“Maybe. You have my approval, but that matters less than someone else’s.” His touch lingered a moment longer than it needed to, before he let go her hand and gestured towards the door. “It’s time to meet Gran. Her opinion is what will seal or break this deal.”
* * *
The staircases arched gracefullybetween the upper and lower floors, fit for a noblewoman to sweep down in a magnificent ballgown to the oohs and ahhs of an awaiting crowd, or to walk up with dignity as a disgraced suitor pleaded his case at the foot of the steps. Hanna felt almost silly in her sensible flats and wrinkled skirt, and knew she would feel sillier still if they let her wear jeans on the job.It’s got to be against some sort of British law to run around this place in trainers.
Yet she wished for a pair more with every step. Not because her flats hurt her feet, though her toes had certainly tired of the narrower enclosure after a long day striding through airports and standing in security lines, but because her instincts prickled with the sense that she might need faster feet by the time the day was through. Nervous energy simmered in her limbs, as if preparing her for immediate emergency action.
The air grew cooler, brought up goosebumps on the backs of her arms. It reminded her of the first chill evening of fall, the one where she knew she would go out for an errand and wish she had brought a sweater along. Not dangerous, or unpleasant, not yet, but with the threat that it could be if the winds shifted. It lurked, it waited, it evaluated, ready to bring the full force of winter if it chose.
It’s afraid. Wary. Nervous.The words presented themselves in her mind without conscious effort on her part. They were simply there, chased hard upon by the confusion of wondering why she would think such a thing. Yet it persisted as they summited the staircase and took the left-hand hallway towards the rooms there.
Gregory chatted about buying the house. How he’d put in a small elevator so Gran could get between the floors in her wheelchair. How he’d gotten a good price for it because the owners had wanted to do away with the expense of keeping such a large home, how the objects within it had largely come with the sale, how the house apparently had interesting history but the real estate agent hadn’t provided it… Hanna heard very little of what he said. All her attention remained on the chill in the air and the shadows in the corners, and the strange flow of thoughts in the back of her mind.
I really need to get some sleep. Maybe I can have a nap.
“Here we are,” Gregory said, interrupting her introspection. “I texted Gran’s nurse that we were headed up. I don’t know how people navigated these houses before cell phones. A lot of shouting, maybe.”
A dark-haired woman in a medical-looking uniform stepped into the hall. “Her vitals are looking good today, Mister Pierce, and her mood is good, if a little nervous.”
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Gregory? Or Greg?”
“I just do it to get your goat, now.”
“Ha. She’s nervous?”
The woman shrugged. “She says she’s fine, and nothing’s wrong, but she seems a little on edge. Could be because of our visitor.”
“Probably so.” Gregory gestured towards the woman. “Hanna Sparrow, this is Laura Garcia. She’s Gran’s nurse. Laura, this is Hanna Sparrow, our prospective new governess.”
“Nice to meet you, Miss Sparrow,” Laura said, holding out a hand to shake.
Hanna took it. “If I tell you to keep calling me Miss Sparrow, will you call me Hanna to poke at me?”
“I just might, Hanna,” Laura said with an impish grin. “Welcome to Greenhill.”
“Thank you. What do you think about this plan? Your medical opinion,” Hanna added. “I don’t want to make things worse.”
“I think it can’t hurt to try,” Laura said. “We try to be honest with dementia patients, but sometimes, truth isn’t the best course. Imagine someone who forgets every day that their husband has died. Imagine breaking their heart every day, trying to correct them when they ask if he’ll come see them today. Maybe it’s truthful, but what kind of existence is that? If her having a governess to take care of her deceased child will help, then that’s an illusion I can support creating.”
“All right. I wanted to make sure her medical staff was on board with this.”
“We are.” Laura smiled, and patted Hanna’s shoulder. “I like you already, Hanna.”
“Miss Sparrow.”
The nurse laughed and stepped into the room. “Vivian, you have a visitor.”
Gregory glanced at Hanna. “Ready to start the tea party?”
“As I’ll ever be.” Hanna smoothed down her skirt and straightened her shirt. “Let’s go meet your grandmother.”
The elderly woman in the next room had bright eyes and a sharp gaze that pinned Hanna the moment she stepped into view. Though Gregory’s grandmother sat in a wheelchair, she pushed herself up with a shaky, careful effort to stand before it. Her caretakers had dressed her in a simple but lovely floral dress, accessorized with an elegant strand of pearls to add a classy touch.
In the frail form, Hanna saw a formidable soul. The older woman had a presence, a charismatic bearing, and when she smiled, Hanna found herself drawn in by the warmth there. Perhaps Gregory had learned his smile from this near-regal woman in the purple-flowered frock.She must have been amazing in her heyday. Hell, she’s amazing now. If this is her fairytale, I’ll be more than glad to play the part of the governess.
“Hello, dear,” she said, voice melodious despite the creaks of age. She held out a hand that trembled faintly but held plenty of strength despite the tremor. “I’m Vivian Russell, and I am very pleased to meet you.”
“Hello, Missus Russell,” Hanna said, scooping the woman’s hand into both of hers. “I’m Hanna Sparrow. They tell me you need a governess here, and I’d love to talk about taking that position.”