Hello everyone! Let's move on...Carillon Hall beckons!
CHAPTER 20
The next morning, Rachel was woken up by the pleasing trill of birds from the garden and the sound of curtains being drawn back, letting soft sunlight pouring on her face. Her sleepy murmur of protest was cut short at the sight of someone standing in a dark corner. Jolted out of sleep in a trice by an involuntary rush of adrenalin, it took Rachel a second to realize with relief that it was only Sally, a pitcher of hot water in her hands and nervousness on her face.
“Oh, good morning!” she smiled at the uneasy girl as she lay back on the bed to surreptitiously catch her breath. Sally had never come to her room earlier, preferring to let Rosie wait on Rachel as she tended to the Herringford family. Now, of course, she was the only maid inside the house and had to perform all early-morning tasks by herself until a new maid came to work with her.
Rachel’s tender heart went out to her. She understood that Andrew had no choice in his disappearance, and escaping without notice was essential on Rosie’s part to divert Hargrove’s attentions – he might have suspected her if she had tried to leave around the time Miranda de Manley became of age. But she still wished that things could have been made easier for the poor servants like Sally and Larry who were suffering needlessly for Andrew and Rosie’s desertions. Her generous heart had never berated the cousins for dragging her so deep into their intrigue, but the thought of the maid and stable-boy’s hardships hurt her sensibilities.
“Good mornin’,” Sally returned tentatively. She quickly deposited the pitcher on the chest. “I…I have brought your washin’-up water, Miss,” as if it were not completely obvious. “It is hot as usual,” she tried again. Realizing the foolishness of her statement the moment it was uttered, she flushed and turned around to leave. Rachel could not let embarrassment spoil the chances of a budding understanding between them and immediately interposed, “Thank you, Sally. It must be hard to do so much work by yourself, and I’m most grateful to you.”
Sally stared at her for a moment from the doorway, before entering the room once again and wringing her hands. Finally, words gushed from her mouth as from a fountain. “’tis I who am grateful, Miss Warren. I’ll be thankful to you and Rosie for life. In fact, I don’t have any ill will towards her in the least for all this extra work; Lord knows that I’m ready to work all life by myself, long as I’ve my dignity to go with it. If you had not told Rosie to warn me about that bast…I mean, Lord…Edgerton, I could never have gotten away with my virtue intact.” She wiped off a tear from the corner of one eye and sniffed.
“I am simply glad that you and Rosie are safe, you know,” Rachel interposed gently. “I could never let you young girls stay in the house with a man like him without trying to warn you of his nature. My main fear was that you may not accept my story as true.”
Sally lowered her eyes in shame. “But you see Miss, I didn’t believe in the tale when Rosie told me. I didn’t trust you enough to admit the seriousness.of your warning, but ‘twas there in the back of my mind. I’ve made my own way in life and know when to heed warning signals. When he started lookin’ at me too much in corridors and acting all…slimy…I took to being around other people at all times without fail.
“He tried to waylay me more than once, and finally buttonholed me in the garden one evening when I was takin’ the air. No one would have heard my screams there, and I was completely helpless…or so he had thought.” A satisfied smirk crept up on her face as she relived the moment. “He had reckoned without my guard. I hadn’t been alone; I’m not that dumb. I was walkin’ with James and he had gone to fetch me a wrap from the house, and just as his Lordship was starting to get fresh the footman turns up as an unwanted spectator. And so it happened all the time he tried something with me or Rosie, until he left the house.”
She shook her head. “If not for your warning, I would have been carrying his water every morning in as usual, same as I do for everyone, and then he would’ve had me at his mercy indeed. As it was, I told James everything early on and he took that task over from me. I’m engaged to his brother Edward, Miss – the one that works in Mr. Brummings’ shop in Denbries. I love him; it would have killed me if his Lordship had…done something and…my Eddie rejected me as…as defiled...” The distraught girl started sobbing freely and Rachel held her hand in silent commiseration.
Sally’s head bowed even lower before she resumed speaking in a plaintive voice, “You suffered the same as me, Miss, and more. I was forewarned, and yet I thought all that was a lie on your part to get some attention! He never touched me thanks to your warning, and I can only be ashamed of my own behavior towards you in earlier days. I was jealous of you and your well-bred airs, your pretty face and how ev’ryone was hanging’ on your words. I was no longer in the spotlight, and it galled me. I’ve been proud of me looks and education all my life, since I believed them to make me a cut above my people. All foolish jealousy and pride would have been ground in the dust if…if I’d been branded as a fallen woman.” And she burst into tears once again.
