CHAPTER THREE

When breakfast is finished, Lady Cordelia finds me in the school room. She has Oliver with her, and the boy smiles when he sees me. I do well with children his age. I spent twenty-five years teaching third and fourth graders, and I’ve developed a skill at building rapport.

“We really are pleased to have you here, Miss Mary,” Lady Cordelia says. “Oliver’s done so well with his studies. It would be such a pity if he were to fall behind due to… well, if he were to fall behind.”

She lowers her eyes, and her smile fades a little. My heart goes out to her. It is incredibly difficult to have a child with a chronic illness. I smile tenderly and say, “I am honored to be here, my lady.” I look at Oliver and add, “As for you, young man, I’m sure we won’t have any trouble keeping up with our studies, will we?”

Oliver shakes his head. “No, ma’am. I’m very smart. I’ll have no trouble.”

His cough seems to have gone away. The healing powers of a full English breakfast, I assume. Or perhaps it’s separation from his overbearing uncle.

I push that unkind thought away, and say, “Excellent. Now, if it’s all right with your Aunt Cordelia, I’d like to get to know you a little better. And, of course, if it’s all right with you.”

Oliver nods and turns to his aunt. Lady Cordelia’s smile returns. “Of course.”

She nods at me and says, “Thank you again, Miss Mary. I…” she hesitates, as though struggling to think of how to put her next thought into words. In the end, she only says, “Thank you,” and leaves the room.

I smile at Oliver. “Well, Master Oliver, let’s begin with your favorite color.”

He furrows his brow. “My favorite color?”

“Of course! Why not?”

“That’s a question for babies.”

He grins as he says it, though. I shake my head. “I don’t think so. Color is important to people of all ages, including ancient adults like me.”

He giggles, “You’re not ancient, Miss Mary.”

“Well, thank you very much,” I say. “And you’re not ancient either. We have that in common.”

He giggles again. “Um, my favorite color is blue.”

“Blue like the ocean or blue like the sky?”

“Blue like the ocean. I used to visit a lot when I was younger. I can’t visit anymore because I’m ill.”

“Well,” I purse my lips. “I’m sure we can find a way to squeeze in a visit when the weather warms. Fresh air and sunshine never did anyone harm. What do you like about the ocean?”

He shrugs. “It’s a whole other world, I guess. Somewhere magical that doesn’t suffer from the same things that this world suffers from.”

Children have a remarkable ability to say the most revealing things in the most casual tones. They haven’t yet learned that not all of what they consider normal is actually normal. “What does this world suffer from?” I ask.

He shrugs and looks away. I can tell he’s growing uncomfortable, so I steer the conversation away. Pushing him will only succeed in pushing him into his shell. I need to coax him out, not pull him out. “My favorite color is green,” I tell him.

“Green like grass or green like the forest?”

The forest that comes to my mind when he says that is dark and hostile and most definitely not green. I stop the vision before the old nightmare image of my sister’s ghost arrives and say, “Green like grass. Like the grass outside in the fields.”

“We have grass in our garden that grows green as an emerald,” he tells me.

"Green as an emerald." Well, I'll have to see that."

He reaches forward and takes my hand. “Come with me. I’ll show you.”

I smile down at him as he leads me outside. The trust of a child is such a beautiful thing, so pure and wholesome and precious. And yet so many people manipulate that trust and turn it into something evil. May they all rot in the hell they deserve.

I push that thought away too. I’m determined to enjoy my time here and not to let the ghosts of my past interfere with my future.

We step through a back door into a paradise. I suppose objectively speaking, it’s no more impressive than any other garden in any other wealthy home, and less impressive even than that of some other families I’ve worked for. But it’s beautiful, and compared to the austerity of the castle, it might as well be a landscape from Heaven.

There are carefully manicured trees, perfectly round and perhaps ten to fifteen feet tall. There is a flower garden with orderly rows of tulips, chrysanthemums, marigolds and poppies surrounded by rosebushes whose blooms shine blood red. There is a fountain in the center of the garden—thankfully a perfectly ordinary cherub and not some Gothic representation of a wrathful Moses striking a rock (that’s a whole other story).

But the crown jewel is, as Oliver said, a two-acre field on which grows the brightest green grass I’ve ever seen in my life. It’s as though the color was concentrated and intensified so that each individual blade shines with the verdure of an entire field. The contrast to the pale green outside of the estate is as sharp as the contrast between the blue of Monterey and the nearly-gray pale of the sky here.

“Do you like it?” Oliver asks.

“It’s beautiful,” I say. “Thank you so much for showing me.”

