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Mary & Colin let out a collective breath of relief as the new governess smiled brightly at them. She had a pretty, pleasant face and skin like cream. A few frizzy red curls had escaped her bonnet and curled at the top of her forehead. Her lips and cheeks had a light blush, like Mary’s favorite rose, and her eyes were the color of a fresh summer sky. Everyone waited for Colin to introduce himself, but he remained silent, owlishly blinking at the new arrival.
“This must be Mary and Colin.” Her voice was low and smooth. “I must admit to being a bit nervous about meeting you. Isn’t that silly?” Her mouth pulled itself into a lopsided smile. Secretly, Colin felt his toes curl, and an unfamiliar sensation made his stomach feel odd, as if it had just turned itself upside down. He wondered if there were something wrong with him.
Finally uprooting herself, Mary curtsied, careful to do it properly, lest the new arrival think her uncultured.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said. “I’m Mary Lennox.”
“I’m Miss Jane Edmonds, and the pleasure is all mine.” The governess gave her a smile that seemed to warm Mary to the very tips of her fingers and toes. “And who’s this?” she asked.
Mary nudged her cousin, and for the first time in his life, as far as Mary knew, Colin blushed.
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Colin Craven.” There was a touch of hesitation to Colin’s manner, completely out of character for the usually forceful Young Master.
“Master Craven sends his apologies for his absence at your arrival,” Miss Medlock stiffly recited. “Why don’t Mary and Master Colin show Miss Edmonds to her room,” Mrs. Medlock’s suggestion sounded much like an order, punctuated with the slightest of tight smiles. “The housemaids will follow with the luggage. I will be overseeing the final preparations for this evening’s dinner if you have any questions or have need of anything, Miss Edmonds. I can be found in the kitchen or someone there can fetch me. Otherwise, dinner will be served promptly at five.” With a brisk nod, Mrs. Medlock whisked away.
“Your room is just down the hall from mine, Miss Edmonds,” Mary chirped in pleasure. “Follow us.” They had begun to climb the front steps when she noticed her cousin had not moved. She paused, confused. “Come on, Colin. What are you waiting for?”
Colin blinked and silently scolded himself. “I was simply enjoying the fresh air,” he stiffly replied, hurrying to catch up.
The group made its way up the broad grand staircase to the second floor, down a long corridor, up a short flight of stairs to the third floor, and down a few more corridors, to the room prepared for the new governess. Colin, who seemed to have recovered himself all too well, insisted on showing Miss Edmonds every tapestry and piece of furniture along the way.
Mary, not to be outdone, interjected stories about her arrival and explorations in the house, first alone, and then with Colin.
“When I first arrived I found a room with carved ivory elephants that reminded me of India, and a family of mice living in a chair’s cushioned seat.” Mary chattered before Colin could interject.
“That was before she found me. Later, Mary and I used the halls for running in bad weather, after I found I really could walk, and we made up stories about all the portraits in the gallery.” Colin panted with the effort to get everything out.
“Mary didn’t know about you when she arrived?” Miss. Edmonds asked, confused. “Were you ill that you could not walk for a time?”
Mary and Colin stopped, looked at each other, both realizing at the same time how odd their circumstances really might seem to a new arrival. Suddenly they burst out laughing.
“Have I said something silly?” Miss. Edmonds asked, quite perplexed.
“No, no!” Mary said as Colin regained his breath.
“Let us tell you everything,” Colin added. “Do you believe in magic?”
He had not intended to ask this question so soon, but it had slipped out, so he anxiously waited for the answer.
Miss. Edmonds did not seem taken aback by the odd question at all.
“You mean like a rabbit being pulled from a top hat or a lady disappearing?” She asked, tipping her head to one side with curious interest.
“No...” Colin said, searching for a way to describe what they all had felt in the garden, the life, the power, the pure joy of waking the sleeping magic that had been there. Discovering Mary and Dickon, and all the life that brought them alive and made them smile and play and grow like everything around them.
“Like...like a robin talking to you.” Mary said, trying to help.
“Yes!” Colin’s face lit up with inspiration. “Like imagining a seed opening up and sprouting, and knowing it does so even if you can’t see it. And a fox sitting in your lap. And walking or not dying when everyone says it is impossible.”
Miss. Edmonds blinked, took a deep breath, and nodded. She thought she understood what the children were saying. She had felt it herself sitting under the blooming apple tree behind her home as her mother hummed and the house filled with the smell of strawberry preserves.
“Yes, I think so,” she quietly replied. “Can you tell me more?”
As the children traded stories, interrupted each other, and generally carried on in overexcitement, Miss Edmonds made appropriate ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs,’ smiled until her cheeks hurt, and all the while observed the children. She noted that both seemed overly eager to please and hungered for attention.
It took them so long to make it to the governess’s appointed rooms, that Martha was already there with the luggage and met them with a wide smile lighting her round face.
