Page 2 of Brazen Rogue
Reign shook her head. Her friend, happily married since ’07, glowed from wealth and privilege, while her circumstances became direr with every year.
Her parents had passed over the last two winters, and now she was responsible for their small cottage and farm. While she had many skills, keeping a working farm was not one of them, and she had sold off what land she owned to keep from starving.
"Julia, I know you care about me, and I care for you. But I can no longer stay in Grafton. The work that I procured here is not sufficient. There are not enough families in need of a governess, and or cannot afford to pay one's fee. I must go. The position in the north will be good for me. I shall have room and board. I'll be fed, and the little girl I'm to look after is of a sunny disposition from all accounts."
"But the Lake District is so far away. I will never see you," Julia said. "Please reconsider. I'm certain that we can find a good match for you if you come to London."
"No, my friend," she said, Julia's large diamond earbobs catching her eye for a moment. Merely one of those diamonds would keep her fed, clothed, and the bailiff from her door for a year or five. "I'm determined to make my own way in life. I have a plan. This cottage will soon be sold, and I'm going to save as I've never saved before in my life before booking passage to the Americas. They write that there are opportunities for men and women if one is willing to work hard. And I'm willing to do so. I shall not shirk my duty, and perhaps I can be successful over there when I cannot be here. That is what I hope in any case."
"America?" Julia gasped. "You'll be killed, robbed, or mistreated, and I shall not be there to help you. You cannot go, Reign. I forbid it," Julia said, fear lurking in her almond-shaped eyes.
"No, I will not be. Do not be so dramatic. I will earn enough money here in England before I book any passage across the Atlantic, enough to keep me well for many months before I find employment."
"I do not like this idea of yours at all." Julia paused, biting her lip. "And what of this place you're to be a governess? What is the family like? Do I know them?" she asked. "Do I like them is possibly a more important question to ask."
Reign chuckled. How she loved her friend, and if she could wish for things to be different, she would, but she would not be a burden to anyone. Life had dealt her some troublesome cards, but she wasn't shy about working on getting herself out of the little pit of pity she lived in.
"A married couple named Davion, I believe. The office in London that referred the position to me said if I were willing to travel north, I would be tutoring a little girl of almost five years who required guidance and learning."
"Why does the name Davion spark a memory in me?" Julia said, frowning. "I will keep thinking on the matter and shall let you know if I remember. I think when going into a position as you are, the more you know of the family, the better."
Reign picked up the small bell on the table and rang it. Her cook, who also acted as her housemaid, knew the notification for tea and biscuits.
"We shall have tea and discuss the matter some more. But for now, tell me of everything that you have been up to. I must know all."
Julia smiled as she started to speak of her family, her children, and everything that had happened since she had seen her last. Reign reveled in her friend and all the happiness that marriage to the Marquess of Chilsten had bestowed upon her.
Once she had wanted the same, and there was a time during her first Season when she thought she may have won a gentleman's heart. But it wasn't to be, and now she had to make her own way in the world. No matter how lofty her connections were, that did not make her any more wealthy, and she would not depend on charity. As long as she drew breath in her lungs, she would make a life for herself through her own toil.
And that journey started in the Lake District.
Reign stared up at the large, imposing estate that the carriage driver from Rowsley had delivered her to.
Thiswas Mr. and Mrs. Davion's home? The house had to have one hundred rooms, if not more, not to mention the grounds, extensive and manicured to an inch of their life. It was not what she had been expecting.
She knocked on the door, her small valise in hand, and waited for a footman to answer. A house of this magnitude had servants, possibly hundreds of them.
And now she would be one of them too. She hoped they would accept her and be friendly. Even though a governess or lady’s companion was seen as a more elevated position in the household, she did not want that for herself.
This far north in England, she did not know anyone, and she already missed Julia. A friend or kind word was what she desired above anything else, and she could only hope she soon had a friend or two.
"Yes?" a droll voice asked as the door swung wide to reveal an elderly man with jowls hanging on either side of his cheeks.
"Hello, sir. I'm Miss Reign Hall. I'm here for the governess position for the child of Mr. and Mrs. Davion."
The elderly retainer raised his brows before his mouth closed into a displeased line. "Side door leads into the kitchen. All staff enters through there. I shall meet you in the kitchen shortly and announce you to all the staff."
With those words, the door slammed shut in her face, and Reign swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. Never had she been met with such rudeness, nor had she ever seen any of her friends speak to their staff as this man had spoken to her.
Was this how other servants treated one another below the stairs?
As instructed, she moved off the front door steps and started for the side of the house, choosing the left, as it seemed a more sensible side to the house for a kitchen to be situated, not that she knew the workings behind her thoughts.
Thankfully her musings were correct, and she soon found the kitchen door open wide and several staff coming and going from a garden a little farther down the path.
"Good afternoon," Reign said to two maids in the gardens, thankfully both returning her greeting. A better start than she had at the front door. She knocked on the open kitchen door to find the angry man who had met her just before with a busty woman with a deep scowl, a long, black dress, and a pristine white apron standing at his side. The housekeeper, perhaps?
"Miss Hall, welcome to Davion Hall. I'm Mrs. Watkins, and this is the butler, Mr. Watkins, my husband, whom you met just before."
