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a governess was found。 her name was hester。 hester barrow。 it was not a pretty name； but then she was not a pretty girl。
dr。 maudsley organized it all。 charlie； locked in his grief； was scarcely aware of what was going on； and john…the…dig and the missus； mere servants in the house； were not consulted。 the doctor approached mr。 lomax； the family solicitor； and between the two of them and with a hand from the bank manager； all the arrangements were made。 then it was done。
helpless； passive； we all shared in the anticipation； each with our particular mix of emotion。 the missus was divided。 she felt an instinctive suspicion of this stranger who was to e into her domain； and connected with this suspicion was the fear of being found wanting—for she had been in charge for years and knew her limitations。 she also felt hope。 hope that the new arrival would instill a sense of discipline in the children and restore manners and sanity to the house。 in fact； so great was her desire for a settled and well…run domestic life that in the advent of the governess’s arrival she took to issuing orders； as though we were the sort of children who might ply。 needless to say； we took no notice。
john…the…dig’s feelings were less divided； were in fact entirely hostile。 he would not be drawn into the missus’s long wonderings about how things would be； and refused by stony silence to encourage the optimism that was ready to take root in her heart。 “if she’s the right kind of person…” she would say； or “there’s no knowing how much better things could be…” but he stared out of the kitchen window and would not be drawn。 when the doctor suggested that he take the brougham to meet the governess at the station he was downright rude。 “i’ve not got the time to be traipsing across the county after damned schoolmistresses；” he replied； and the doctor was obliged to make arrangements to collect her himself。 since the incident with the topiary garden； john had not been the same； and now； with the ing of this new change； he spent hours alone； brooding over his own fears and concerns for the future。 this iner meant a fresh pair of eyes； a fresh pair of ears； in a house where no one had looked or listened properly for years。 john…the…dig； habituated to secrecy； foresaw trouble。
in our separate ways we all felt daunted。 all except charlie； that is。 when the day came； only charlie was his usual self。 though he was locked away and out of sight； his presence was nonetheless made known by the thundering and clattering that shook the house from time to time； a din to which we’d all bee so accustomed that we scarcely even noticed。 in his vigil for isabelle； the man had no notion of day or time； and the arrival of a governess meant nothing to him。
we were idling that morning in one of the front rooms on the first floor。 a bedroom； you’d have called it； if the bed had been visible under the pile of junk that had accumulated there the way junk does over the decades。 emmeline was working away with her nails at the silver embroidery threads that ran through the pattern of the curtains。 when she succeeded in freeing one； she surreptitiously put it in her pocket； ready to add later to the magpie stash under her bed。 but her concentration was broken。 someone was ing； and whether she knew what that meant or not； she had been contaminated by the sense of expectation that hung about the house。
it was emmeline who first heard the brougham。 from the window we watched the new arrival alight； brush the creases out of her skirt with two brisk strokes of her palms and look about her。 she looked at the front door； to her left； to her right； and then—i leaped back—up。 perhaps she took us for a trick of the light or a window drape lifted by the breeze from a broken windowpane。 whatever she saw； it can’t have been us。
but we saw her。 through emmeline’s new hole in the curtain we stared。 we didn’t know what to think。 hester was of average height。 average build。 she had hair that was neither yellow nor brown。 skin the same color。 coat； shoes； dress； hat： all in the same indistinct tint。 her face was devoid of any distinguishing feature。 and yet we stared。 we stared at her until our eyes ached。 every pore in her plain little face was illuminated。 something shone in her clothes and in her hair。 something radiated from her luggage。 something cast a glow around her person； like a lightbulb。 something made her exotic。
we had no idea what it was。 we’d never imagined the like of it before。
we found out later； though。
hester was clean。 scrubbed and soaped and rinsed and buffed and polished all over。
you can imagine what she thought of angelfield。
when she’d been in the house about a quarter of an hour she had the missus call us。 we ignored it and waited to see what happened next。 we waited。 and waited。 nothing happened。 that was where she wrong…footed us for the first time； had we only known it。 all our expertise in hiding was useless if she wasn’t going to e looking for us。 and she did not e。 we hung about in the room； growing bored； then vexed by the curiosity that seeded itself in us despite our resistance。 we became attentive to the sounds from downstairs： john…the…dig’s voice； the dragging of furniture； some banging and knocking。 then it fell quiet。 at lunchtime we were called and did not go。 at six the missus called us again； “e and have supper with your new governess； children。” we stayed on in the room。 no one came。 there was the beginning of a sense that the newer was a force to be reckoned with。
later came the sound of the household getting ready for bed。 footsteps on the stairs； the missus； saying； “i hope you’ll be fortable； miss；” and the voice of the governess； steel in velvet； “i’m sure i will； mrs。 dunne。 thank you for all your trouble。”
‘about the girls； miss barrow…—“
‘don’t you worry about them； mrs。 dunne。 they’ll be all right。 good night。“
and after the sound of the missus’s feet shuffling cautiously down the stairs； all was quiet。
night fell and the house slept。 except us。 the missus’s attempts to teach us that nighttime was for sleeping had failed as all her lessons had failed； and we had no fear of the dark。 outside the governess’s door we listened and heard nothing but the faint scratch scratch of a mouse under the boards； so we went on downstairs； to the larder。
the door would not open。 the lock had never been used in our lifetime； but tonight it betrayed itself with a trace of fresh oil。
emmeline waited patiently； blankly； for the door to open； as she had always waited before。 confident that in a moment there would be bread and butter and jam for the taking。
but there was no need to panic。 the missus’s apron pocket。 that’s where the key would be。 that’s where the keys always were： a ring of rusted keys； unused； for doors and locks and cupboards all over the house； and any amount of fiddling to know which key matched which lock。
the pocket was empty。
emmeline stirred； wondered distantly at the delay。
the governess was shaping up into a real challenge。 but she wouldn’t catch us that way。 we would go out。 you could always get into one of the cottages for a snack。
the