Page 21 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
What would be waiting for her at Rosecliff Manor? How could she be certain what Eloise Boyle had asserted was fact? The woman only wished to find a replacement. She may have overstated the kindness of her employers or the sensibilities of the children.
A dozen doubts flooded Rose’s mind as the stagecoach made its way through the road, each hoofbeat bringing her closer to the fate which awaited her in Buford.
* * *
It was late afternoon when the car stopped in Cambridge, its final destination. The bedraggled travelers disembarked the carriage, a mass of cramps and moans as they stretched their legs. All but the woman who had wailed a rout the entire way from Dartmouth. If possible, her cries grew more fearsome.
“Elizabeth, that is quite enough!” her brother stormed furiously, raising his hand to slap her cheek in frustration. All looked away but Rose who was consumed with sick at what she had observed.
“You will marry Randolph Cutler and be done with it!”
Elizabeth rubbed her cheek with a gloved hand, her brown eyes sopping in tears.
“I cannot!” she bemoaned. “Patrick, you cannot – “
Another smack ensued and this time, Rose did shift her eyes. She could not be faulted for staring but she did not wish to see such abuse for such an inane reason.
She is afraid!Rose wanted to decry.Have some compassion!
Patrick grasped his sister’s arm and hauled her along the platform, his mouth pinched in anger.
If he is willing to strike her in such a public way, I do wonder what will happen when he has her alone. I dare hope Randolph Cutler is a sound husband.
Her parts yearned to call out to Elizabeth’s defence but she dared not. She was a widowed woman, traveling alone. Rose did not deign to bring unwanted attention to herself, thereby inviting trouble should any be lurking about. Swallowing the bile of shame rising from her gut, she reached for her trunk, shifting her gaze along the curbside.
She saw no one looking out of place in the bustle of the coach stop. Families greeted one another, lovers embraced and Rose simply stood, feeling displaced. Was the coach early? Had Peter forsaken to send instruction for a coach and six to collect her? More apprehension filled Rose and she smoothed her gown nervously with a dirty glove.
I must be a fright to behold,she realized worriedly.What impression will I make upon the Duke and Duchess of Buford arriving in such a state?
Yet there was nowhere to freshen her patrician face, her paints buried deep within the trunk she had so precariously packed with the remnants of her old life. The wind rustled through her blonde strands and threatened to scoop the blue bonnet from her head.
As she reached to steady her headcover, the clap of hooves interrupted her inner turmoil and she watched in awe as a grand carriage approached her, led by six black Percheron horses. The coach was simple, black and gleaming but with intricate iron accents along the top and sides.
A single coachman stared straight ahead, his top hat unmoving despite the increasing wind flow and Rose wondered how it stayed so staunchly in place. He stopped the coach where she stood but did not acknowledge her as if he was a simpleton. Uncertainly, Rose waited, debating whether to speak.
If he is not here for me, I will only be making a fool of myself,she reasoned but before she could consider it any more, the door opened and an older man exited the cab. Rose’s body sank in disappointment, realizing that the coach was merely dropping off the fine gentleman who dismounted. She turned away but as she did, the man called out to her.
“Mrs. Parsons?”
She froze, casting him a look from over her shoulder. Being called aloud by Philip’s surname was enough to cause her to flee in the opposite direction. Instead, she offered a timid smile and nodded slowly.
“Yes?”
“I am Peter Alderson, secretary to the Duke and Duchess of Buford. I have come to see you to Rosecliff Manor.”
Rose’s mouth slightly gaped but she quickly caught herself, clamping her lips together as she nodded. She had not been expecting an escort, and while she had known a coach and six would come for her, Rose had never ridden in such lovely style.
She took a deep breath and held out her arm to shake hands with Peter. “Charmed,” she said.
“Is this the sum of your baggage?”
Blushing from embarrassment she told him, “Yes.”
I must appear a peasant to this man,she thought as he snapped for the coachman to take her trunk.Oh, how I wish I had found somewhere to fix myself for proper presentation.
She knew that he was as much an employee as she, but she feared he might report to the duke how distastefully she had arrived.
What did she know of nobility but what she had heard and read? She could not say what disdain she would be greeted, regardless of what Eloise Boyle had to say about the duke and his wife.
