The Forbidden Passion 0f A Governess (Historical Regency) Read online

  But I like my duties here, Emilia thought to herself, craving the rigour of it.

  “There is something else that you must know –” Lady Barbara added, and Emilia watched as the woman stopped herself from speaking the final thought that was on her mind.

  “What is that?” Emilia asked, leaning forward, sensing that it was something of great import.

  “Glastonbrook is . . . different from this home.”

  “In what way?” Emilia asked, noting the trepidation on Lady Barbara’s face.

  “It shall all be discovered shortly,” Lady Barbara said, her demeanour rapidly changing as she stood up grandly from her chair and exhibited an air of reassurance and good humour again. “But in honour of your good service, allow me to escort you to the kitchen where some friends await.”

  Lady Barbara opened the door to her chambers and proceeded down the hall, Emilia in her wake. Winding down the servants’ stairs, something she had only seen Lady Barbara do on one occasion, Emilia entered the kitchen and discovered to her amazement that the entire staff was waiting for her, their faces illuminated by a bright candelabra whose light flickered in the darkness. Upon the countertop was a gorgeous white cake and each had in their hand a glass with libations.

  “Enjoy yourself,” Lady Barbara said, taking her leave so that the staff might enjoy their reverie divorced of her company.

  A glass was quickly placed in Emilia’s hand, the cake was cut, and slices were served on simple porcelain dishes. Her heart was so full with gratitude, happiness and nostalgia for the past all at once. The staff chatted and gossiped, laughed and shed a few tears.

  “On to better things,” Martha the scullery maid said with a gentle Scottish brogue, taking a bite of her cake.

  “Yes, that is how I choose to look at it,” Emilia replied with a smile.

  “And where is that?” Martha asked.

  “What?” Emilia replied, assuming everyone probably knew where she was going.

  “Where are you off to, then?” Martha repeated.

  “Glastonbrook.”

  Silence ensued. Martha knit her brow in confusion, and that confusion turned to doubt and, lastly, shock.

  “Is it Glastonbrook, you say?”

  “Yes. To care for the Earl of Cunningham’s sister,” Emilia added.

  “My word,” Martha replied, taking another bite of cake. “You’re in for quite a change if all that I have heard is true.” The scullery maid was shaking her head from side to side in dismay.

  “What kind of change?”

  “I suppose you’re about to find out, then, aren’t ya?”

  Chapter 2

  When Emilia arrived at Glastonbrook, the clouds were grey and the rain was profuse. Her skirts were completely soaked through and a chill overcame her body. There was no need to pay for the coach, as she was told that the Earl of Cunningham would take it upon himself to pay for the fare. It was all detailed in a rather terse letter that was sent to the Hutchinson home days before her arrival:

  Dear Miss Stewart,

  Your arrival at Glastonbrook is imminent. Please take pains to bring only what is of necessity. The coach and all travel arrangements shall be taken care of. You need only pay consideration to the arrival of your person.

  Respectfully,

  Lord Joshua Forest, Earl of Cunningham

  Emilia thought it strange that the earl had said ‘you need only pay consideration to the arrival of your person’. It was an odd way of phrasing it, and Emilia had to wonder what exactly he meant. Aside from the terse letter, she was also made uneasy by how the servants at the Hutchinson home had reacted to her announcement that she was going to be in the employment of Glastonbrook. Most looked at her wide-eyed and confused, and Emilia dared not ask why it was that they were so concerned and bewildered.

  Aside from the rain, the general confusion and the slight anxiety, Emilia felt light-hearted within. She was always keen on new experiences and was greatly looking forward to meeting her new charge. She always took such delight in starting over from scratch and the possibility that all new beginnings afforded.

  Yet still, she was freezing to the bone. The carriage ride was not long, but there was one window of the coach that did not function properly and, thus, the rain managed to pour through it and soak her all the way. There was only one small bag that she brought with her. Emilia never had much in the way of belongings and, therefore, the earl’s request that she only bring what was of necessity was easily fulfilled.

  When they had been travelling for some time, with mud from the ground splashing up from the coach’s wheels, the driver finally turned a sharp right and Emilia found they were moving down a long driveway that was lined with tall, leafless trees on both sides. The road was muddy and rather unkempt. Emilia wondered if, in taking pains to keep the house in good condition, the driveway had somehow been neglected, for surely someone in such high standing as the Earl of Cunningham should take pains with such things as the entrance to his home. Once the long driveway was navigated, Emilia found that what she was greeted with was no less haphazard than the road that led up to it.

  Glastonbrook was massive. From the dour, dank facade, Emilia imagined that there were no less than twenty rooms inside. However, the exterior was in such disarray that a huge wave of fear passed through her. Not only did vines crawl up the stone front of the house, but weeds and thistles abounded. From where she sat in the coach, peering out expectantly, she could see cracked windows on the third floor, a toppled topiary with no vegetation growing within it, and broken and damaged steps leading up to the front door. All was in shambles. The cold rain continued to pound, and the grey sky only melded with the grey exterior of the estate, leading Emilia to believe that she had disappeared into a world of dank, cold heaviness.

