A Lady at Willowgrove Hall (4 page)

Now a woman of twenty-one, Cecily had graduated from the schoolroom several years prior. With no connections outside of the school, she taught needlework and literature in exchange for room and board. She was satisfied with the direction of her life and, not having heard otherwise, assumed that Mrs. Sterling agreed. True, her tendency to speak too loudly and her propensity to excitement did raise an eyebrow a time or two, but as of late, her behavior had been pristine. Her students were doing well and growing in the skills she taught them.

Cecily quitted her bedchamber, descended the broad staircase, and paused at the footing. A wide fireplace at the end of the foyer
filled the dark, paneled room with warm light. She fussed with the lacy chemisette at her throat and turned toward the study, where the door stood ajar.

She drew a deep breath before tapping on the door and pushing it open. “You wanted to see me, Mrs. Sterling?”

Patience Sterling looked up from the desk, her black hair pinned smoothly atop her head. Mrs. Sterling was one of the most beautiful women Cecily had ever seen, but there was something beyond her pleasant smile and bright eyes that made her so. The headmistress had taken great care to ensure Cecily felt comfortable and welcome. “Miss Faire! Yes, please, do come in and be seated.”

Cecily sat in a chair opposite the desk and folded her hands in her lap. As her nerves tightened, she could barely keep her toe from tapping against the chair’s leg. “I do hope all is well.”

“Of course it is. I called you here because I have news that I think will please you very much.” Mrs. Sterling pushed aside a book she had been reading and focused her attention more fully on Cecily. “I recall the day you came to us, Miss Faire, five years ago now.”

Cecily looked down at her hands. She remembered the day with poignant detail.

“You were brought here early that spring morning, those many years ago, when the sun had not even yet begun its ascent over the moors.”

With every word Mrs. Sterling said about that day, Cecily’s heartbeat quickened. Heat crept up her neck and blood rushed to her face.

Cecily could feel Mrs. Sterling’s eyes on her. She drew a deep breath. “That seems so very long ago.”

“Perhaps to you it seems like a long time, but to me it feels as though only a day or two have passed.” Mrs. Sterling rose and moved to the window to look toward a copse of elms, where budding leaves
hinted that they were waking up from winter’s long slumber. “You have blossomed into such a lovely young woman.”

The words warmed her, yet they seemed to carry with them the breath of change.

Mrs. Sterling retrieved a letter from a stack on her desk. “I have just this morning received a letter that made me think of you.”

Cecily leaned forward and looked more closely at the letter in Mrs. Sterling’s hand. Her insides twisted. It could be from anyone. Her father. Her sister.

“Before your arrival at Rosemere, one of our students, Miss Lucinda Vale, left our school for a position as a lady’s companion at Willowgrove Hall in Wiltonshire. Miss Vale has since married, leaving her position vacant, and Mrs. Trent, the lady she stayed with, is seeking a replacement.” Mrs. Sterling tapped the letter in her hand. “Mrs. Trent was vastly satisfied with Miss Vale, and since she is not acquainted with any other young ladies of suitable age to be a companion, she wrote me and inquired if I might recommend someone. I thought of you.”

Shocked
hardly seemed the word to describe Cecily’s reaction. She could not deny the disappointment that the letter was not from her family, but the subject of the letter intrigued her.

“A lady’s companion?” Cecily possessed dozens of preconceived notions about what the position would entail—and she was suitable for none of them. She was not elegant. She was far from fashionable. What did she have to offer in the way of companionship? “But I would not know what to do! I would surely disappoint. I have no—”

“Now, Miss Faire,” interrupted Mrs. Sterling in a kind voice. “I would not have brought this to your attention if I were not confident it suited you.” She crossed the room and sat in the chair next to Cecily’s, her enthusiasm evident in her bright expression. “Of course, I adore having you here at Rosemere. You are a part of this
school, a member of this family. But your life is just beginning. It saddens me, but we cannot pay you to teach here, and this opportunity brings with it a handsome allowance, far beyond what you would receive as a governess or teacher elsewhere. Not to mention it would provide you the opportunity to forge connections with people outside of Darbury. You will be free to make your way in the world.”