He hesitates, looking around as though he's about to tell me a secret but must make sure there's no one around to hear it. Then he asks, "Would you like me to show you my hide-and-seek spot? No one ever finds me there."

I smile. “I would love to.”

“Oliver!”

We both jump at the sound of Lord Edmund’s voice. The light dies in Oliver’s eyes almost immediately, and it takes all of my strength not to snap at Lord Edmund for it.

“Oliver, come inside,” Lord Edmund commands. “It’s too cold for you to be frolicking today. Show Miss Mary your video game collection if you must occupy her with nonsense.”

I turn to him, and though I say nothing, I allow my disapproval to show in my glance. He returns a frosty stare of his own and says, “As I said, Miss Mary, it is better for him to remain in doors. Perhaps when the weather warms, we’ll allow him some gentle outings into the garden.”

I want to argue with him, but what would be the point? This is his house, and I am only a servant. “As you wish, Lord Blackwood.”

We head inside, and Oliver launches into another coughing fit. I hold him until the coughing subsides, convinced now more than ever that his illness has far more to do with his nurture than his nature.

When the coughing ceases, he says, “I think I’ll rest for a while. I’ll show you my video games another day. Thank you for talking to me, Miss Mary.”

“You’re quite welcome, Master Oliver. Any time you need to talk about anything, I’ll be there.”

He smiles, a brief reminder of the joy of youth I saw in his eyes before. Then it vanishes, and he leaves.

I sigh and think of the trials I will endure in the months to come. Rather than allow my mind to turn to accusation, I determine to get to know Lord Edmund better. Perhaps I can convince him to trust me and allow me more freedom to manage Oliver’s care.

And I’d like to talk to his doctor too. I want to know what exactly it is that plagues Oliver. Surely we can find a better solution than imprisonment.

Until then, I must remember that I have only been here for one day. All is not necessarily as it seems.

***

Dinner is, not surprisingly, a frosty affair. Lord Edmund is a black hole, sitting ramrod straight and demanding with his posture and his scowl that everyone present conduct themselves like proper English gentlemen and ladies.

Oliver looks pale and weak. I am grateful when he eats a hearty portion of the stew that Theresa made for dinner. He needs all of the strength he can get.

Lady Cordelia opens the conversation after the appetizer is finished. “So Mary, you were a teacher before you became a governess, right?”

“Oh yes, twenty-five years.”

“Twenty-five years? That’s quite a long time. What prompted you to change careers?”

I take a bit of food and use it as an excuse to think. The truth is that I’m not entirely sure what exactly finally pushes me to make the move.

The reason I decide to give today is, “I felt as though it was time to try something different. I’ve always enjoyed working with children, and I thought that this would give me an opportunity to work even more closely with them.”

“Do you have children of your own?”

I’m about to answer when Lord Edmund interjects. “Come now, Cordelia. Surely, Miss Mary isn’t interested in discussing her personal life.

I make the mistake of saying, “Oh, it’s quite all right, Lord Edmund. I’m not offended.”

The room immediately chills. Lady Cordelia pales and looks nervously at her husband. Oliver looks down at his plate. He seems to have shrunk into himself.

Lord Edmund shows no visible sign of anger at my reply. He simply continues to eat his food as though he were unaware of the tension coming from the others around the table.

I try to turn the conversation to him to take the focus away from this moment. “So Lord Edmund. I understand you’re facing surprising support from the Labour Party on the new tax bill. To what do you attribute this success?”

Lady Cordelia is nearly audible with her relief. Oliver notices the change in his aunt and looks hopefully at his uncle. I don’t know what they see. To me, Lord Edmund’s demeanor doesn’t change.

Whatever they see, they are relieved to see it. Lord Edmund finishes his bite and says, “Well, even they understand that you can’t squeeze blood from a stone. If we’re to find solutions to the labor crisis, it can’t come by taking what the working class doesn’t have. Besides, there are enough roads that need paving and churches that need repairing to find work for any who need it. Why not kill several birds with one stone? Frankly, I’m still surprised there are some who oppose the bill.”

He finishes the last bite of his stew and stands. He gives me his signature nod and says, “Miss Mary, it was delightful to have you. Please excuse me for retiring early. I have a long trip back to Parliament in the morning. I hope to return with the victory you predict with that tax bill.”

I smile at him. “I’m quite sure you will, your Lordship.”

He nods again, then leaves the room. Lady Cordelia smiles gratefully at me. Oliver stares at me like I’m some sort of goddess.

I don't even try to contain my smile. It's only my second night here—my first after meeting the family—and I've already learned how I can improve the wellbeing of every member of House Blackwood, including its stern Lord.

It’s a good start.