“Thank you, Lord Bellfourd,” she said softly, with the most profound curtsy she could manage.
“I will bid you goodnight, then,” Lord Bellfourd responded, not wanting to make the young Miss Watts any more embarrassed. “Good evening, Mrs. Peterson.”
The whole room waited till he was out of the hall before resuming their seats and whispering amongst themselves.
Isabella finally met the gaze of the housekeeper, who seemed to be measuring her, once the room went back to hushed speaking and clanking of dishes. Without so much as a word, she turned on her heels, pausing only once to beckon, in an irritated fashion, for Isabella to follow.
Utterly put in her place, Isabella did her best not to look at the side glances around her as she followed Mrs. Peterson out of the servant dining hall.
Chapter 4
Isabella listened silently on her hastened tour from Mrs. Peterson, the weight of her locket heavy in her hand. Mrs. Peterson insisted that the trip must not? be a quick one since she had arrived much later than expected.
She cared not for the fact that Isabella had been left on the side of the road with no help getting to the manor.
“You will be situated in the west wing of the manor in the extra servants quarters in the attic. Your student's room, nursery, and school room are also located on that side of the manor. There is no reason for you to venture outside that wing without express permission, is that clear?”
“Yes, of course,” Isabella responded, now leaving the lower levels of the servants’ quarters and up to the main floor. Not stopping on the main floor, Mrs. Peterson immediately turned and went up the second set of stairs, then a third, and finally, a fourth.
By the fourth set of stairs, the ascension was steep and narrow. The final floor was, no doubt, the attic space used for overflow staffing. The ceiling was scarcely tall enough not to rub against Mrs. Peterson's high bun.
She walked two doors over and bade Isabella enter. The room was unquestionably smaller than the one she had at home, but not at all displeasing to look at.
The footman had kindly deposited her trunk at the end of a small, but comfortable looking bed. It was dressed in a simple quilt decorated with embroidered flowers.
The footman had also been kind enough to light a fire in the small fireplace that was to the right of the bed. To the left of it was a little, round port window in the pointed arch of a spire.
In front sat a small table and one plush, but ragged looking, chair. No doubt, it had been moved up when no longer suitable for the main house.
Aside from that, the only other furniture was a small table, for basin and water pitcher, and a petite cabinet closet. Though none of the furniture matched and the walls were only a pure whitewash, the room was warmed by the fire and cozy.
Isabella was grateful to see the space she could call her own after the long trip with such close quarters.
Mrs. Peterson waited, arms folded in front, while Isabella inspected the room. When Isabella turned back to her, she didn’t have a moment to speak before Mrs. Peterson began.
“Your breakfast and basin of water will be brought to you every morning. You will eat your breakfast here, luncheon and tea will be served with Miss Jaqueline and her nurse, and dinner will be brought up to you here, promptly at nine o’clock.”
“I won't be taking my meals downstairs?” Isabella asked, a little surprised that she would be expected to hole up in her room any time she was not with her student.
“Of course not. You are not one of the staff, you are the governess. Your meals will be taken here, where it is good and proper.”
It was easy to see that Mrs. Peterson found propriety very important.
“I was told that your father was Baron Leinister,” she continued.
Isabella was slightly disappointed that her upbringing was already well known.
“Yes,” was her simple reply.
“Well, I am sure you understand that things are different now. You are not a guest of His Grace, but a paid worker. You are expected to do your job and to do it to the best of your ability. You will not have a lady’s maid. I trust you expected this and can take care of yourself.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“Of course, I would never have presumed otherwise.”
“Very well, then. As I said, warm water and your breakfast tray will be brought to you in the morning at seven and seven-thirty, respectively. I will come to get you at a quarter to eight to meet Miss Jaqueline. At ten, you will be presented to His Grace and introductions to the rest of the family will follow, as he dictates. He will tell you what duties are expected of you while you stay.”
It wasn’t hard to miss that Mrs. Peterson was not pleased that Isabella had already acquainted Lord Bellfourd before the designated time.
“You have from three o’clock onward to yourself, as the nurse will take her duties then. You may explore the grounds outside, as long as you are not infringing on the family. You are expected to accompany Miss Jaqueline to church with the family every Sunday morning, and then you are free to use the afternoon as you wish. Many of the servants use the opportunity to go into town, which is about a mile's walk. All other expectations will be given to you by His Grace in the morning.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Peterson,” Isabella said, now feeling very exhausted from her journey. “Could you also please tell me how I might mail post?”
She seemed to think this over for a minute, undoubtedly weighing what was proper for such a situation. Of course, mailing post along with the members of the household would not be acceptable. She wasn’t quite sure whether leaving it in the servant's hall, as the other staff members did, was quite right for her either. Finally, though, it was what she settled on.
“There is a basket on a small table next to the service entrance. Letters may be left there to be posted.”
She bid Isabella a crisp goodnight and left the room. Isabella sat for a few moments on her bed, taking it all in before finally opening her still-gloved hand and replacing the locket around her neck.
Feeling like herself again with her treasured locket adorning her neck, she set about unpacking her belongings. It took some effort to get all her gowns into the small cabinet and she realized again how ridiculous she must have seemed to the marquess, forcing him to lug so many belongings.
For lack of a better place, she lined up her treasured novels along the wall between the cabinet and the metal headboard of the bed.