PROLOGUE

My first impression as I approach the gate of the Ashford Estate is one of hostility. The gate is a massive, wrought iron piece that stands thirteen feet tall, nestled in a stone wall of nearly equal height that shields the entirety of the estate from view save the slight window afforded by the gaps between the bars of the gate. It's almost as though the estate hides dark secrets that the outside world is forbidden to know. I can't help but wonder if the family inside is as reclusive.

My sister Annie once told me that homes were shells that revealed more about the people who inhabited them than they sheltered. As we proceed up the long driveway of massive stones al that leads to the manor, I can't help but feel that she was right. The driveway is lined with the bare skeletons of maple and elm trees. Though I know it is only winter that leaves the trees bare of leaves and flowers, the sight of their stark bones sends a chill through me that the November air can't entirely account for. The storms are late this year, so there's not even a carpet of snow to soften the bleakness as the car takes me up the drive to the manor.

If Annie was right, then this home speaks of a cold, aloof family that wants nothing more than to be left alone. If I didn't have the hiring documents in my bag, I would heed that warning and flee as fast as I can.

"Don't take it personally if you receive a cold greeting, Mary," Javier, a handsome gentleman of perhaps thirty-five who serves as the family's driver, remarks. "The family is suffering quite a bit right now."

"Yes, I imagine," I reply. "It's a terrible thing to lose a loved one."

Johnathan Ashford, the patriarch of the family, died suddenly a month ago of a massive heart attack. The news reported that he was in good health, and the death was a shock to everyone.

"Yes, it is," Javier agrees. "Between you and me, I don't know how this family will survive without Johnathan. He was the one who held everything together." He looks through the rearview, and when he catches my expression, he flushes slightly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. It doesn't have anything to do with you. Or me, for that matter."

"That's quite all right, Javier. It's useful for me to know. It will be my responsibility to shield the children as much as possible from the pain of their father's loss."

Javier doesn't reply, and I don't blame him. It's utterly foolish of me to think that I can have any impact at all on the family's grief. I am a stranger. A kind stranger, but a stranger, and the children are old enough that distracting from their grief will be difficult. The oldest, Elijah, is sixteen. I'll be his governess only in name. The middle child, Isabella, is thirteen, and while likely not as independent as Elijah, will probably resent any attempt at care.

The youngest, Samuel, is the one who will require the most care and the one most likely to appreciate the kindness of a stranger. He is eight, and though even at that age boys start desiring freedom from authority, a child that young will desperately need the affection that his mother is almost certainly not in the right frame of mind to provide at the moment.

Not that I blame Cecilia for her grief. To lose one's husband before the age of forty is a tragedy that is, in its own way, as great as that the children have suffered. All the greater because of the burden she has as a mother to suspend her grief so that she can shoulder that of the children.

It's that burden I am here to relieve in part. I can only hope I am equal to the task.

Javier pulls the car to the porch. The late-model Mercedes-Maybach sedan chimes brightly to announce that we've arrived home. It's gentle cheer stands in stark contrast to the forbidding harshness of the estate. He opens the door for me, and when I step outside, I shiver, not entirely from the cold.

Ashford Manor is, if anything, even more forbidding up close than it is at a distance. It looms over me, three stories of gray stone and black shingles with turreted gables and steeply sloped roofs. Not a single curtain is left open. Even the light is unwelcome here.

Apprehension crosses my mind. I wonder if I should have accepted this job in the first place. At fifty years of age, changing my career is a lot to ask of myself. As a schoolteacher for the past twenty-five years, I have a great deal of experience with a portion of what will be required of me, but I am not foolish enough to believe that six to eight hours per day in a school with a staff of other teachers, assistants, administrators, and coaches is the same as twenty-four-hour care in another's home.

But it's too late to back out now. The Ashford family is counting on me.

So, I take a deep breath and follow Javier up the steps.

He knocks twice on the heavy oak double doors. A second later, the doors swing inward. The smooth silence of their traverse unsettles me. I had expected creaks and groans of protest at the intrusion.

I push that uncertainty aside quickly, for before me is the family who is to be under my care for the foreseeable future. Cecilia stands tall and proud, her regal poise well-befitting the matriarch of one of New York's wealthiest families. Next to her, Elijah stands with a similar poise, the man he is to be already stronger than the boy he leaves behind. Next to him, Isabella stares at me with the cold disdain I expect her to feel and bear her no ill will for feeling. To Cecilia's other side, Samuel clings to her dress with one hand and regards me with a solemn expression.

This family is indeed grieving terribly.

Javier introduces me with the dignified grace of one who has spent a lifetime in service. "Mrs. Ashford, allow me to introduce Miss Mary Wilcox."

Cecilia inclines her head, and when a moment of quiet informs me that she intends to remain silent, I say, "It's wonderful to meet all of you. Thank you so much for welcoming me into your home."

Silence once more follows that, continuing for the space of six beats of the old grandfather clock that stands behind the family at the front of the twin staircase at the end of the foyer. I break the silence again by addressing the children. "I've heard wonderful things about all of you. I look forward to getting to know you better."

Silence.

The hair on the back of my neck stands up. It's a wholly inappropriate reaction. They're children, and they've just lost their father. What reason do I have to fear them?

"I understand you have an interest in photography, Isabella. My sister was quite a skilled photographer herself. Perhaps you could show me some of your work later."

Once more, I receive silence in reply. The grandfather clock strokes five, then ten, then twenty times before Cecilia says, "Thank you, Miss Wilcox. You will begin your duties tomorrow. Javier will show you to your room."

Without another word, she turns and leaves the foyer, leading the children with her. Javier shares a nervous smile with me, then gestures to the left staircase and says, "Right this way."

I follow him, and each step further into the house makes me feel as though I am traveling deeper into the maw of some terrible beast.

The house is warm, but still I shiver.