Her three-day journey up north was not entirely uneventful. She was very uncomfortable having been placed inside a carriage with five other people. There was scarcely room to sit let alone adjust one's position.
She had to count herself lucky, though. After all, the fare was paid by her employer, and he had given her the kindness of a seat inside the carriage. There had been two who could only afford to sit on the roof of the carriage out in the elements.
Many of those in the carriage were friendly enough and made small talk. As the days progressed, each got off in their turn till she was left alone with one other man.
She noticed quite quickly that the scene outside her window changed from the warm sunshine of spring air to dark and gloomy clouds as she progressed northward.
The final morning, just before he took his leave, Isabella asked the portly gentleman across from her if grey weather was the norm in the north.
“My dear Miss Watts,” he said with a gruff, mustache filled voice, “I have lived here my whole life and can only boast of seeing full sunshine a handful of times each year. You are lucky that you have come for spring and summer first. It will help you acclimate before the harsh winter falls. I, myself, choose to stay in town for the dreary months, now that I am able, and only return for these warmer seasons.”
Isabella looked out her window again and contemplated how he could have possibly counted her view outside as a warmer season. She had decided to wear her simple light brown traveling dress. It was relatively without frill, which also meant it wouldn’t show wrinkles as much in her travels.
Though there was beautiful, lush green land as far as she could see, the sky had been nothing but grey. A hard, bitter wind bit back against the carriage and, from time to time, it even drizzled down on them.
* * *
Isabella had also learned from her companions on the ride that she would be staying just east of Northumberland along the coast. From the description of the estate, it sounded astonishing. Isabella supposed she would just have to get used to not only coastal fresh air and beautiful greenery, but also grey skies and damp weather.
Finally, as dusk was beginning to settle on the third day, Isabella saw a long stone wall along the road. The driver had informed her earlier that this was the edge of Wintercrest estates and when they came to it, he knocked on the roof to silently point it out to her.
Her excitement reached its limit as the driver slowed to a stop before the main gates. She got out and took a moment to stretch her limbs. The driver was already down and removing her trunk. Watching him struggle with it, she wondered if she had perhaps packed more then she should have.
He set it down on the ground next to her at the gate and dusted his hands off, looking up at the expanse of the property. Isabella followed his gaze and admired it as well.
Turning back to the driver, she was surprised to see him retaking his place on top of the carriage.
“But wait,” she called out. “Please sir, what shall I do now?”
“Can’t say, Miss Watts. All I am to do is drop ye right here.”
With a flip of his reins, he made his way onward, leaving Miss Isabella Watts utterly alone and confused at the threshold of Wintercrest Manor.
Chapter 3
Isabella looked down the way leading to the manor house. She couldn’t say for sure, however, since she could see nothing in the dimming light but the road before her. She tugged at her trunk, unable to lift it from its grassy resting place.
She supposed that most seeking employment here only brought the clothes on their back and another outfit for Sunday attire. If the six gowns she had foolishly packed weren’t too much, then the books from her father’s small library surely were.
She had convinced herself that she could use these beloved stories as part of her pupil's education. Of course, the Duke of Wintercrest had enough of a library on his own that bringing books of her own was a silly, selfish move on her part.
A cold wind whipped at her and she tightened the simple shawl she had wrapped around herself. Isabella suddenly wished that she had thought to bring a pelisse in her chest. Certainly, they knew she would be arriving today. She waited a few moments considering that the coachman that was to meet her was just a bit late.
After a period of ten minutes, she was convinced that at least a footman would eventually come to fetch her. Finally, as her ability to see in the cloudy, dim light was almost impossible she determined that no one was coming and began to drag her trunk down the road.
Had she been in the right frame of mind, she might have left her chest at the gate and walked on only to have it fetched at another time by someone more capable. She, however, was not in a good state of mind. She was shivering with cold and had no idea what she was to expect or have expected of her in her new lot in life.
Luckily, the moon was full, and as clouds parted, she was able to get brief views of the way forward. When clouds obscured her only illumination, though, she did her best not to panic as she could only see a few feet in front of her. Hopefully, the lights from the house would begin to show in a parting of the hedge trees that ran along the road.
Finally, in a glimpse of momentary light from above, she saw a gentlemanly figure walking toward her up the road. He stopped upon also spotting her form.
“Oh, thank heavens,” she called out, assuming it to be a servant sent to receive her. “I feared I was all forgotten about. Please, would you kindly help me with my portmanteau.”
She straightened from her crouched, pulling position. The figure across from her, no more than ten feet ahead, didn’t seem to move. She couldn’t make out his features in such dark lighting but assumed that no one but a footman would be out at such a late hour.
“Certainly,” a sure, deep voice called back to her. The hurried figured met her and bent down to pick up her chest.
“Pray, do tell me though, why exactly are you dragging a chest down this road so late at night,” the man asked as he began to walk forward easily with chest in hand.
“Oh, forgive me. I thought you were the footman sent to retrieve me. I am Miss Isabella Watts. I have been employed as governess for His Grace. I do not mean to impose on you if your intention was not to come fetch me,” she added quickly.
“Well, I don’t think I could leave you here to continue dragging such a large item,” he said, smoothly shifting the weight in his hand.
“I just assumed. You looked from a distance to be a footman by your stature, sir,” she hesitated on her last word, pointing out that he had yet to give his own name.
"Beg your pardon, Miss Watts. I am Captain Grant. I had just stepped outside for a walk in the fresh air. Sometimes things can get quite stifling inside.”
“Captain. Well, no wonder you have the stature of a footman,” Isabella said, realizing it might be quite forward of her.