Rachel knew that there was nothing much that she could say in this situation, so she wisely kept quiet and let the sobbing girl expel all pent-up anguish from her system. Sometime all that is needed to soothe the soul is a sympathetic listener.
Xxxxx
A morning that starts so dramatically usually leads to an anticlimactic day, but that was not exactly true in this case. No sooner had she stepped foot in the schoolroom that Rachel was swamped with her students’ excited chatter, breathing welcome in every word. “You are back again, Miss Warren, it felt like ages of separation!” exclaimed Diana, getting somewhat flighty in her choice of words out of excitement. Alicia was more sedate. “We are very pleased to see you again Miss, especially so well recovered. It has not been the same without you.”
Rachel laughed. “Well, I’m flattered ladies,” she teased lightly, though her eyes misted over. “And I missed you both prodigiously too.” She caressed Alicia’s cheek lightly before taking Diana’s hand. “What have you two been up to in my absence? I could not wait to return to you again.” And it was true in a way; despite her myriad emotions and upheavals, despite Andrew and Headley Downs and everything in between, she had really wondered at length about her students several times. They had firmly carved their niche in her heart. She mused more to herself than to her audience, “Who would believe that we had not known of each others’ existence some months’ ago?”
Diana got busy in bringing Rachel up-to-date with their activities. “Our studies have been largely waiting for your instructions Miss Warren, but we have done some work on our own as well during your absence. We have finished reading the book we were working on, and debated the merits and demerits of the reigns of Queen Elizabeth and Queen Anne as we had planned before your departure. And see, we have learnt this exquisite piece of music…”
Alicia was thoughtful all this while. After Diana stopped prattling on in this vein, she turned towards their teacher and innocently answered her last rhetorical statement. “No one would believe our instant connection, indeed. But I do not think that this situation is all that strange or novel. After all it is a strange world, ours, that can bring strangers as close as lifelong friends within a few months; nay, sometimes even an hour is enough to forge a friendship designed to last for a lifetime. And that is completely true in our case Miss Warren. Life here lost its color in your absence.”
Rachel’s heart skipped a beat as she thought about the truth of Alicia’s words in regard to her and Andrew, before recognizing the full compliment which these dear girls were paying her. They had carried on with their own studies all these days out of their sheer desire to learn and yet did not let their parents hire another governess for them. She mattered more to them than their education – she as a human being, rather than as a mere governess whose only function was to impart knowledge.
Rachel suddenly had an epiphany. They had waited for her faithfully. What was this, if not love? She had almost forgotten that love need not occur only between a man and a woman, or even between people bound by family – love exists between people willing to trust each other implicitly, and in the realization that none other can replace the one they love. Her students loved her; the staff at Carillon, the innocent children of Headley Down and the Trevelyan sisters loved her to varying extents. This was untainted, unbiased love for her as a person; the purest kind that there was. Why should it matter if one single man did not return her love? She, Rachel Warren, was blessed indeed, and never again would she reproach her fate for taking Andrew away.
She showed her pleasure appropriately (if somewhat less sentimentally than she wanted), and the students had a wonderful morning with their teacher, back at last from her time in ‘London’.
Xxxxx
She saw Mr. Herringford that evening while helping Sally dust the pictures in the living room. He stood in the doorway for a moment and admired the willing nature of the dark-haired girl, who went out of her way to assist an overworked maid. Then he stepped into the room and made his presence known to them.
“Good even to you, Miss Warren,” he said warmly, taking her hand in an affectionate gesture. “It is most nice to see you again, and I officially welcome you back to Carillon Hall.” She smiled up at him as he added in a lowered voice, “And glad I am to see that your helpful habits have been untarnished by illness.”
He was just like her brothers-in-law Paul and Harvey – caring, gentlemanly and extremely easy to talk with. Before she had even realized it, she was chatting readily with him about her family’s quarantine, and how she had caught the infection while nursing her mother. He was extremely shrewd, though, and Rachel teetered on the brink of exposure once or twice due to her uncorked conversation.
She was brought up short once when he inquired about the physician who had imposed the quarantine, since scarlet fever did not usually require such a long period of waiting. No sooner had she bluffed her way out of that pitfall when he asked if her brother-in-law Paul had also been barred from going to the university because of the quarantine (what was the procedure in such institutions?). Rachel would have almost believed that he suspected something amiss in her story, had not all his questions been asked with an ingenuous sort of carelessness; as it were, she managed to dodge them with an easy smile and vague answers about being too sick herself to notice anything particularly. Would that be enough?
