Page 8 of One Last Goodbye

The children’s aloof behavior continues when I assign them schoolwork. I intend to remain in the room for the lessons, but when I walk into the school room, I am surprised to see their lessons organized into weekly packets with different folders for each day. This would be gratifying, since it would save me a lot of work, except that as soon as the children sit down, Ethan says, “We’ll come get you when we’ve finished. Then you can grade our work.”

I frown. “Why would you need to come get me? I’ll be right here.”

The children look at each other, and Olivia says, “Mom usually just has us work alone, then turn in our work when we’re finished.”

My frown deepens. “Well, that doesn’t seem a productive way to educate children. I don’t intend to simply have you complete homework every day.”

“It’s the way we’ve always done it.”

“Well, it isn’t the way we’ll do it from now on,” I insist. “There will be actual lessons, discussions, reading and writing assignments, and—”

“We have all of those already,” Ethan interrupted. “It’s in the packet. This week, I’m readingA Tale of Two Cities.”

“An excellent novel,” I reply, “and I look forward to your thoughts. But I won’t leave the two of you to your own devices.”

“So you don’t trust us?” Olivia asks cattily.

“It’s not about that,” I reply. “I simply wouldn’t be doing my job as a governess if I were to entrust your education to a folder.”

“Well, we’ve been doing things this way our entire lives, and we score in the ninety-sixth percentile or above on the yearlystandardized tests the Board of Education sends us, so it must not be as bad as you think.”

There are so many reasons she's wrong, so much that a standardized test doesn't reveal about a child's readiness to navigate the world. I can tell, however, that they aren't ready to be convinced. I won't allow this to continue for much longer, whether they are convinced or not, but perhaps my first day of instruction isn't the right time to insist on disrupting everything they've been used to.

“Very well,” I concede. “For this week, I will allow you to complete your lessons in seclusion. Starting next Monday, however, we will be doing things differently.”

Olivia rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

Ethan is somewhat more respectful. “Okay, Miss Wilcox.”

“Call me Mary,” I reply. “I will see the two of you at lunchtime.”

“We’ll probably be finished before then,” Ethan informs me.

To that, I only nod.

I leave the school room and consider that much of the children’s behavior makes sense now that I know they’ve been shut up like this for most of their lives. Their parents are clearly too concerned with their own problems to consider their children, and they have no interaction with others their own age. It’s no wonder they’re secretive and emotionally stunted. I will have my work cut out for me here.

The school room is by the children's bedrooms on the second floor of the main wing, just above the living room. My first thought is to explore the remainder of the house, but after the challenging behavior I've witnessed, I think a bit of fresh air is just the ticket.

I head downstairs to return to my room and fetch my coat and boots, but when I reach the living room, I see a stranger and stop. He is in his mid-thirties, tall and handsome with a strongjaw and well-combed dark brown hair. He sits on the couch and looks out the large window that makes up most of the living room’s rear wall. I admit that I spend a moment admiring him before speaking up. “Hello.”

The man turns to me and offers a dazzling smile. It’s a good thing I’m too old to let attraction motivate my actions or I might consider getting myself into some trouble.

At the same time, though, I feel an instinctual distrust in that smile. Lucifer is well known to be the most beautiful of the angels, after all. Besides, I’ve seen firsthand how much of the evil in this world lurks behind beauty.

“Hello there,” he replies. “You must be the new governess. Mary, right?”

I return his smile. “That’s me. And you are?”

He extends a hand and approaches me. “Thomas Keller. I’m the family’s estate manager.”

“Oh.” I take his hand, and he gives mine a firm shake. “I thought that Claude was the butler.”

“That’s the title we’ve chosen to give him to make things simpler,” Thomas replies. He releases my hand and says, “Really, he’s more of a valet. He performs all of the service duties of a butler, but the management of the estate rests in my hand.”

“I see. If you’ll forgive me for being forward, Mr. Keller—”

“Thomas, please.”

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