Page 6 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

Had I made a terrible mistake in coming here, in leaving all my friends and the school where I felt safe? Would I prove true the old saying, “The harvest always looks greater in another man’s field”?

Tiny lights became visible in the windows of the houses in the village beyond the trees, and a single tear dribbled down my cheek. I stepped closer to the edge of the roof and stumbled over a broken branch, making a noise.

A shadow moved at the other end of the tower roof.

“Who’s there?” a deep voice said.

Three

I flicked the tear off my cheek with my finger and turned toward the voice.

“Miss Robbins,” I answered, taking a deep breath in an effort to push back my tears.

The shadowy figure moved closer but stopped thirty feet away. He was dressed like a gentleman, though his cravat had been untied and hung loose in front. I couldn’t see his features clearly, but I could make out that he was quite tall.

“I don’t know any Miss Robbins.” His voice was gruff.

“I’m the new governess.”

He stood facing me, and since the sun was going down behind him, I couldn’t see his eyes. However, the waning light was illuminating my face. I felt as if I were being scrutinized. Strangely, it didn’t bother me.

After a long pause, he mumbled, “Mrs. Merryweather handles the hiring of the governesses.”

Could he be Lord Brookhaven? Of course he was. Who else would he be? I curtsied, my heart in my throat at meeting the earl and lord of Lowndesbury House, especially in such a manner.

I waited for him to speak again. He turned back toward the crenellations and looked out over the edge. “How do you like the view?”

“It is impressive, my lord.”

“Impressive? That is an unspecific word. How else might you describe it?”

I was as surprised at him starting such a conversation with me as I was determined not to show it. He’d asked for my opinion, and truthfully, I was delighted to share it.

“It is lovely and puts one in mind of a master painter’s interpretation of the most picturesque countryside, with the large trees and grassy lawn. I can hardly imagine anything more ideally bucolic.”

“Hmm. That is a tolerable description, I suppose, but only just.” He stood staring out over the side of the tower for several moments before saying, “Tell me something of you.”

“About myself?”

“As I said.”

A moment of fear stole my breath. What would an earl want to know about me? Why would he even ask? But I didn’t sense anything sinister in his manner.

“I grew up at Mrs. Southey’s School for Young Ladies in Milford, Bedfordshire. I then became a teacher there. There isn’t much else to tell.” There was actually a great deal more, but I couldn’t imagine he would want to hear it.

“Do you have family? Siblings?” His tone was demanding, but no more than would be expected of an earl, I supposed.

“My parents died when I was five years old and provided enough to put me up at Mrs. Southey’s school. I have no other family.”

“Hmm.”

He continued to stare out over the side of the great country estate below as it grew quite dark. Even though I’d eaten my roll, my stomach rumbled. I prayed he couldn’t hear it.

How did one politely excuse oneself from an earl who was also one’s employer?

“It is the English way to send children away from home and family to fend for themselves at a school.” His voice sounded slightly bitter.

I suddenly wanted to say something that would comfort him.“For me, it was not so bad. Mrs. Southey and the other teachers were mostly good people, and I was well cared for.”