The Governess of White Stag Hall

Pedestals

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After a week of travel, they arrived late at the doorstep of a townhouse, owned by Lady Atwood's youngest brother, who was away in France and would not be joining his siblings in Brighton.

Edith was immediately put up in her own apartment and on any other occasion she might have taken the time to admire its furnishings and opulence, but the only thing that held any interest for her was the bed. She barely even had the energy to remove her dress and corset before collapsing into the mattress.

Despite sleeping soundless throughout the night, morning came far, far too soon. Edith was barely awake even as she went about making herself presentable enough for breakfast. Once downstairs, she found an absurdly energetic Lady Atwood eating in the solar.

"Ah, you look remarkably bright this morning," the woman said cheerfully as one of the servants poured her coffee. The lovely, smoky scent of it filled the whole house.

From anyone else, Edith might have thought that was sarcasm, but she could tell that Lady Atwood was being entirely sincere. She took a seat opposite of the woman. "So do you," she replied with as much cheer as she could muster so early in the morning. "I assume you slept well?"

"I did," Lady Atwood said. She was practically glowing as she poured a little cream and sugar into her coffee and stirred it. "I admit, I'm quite excited to be here."

Edith hummed. She could hardly bring herself to touch her food. "What is on the agenda today?" she wondered.

"Hm? Oh, nothing today," she said. "It was a very long journey here and I thought it best to give us both a day to rest and freshen up before we venture out into society."

Edith was convinced that no one would ever say anything so lovely to her again. She could barely contain her relief. "Thank God."

Lady Atwood laughed. "Savor it, my dear, because we will be quite busy. My niece is very eager to introduce me to her beau and we have already received several dinner invites."

"From who?" Edith asked, frowning a little as the maid filled another cup with coffee and presented it to her. She'd never acquired a taste for the stuff, but she drank anyway.

"Mostly friends or acquaintances of my brothers," Lady Atwood replied. "But there is also one from an old friend of mine and a cousin of Beckwith's. But that is for later. What will you do today?"

"Call on my aunts and sister I suppose," Edith replied. The idea made her feel even more tired.

Lady Atwood passed Edith a surreptitious, sideways look. "And these are the aunts who treat you so ill?" she asked.

Edith nodded. She might never have told Lady Atwood anything about her engagement to Nicholas Hart if they'd gone anywhere but Brighton. But it seemed like an inevitability. Besides, it felt like if she spoke of Nicholas perhaps then she could avoid speaking of Rhys. She had mentioned him once in passing while recalling some fond memory about Meg and something in her manner or her tone of voice had given her away because Lady Atwood's attention had piqued, like a scent hound on a trail. Still, she hadn't pried.

"The same," Edith said with a sigh.

Lady Atwood simply hummed in reply, her lips pursed into a thin line. Edith could tell that the woman desperately wanted to say something and was, for once, holding herself back. So, she didn't ask. Sometimes having answers just made more trouble.

"What do you have planned for today?" she asked, hoping to redirect the conversation somewhere less personal.

"My niece is very desperate to see me," Lady Atwood replied with a hand wave. "We're meeting this afternoon for tea. She's beside herself." The woman shook her head and took a long sip of her coffee. "If you are home in time, I will introduce you. If not, we will get another chance to do so in a week or so. My brother is hosting a dinner party, which is sure to be a grand combination of insufferable formality and chaos."