Ruth Langan - Blackthorne

She shook her head. “Like you, my home is far from here.”

“Then why are you here?”

“I’m here to be your teacher and your nurse, and, if you’ll let me, your friend.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I don’t really know yet. I’ve only just arrived. But I’m going to do my best. to like it here.”

As soon as she had spoken, she felt a strange sort of comfort. Odd, she’d meant only to soothe his fears. But her own burden seemed suddenly lighter. It was true. She did intend to do her best to make her stay here, and that of the lad, as pleasurable as possible.

“Here.” She broke apart a biscuit and spooned fruit conserve over it before handing half to him.

He nibbled, gave her a faint smile of approval, then finished the rest.

“You see?” She sipped her tea and returned the smile. “Papa used to say that talking out your fears was an important first step. Then you must face them if you are to conquer them.” She brushed her fingers across his cheek and gave him an encouraging smile. “We will face our fears together, Liat, until there are no fears left.”

Quenton Stamford stood perfectly still, cautioning the hound at his heel to do the same. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. In fact, he’d only come to handle the introductions between the boy and his new governess. But now, watching and listening, he wondered about the fates that had sent this young woman to Blackthorne. Upon his first view of her, he’d thought that she might prove to be too young and inexperienced for the job. Too fragile. And too filled with her own arrogance and uneasiness to be of any help to a lost, frightened child. Now he was beginning to hope she might be just what the boy needed.

It weighed heavily on his mind that the lad was so out of his element in England. But there had been few choices left. With the death of his grandfather, Quenton had been forced to return to Blackthorne in haste. Still, he had made the boy’s mother a promise on her deathbed to protect Liat from harm. The only way to keep his promise was to bring the boy here.

He watched and listened a moment longer as Olivia’s voice washed over him.

“Liat, my mother used to quote from the Great Book, ‘To all things there is a season. A time for planting, a time for reaping. A time for laughing, a time for weeping. A time for living, a time for dying.’ This, then, is your time to grow, to learn and to let go of your fears. And I shall do the same.”

Quenton nodded. Very well. He would let her remain. For now.

He turned and left as quietly as he had arrived. The hound moved soundlessly at his side.

If only the solutions to all his problems could be as simple as this had proved to be. Now he could turn his attention to those damnable ledgers, and the mess his grandfather had left behind.

“Come, Liat.” Olivia opened the door of his chambers and beckoned him to follow. “It’s time for us to explore Blackthorne.”

As they made their way along the hall he whispered, “The servants told me I must never go in there.” He pointed to Bennett’s room.

“Why?”

He shuddered. “Edlyn said there’s a monster living in there.”

More monsters. Olivia was determined that such nonsense must stop at once. “He isn’t a monster. He is a young man. Come. I’ll show you.” Without waiting to think about what she was doing, she knocked, then opened the door.

Inside, the pale young man looked up, startled, from his chair by the window. The servant, Minerva, looked equally startled.

“What are you doing, miss?”

“My name is Olivia St. John. And this is Liat. I thought...” She wondered what she could possibly say to excuse her impulsive behavior. “I thought we might sup with you this evening.”

“Master Bennett always sups alone, miss.”

“And so do we,” she said with a smile that included the silent young man. “If we were to take our meal together, it would give Liat a chance to get to know you. And you to know us.”

“I don’t think...” Before the young servant could refuse, she caught sight of Bennett’s eyes, wide and pleading. “Well...” She considered, wondering how the housekeeper would react when she heard about this. Still, Master Bennett looked almost eager. She relented. “Aye. I’ll have Edlyn bring your trays. We eat at dusk.”

Olivia nodded, then turned to smile at Bennett. “Until dusk, then.”

She caught Liat’s hand and led him from the room. He didn’t volunteer a word until they reached the kitchen. Then, in a hushed voice, he said, “That was my first monster, ma’am.”

Olivia bit back her smile. “Aye. And mine as well.”

“Who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?”

At the booming voice they both turned to face a woman who was at least as tall as Pembroke, with hands big enough to handle with ease a side of beef or a whole roasted pig. These hands were now planted at either side of enormous hips encased in a shapeless gown.

“My name is Olivia St. John.”

“The new governess.”

“Aye. And this is Liat.”

“My name’s Molly. Molly Malloy. But I’m known as Cook.”

“Hello, Cook.” Olivia grasped her hand. “We’ve just come from a walk around Blackthorne and hoped we could warm ourselves with a cup of tea.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Sit.” Cook indicated a scarred wooden table.

Within minutes there were steaming cups of tea in front of them, along with tarts still warm from the oven.

“You do know the way to Liat’s heart,” Olivia said as she gratefully sipped the tea.

“Like my tarts, do you, lad?”

Because his mouth was full, he merely nodded.

“When Bennett and Quenton were lads, they couldn’t get enough of my tarts.”

“You’ve known them since they were young?”

“All their lives. And their father before them. Good lads they were. And still are.”

While she spoke she continued rolling dough and shaping it into small tarts. Mistress Thornton ambled in and poured herself a cup of tea, and within minutes Pembroke joined them as well.

“I see ye’re getting acquainted with the lad and ’is governess,” the housekeeper muttered as she helped herself to a tart.

“Aye.” Cook handed a tart to the butler. “Been telling them about the lord and his brother. Got into mischief when they were younger. But never anything mean-spirited.”

Pembroke nodded. “They always looked out for each other. But they were full of energy.”

“Do you recall the time the old lord had us hunting all over Blackthorne for his two grandsons? Turned the house upside down, we did.”

“Where did you finally find them?” Olivia asked.

“In the stables, beside their favorite mare, who had just foaled. All three young ones, the lads and the foal, being licked and nuzzled until they had fallen asleep.” Mistress Thornton, in her high-pitched voice, had them all laughing as she recalled the scene.

It was a most pleasant hour. And it gave Olivia a chance to see Lord Stamford in a whole new light.

“Miss St. John seems attentive enough, m’lord. She and the lad seem to be getting on. A bit bold though. Has no qualms about poking all round the place, chatting up the servants.”

Mistress Thornton saw Lord Stamford glance up from his ledgers and started talking faster to hold his attention. “From what I can learn, she’s educated. Her parents were scholars. Made their home in Oxford. And...”

“Thank you, Mistress Thornton.” Quenton rubbed at his temple to relieve the dull throb of a headache, made worse by the shrill voice. “Tell her to bring the lad to sup with me tonight. I’ll see for myself how they’re getting on.”

“Aye, m’lord.” She twisted the apron in her hands as she gathered up her courage. “That might prove to be a bit of a problem.”