by Austin Carr
Not even the morning's leaden skies and persistent, sullen rain could dampen Elizabeth Rodham's mood. Hope had been in short supply for the past three years, dwindling with each passing month as Elizabeth sank deeper into comparative poverty. Her acquaintances had deteriorated with her loss of position and status, her comforts appreciably lessened, and her chances for reversing the trend looked ever bleaker. But that morning found her on the road, riding comfortably alone in a coach hired especially for her, heading for a promising chance of future employment, and not even the necessity of pulling the shades on the windows to prevent being soaked could dim her newfound enthusiasm,
Elizabeth had spent nearly all of her adult life as a governess, working for two prosperous families in East Suffolk: the Forsythe's for five years and then the Huntington's for nearly ten. Colonel Huntington and his wife had been blessed with five children... three boys and two girls, and Elizabeth had spent the better part of a decade as an indispensable part of the family. But as often happens, with the last grown too old for a governess, she found herself altogether dispensable and was discharged, left unemployed, unmarried in her mid-thirties, and only in possession of the small competence that the Colonel's wife had allowed him to bestow.
She'd tried unsuccessfully for other positions, but as she feared, most prospective employers were looking for much younger women, more capable of being considered a companion as well as a governess for their children. Her hopes for marriage had also dwindled through the years. While a young woman, she'd been hampered by possessing unusual height, standing at an eye with most men and looking down on far too many. Too often she'd seen men take an interest in her, only to have their partiality fade when made aware of the jests and nudges sent in his direction. Now her age was implacably against her as well, and though she had maintained much of her good figure, the increasing lines about her face did nothing to hide the years.
However the specter of her remaining life as an old maid did not bother her nearly as much as the prospect of ever increasing poverty. The competence she had received from Colonel Huntington, combined with her own small savings, generated scarcely enough income to maintain her in the most modest of lodgings, with nary a full time servant and only an occasional cleaning woman to assist her.
Then came the most unexpected letter from Mr. Kenworthy, the gentleman having received a recommendation from the Colonel himself, advertising for a governess to deal with one particularly willful and unruly child. Colonel Huntington had obviously impressed upon the gentleman Elizabeth's success in dealing with his brood, particularly the younger boys. How the solicitation and recommendation had come about she could not fathom, but what mattered was that it was here, and a chance to reclaim some comfort and dignity. She'd wasted not a moment in eager reply, spending the extra pennies to send her reply express. An exchange of letters settled that, although Mr. Kenworthy's estate was in Norfolk, he would be pleased to meet with her in Suffolk while he was there on other business and, and upon their arriving at a date, he would make arrangements for her transportation.
It would have taxed her financially to travel to Norfolk, and she was pleased at his being in closer vicinity and even more pleased at his offer to make her travel arrangements. Within a few anxious days the affair had been settled, and it wasn't two weeks from her receipt of the original letter that the promised carriage clattered to her door and she embarked for the village of Elton in northern Suffolk, a relatively short journey of less than twenty miles, from there to be transferred to a private carriage that would take her the remainder of the way to Donnell Cottage, where her hoped for benefactor was in residence.
She disembarked briefly in Elton, a charming village consisting of a parsonage, livery stable, a sizeable inn and a fair assortment of shops and houses. Upon inquiry, she was directed to a waiting carriage, far more opulent than the one she'd departed, sporting an ostentatious family crest, and settled in by a most attentive coachman. He informed her that it was only a matter of ten minutes or so to Donnell Cottage, but that he would gladly wait if she wished to refresh herself. Elizabeth declined, insisting on making all haste.
Donnell Cottage was nominally attached to Canter Place, a sprawling estate that covered much of the north county, but so far from the estate as to be invisible. It was an elegant, comfortable-looking home, far from what Elizabeth presumed a cottage to be, in very good repair and easily large enough to accommodate a family. The cottage seemed empty as her carriage pulled up, but as the coachman helped her disembark, a young man appeared in the doorway. He quickly came to assist, shielding her head from the gentle rain with a cloak as she made her way up the cobblestone path. She smiled her thanks as her benefactor instructed the coachman to return to Canter Place and return two hours hence.
Elizabeth was ushered inside with all due speed and solicitousness. "Wretched weather," the man exclaimed. "I apologize for having you come out on such a day." He swiftly saw to the disposition of her hat and coat.
"Not at all," she assured him, offering a smile as she looked around the parlor. Suddenly the full meaning of his words penetrated and she glanced quickly at her host. He looked to be no more than five and twenty, perhaps less, a handsome young man even taller than herself, with an engaging smile and an amiable disposition. "Surely you are not Mr. Kenworthy?" she ventured.
