"I have to go," she gasped, spinning on her heel to run into the hall. Her shawl hung on the stair railing, and she snatched it up, tumbling to the front door and yanking it open. There was no time to get her pelisse coat or to fix her shoe; the button had come undone in her hurry.
"Wait," Rachel insisted as she appeared by the stairs, "why the rush?"
"I'm late. God, forgive me for being so utterly incompetent."
"Hey, calm down-"
There was no time for that. Alicia thought she had ages, but in reality, she should have left fifteen minutes ago. If she took the shortcut through town, maybe she could make it with a minute to spare... no, she couldn't afford to think of a plan. Alicia had to go. With a hasty goodbye thrown across her shoulder, Alicia darted down her front steps, lurched past the gate, arriving in the quiet street. Then she turned left, towards town, and disappeared.
The streets were always quiet at this time of day. Most of the men were already at work and the women at home with their children. People wandered through town, shopping or out to visit friends, but Alicia was thankful for the fact that nobody got in her way as she darted around corners and ran down streets. And while a few still paused to stare in wonder as she streaked past, nobody tried to stop her.
The marquess lived in Warwick Manor, as his family had for generations. It was situated near the center of town, yet still far enough away to offer privacy. Bordered by the woods on one side and a river on the other, it was known for its beauty. Despite the winding paths that Alicia was forced to take, it was also easy to get to. Alicia's shortcut thankfully took only fifteen minutes instead of the twenty-five it would have taken to go via the main streets.
Alicia careened to a stop outside of the enormous iron gates, gazing up at the manor in the distance. She was here, yes, but now she had to walk all the way through the gardens to get to the front door. Why did manors have to be so elaborate? Smoothing down her skirt, Alicia attempted to compose herself before striding past the gates and onto the path. Yet with every step, the house grew closer; and with every step, her nerves grew worse.
By the time she had reached the front door, gaze fixed on the beautifully carved door knocker, Alicia wanted to be sick.
Yet she didn't even knock before the door swung open, revealing an enormous foyer in shades of white and cream. A grand staircase spiraled up to the next floor, decorated with dark wood and silver engravings. Everything about this manor was stunning, and every time Alicia looked, there was something new to see.
A cough alerted her to the presence in front of her. A tall man in a doorman's suit looked down at her, brows raised. "Can I help you, miss?"
"Oh, uh, good morning!" Alicia stuttered, and she was all too aware of how nervous she sounded. "I'm here to see Lord Arvill about the governess position?"
"You're late," the doorman said coolly, "Lord Arvill wasn’t expecting more people."
Already? Either very few women had applied for the job, or the interviews were so short that he barely spoke to them at all. Neither option reassured Alicia in the slightest, and her cheeks flared pink in embarrassment. "Please?" she asked quietly, "I don't wish to be a bother, but could you give me a chance?"
The doorman rolled his eyes. "It isn't up to me, miss. Come in and sit down, and I shall see if he wishes to speak with you.
When Alicia stepped inside, she was greeted with the true size of the foyer. It was enormous, the size of her whole house alone and then some. It wasn't completely barren, however. To her left, there was a collection of tall, plush armchairs and settees. As it was the only place to sit, Alicia could only assume this was where the doorman wanted her to go. Gently lowering herself into an armchair, she let her gaze roam.
"He will be with you shortly," the doorman announced, "May I have your name?"
"Oh. It's Alicia, sir. Alicia Sempill."
He nodded once and then retreated past the stairs and into a room beyond. In the silence, the closing door echoed into the foyer.
"Well," Alicia murmured to herself, "at least I'm here. That has to count for something, doesn't it?" It was no more reassuring than Rachel's words of encouragement, and Alicia's heart stuttered as she looked about. This was the home of a marquess. Of course, it was grand, but she had never felt so out of her depth in her life. She wasn't wealthy enough to attend balls or popular enough to be invited to parties, so this was her first experience somewhere so lavish. It was impossible to believe that people really lived like this.
After a moment of silence, the doorman reappeared. With his hands clasped, he was the embodiment of politeness, but Alicia didn't miss the strained expression on his narrow face. "Lord Arvill has decided that he will see you today, although he asked me to let you know that he doesn't abide by tardiness, miss."
"Of course." Alicia ducked her head, feeling that telltale blush creep across her pale cheeks once again. Even so, a rush of relief flooded through her, and she pushed back the desire to sigh. "Thank you, sir. Am I to wait here?"
"Until he summons you, yes. If you need anything, one of the maids will see to it."
There wasn't a single maid to be seen, but Alicia kept those thoughts to herself. It was enough just to be here, to be allowed the chance to prove herself. Anything else was simply an added bonus that she wouldn't take for granted.
"Now if you'll excuse me, I have other duties to attend to."
Alicia's throat dried up, and she couldn't say a word, so she settled for a curt nod and watched him go. He vanished through another door, the click of his shoes disappearing with him.
Biting down on her lip, Alicia turned to gaze once more around the foyer. A darkened hallway led left, and to her right were two more doors, firmly closed. An eerie silence settled over the house, and Alicia wondered just where everyone was. Perhaps, because of the interviews today, the staff had been asked to keep to themselves.
There was no more time to dwell on it, because at that moment, a door clicked open, and the marquess himself appeared.
Chapter Two
The woman sitting across from James held a permanent scowl on her features, which were wrinkled into deep valleys and crevices. She had to be nearing sixty, and although James didn't want to be rude, he couldn't help but wonder how much longer she had left. Although going by her sharp eyes and ability to look at him as if he were dirt underneath her shoe, he decided that she was probably doing just fine.