Her fears were silenced when he never raised the subject again. Finally Rachel was able to console herself with the idea that maybe he was simply one of those people who had the uncomfortable knack of asking unwelcome questions at the wrong times.
Xxxxx
Now that the first flush of meeting everyone was over, Rachel fit in the household as seamlessly as she had always done. The days started rolling away as her life resumed its usual sedate pace. She picked up the thread of education from the point it had been left, gossiped with Mrs. Hutchens and Mrs. Talcott as heartily as ever, taught her students new songs and took them to museums and art galleries on occasion, talked amicably with her employer and stayed out of Mrs. Herringford’s way as much as possible.
She was saddled with the child Brian whenever he was between nurses (which happened quite often considering that he usually got them dismissed within a day), and managed to get through those days by gritting her teeth and maintaining the strictest of scrutiny on him at all times so as to at least be aware of any mayhem he might be contemplating. Sheer vigilance enabled her to avert a fire in the stables on one occasion, and being left behind in the unknown town of Ashford on another. Long stories, and it is unnecessary to relate them here; they could be expressed in one simple word – Brian. If nothing else, Brian Herringford helped her to appreciate Diana and Alicia even more, develop intense awareness of her surroundings and to come a bit closer to gaining that halo of sainthood.
The staff was also seeing better days now. The man who had come for the post of groom the day after Rachel’s arrival, Mr. Saunders, proved to be good enough with the horses to be kept on; Larry was most relieved. The gardener’s grandnephew Albert was eager to learn and steady of hand, already taking on most of James’ duties. Coleman was a quiet man who kept to himself and seldom came up to the main house to eat and mingle like Fairfax had done, but he was competent in his job and that was the most important thing. A new maid called Bertha was finally appointed some days after Rachel’s return and the domestic staff of the house was complete. It was soon like Andrew, Rosie and Hargrove had never been in the house in the first place. Time is a most resilient thing, indeed.
Master Ashley Herringford came back from Eton for a short holiday. He was a shy young man – more interested in his chess set, coin collection and textbooks than in his family – and usually kept to his room during his sporadic returns to the Hall. There was a difference this time, though... a new addition to the family set. On the second day of his stay Ashley accidentally discovered her propensity for chess, and soon Rachel was ruing the day she had bested the scion of the Herringford family at his own game. He had finally found an object of adoration –Miss Warren. His shining eyes and persistent attentions made her seriously perturbed about any ideas which the susceptible teenager might be having – after all, she was three years older than him and working for his family. Not to mention, her heart was securely engaged elsewhere.
For a few nightmarish days it seemed as if Master Ashley was only looking for a good moment to declare himself to the object of his affections, and Mrs. Herringford was more than aware of the direction of his thoughts. Her attitude became glacial towards the hapless governess once again. Rachel could not afford to jeopardize her position due to a schoolboy’s lovelorn notions, and yet she did not want to reject him outright since it would break the bashful boy’s confidence in himself. Oh, what a situation!
She finally applied Sally’s methods, and contrived to be surrounded by people at all times to avoid any chance of private effusions. Wherever she went, either Sally or one of the girls would be convinced into attending her. Rachel even found excuses not to play chess with the boy anymore. The plan was as effective for her as for the maid. Thankfully for everyone concerned, his break was soon over and he had to return to school without speaking his mind. Mrs. Herringford forgot her annoyance with Rachel over time, and life returned to its normal pace.
Xxxxx
The saddest repercussion of Rachel’s time as Miranda de Manley was that she could not go to visit her family for a long time. After all, she had apparently spent over a month with them recently; how could she ask for permission to go to London again? It did not help that Neil, Stan, Minnie, Lucy and even Paul had been clamoring to see her for a long time. Her protracted silences during that eventful month ultimately made her mother express a timid wish to meet her daughter again in the flesh – surely her employers would not grudge her a weekend off when they had kept her busy for so long with their child? Rachel found it hardest to refuse her mother; she knew how much it must have mattered to that proud lady to make her invite someone else to Lucy and Paul’s house. She tried bringing up the matter of a short Sunday trip to Creswell Street before Mrs. Herringford, but that conversation went exactly as she had guessed all the while.
“Miss Warren,” the lady enunciated each syllable icily, “I know that I had mentioned at the time of your arrival that you can take an occasional weekend off to meet your family. However, that was before I knew that you were about to take such a long leave, after teaching my children for just a month or so. Now, I believe you will agree with me when I say that though your Sundays are your own, I cannot afford to lose any more Mondays or Saturdays because you want to visit your family. You had been with them all this while after all; they ought to be able to withstand the separation for some time.”
