Brizecombe Hall Read online

  Chapter 9

  A couple of weeks later a normal day’s work was once again interrupted by Mrs Travers. The housekeeper addressed Ann with a serious expression. “Miss Rhys, you are called home this instant. The Reverend sent a boy, with a message saying you mustn’t upset yourself, but must return to the parsonage at once.”

  “What can it be?” Ann asked, alarmed.

  “Your father didn’t say, but the Master has offered to convey you home – he was just about to venture out when the boy arrived.”

  Ann accepted the offer instantly. It was only when she walked out onto the forecourt, where Mr Brindley stood alone, beside his horse and gig, that she realised her master’s gesture of kindness was, once again, in breach of her father’s instructions.

  “Miss Ann,” said Mr Brindley, “allow me to help you into the carriage.”

  With his assistance, Ann climbed up and took her seat. Mr Brindley walked around to the other side of the horse and climbed too into the gig, seating himself beside Ann. “Walk on,” he called, cracking his whip. “I hope the news awaiting you at home doesn’t cause you distress, Miss Rhys.”

  Ann felt she shouldn’t encourage conversation with him when they were alone and bound for the parsonage. “You are very considerate Sir,” was all she said.

  “If there’s anything I can do to assist the Reverend in any way, you must let me know at once.”

  “My father will appreciate your concern.”

  “My concern is for you, Ann,” he said, turning to face her.

  Ann looked away, wiping a tear from her cheek and hoping Mr Brindley hadn’t noticed it.

  They journeyed on in silence, Charles Brindley intent on making speed and Ann struggling to control her emotions. On arrival at the parsonage, Ellen rushed out of the garden gate. She helped Ann from the small carriage and thanked Mr Brindley on behalf of the Reverend for bringing his daughter home so swiftly. Ann could only look up tearfully at her master, fearful that the news awaiting her inside the house would signal an end to her time at Brizecombe.

  “What is it Ellen? What’s the matter?” Ann asked hurriedly as she and Ellen entered the parsonage.

  “Come and sit down, Miss Ann, and I will tell all. You mustn’t be alarmed.”

  Ann accompanied Ellen to the kitchen and took a chair at the table.

  “Miss Mariah has been taken ill–”

  “No!”

  “Miss Ann, you must not be anxious – it doesn’t help. Your father is, as we speak, travelling north to bring her and Miss Rhys home. He asks that you assist me in preparing the house for their arrival.”

  “What’s the matter with her, Ellen?”

  “As yet her condition is undiagnosed. She fell ill a couple of weeks ago and Miss Jane thought it a seasonal complaint that would pass. But the fever has lingered. She is now very weak. The physician at the great house has advised she be brought home to convalesce and it is Mariah’s wish to return here.”

  Ann feared the worst. “Is it Consumption?”

  “We don’t know, Miss Ann. And for the sake of Miss Mariah and the Reverend we must be hopeful and useful.”

  Ann felt the tears welling, once more, inside her.

  Ellen took hold of Ann’s hands. “Now, young lady, we must busy ourselves. I have a list of tasks for you to carry out this afternoon. Come along.”

  Chapter 10

  At the end of the long day’s work Ann retired to her small chamber. It was beginning to get dark and her father and sisters had still not appeared at the parsonage. Ellen, downstairs, was preparing a meal in anticipation of their arrival in the next hour. She had encouraged Ann to rest after her exertions about the house before her family’s return.

  Ann sat on her small, narrow bed in the dark room, too tired to light a candle. She felt guilt that her sadness was not entirely occasioned by her sister’s illness. The need to care for Mariah would, surely, keep her from Brizecombe Hall and from her master. Futile as her efforts to outshine Cassandra Newbold undoubtedly were, her cause was even more hopeless if she was to be absent from his world altogether.

  Ann stirred herself, rose and crossed to the window. She saw, in the dusk, the figure of the solitary rider, standing beside his powerful, black steed. His sights were set on the window of her small room. Ann sensed that he’d caught a glimpse of her.