So this was it. This was her proverbial push from the nest, like a nightingale urged to leave the shelter of its mother’s wing. Cecily had known this day was forthcoming. She could hardly stay at Rosemere forever.

She shifted in the chair, recognizing that a glimmer of enthusiasm twinkled within her. Isn’t this what she had desired since the day she arrived at Rosemere? To be free of expectations and scrutiny and to find her own way? Perhaps even find her sister? And now that the opportunity presented itself, fear seized her. For beyond the walls of Rosemere, she knew no one. Time had severed all connections.

But if Mrs. Sterling regarded this position as ideal for her, how could she argue? Cecily looked from Mrs. Sterling’s face to her own hands clasped in her lap.

As if sensing her reserve, Mrs. Sterling patted Cecily’s shoulder. “All will be well. You shall see.”

Cecily nodded. She was in no position to argue. She had exhausted the money that her father had left for her years ago. She was at the mercy of the school and should be grateful for the opportunity being presented. Some young ladies were not so fortunate.

“Please remind me. Where is the position?” Cecily tried to sound eager.

“It is at a rather large estate, Willowgrove Hall, in Wiltonshire, an idyllic town not too terribly far from Manchester. Mrs. Trent is the lady in search of a companion, and based on her letter, as well
as the letters I’ve received from Miss Vale, I believe Mrs. Trent to be in poor health. At one time she and Miss Vale traveled extensively, but as of late, they have been resigned to either Bath or Willowgrove Hall.”

Cecily chewed her lower lip. She knew how rare this type of an offer was. She had expected that if she were ever to leave Rosemere, it would be for a governess position or to teach at another school. The idea of being a lady’s companion had never occurred to her. “I am flattered you thought of me.”

Mrs. Sterling smiled. “You are destined for things beyond our quiet Rosemere, Miss Faire. Now, for a few more specifics, are you aware of the responsibilities of a companion?”

Cecily shook her head.

“It is quite a lovely situation, really. It is imperative you understand that you are not a servant. You will be a friend to Mrs. Trent and keep her company. It can be lonely for a widow on such an estate, especially if her health is failing. I am of the impression that she does not have a great deal of family or friends in Wiltonshire. You will be at her disposal. Instead of wages, you will receive a handsome allowance, one that, if saved, could give you a bit of independence in the future.”

The tone of Mrs. Sterling’s voice was definite. The headmistress clearly expected her to accept the position. And Cecily could devise no valid reason why she should refuse. A cold chill swept over Cecily, and she rubbed her hand over her arm. “When would I leave?”

“The letter says that Mrs. Trent will be returning to Willowgrove Hall at the end of this week and would need a young lady at that time.” As if sensing Cecily’s hesitation, she hastened to add, “I know it is rather sudden.”

Cecily looked at the face of the person who had been like a mother to her since her arrival. Mrs. Sterling had her best interest at heart. “I trust your judgment, Mrs. Sterling.”

A smile creased Mrs. Sterling’s face, and she stood. “Then all is settled.” She turned to the table behind her and lifted a stack of folded fabric. “Since this journey is unexpected and we have little time to prepare, I thought you might like some attire that is better suited to travel than your regular gowns. I wish this were new, but it should suffice.”

Emotion tugged at Cecily. She had been given dresses as a school uniform, but she had never received a gift like this. She swallowed and unfolded the garment, shook out the folds, and held it at arm’s length. It was a lovely gown of heavy wool, the color of the evening sky just before darkness claimed it, trimmed in darker velvet around the bodice and the sleeves, with a matching walking-length pelisse lined with cream sarcenet and a straw bonnet with matching blue ribbon.

“I hope it fits. You are a little smaller than I, but it shouldn’t be too far of a stretch. Even though spring is upon us, it could get chilly while you are traveling, especially if it rains. I would like for you to have it.”

Unsure of how to handle her feelings, Cecily looked down and folded the gown over her arm. She should refuse the gift, but the notion of having something to remember Mrs. Sterling by was too great. “Thank you.”

“And there is one more thing.” Mrs. Sterling returned to her desk, opened the drawer, and pulled out a small book bound in black leather. “I want you to take this with you.”