Since it was indeed the story she had circulated, Rachel had no alternative but to acquiesce. Thus it was that many an afternoon were spent by her trying to stave off persistent invitations to London with evasions having some modicum of plausibility, wiping off her own silent tears in the process. It was another month before she could get to visit her family for a too-short weekend, pleading her twin brothers’ birthday as a reason to the disapproving mistress of Carillon Hall.
Xxxxx
She also continued a regular correspondence with Miranda. The heiress was leading a most interesting life at the moment, and she unreservedly shared every detail with Rachel. Her letters were usually racy and made for a most interesting read. She was living with a distant older cousin as chaperone, and her complaints about this apparent ‘Terror of the Dartmoor Wilderness’ made Rachel laugh till the tears came into her eyes. Miranda had moved into a big house of her own on Grosvenor Street by mid November, and spent three weeks in decorating it according to her tastes. She was one of the few people who could talk about wainscoting, plumbing, curtains and bed-sheets and still made it sound like fun. She got her new house ready for occupancy and entertaining guests, but by then harsh winter had arrived and she took off to her estate in Kent for ‘hibernation’. Presently Miranda was making Richmond Acres into her dream home, and was quite in raptures about the gracious proportions of the house, the arable land surrounding it and the peaceful environment.
“In truth (she wrote), I had never dreamed of owning anything as lovely as this. The place is neither too big nor too small, it is old enough to have atmosphere but is not behind the times, there are ever so many trees all around, a lusty stream gushes through a meadow that will be filled with daffodils in the spring, and there is a hill on the property from which I can see the sunset… I cannot express my joy with this region! Even winter is mild out here. After the crags and isolation of Dartmoor, it is so fresh and welcoming.
“My darling grey mare Twilight was transported from Snowdown the day after I arrived, and I have taken more pleasure in exploring my territory than anything I can remember. It is mine, all mine to cherish and look after. I have never owned anything of my own before, so you can envision what that feels like! I am always poring over accounts in the evening by a roaring fire, and I find that I do have reason to bless my enforced stewardship of our sprawling property in Dartmoor. It is much easier to manage this place since Richmond already has a competent steward at work, and is of much more manageable proportions, besides being friendlier.
“And dear Mrs. Webb has come out of retirement to become my housekeeper and ‘take care that none take advantage of ma wee lamb’, in her words. Do not laugh at me, dear Rachel, when I say that I always felt like an outsider in my own home, but this place accepted me from the moment I crossed its threshold. I feel like it has been waiting for me all these years. I am so looking forward to celebrating Christmas here. I might be lonely, but at least I belong now.”
Miranda’s letters always fluctuated between serious and lighthearted topics in this manner. In one extra-introspective letter she discussed her feelings towards her brothers who, incidentally, had never attempted anything underhanded again; they instead fled the country fearing retribution from their little sister. They did not know her well enough to realize that she would never take legal action against them.
“…Andy told me that you understood my reluctance to bring any action against my brothers, and I cannot express my gratitude to you for being so sympathetic. Even Andy calls my decision soft-heartedness and disagrees with it, though he knows me so well. How to explain the complexity of my bond with them? They may have lost all love for me lured by wealth, but I cannot forget my entire life in such a hurry – a life spent in adoration of my dear Desmond and James. They were not all bad, you know…but I now realize that gambling is like a drug for them. Their softer feelings could not stop them from doing anything to gain money, to the extent of destroying me in the process. I don’t want to be dragged to their level. I made my will the day I attained my inheritance in which I left nothing to my brothers, and sent a note to de Manley House to that effect, besides stating that I am officially never returning there or to Dartmoor since I am a woman of independent means.
“I may have cut off all ties with James and Desmond, but I just cannot undergo the sordid publicity and trauma if I start a case on them. I cannot drag the proud name of de Manley into dirt like this, letting us all become grist for rumour mills to be dissected at the pleasure of the Ton tabbies. Neither James nor Desmond will bother me or my friends any more once it is clear that they’ll not profit from my death; and that is all I care about.”
Through her Rachel got to hear snippets about Andrew as well. He seemed to be leading his men well and often attained victory in any skirmishes which took place, but military rules did not allow him to be anything but vague about the details. Every night Rachel used to breathe a little prayer for his safety in unknown lands, and for his quick return home. To his proud country. To his loving family. To her.