  She ran from the room, down the stairs, along the passage and out of the door of the parsonage. She ran through the garden, out of the gate, up the village street and along the footpath that led to the edge of the moor.

  On reaching the open expanse, she saw the rider mount his horse and make as if to start off. “Sir!” Ann called in desperation. “Master!”

  The rider steered his horse around to face her.

  She stood, in hopeless exhaustion, unable to call out again.

  The rider dismounted and walked towards her, leading the black stallion behind him. “Miss Ann,” he said as he approached. “I was abroad on the moor and was drawn here, eager to know your fate.”

  “My sister Mariah is very ill,” Ann said. “My father has gone today to bring her home.”

  “I am sorry, Miss Rhys.”

  Ann found it hard to say more, faced with the beloved object that was destined to be denied her.

  “Of course you must attend to your sister and leave us at Brizecombe to ourselves for a while, Miss Ann. Don’t worry about John and Christina. But, please, Miss Rhys, do let me know if I can help in any way. Tell the Reverend I am at his disposal. I am your humble servant.”

  His last words brought tears to Ann’s eyes yet again. “You are so very kind, Mr Brindley,” she said, looking up at him sadly.

  “I think, Ann, that you mistake for kindness what is, in truth, desire,” he replied, averting his dark eyes from her gaze.

  Ann didn’t know how to interpret his words. “I must go, Sir. My father and sisters are soon to arrive.”

  “Promise you will not forget me,” he said, instinctively taking her arm.

  Ann let out an involuntary gasp. “Sir, I couldn’t,” she replied, reaching up, against all reason, to embrace him.

  Charles Brindley took hold of his governess and pulled her to him. “Dearest Ann,” he whispered in her ear, before kissing her hair.

  Ann felt Mr Brindley’s whole being against her own. She suddenly recalled her father’s cautionary words. “I must go, Sir,” she said, reluctantly withdrawing from Charles Brindley’s arms.

  Chapter 11

  “Why, Miss Ann!” Ellen exclaimed upon Ann’s return to the parsonage. “We’ve been wondering where you’d got to.”

  “Are they here?” Ann asked, running into the parlour.

  Her father and Jane sat looking up at her. Mariah lay listlessly on the couch.

  “Mariah,” Ann said, rushing towards her weakened sister.

  “Where have you been?” Mariah asked breathlessly.

  “To take the air.”

  “On the moor?” Mariah murmured with longing.

  “Did you encounter anything of interest?” Jane asked.

  “Nothing,” Ann assured them, recalling Mr Brindley’s burning eyes and his firm embrace.

  The following morning the Reverend rose early and went to Brizecombe Hall. Upon his return, he summoned Ann to his study. “I have been to speak with your employer,” he began. “I have informed Mr Brindley that he must find a new governess–”

  “But Sir!–”

  “Listen Ann, Jane cannot remain here long. She must return to her work and the family require a governess to replace Mariah. It will be better for Jane –and for us all– if that replacement is you.”

  “But Sir–”

  “Once Mariah is settled and comfortable, Ellen will be able to nurse her.”

  “But Mr Brindley–”

  “Mr Brindley tells me he considers you every bit capable of undertaking the role alongside your sister. He says you have distinguished yourself in educating John and Christina and he would have no reserv
ation in recommending you to another employer.”

  Ann fell silent.

  “Why are you downcast, child? You should be happy at your opportunity to venture abroad. You will have good prospects in the employ of a fine family–”

  “But I’m content at Brizecombe. My current position affords me all the prospects I desire.”

  “My dear Ann, you know your own wishes are subordinate to the greater good of the family.”

  “Yes,” Ann agreed sadly, thinking how selfish she was; if the roles had been reversed, Mariah would have accepted her father’s proposal without dispute.