"I fear that I am," he said with a slight bow. "I hope that is not too great a disappointment to you."
She blushed quickly, annoyed at her blunder, but supported by the way he took it in jovial stride. "No, not at all," she protested quickly. "It's just that I supposed you to be a much older man."
He gestured towards a comfortable-looking chair, placed neatly near a comfortable fire and she gratefully eased herself into it. It felt quite luxurious after the wet ride, even more so when her host offered her a cup of hot tea to help ward off the day's chill. He smiled as she gratefully accepted, impressed by both his style and manners in serving a woman clearly below his station.
"Was my penmanship so woefully deficient that you assumed me to be a faltering old man?" he said teasingly.
She felt herself blushing again, but less violently this time, then justifying herself with the observation that a man so young would not be likely to have a ward twelve years of age. Upon being heartily assured that he was speaking in jest and reproving himself for being childish, she began to feel a warmth towards him that was not simply that conjured by tea and the fireplace.
"Are you making an extended stay here?"
"No, I am merely spending a few days here while I am on business in the area, with this interview being chief amongst the business to be conducted. A business acquaintance who resides at Donnell Place was good enough to give me use of this cottage while it was still vacant."
She was surprised at such a breach of hospitality. "Surely your friend would have put you up at the main house?"
He smiled at her indignation. "Oh, quite. In fact he rather insisted upon it, but this is more than suitable and I should not have to bother the household with my constant comings and goings. And as I have use of one of his carriages to help conduct my business, I am more than content. I hope you'll forgive having to change carriages at the village. I didn't want to presume too much on my host's generosity by sending his personal carriage clear to your home."
Assuring him that it was no inconvenience, Elizabeth's eyes cast around, taking in the tea tray and the variety of biscuits and tarts on the nearby table. Without a word, Mr. Kenworthy offered her a selection and she availed herself of the smallest one she could find, while regretting the larger offerings. "Are there no servants to see to your comfort?" she asked, again surprised to have the gentleman waiting on her.
"None in residence, but it is of no import. The cottage is well provisioned and I am capable of seeing to my own needs, at least for a short time." He smiled again and Elizabeth couldn't help but smile with him. He was certainly of a different sort than the gentlemen she'd known, none of whom, she was sure, would ever consider making their own tea or putting out a tray for guests.
He sat with her and made artful, spirited conversation, and soon Elizabeth was quite out of mind that she was there to obtain a much desired position and began feeling like they were budding acquaintances at a gathering. He asked about her family, the little she had left, her feelings on books, art and music, inserting his own opinion at times, but most often when it agreed with her own.
So content was she with their conversation that she was almost unhappy when he finally steered them back to the business at hand. "But I've imposed on your good humor long enough," he said reluctantly. "Forgive me for taking up your time with trifles, but relative solitude mixed with business engagements makes one yearn for intelligent conversation and deeper understanding." Elizabeth fairly glowed beneath such praise. "But business must eventually intrude, preferably before the coachman returns and loses patience with me for keeping him waiting."
Elizabeth stiffened with the sudden anxiety of the moment, folding her hands in her lap. "What would you learn of me, Mr. Kenworthy?" she asked primly.
He smiled at her reassuringly. "Much I already know. Colonel Huntington's recommendation by itself is nearly enough, and our own conversation has quite convinced me of both your suitability and our ability to work in a harmonious fashion. But as you no doubt gathered from our correspondence, my ward presents a challenge that two previous governesses have been unable to overcome. It is because of this that I began searching for a more specific type of woman, one more able to deal appropriately with a boy of high spirits and, how shall I say it, a resistance to authority."
Elizabeth nodded and smiled. "You describe a boy like most others," she responded. "They vary in their degree of misbehavior, but all eventually respond to the consistent application of discipline. Did your previous governesses not attempt to improve him?"
Mr. Kenworthy grimaced. "Attempts were made, but they seemed to me to be very half-hearted and wholly ineffective. The boy would steal from the kitchens, receive a brief chastisement, and then take another tart on his way to his room. Insolence would be corrected, only to resurface immediately. The house staff would eventually make their complaints to me, I would insist upon firmer handling, but neither of the pair seemed willing, or perhaps able, to supply the level of discipline necessary. In any case, the boy seems to view the punishments as part of the mischief and not a deterrent at all."
"Is the boy of your blood, sir?" Elizabeth could hardly believe that a boy such as had been described could be closely related to the kind young gentleman before her.
"No." Mr. Kenworthy looked uncomfortable. "He is the son of my late father's dearest friend. Since boyhood they were inseparable, but sadly the man's wife died shortly after Peter was born and his father indulged him quite shamefully, allowing him to grow quite wild."
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