In this house, only the ticking of the beautiful grandfather clock by the stairs disturbe
d a peace that seemed made of years and decades and centuries. An unfathomable stillness. It was broken at last by the opening of a green baize door at the back and rushing housemaids, hurrying to put cutlery on the dining table. They looked at me curiously as they raced by, then lowered their eyes again as if the sight of me had burned them.
I heard the clatter of knives and forks and the whisper of conversation in the room beyond and I strained my ears to catch it, but in vain. I had tiptoed a little closer when a heavy tread on the stairs disturbed me.
‘Miss Manning?’
I had no immediate impression of him beyond his impeccable dress and his aristocratic bearing.
‘Do I have the honour of addressing Lord Harville?’ I asked.
He came down and stood level with me, seeming pleased by my phrasing.
‘I’m not sure it’s much of an honour,’ he said, ‘but yes, you do.’ He held out a hand and I thought he would shake mine, so I took it, but he did not shake my hand, merely held it for a moment or two, looking me up and down in a manner that made me feel cold and then hot.
He took me into the drawing room and explained to me that his wife was dead and his daughters had found it difficult to settle with any governess since then. I remarked that this was perhaps not so surprising and he agreed with me, but warned me that I was to be the last of these experiments. Should I fail to engage their attention, then they were to be sent away to school.
I felt for them then, thinking of how Mary might bear up if she were to be sent away to some strange place full of rules and routines. I do not think she would take to it, especially in grief.
It had been three years since his wife’s death, he said, and that did astonish me, for I had imagined it to have been more recent. Nonetheless, Susannah and Maria continued to hold her memory close and dear, and I was to expect them to treat me with suspicion, even downright hostility. But I was to report all such incidences to him, and he would do his best to deal with it.
I asked if I could meet the girls but he told me they were abed. So soon? It was not yet seven o’clock and Susannah, I believed, was eleven years old.
He told me that he never allowed them downstairs after five or before ten in the morning. I wonder if he ever sees them. It seems such a strange and unhappy state of affairs that I am almost tempted to hand in my notice here and now and return home. I will take in mending, laundry, anything . . .
But he was civil enough to me and my rooms here are perfectly satisfactory, if a little cold. I did take a peek at the girls in their nursery beds, but they were fast asleep, looking as angelic as you could wish. I can scarcely imagine hostility tainting those sweet faces at all. The older one made me think of Mary, although she looks nothing alike. Poor Mary. I wonder how she does this night?
‘Good book?’
Jenna looked up, almost startled out of herself. In her mind she had been in this same room, but nearly a hundred and fifty years ago, living Frances’s life along with her.
But she was sure Jason hadn’t been in Harville Hall back then, leaning in from the door frame, casting her a sly smile, as if he knew she’d been up to something.
‘Oh . . . yes. Quite fascinating actually. I found it in the cellar.’
‘Give us a look.’
He came forward, reaching for the diary, but Jenna held her hand over it, protecting it from his view.
‘It’s fragile, Jay. The fewer dirty twenty-first century fingers all over it, the better.’
‘My fingers aren’t dirty,’ protested Jason, but he looked at them all the same and could hardly have failed to notice the paint blackening his nailbeds.
‘Yes, they are. I think this might be her diary, though.’
‘Whose? Fairy Fay’s?’
‘Yes. Except she doesn’t appear to be Harville’s first wife. She’s a governess, looking after his daughters by his dead first wife. Perhaps Lawrence got a mixed-up version of events given to him.’
‘Perhaps darling Lawrence wouldn’t know the truth if it hit him in the face with a wet paper bag full of fish.’
‘No, very likely. He’s either confused or deliberately misinforming me. Not that I can ask him now. God, I hope he gets remanded.’
Jason put a hand on her shoulder.
‘Whatever happens, he won’t be allowed near us. So what’s going on with Fairy Fay? Is it dirty?’
She batted the tip of his nose.