Xxxxx
The winter months approached before anyone was ready for them, and severely curtailed the freedom of the house’s younger inhabitants. As the bitter winds swept across Denbries and covered it with relentless layers of snow, the Herringford girls stayed more and more inside the Hall with Miss Warren, who had to devise imaginative ways of keeping them involved and in good temper. They acted out parts from their favourite plays, wrote imaginative tales to be shared around the evening fire, debated about sundry topics, and practiced music until Mr. Herringford pleaded successfully on behalf of his shattered nerves and got the practice time limited. Mrs. Talcott and Violet were kept perpetually busy churning out hot savouries and nourishing soups for the Hall and its tenants, an activity in which Rachel and her students joined in occasionally as well.
Brian became a veritable monster at the name of whom the household quailed in terror, until he pushed his luck and capabilities too far. He climbed a tall tree in order to capture a poor squirrel cowering on its topmost branch to conduct unmentionable ‘experiments’ upon, and forgot to account for the ice coating the tree’s trunk and boughs. He was laid up with a broken leg and everyone (perhaps excepting his doting mother; on second thoughts, perhaps not) secretly heaved a sigh of relief. Though a horrible patient, he was out of action for two blessed months.
That was almost a bigger reason to celebrate than the approaching holiday season of Christmas and the New Year.
For the first time Rachel spent Christmas away from home, and her sensitive students did their best to make it up to her by keeping her involved in all their entertainments. They went shopping together to the little village of Denbries for gifts for the tenants and domestic staff, and got the carriage to take them to Ashford for family presents (not the occasion when Brian hoped to desert Miss Warren behind; this time he was confined to his bed and entertaining himself by throwing food across the room at a terrified Bertha). The girls got together with Miss Warren to cut out ornaments for the house and the tree standing in the dining hall, and Christmas Eve was a lovely day spent in sipping hot chocolate and putting up the decorations among renditions of cheerful carols.
Once out of the eyes of the adults, the three teenagers (yes, even Alicia had finally attained the coveted title during Rachel’s ‘illness’) also indulged in impromptu games of tag befitting someone much younger in age.
Christmas was a serene and uneventful day, dawning crisp with frost and with the robin redbreast trilling bravely in the hedges. Everyone (but Brian, of course – poor baby) trudged through the light dusting of snow to attend church, and Rachel was suddenly assailed with memories of her father’s sermons on the Coming of the Savior and other such themes, causing her eyes to mist over in remembrance. On their return home the surviving family sat down with mugs of frothing eggnog and opened their gifts piled under the Christmas tree.
Diana and Alicia insisted that the governess also joined the family this year instead of adjourning to the kitchen with the rest of the staff, and Miss Warren was well aware of the unprecedented honour bestowed upon her. She was presented with a sweet bonnet by her students; it was in deepening shades of cream with little bluebells painstakingly embroidered by both Diana and Alicia. She had made the former a crochet reticule and the latter a set of red satin roses to adorn her best pair of shoes, both of which gifts were great hits with their recipients. The Herringford couple gave her a pretty muslin scarf in amethyst hues, and she offered them sets of handkerchiefs embroidered with their initials. The rest of the staff also gave her little tokens of affection which she reciprocated with similar mementoes. None of them had much money to spare and in the end, the thought mattered more than cost.
For Brian she simply baked a cake as a peace offering, which the child inspected angelically before lobbing at her head with an almost-accurate aim. Well, that went off well, she thought dryly as she cleaned the mess up and took it to the garbage. Mrs. Talcott saw her and shook her head. “’tis praiseworthy that you tried Miss Warren, but I could’ve told you mesself how that would have gone. Nothing has ever given that rapscallion more happiness than spoilin’ the joys of others.” To this sage comment, Rachel only smiled a little. “I couldn’t not make a gesture of some kind; after all, it is Christmas and he is my charge also; sort of, at any rate. At least it is not something I spent too much time or money on. Another good thing is that it was an un-iced cake rather than something squishy like pie or custard. That would have been really hard to get off the poor maltreated walls!”
Thus the matter dissolved in laughter once again in keeping with the season. Christmas signifies forgiveness and love after all.
--xx--xx--
AN: Sorry to those who were clamoring for The Return of Andrew, but this chapter traverses a few months in the life of Rachel while Andrew bravely fights for God and Country. After all, a soldier can't be recalled from duty in a hurry (and especially considering that he hadn't been on the march for so long...making him return sooner would have been pretty unbelievable, I believe). And remember the ending of my poem...the story ends three chapters after Andy makes his reappearance. Are you tired of my tale already? ;-)