Page 2 of The Marquis' Game of Seduction
Judith pressed a worn hand across the white-painted wooden door and wedged it forward, passing through to the kitchen, all bustling with life for the first meal of the day. Biscuits were baked; porridge was stirred; an enormous bucket of apples—seemingly freshly picked—perched on the center of the countertops.
A square-shaped woman with a very flat head spun around and beamed at Rose. She was perhaps 45 years old, similar to Judith, and had these ruddy, bright cheeks. She flashed a flour-painted hand toward Rose, chirping, “It must be our governess! Welcome. I trust you had a safe journey? My name is Alice.”
“Alice, I’m Rose,” she said, smiling broadly. “You must be in charge of the kitchen?”
“Absolutely. For ten years now,” Alice affirmed. She flashed her hand toward a platter of freshly baked biscuits and dabbed one of them onto Rose’s palm. She bowed toward it, saying, “These are the specialty of the house. The Marquees asks us to bake them nearly every morning. It’s the only thing we can get to stick on his bones. Go on. Try one.”
Rose did as she was told, digging her teeth into the glorious, flaky baked biscuit. Her eyes dropped closed immediately. The crusty outside gave way to a gooey, perfect middle. The experience was very nearly religious.
“My goodness,” she moaned.
Suddenly, a girl about Rose’s age burst in from the back door, carrying an enormous vat of sloshing water. The water dotted the front of her apron, and her long blond hair swept down her shoulders, seemingly unable to be kept in her bonnet. Alice beamed at her, drawing out the girth of her arm toward her.
“Come along, Anna. I want you to meet someone.”
Anna placed her bucket of water on the floor by the counter and smacked her palms together. “Terribly sorry. I was just running to the stream and I’m a mess.” She tore a strand of hair behind her ear and turned her attention back to Rose. “I’m Anna. As she said, I suppose.”
“Anna. So good to meet you,” Rose said, giving Anna a little curtsy. She sensed she was approximately her age. Although it was clear that Anna had been raised in a much lower class than the Marquees, Rose couldn’t get a firm grasp on just how lower-class she was. Anna certainly spoke with a gritty accent, one representative of the poorer families of London. This immediately endeared Anna to Rose, as Rose had so often felt like a very poor fish in a very rich pond.
“I’ve been here since I was 17 years old,” Anna continued. “So if there’s any problems you’re having, any questions at all, come to me. I can help.”
There was a strange pause. Anna’s smile stretched out wide, warmer than Rose had ever seen. Rose returned it, hoping that Anna didn’t sense her inner hesitance. She couldn’t help it: she was simply terrified to begin this new chapter, yet knew it was entirely necessary. She hadn’t another route.
“I daresay you and Anna will be fast friends,” Judith said, as she and Rose strutted back into the hallway, toward the back staircase. “She’s a dear thing, although she can be quite naive at times. I suppose it’s all due to growing up here at the Marquees’ estate. How could she possibly have much of an opinion on the world—or know how to handle it—if she hardly leaves these walls? Ah, shall we go upstairs?”
Rose followed Judith onto the second floor, where Judith pointed out several important guest bedrooms, an art study, and the entrance to the Marquees’ quarters. As they walked, Judith introduced Rose to still more employees of the Marquees: several manservants and maids, along with a spare gardener who’d come up to ask one of the maid’s opinions on trimming a bush. To Rose, the environment was vibrant and light, again a contrast to the darkness that seemed to shroud the mansion.
“Still, we haven’t seen the Marquees?” Rose asked suddenly, surprising even herself with her forwardness. “I imagined that the Marquees would wish to know the new face staying in his estate…”
“Such an incredibly busy man he is,” Judith said. She tapped the very tip of her nose with her finger. “In fact, he isn’t even sure he’ll have time to speak with you about the boy’s education. I’ve prepared a bit of a plan for you. Perhaps we could meet tomorrow morning to discuss? Once you’re fully settled in.”
“Of course.”
There was a light tapping up a thin, winding staircase, toward the third floor. Always terribly conscious of the possibility of ghosts, Rose stopped short and blinked toward the darkness above. Perhaps Judith sensed this fear. She immediately squashed it, rapping her knuckles on the staircase railing and calling up, “Is that you, Duncan?”
“Quite.” This was the voice of a young boy.
Rose’s ears perked up. She knew immediately that this was the reason for her stay at the Marquees’ estate. She gripped the railing and peered up into the darkness, watching as little feet rapped down the staircase, drawing the boy and head of the boy into the light.
Duncan was a slender, almost meek-looking boy, with dark brown hair and enormous orb-like eyes. When he was half-way down the stairs, he halted and peered at Rose with an incredible amount of intensity, stitching his eyebrows together.
“I don’t suppose this is my new governess?” he asked. He sounded almost doubtful.
Instead of letting the silence stretch on, Rose dipped into a curtsy and bowed her head. “Yes, sir. It is I. Rose Collingsworth, at your service. I will be your new governess. You are quite astute for a boy of…”
Here, she trailed off. It had long been top-level knowledge in her life that boys and girls loved to tell you their age. It was always a point of pride.
“I’m ten,” Duncan told her. He tapped the rest of the way to the second floor and then placed his hands on his hips, staring up at her. He clicked his tongue and continued. “You know, I’ve been here only five days. That’s five days more than you.”
Rose hadn’t known it had been such a quick decision, bringing her there. She swallowed and said, “Has it been a very difficult transition for you, Duncan? I imagine so. It’s terribly difficult to move.”
Duncan shrugged, although his eyes clouded. “Mother is quite sick. It was decided that it was too difficult for me to remain on there. The doctors came in and out every morning and afternoon and night and there simply wasn’t time left for me anymore.”
Rose turned her eyes toward Judith for just a brief moment. Judith gave her a soft nod, an affirmation.
“I’m terribly sorry to hear that, Duncan,” Rose said. She had a strange inclination to lean toward him, drawing her hands over her knees and meet his eyes with hers. But then, she reasoned that Duncan might think she was belittling him in some manner—and she forced herself to remain upright. “Truly. Having a sick parent must be a very real struggle.”
Duncan nodded his head somberly, like an adult. “Where are your parents?” he asked.
