Cursed by Lucy Leroux
Chapter 1
Isobel twitched the curtains apart carefully. If she opened them too wide she might be seen. Her room was directly above the center of the drive. A person standing at the right angle could clearly see her curtains. Although, it would have been a little odd if their guests bothered to look in the tiny third-floor window that belonged to her room.
Below her on the expansive gravel drive the staff were unloading the finest traveling carriage she had ever seen. The carriage was a black lacquer monstrosity with red and gold paneling on the doors. The horses that drew it were a sturdy pair of matched greys, doubtless the best that could be had at the last coaching inn their guests stopped at.
A more modest carriage had preceded the one currently in the drive several hours before. It had unloaded a few servants and a multitude of fine trunks. All the servants were male. There were no maids in the group the Garibaldis had brought with them from Santa Fiora, Italy, which meant no women had been included in their party.
The entire household had been buzzing about this visit all week. Guests were rare in this isolated corner of Northumberland. Her employer Sir Clarence Montgomery, a close-fisted minor baronet, did not like to entertain often. But these visitors were an exception. Sir Clarence had mentioned the upcoming visit of his half-sister’s husband and son twice in her presence, which for him positively constituted boasting.
Aldo Garibaldi was an Italian count. Miriam Montgomery had met the Conte Garibaldi de Santa Fiora at a ball in London during her first London season, shortly after her debut. After a brief courtship, the Conte proposed and Miriam went off to Italy for her happily ever after.
Unfortunately for her, ever after was only a decade. She had passed away when Matteo, the count’s only heir, was just a boy. According to the servant’s gossip, Matteo was handsome and intelligent young man of eight and twenty, a paragon of propriety and honorable behavior.
He sounded extremely dull.
She didn’t know if Sir Clarence had been close with his older sister. There had been a younger sister Anna as well, but Isobel’s employer never mentioned her at all. According to the servants, Sir Clarence believed his younger sister had married beneath her. She had died young too, but if Clarence Montgomery felt the loss of either sister with any degree of emotion, it was hidden behind layer upon layer of proper manners and cold British reserve. But Isobel preferred that innate coldness in her employer. It was preferable to the alternative.
She had to leave her last position after the warm and fatherly Sir Isaac Warton, her former employer, made it clear that her duties went beyond the instruction of his spoiled children. He would wait until his wife was away paying calls in the neighborhood to waylay her and flirt shamelessly. Isobel had rebuffed with a polite but firm hand. When that didn’t deter him, she had advertised for a new position. She had been fortunate enough to find one right away. She was gone in a few weeks.
Isobel considered herself lucky to have found the Montgomery’s. They didn’t hold her Scottish heritage against her—although it was probably an excuse for paying her less than the last tutor despite her mastery of mathematics, Latin, Greek, and Italian. Her new charges, Martin and Amelia, were quiet and well behaved. Most importantly, the Montgomerys kept to themselves. Truthfully it was a little dull, but a governess’ lot was often this way. Those of her brethren who yearned for adventure and excitement were the ones who got into trouble, something Isobel scrupulously avoided.
She didn’t have anyone to talk to outside of her brief interactions with the servants. Her place in the household was in a strange nether position. By birth, she was above the servants, technically equal to the Montgomerys, but circumstances had placed her actual existence below them—far below.
It was a lonely life, but one Isobel had no wish to change. A friend may have inspired confidences she could not afford to share. It was better this way.
Sighing, she turned her attention back to the drive. Where were the Conte and his son? She had been watching for several minutes and so far no one had emerged from inside the massive conveyance.
Isobel was contemplating giving up and going to bed when there was a flurry of sudden activity. The occupants of the carriage had finally deigned to leave it to face the dark grey Northumberland sky. Two of the male servants that had been deposited earlier hurried to the carriage to assist a slow moving figure.
Finally. She leaned closer to the window for a better look, her loose auburn hair falling forward. The gap between the curtains widened despite her best intentions to leave them as they were.
No one had mentioned that the Conte was an invalid, but there he was being helped down by the servants. He was quickly followed by another man.