Cecily accepted the book and turned it to read the cover. “The book of Proverbs.”

As she read the words aloud, her heart sank. During her years at Rosemere, Mrs. Sterling had tried to strengthen Cecily’s faith. But even as the trust between them deepened, Cecily never told the headmistress why her father sent her away. Mrs. Sterling believed Cecily’s father’s abandonment was unprompted. Surely if Mrs.
Sterling knew, she would agree: God would want nothing to do with Cecily. But to be polite, Cecily hugged the book, along with the gown, to her chest. “Thank you, Mrs. Sterling.”

Mrs. Sterling stepped forward and embraced her. When the woman released her, she said, “You are a mystery to me, Miss Faire. I hope you have enjoyed your time here at Rosemere, for I know I have enjoyed your sense of humor and sweet nature. I sense you are searching for something, and I hope you find whatever it is. I know you will do well for yourself, but remember, you have family at Rosemere. If you need anything, anything at all, you can always come home.”

Later that night, alone in the tiny attic room she shared with Martha Riddle, another teacher, Cecily gathered the treasures and trinkets she had amassed since her arrival. She did not have many. She had arrived with only the dress on her back, the worn half boots on her feet, and her mother’s coral necklace she had hidden in her bodice that fateful night.

Her shoes and gown had been quickly replaced by the school gown of blue muslin and new black half boots. She folded each of her gowns—two blue, one lavender, and one pale yellow—and tucked them in a cast-off traveling trunk. On top of those she placed her extra stockings, nightdress, shawl, spencer, winter cloak, petticoat, and chemise. Once satisfied with the placement, she arranged her personal things, including her tooth powder, comb, and the small container of rosewater Mrs. Sterling had given her on her birthday. Her trunk was nearly full, and she looked at what remained: three worn books, a smaller chest with her embroidery things, and a single letter.

She picked up her embroidery box and ran her finger over the smooth wood. If she possessed any talent, it would be the art of embroidery. Many of the other girls were gifted at painting, singing, or playing the pianoforte. Cecily had learned some of those skills at
Rosemere, but her strength lay in her aptitude with a needle. She looked down at her sleeve and smoothed the tiny row of flowers she had embroidered along the hem. Not a single one of her gowns had escaped her alteration, and when she had embellished her own gowns as much as she could without having them appear overly ornate, she would adorn her friends’ gowns with similar ornamentations.

Cecily’s mother had worked as a dressmaker before she married Joseph Faire, and as such, she taught both Cecily and Leah how to work a needle by the time they were old enough to hold one. Cecily wiped a fingerprint from the embroidery box, tucked it inside, added her books, and then held the letter to the light.

It had been hidden in the bottom of a drawer for nearly two years. She had little need to read it for she had committed most of it to memory.

After her father had left her at Rosemere, she had written to her sister several times, hoping—pleading—for a response, which she never received. Cecily doubted her father would allow any letters, and after the physical violence her father displayed toward Andrew, his employer’s son, it was improbable they were even still at Aradelle. But she wrote nonetheless. After a year of hearing nothing, she gathered her courage and wrote to a friend, Emma Sanders, who worked as an underhousemaid at Aradelle Park.

Two months later she received a letter.

Cecily drew a deep breath and opened it.

Dear Cecily
,

How I wondered where you went, and to find that you are at a school for girls? How I envy you! You must be learning all kinds of wonderful things, but I am sorry to hear that you are separated from your family. I had no notion of it. To answer your questions, I wish I had different news. The day you left, your father was dismissed in a very public episode with Mr. Moreton. He left Detham in an awful
fury! I have assumed all this time that you were with them. I did hear that your sister had accepted a position as a dressmaker with your aunt in Manchester, but I have no news of your father.

Cecily lowered the letter. The rest was comprised of accounts of the busy happenings of the life she used to possess. They were of little consequence to her now.

She drew a sharp breath. She had found a version of peace and accepted the fact that her father had abandoned her. And over time her tender heart had healed from the pain of being separated from Andrew Moreton. But it was her separation from Leah that brought her the most anguish. Even in the midst of dozens of girls, she missed the closeness they had shared. The memories. The secrets.