  “This can’t be it,” Emilia whispered to herself, in utter disbelief of what lay before her.

  “You better make a mad dash,” the driver said, shielding his face from the rain as he opened the door to the coach.

  “Very well then,” Emilia said, never one to be put off by a challenge. She grabbed her small bag by the handle and stepped out and into the mud, feeling the wet earth envelope her dainty boots. She shielded herself from the rain and ran for the front door of Glastonbrook as the coachman had instructed.

  Upon reaching the entrance, the overhang finally protected Emilia from the downpour. Her hair fell flat upon her head, which was a nuisance considering that she had taken great pains to set it right that morning. She felt, and looked, like a drowned rat, and she could feel her skin absorbing the cold water. Goosepimples appeared on her flesh, and her hands were icy blue when she removed her soggy gloves.

  “My God,” Emilia said to herself, putting down her bag and doing her best to make herself presentable before she knocked on the door. She looked off into the distance where the coachman had already charged ahead, no doubt eager to complete his next job. She was so used to hospitality and care in the Hutchinson household, but she was beginning to wonder if she was in for a real shock at Glastonbrook.

  When she had finally composed herself and reached for the large, wrought iron door knocker, she concluded that she was indeed in for a shock. A large spider web had collected there, signalling that the knocker had been neglected for some time. Within the web a large black spider lurked, waiting for its next prey. Slowly and with trepidation, Emilia lifted and dropped the iron knocker, hearing the loud pound that resulted echo somewhere deep inside the house. The spider, in protest, crawled away from where it sat and disappeared behind the base of the lock, no doubt confused that its home was so utterly invaded.

  After knocking once and receiving no response, Emilia lifted the knocker and dropped it once more, hearing the large pound that reverberated throughout her entire body. Perhaps the Earl of Cunningham thought she was coming another day? It seemed so odd that it was taking so long for someone to answer the door. Emilia gave it one last go, pounding yet again and then feeling her heart race in fear. Wa
s she at the wrong home? There was no way to summon the coachman back again. What was she to do if it was all just a terrible mistake?

  Finally, just as desperation began to take over, the large door was opened and a tall figure peered out. The man was handsome enough, but he wore a frown, as grey and sad as the sky overhead and the building that he dwelled in.

  “You are Emilia Stewart,” the man said.

  “I am,” Emilia replied congenially, wiping drops of rainwater from her forehead and feeling moisture seeping down her back.

  “Do come in,” the man replied, opening the door wider. Emilia stepped within Glastonbrook and disappointment overtook her. The interior of the home was just as cold as the exterior, and no less hospitable. Looking up, Emilia could see that the entrance hall was nearly as tall and vast as a great London museum, and with just as many paintings on the walls. However, the faces that looked back on her frowned as deeply as the footman.

  “I’m Hugh,” the man said, standing erect and still, eyeing Emilia from head to toe.

  “Hello, Hugh. So nice to meet you,” Emilia said, nodding her head. From the look of him, Hugh had to be no more than five and thirty years of age, with blond hair perfectly swept back and piercing blue eyes. There was fatigue written upon his face, and something that Emilia took to be distrust.

  “I do hope that your stay at Glastonbrook will be pleasant,” he added.

  “I as well.”

  Silence followed. Emilia felt that she was still being inspected and she couldn’t think of anything to say. What she did wish to ask was where the devil everyone was. The house was still and silent and should a pin drop Emilia was convinced that she’d be able to hear it.

  “I shall now escort you to your quarters.”

  “That would be most kind.”

  Emilia walked behind Hugh as he led her down a long corridor and past a large set of stone steps that dramatically climbed upward. Emilia knew intuitively that those steps were not for her. They were for the rich denizens of the estate, whereas the servants would have their own set of steps, as she was accustomed to in the Hutchinson home.

  However, in contrast to her former living arrangement, the servants’ steps at Glastonbrook were even colder than the rest of the house, if that were possible. They were also wet, the moisture from outside of the estate having seeped into the little tunnel where the steps wound tightly upward. Emilia held onto the wall in order to steady herself, seeing as there was no railing, and she clutched her bag tightly. Hugh had not offered to carry her bag, and Emilia thought it unnecessary anyway. She was a strong girl and she would not allow harsh living conditions to deter her.

  That being said, things got bleaker still when Hugh flung open the rickety wooden door that led to her room. Not sunny and bright like the one she had before. Her new space was barren and empty, with only a small bed in the corner and a desk near the tiny window, which let in almost no light.

  “Do make yourself comfortable,” Hugh said, standing in the room with equal stillness as he had in the entrance hall.

