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The next morning Miss Edmonds rose just after the sun spread its bright rays through her window. Eager to start her designated duties, but nervous from inexperience, she set down to breakfast feeling as if her stomach were already full of butterflies. After barely tasting the first bite of porridge, she sat her spoon down with a sigh.
Martha, kneeling at the hearth, turned her head and smiled.
“Nervous, are tha’?” the young woman asked.
“Yes, I’m afraid so. It’s silly really, I’m sure everything will be just fine,” Miss Edmonds replied, looking out the window at the fresh expanse of moor outside. “I’ve just never...never been away from home before.”
“Eh! Tha’s a bit homesick.” Martha chuckled. “I know how tha’ feels. When I started this position an’ spent my first nights ‘way from the dozens of little feet I was used to, I thought I’d never make it. I was a sorrowful mess, the first week or two, but I survived. Tha’ll survive too, I’d guess.” Martha winked a quick, friendly wink, and turned back to sweeping the ashes.
“Martha, may I ask you a question?” Miss Edmonds asked after a hesitant pause.
“O’course tha’ can.” Martha sat back on her heels and smiled invitingly.
Miss Edmonds paused again, forming the question carefully in her mind, so she would not sound improper.
“It seems, through what I’ve been told, that Mary and Colin have had a good deal of grief in their short lives. Is it something I should be careful of? I mean, is their grief something I should avoid bringing up?”
Martha thought for a moment holding the small, silver hearth brush in her lap.
“When Miss Mary first came to Misselthwaite, I thought she was the most sour and difficult child I’d ever had chance to know. So sad she was, an’ so thin an’ pale.” Martha paused, remembering. “Colin was awful, too. Worse, he was. A reg’lar tyrant, always frettin’ and hollerin’ he was going to be sick and die just like his mum.”
“He thought he was going to die, just like that?” Miss Edmonds asked, tying not to sound too shocked.
“Tha’ should understand, the poor lad had been told from the time he took his first breath that he was at death’s door. Poor Mester Craven was beside himsel’ wi’ grief at his wife’s death. He couldn’t stan’ to look at the poor boy for fear the lad would die too, or have a crocked back as Mester Craven does.”
“I see,” said Miss Edmonds, although she really did not.
“Colin convinced himsel’ he was sickly and became just that.”
“Looking at him now, you would never know. He looks like a fine, healthy boy,” Miss Edmonds observed.
“Eh! Now he does. When Miss Mary came, it was like magic. She got the lad outside, gave him a reason to walk, made him want to live. She was the first ever to stan’ up to ‘im an’ make the lad see he wasn’t no king.”
“What about the loss of his mother? He talks about her as if he had no feelings or grief.” Miss Edmonds slowly began to stir her porridge, trying to make sense of the situation.
“He has feelin’ all right. Lad kept a curtain over his mum’s portrait for years. Said he couldn't stand seein’ her smile when he felt as bad as he did.”
“Oh, that’s so sad. He really does miss his mother, then. I hate to admit it, but I wondered. He talked too casually of her.” Miss Edmonds swallowed a small bit of porridge and continued. “What about Mary? She seems almost resentful toward her parents.”
“Eh! The poor lass is, I ‘spect. She ‘ad servants at beck and call to do anythin’ she wanted, even dress her. As far as I can tell, though, her parents all but ignored her, the poor lass.” Martha finished building the fire and stepped back as it crackled to life.
“The poor girl! No wonder she seems a bit odd when I ask about her past.” Miss Edmonds took a sip of strong tea, sweetened with honey. “It seems both children might need a bit of extra care. I hope I’m up to the task.”
“I’m sure tha’ are, Miss. Tha’ seem like a right good lady to me.” Martha smiled reassuringly. “And I’m sure tha’s a fine gov’ness, too.”
Miss Edmonds smiled at the pleasant and friendly maid, thinking how wonderful it was to have a kind word of support, even from a new acquaintance.
“Thank you, Martha. You’ve been a great help.” Miss Edmonds stood up and straightened her skirts and squared her shoulders. “Now, I’d better be off for classes, lest I be late on the first day.”
A few moments later, the governess was entering the library, a small gathering of papers and school supplies in her hands. As she began setting everything in order on the large table they were to use, the children arrived eager and curious.
“Good morning, Mary and Colin. Please take a seat.” Miss Edmonds waited for them to settle before she began for the day. “First I want to find out how well each of you spell and write. So we are going to begin with a spelling quiz.” Miss Edmonds handed out slates and chalk to each child. “I will say a word and you will write it down. At the end, I will see how well you did. Let’s begin.”
Mary and Colin carefully wrote down each of the twenty words Miss Edmonds called out. Afterward they waited in nervous silence as the governess checked the results.
“Well, it’s not as bad as I feared it might be, but we shall have to work on our spelling and penmanship.” The children looked a slightly sullen at this news.
“Cheer up, you two. If you were perfect you wouldn’t need me.” The children brightened a bit. “I’m sure you’ll be caught up in no time.”
“I don’t mind spelling,” Mary said. “In fact I rather like it, but are we going to have to study mathematics too?”
“We will study everything a properly educated person needs to know, and that includes mathematics.” The children did not look pleased at this news. “Not everything can be fun and games. As my mother says, ‘Sometimes you just have to do what needs to be done and be glad when it is finished’.”
“Are we going to study scientific discoveries and magic?” Colin asked brightly.