  Chapter 12

  The following day Ann and Mariah sat at the window of Ann’s small room, looking out to the moor, with the window ajar. Mariah was far too weak to go outside but had requested to sit in Ann’s room so that she could see the moor if not visit it.

  Ann sat beside her sister, sewing. She was trying to occupy herself with tasks to distract her from contemplating her own fate. She stayed close to Mariah to remind herself that she mustn’t indulge in selfish thoughts; the wellbeing of her sister was of far greater importance than her own happiness.

  They’d been sitting thus for over an hour and had been aware of a visitor coming and going downstairs. The sisters had not stirred, however, as it was common for the Reverend to have callers during the course of the day.

  “Who’s that man?” Mariah asked Ann.

  “Where?”

  “He stands and looks up at your window,” Mariah said.

  Ann put down her sewing and peered through the small leaded panes. The onlooker stood, holding the reins of his black stallion and watching intently.

  “That’s Mr Brindley,” Ann informed Mariah tentatively.

  “Your master?” Mariah asked.

  “Yes,” said Ann.

  “Why does he stare so?” Mariah asked.

  “I know not,” said her sister.

  “Ann,” the Reverend called from below.

  Ann jumped nervously and went to her father. Once she’d gone, Mariah watched Mr Brindley turn and lead the horse away.

  “Be seated, Ann,” the Reverend directed. “I’ve had a visit from your employer.”

  “Yes Sir?”

  “Most strange.”

  “Sir?”

  “Mr Brindley has asked for your hand in marriage.”

  Ann hesitated. “What did you say?”

  “I said yes, so long as you’re in agreement. I could see no reason to do otherwise.” He paused. “Were you expecting a proposal?”

  “No.”

  “I thought not. Mr Brindley has asked that you visit him at Brizecombe this afternoon. I believe he wants to make his offer to you himself. He said he will send a carriage–”

  “I will attend him directly, Sir,” Ann said feverishly. “If the carriage comes, tell them I’ve set out on foot.”

  “As you wish,” the Reverend granted.

  Chapter 13

  When Ann reached Brizecombe Hall, having crossed the moor and entered the park through the fields of the estate, she found the grounds strangely silent, no sign of labourers or servants anywhere.

  She proceeded to the kitchen entrance, without encountering a soul en route. She pushed open the heavy door, to discover the room unoccupied, the sturdy table bare. She closed the door behind her and continued through the kitchen and along the corridor that led into the entrance hall. She stopped at the foot of the great staircase and listened. The silence of the house was broken only by a distant but distinct click.

  Ann walked on through the hallway, heading towards the drawing room. When she reached its door she heard once again the click from within. Ann’s hand trembled as she turned the doorknob and opened the door to the room.

  Upon sight of his governess, Charles Brindley, who’d been leaning over the billiard table, about to take another shot, stood upright and laid aside his cue.

  “You asked for me, Sir,” Ann commenced. “Is everything well?”

  “That depends upon your answer,” he replied, advancing towards her.

  “Sir, I have not seen one person since–”

  “You wouldn’t. Mrs Travers has taken the children to town. The servants and workers have been dismissed for the afternoon.”

  “What can it mean?”

  “Your father’s agreement is not the same as yours. I need an answer, be it yes or no.”

  Ann looked at Mr Brindley in amazement as he stared anxiously back. “My answer is in accordance with my father’s wishes,” she told him.

  “But is that what you desire? Am I what you desire?”

  Ann looked about the room, darkened by the drawn velvet curtains, at the plush claret couches and the vivid green baize of the billiard table. “Are we alone, Sir?” she asked.

  “You’ll have to get used to calling me Charles,” he told her, approaching and beginning to look more at ease. “We are quite alone.”

  Ann, summoning the courage to tell him that she need, then, leave him in no doubt as to her feelings, failed to deliver her words before being lost in Charles Brindley’s embrace.

  *****

  Thank you for reading this story.

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  The Beacon Singer is a novel set in the English Lake District – available from Smashwords:

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