had a feeling there was a reason for the missing information. From Noah, she'd learned his family had been the caretakers of Brambling Cottage since Orinda had passed, having outlived her husband by a couple of months. According to him, the oldest male Kingman took on the responsibility.

Surprisingly, she was quite content at Brambling Cottage, yet there was a yearning for more, and she was well aware of why.

Noah.

She dreamed of him every night before he came to escort her to Silver Meadows. The dreams always included amorous congress in many different ways and places. While very pleasurable, they left her frustrated when she woke, no doubt because they would never be fulfilled. What would he think if he knew she had such dreams of him even before she'd met him?

Ignoring the useless question, she rose from the small dressing table and descended the stairs. She would focus on only the day, something her great-aunt said was the best way to be happy.