“We will indeed study science, but I don’t know about magic. I don’t believe Mr. Craven would approve of me teaching you spells and witchery,”
Miss Edmonds replied, gathering her supplies together.
“Not that kind of magic,” Colin said. “I mean the magic that makes things grow and people live. The magic that makes the air smell sweet and warm, and that makes us feel full of laughter and life.” Colin sat forward in his seat, eagerly trying to explain.
“Oh, yes. I know what you mean. Some call it magic, others call it biology, or nature, or a dozen other things. That will be a fine lesson for a day soon. Science and nature and maybe a bit of magic, too.”
“You can explain what makes magic work?” Colin asked, his large eyes even larger with amazement.
“Certainly. Most everything can be explained, that’s why I’m here.” Miss Edmonds laughed, “To explain everything!” She spread her arms with a flourish, then she paused and laughed again. “Well, perhaps not everything, but a good deal of it, let’s say.”
“Could you tell us now about nature and magic?” Mary asked.
“Well, it’s not raining, rather nice out, in fact,” Miss Edmonds said, thinking. “We won’t have our textbooks for a bit yet, so...I don’t see why not. Let’s go outside where I can show you what I’m talking about.”
With a whoop of joy, the children led the way downstairs, as Miss Edmonds tried to keep up. They quickly put on their coats in the downstairs hall, and the three made their way to the kitchen gardens. There were vegetables and herbs growing in neat, even rows. Some had glass frames over them, other were tied neatly with small lengths of string to sticks stuck in the ground.
“Dickon says the rain and sun make the plants grow,” Mary said as they stopped by a row of cooking herbs.
“Indeed, he’s right. But that’s only part of it,” Miss Edmonds replied. “When you plant a seed it is fed by water and good things in the soil called nutrients. These make the seed open up and form roots, which draws the nutrients from the soil and makes the seed grow into a plant. The sun warms the soil, making the plant grow faster and stronger. In the winter when the sun shines less, the earth is cold. That tells the plant it is not time to grow yet, and it goes dormant, which means it sleeps.”
“What are those glass cases for?” Colin asked, pointing to a small glass house made of panes of sparkling clear glass held together by iron fittings. It twinkled in the sunlight.
“Those glass houses gather the heat from the sun, called solar heat, and hold it inside, making the soil and air around the plant even warmer. This is done for plants that are more delicate or like higher temperatures. It also gives the plant more moisture from humidity, which is moisture in the air. The plants absorb the moisture through their leaves. Did you know plants breathe?”
“They do not!” Colin said, shocked at such a thought.
“But they do.” Miss Edmonds smiled. “They breathe through their leaves, pulling in the air and releasing it in a cleaner state for us to breathe. They make the air better for us.”
“Is it magic, then?” asked Colin.
“It is, in a way. All of nature has a kind a magic to it. Plants, animals, people, we are all magical in our own ways.” Miss Edmonds had a sudden thought. “When the textbooks arrive, I will show you the biology texts. They explain everything I have just said and more.”
All of a sudden, the garden looked different to Mary and Colin. Mary could almost see the roots digging deeper and deeper into the soil. Colin noticed small water droplets on the inside of the glass cases.
“There’s water inside the glass over those plants,” Colin said, eagerly going over to have a look.
“Indeed. That is from the moisture in the air inside. It’s called ‘condensation’.” Miss Edmonds explained further, patting a nearby tomato plant for an example. “If it weren’t for plants, we wouldn’t be able to breathe the air, eat fruit and vegetables, feed our livestock, or have a lovely bouquet of flowers for the dinner table.”
“Then it was the garden’s magic that helped me get well. The plant’s breathing through their leaves made the air better for me,” Colin said, touching every nearby plant, as if thanking them.
“In a way, yes, I suppose that’s right.” Miss Edmonds smiled.
Colin looked at the plants, a light of understanding and pleasure brightening his face.
“Oh, tell us more!” Mary eagerly demanded. “I never thought learning would be this interesting!”
“All right, then. Let’s walk around the gardens, and you can ask questions, and I shall answer them.”
For the next couple of hours, the children eagerly pulled their governess around the many gardens and lawns of Misselthwaite Manor, pointing at everything they laid their eyes on, asking question after question. With a smile and boundless pleasure, Miss Edmonds answered every one.
Mary and Colin gazed with awe and wonder at their governess. Slowly a feeling unfamiliar to both children began to creep into their hearts. The feeling was admiration, and since neither Colin nor Mary had ever had anyone to admire before, the children did not know what to think of it.
That night at tea time, Mary and Colin were introduced to Robinson Crusoe. With teacups in hand and scones topped with jam, they listened quietly as their tutor began the tale of a man who, yearning for adventure, went to sea and found himself shipwrecked on a strange and lonely island.
One chapter was not enough for Colin and Mary, who demanded and finally pleaded for another. Miss Edmonds, enjoying the time as much as the children, agreed to read another chapter but refused to go any further until the next night.
“Not much has happened yet,” Colin said. “I was expecting great excitement straight off.”
“Be patient,” Mary said. “I’m sure Miss Edmonds would not be reading it if she thought it would bore us.”
“It will get very exciting soon enough. Tomorrow night you will listen with held breath while I read of his shipwreck and what happens next.” Miss Edmonds smiled to herself as she spread jam on a scone. “Now, off to be with you two. There’s much to do tomorrow.”
The children chattered excitedly as they left, and Miss Edmunds listened to the happy sounds as she finished her tea, feeling a great sense of relief and satisfaction at a good start and a fine day.