“I hope everythin’s all right for tha’, Miss Edmonds,” Martha said, giving the bedspread a quick smoothing. “I’m Martha, and if tha’ need anythin’ at all, you just have to ask, as Mrs. Medlock made clear you’re to have anythin’ tha’ needs,” Martha stated firmly, giving the pillows a last bit of fluffing and moving to the hearth to poke the fire that had been set to remove the staleness from the room, long unoccupied.
“Thank you, Martha. I think for right now I just need to unpack and take a breath or two.” The governess removed her cloak and bonnet.
“Let me put that away for you, Miss Edmonds.” Mary quickly took the items and put them carefully in a large cabinet against the wall, with deep carvings in its doors.
“Master Colin, Mrs. Medlock says you’re to go an’ change for supper,” Martha said, giving the small flames of the fire one last jab with the iron poker.
Colin, never liking to be ordered about, tightened his lips into a thin line and pulled himself erect. A sharp response waited at the tip of his tongue, but then he saw the pleasant face of his new tutor and reconsidered.
“Yes,” he responded stiffly. “I need to make sure I look my best tonight.” He really wished to stay and talk with the governess, but resisted the urge, wanting to make a good impression. “See you at five, then.” Colin strode away, secretly wishing Mary had been ordered to her room as well.
Martha put the iron poker back and began sweeping the hearth, hoping to hear some interesting news about the new arrival. Mary stood by the bed and watched as Miss Edmonds unpacked. Secretly she hoped the woman would have beautiful dresses like her mother’s, dresses that floated on a breeze and seemed full of lace. She had very little memory of her mother; in fact, her dresses were what she remembered the most. Although these were all handsome, Mary was disappointed to see none of her governess’ dresses had much lace, if any, and none was as delicate as she remembered her mother’s to have been.
“Where are you from, Miss Edmonds?” Mary suddenly asked.
“I was born and reared just outside of London.”
“I was born in India.” Mary said this without much concern, being more interested in her tutor’s possessions.
“India! Really?” Miss Edmonds stopped rummaging in a bag and looked up, startled.
“Yes. I lived there until my parents died of the cholera. Uncle Craven was kind enough to take me in.”
“He told me that you were his charge but gave me no more information, just that you were his orphaned niece.” Miss. Edmonds looked troubled. “I’m so very sorry. I lost my father when I was twelve.”
Jane watched the little face with wonder. It showed no sign of sorrow at her loss of both parents.
“It must have been terrible to lose both of your parents so suddenly.” Miss. Edmonds prompted softly, hoping for an answer that would help her understand the girl.
“Not at all. They didn’t like me, nor I them. My Ayah raised me, but she was a servant. I’m glad they died, in a way, because I like it better here.”
Jane stood in confused shock. How could a child not feel grief at the loss of her family?
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Mary asked.
Miss Edmonds recovered herself and hung her dress neatly in the closet.
“No, just me. My parents had me late in life, after they were told they would have no children at all.”
“Eh! That must ‘ave been a great surprise when you come along! How happy tha’s parents must ‘ave been,” Martha said, gathering an empty travel bag and sliding it under the bed.
“Indeed they were. In fact they were so shocked, my parents couldn’t think of a name for me for nearly a year,” Miss. Edmonds laughed.
“A year! What did they call you for all that time?” Mary asked.
“Baby,” Miss Edmonds replied.
“Mum an’ Dad never had a bit o’ trouble namin’ twelve o’ us as far as I know,” Martha said, scarce believing the woman had been called ‘Baby’ the entire first year of her life.
“How did they finally name you?” Mary asked curiously.
“My mother’s two sisters, my aunts, came over one day and told her, firmly but gently, she had to name me. So the three of them sat down and picked a name everyone could live with, which was Jane,” Miss Edmonds explained, unpacking a few books and a pair of shoes from a bag.
“What about your middle name?” Mary asked. “Mine is Ellen.”
“They never gave me a middle name. I suppose they were just happy getting me a first one,” Miss. Edmonds laughed.
“No middle name! Well, I ‘suppose tha’ should be happy tha’ didn’t have to spend forever as ‘Baby’,” Martha said. “Besides, not havin’ a middle name gives tha’ less to worry over.”
“Indeed. I’ve never found I needed one in any case,” Miss Edmonds replied. “Well, I should get ready for dinner, I expect.”
“I should be getting ready for dinner, too,” Mary quickly said. “I shall wear one of my best dresses for you.” With a happy smile, Mary trotted out the door, calling for Martha to help her.
For a moment, Miss Edmonds stood in deep thought, looking out her window at the purplish expanse of the moor. Everyone seemed nice enough. Her quarters were much better than she had hoped, although the heavy tapestries on the walls and the dark furniture were a bit gloomy. She had a pleasant view, a good position, but what about the children and their guardian Mr. Archibald Craven? Mary seemed like a normal, pleasant girl, but Jane Edmonds wondered. How was it possible for Mary to show more interest in a woman she had just met than in her parents or the woman who had raised her?