  “Indeed,” Emilia replied, not knowing what else to say. She put down her suitcase and looked from side to side, trying to let her new reality sink in, just as the cold rain had sunk into her skin. Discomfort filled her as she considered that the room was to be her future home, the place where she would retire to at night and rest her weary head. She would need to brighten it up somehow. Perhaps she could cut fresh flowers and place them in a vase on the desk or set up a little portrait painting that she had of the Hutchinson family. Should all else fail, she could drape a piece of fabric across the bed. Anything to add a splash of colour.

  “Do not hesitate to approach me with any questions that you might have,” Hugh said, finally moving from his statue-like stance and exiting the room with haste.

  Was that it? Emilia had to wonder if there was nothing else that he needed to impart to her. Where was the earl and his sister? What duties might she expect? What were the hours of breakfast, tea and supper? There were so many questions that she had, yet Hugh departed so quickly that she couldn’t muster the breath to ask him. Instead, she enjoyed a moment to herself, collecting her thoughts and exploring her new living space without being encumbered. Her first move was to walk to the window and see what might greet her there. Unfortunately, when looking down from that dizzying height, all that she was met with was an open field devoid of green or any signs of life. The field seemed to stretch off into eternity, and on the horizon there was nothing but a few broken trees.

  “We’ll make the best of it,” Emilia said to herself, turning from the window and picking her bag off the cold stone ground that was only covered by a small brown rug. She placed the bag on the bed and opened it, looking down at her small assortment of belongings. There was no armoire in the room, but rather a tiny closet that Emilia opened. A small mouse scurried out of the closet making her jump, and she wondered how many other rodents and insects might also call Glastonbrook home.

  Undeterred, Emilia began to take dresses out of her bag and place them inside the closet, hanging them with expert care. The portrait of the Hutchinson family was lovingly placed upon the desk, and a little porcelain figure shaped like a swan was sat beside it; a memento she was allowed to keep from her former room.

  Although these paltry things were not enough to make the room feel like home, they were a good start and Emilia felt less cold and frightened. She sat herself down upon the bed, which was hard as a rock, then looked up towards the ceiling. A hush invaded the room as loudly as a scream. Where was everyone? Glastonbrook was utterly consumed by silence. There was not the squeal of children at play that she held so dear, nor was there the bustle of servants and the commotion of family. Glastonbrook was like a still heart in comparison to the Hutchinson family’s beating, red pulse.

  Sighing, Emilia realised that she needed answers. She did not know where Hugh had disappeared to, but she was going to need to find him to learn more. She could not sit in complete quiet in her room for the entirety of the day, left to wonder.

  Opening the door and walking down the hall, Emilia found herself tiptoeing, as though afraid she might disturb someone. It was utterly absurd considering that there was no one to disturb. Carefully picking her way down the winding staircase, Emilia held onto the walls yet again, fearing that if she should fall, she’d roll down that tight coil of steps and meet her death.

  At the bottom of the stairs, Emilia found the very door that she had passed through earlier, but instead of going right, which would lead her back to the main hall, she went left, hoping to encounter any form of human life, even if it was another mouse.

  What she found was exactly what she was hoping for. The kitchen was the first warm room that Emilia encountered at Glastonbrook, even if there was only one person within its wall. A rather large, older woman stood over a cauldron and stirred; the smell of soup entered Emilia’s nostrils.

  “Hello,” Emilia said, happy that she had finally found someone to speak with. The woman turned, her face red from the heat of the stove. She wiped her brow. Emilia could see that the woman looked just as weary as Hugh did.

  “Yes?” the woman said, straightening the cloth that was tied around her head.

  “My name is Emilia. Deirdre’s new governess,” she said by way of introduction.

  “I see,” the woman replied, not impressed. “I’m Winnifred.”

  “Very nice to meet you, Winnifred.”

  “I hope you like rabbit,” she said, rolling the R. Then Winnifred pulled the carcass of a rabbit out of the cauldron and held it up as the soup drained from it.

  Emilia thought she might gag, but it was imperative for her to be polite.

  “I love it,” she said, trying not to choke. “Might I ask where I can find Hugh?”

  “He’s over there,” Winnifred said, pointing to a little door that was on the opposite side of the kitchen. “In his study.”

  “I thank you,” Emilia said, crossing through the vast kit
chen towards the small door. She knocked on it, and Hugh’s voice could be heard within.

  “Enter.”

  Opening the door, Emilia stifled a laugh, for Hugh’s study was just about the size of her closet, and no less sad in appearance.

  “You said that I should approach you with any questions,” Emilia said congenially. “I hope that I’m not disturbing you.”

  “What do you wish to know?” Hugh was seated at a desk and writing in what appeared to be a rather old ledger. Should there be anywhere to sit, Emilia would have sat herself, but seeing as there was not enough space, she remained standing.

  “Well . . . everything,” Emilia said, having so many questions that she couldn’t think which one to ask first.