Our Conspiracy

Chapter 2: An American Socialite in Polperro

I didn't even wait a day. I was off on Wednesdays, and it was my custom to hide in the attic all day with a candle rereading Jane Eyre, but I couldn't concentrate on reading when the delicious notion of visiting Mrs. Hawthorne was still so fresh on my mind. I resolved that I simply must repay her visit immediately.

I was somewhat self conscious about the state she'd found me in when she arrived yesterday. She had caught me on a working day, and it was a miracle I'd been able to entertain her so long without being reprimanded, so of course I hadn't changed out of my work clothes. It wouldn't do to have her see me like that again. I didn't understand quite why yet, but I wanted her to think highly of me. I only had very few things to choose from, so it was little trouble to select my lovely sea green frock I'd splurged on to wear to another maid's daughter's christening.

The dress had been extravagant by my standards, but quite homely and cheap compared to Mrs. Hawthorne's clothes. To that dress I added a pair of sensible gloves and a warm jacket. It was still early spring, after all. I had no other option but my everyday shoes, which were well worn and clunky. I twisted my black hair into a primitive bun using my old combs, the last remnant of my life before the girl's school.

I looked in the mirror. For a moment, I was almost proud of myself. I was presentable. But then I remembered Mrs. Hawthorne's neat, tidy hair, her lovely frock, her glowing skin, and I doubted myself. How could I ever impress a woman that beautiful? Still, even if I made an utter fool of myself trying to impress her, I knew I had to see her again. I would have to come to her as I was, waiting until I was perfect was an exercise in futility. I only had to think of her to know she could mean the end of my loneliness. I did my best to bolster my courage, hoping she didn't look at me and see a ragamuffin.

It wasn't a terribly long walk from Hillside Cottage to Beacon Point, but it was a somewhat treacherous one. The only path to Beacon Point was the scenic road that ran along the rocky cliffs. My calves ached by the end of it, but it was worth it. Beacon Point was the only big house in the area, and the last house before the road ran out. From Beacon Point, you could get a very good view of the lighthouse, from which Beacon Point had acquired its name.

Against the backdrop of the bay, Beacon Point looked out of place. It didn't have the appearance of a beach house or a bungalow. It was something straight out of the type of book I most enjoyed reading. From the outside, Beacon Point resembled the great houses that played so strongly in Gothic novels, complete with rusty gates. I was practically giddy at the sight of it.

I hesitated as I approached the front doors. I knew I should be using the servant's entrance, but today, I was a guest to the lady of the house. I knocked eagerly.

The woman who greeted me at the door was far from welcoming. She was a sour faced middle aged woman, bone thin and pinkish grey. She frowned deeply. I wasn't sure whether I personally was unsightly or whether she simply hated her position. Regardless, this servant woman was clearly unhappy to see me. She didn't ask for my name, she just glanced at me and called out, "Ms. Evelyn Ardent to see you, Vivian."

I was surprised. I didn't think I was expected so soon, and I certainly didn't expect this stranger to know my name. Vivian- Lady Hawthorne must have told her what I looked like, in case I called.

"Hurrah!" Lady Hawthorne said, pushing past her. "Thank you Nanny! I shall see to her."

"Very good. Let me know if there's anything you ladies need," the old woman said.

When she was gone, Lady Hawthorne whirled me around daringly, as though it were only natural that we should be dancing. I had never danced before, but under her direction, I felt graceful. "I'm so happy you came by today, I was afraid you wouldn't," she said. "Was Nanny good to you? She can be rather protective of me. Thinks I'm still six."