The Governess of White Stag Hall

Familiarity

(Image by Ethan Ridd on Unsplash)

Nothing extraordinary happened over the next few weeks and life settled into a fixed mode. In the mornings Edith and Meg went for walks. In the afternoons, they retreated to the house to continue their lessons in the classroom. Then, in the evenings, Edith had supper alone in her bedroom and wrote letters or read a book taken from Pierce's library. The only thing that changed was Rhys. He started to join them more and more often, until he too was part of the routine.

Edith, who was initially convinced that the man meant to make himself a nuisance, was surprised to find him quite companionable. At the very least, it was never boring with him around. He claimed, of course, that he was there for Meg's sake, but it was a flimsy pretense even to Edith since he spent most of the time picking arguments with her. He admitted readily that he enjoyed fighting for the sport of it and she got the feeling that he often disagreed with her simply to provoke a response, whether they were talking about something as petty as fashion or as nebulous as philosophy.

"What do you think?" he asked once after a particularly impassioned diatribe.

She laughed at him. "You already seem very convinced that you're right. Does it matter what I think?"

"It matters to me."

Almost a week later, Edith still found herself thinking about that conversation. It was such a novel feeling–to be seen and heard. To be valued for her thoughts. Not even her father had listened to her with such interest.

Regardless of his sincerity, her fledgling friendship with Rhys was a welcome distraction, both from her own loneliness and the anticipation which charged the air of the house like the moments before a lightning strike. The visit from Mrs. Pierce's family was drawing ever nearer and Blake had the servants in another frenzy. She ran the maids ragged all week and even on the day of their guests' anticipated arrival, Edith came down the stairs in the morning to the sound of Blake barking orders from somewhere on the other side of the house.

Edith wasn't shocked at all to find Rhys and Meg hiding in the gardens and without a word the three of them immediately retreated to the safety of the woods, lest they be accused of somehow getting underfoot.

"Do you know who is coming?" Edith asked when they were far enough from the house that she did not have to worry about being overheard.

Rhys shook his head. "Not exactly. From what I gathered, it will be Louisa's mother and a handful of other relatives from Brighton."

Edith raised her brows at that. "Brighton? So far?"

"Hm, distance isn't such an obstacle to those who can afford it," he said. He glanced down at her. "Have you ever been to Brighton?"

"I have," she said. "My aunts keep a townhouse there."

Rhys hummed thoughtfully as he took this in. "You've never mentioned having aunts. Are you close?"

"Not at all." Edith could barely disguise her distaste for the pair in her letters to Grace, let alone in her voice. "They are... trying people."

He laughed. "Such is true of most relatives," he said and his eyes were bright with amusement as he looked down at her. "I'm afraid we all must suffer relations we want nothing to do with."

Edith frowned a little and gave the man a critical look. His tone was light and unaffected, but his words were weighted. Did he mean "relations" in the general sense? As to include Mrs. Pierce's family? Or was he speaking specifically of his brother?

They walked on a little farther, the sun shining on their backs and the cool breeze pulling at their clothes and hair. Meg had chosen the path which led away from the shade of the woods and had them in the open, following the fencing which marked the western border of the property and divided it from the open pastures on the other side.