Page 5 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

I walked, stopping to examine a pretty flower or a particularly lovely corner of the garden, until I got dizzy and had to stop and blink.

“Come!” a voice called out.

I turned to see the nursemaid standing in the back doorway, motioning to the children. They came running while she glared at me. “You kept them out too long. They’ll be late for their supper.”

“Forgive me.” I started to say something about feeling half-starved myself, but she continued to stare coldly at me.

The children were pink-cheeked and bright-eyed. It made my heart lift to see the wan look gone from their faces.

A servant was descending some stairs, which I presumed led to the kitchen, from the savory smell that wafted from that direction.

“I shall make my way to the kitchen,” I said to Hannah.

She didn’t look back at me, and only said, “Just as you please.”

Mrs. Southey had warned me that the servants would shun me and refuse to be friendly, but I’d hoped that was an exaggeration. Perhaps it wasn’t.

My position as governess granted me a higher status as well asa higher salary than the servants, and though I was considered too low to socialize with the family, the servants wouldn’t socialize with me either. They would resent me for my higher salary and status, and they would assume I, with my education, would consider them beneath me.

Downstairs, the kitchen servants were bustling about, and the chef was barking orders while stirring a steaming pot. I tried to catch someone’s eye, but everyone seemed too busy to notice me. I approached a young red-faced woman kneading bread dough as if she was angry with it.

“Pardon me, but I’m the new governess, Miss Robbins, and I was wondering if I might have a small—”

“Bessie!” the chef shouted.

The shout was so loud I jumped and knocked over a tin of salt or sugar, which spilled all over the table on which the woman was working.

“Oh!” She looked at me, tears starting to leak from the corners of her eyes.

“Please forgive me. Let me help.” I righted the tin of salt, but the woman held up her hand.

“No. I have it.”

“What are you doing in here?” The chef, a large man with wiry hair, had turned from the stove. His and every other pair of eyes in the room were on me.

“Forgive me, I—”

His voice was deep and hard-edged. “You can have your dinner when the family is served. Come back then. Meantime, there’s some bread over there.” He pointed to a basket on the counter.

“Thank you.” My cheeks were burning, and my stomach felt sick.

The chef began talking to Bessie, the girl who had come running when her name was called. The rest of the women went back to what they were doing, mumbling or shaking their heads.

I snatched a roll from the basket and hurried out of the kitchen.

Such an embarrassing first meeting with the servants—and I felt I could rule out the chef as a potential husband.

I trudged up the stairs, woefully aware that I didn’t know the way to my bedroom. I did manage to find the schoolroom. From outside the doorway, I heard Hannah instructing the children to wash their hands and scolding them for getting their shoes muddy.

Hannah was obviously busy, so I kept going, thinking I could surely find my way back to my room alone. I turned one corner and then another. I went up some stairs, but it was clearly not the right way, so I went back down again. I finally gave up even trying to find my way and just wandered around, looking into open doors at dimly lit rooms of dark wood and furnishings, windows covered by heavy red drapes, and many more closed doors. I was thoroughly lost, but I kept going down hallways and up and down stairs.

Near tears, I sat on the stairs and ate my roll. That made me feel less dizzy and sick, so I got up, took a deep breath, and said a whispered prayer that consisted solely of “Lord God, please help me.” I continued up the staircase until I was at the very top, then I climbed out onto the roof.

Nighttime was fast approaching, with shadows stretching across the green lawn below. A boy with a stick was minding the small group of sheep that were no doubt meant to keep the grass cropped short. A man was leading a horse toward a stable. In the distance I could see a small village where I should be able to post my letters to Mrs. Southey’s school.

As I stared across the expanse below, a weight seemed to settle on my shoulders. How I missed my friends and my home! I was so far away and didn’t know when I’d see them again.

This was a wretched beginning. I’d imagined seeing wondrous sights, meeting interesting people, and exploring this old house like it was an exotic historical artifact with secrets waiting for me to discover. Instead, I felt small and alone. Anything that might be wondrous or worth discovering seemed out of my reach. I wasbothersome to the servants trying to do their work, and I was the governess whom no one wanted to know.