Poet: Chapter One: The Mansion House

Chapter One

The Mansion House

         The mansion was like any other nobleman's house on the outside but the inside was drab and bare. I probably looked rude if not stupid standing there in the front foyer staring at the absence of decorations. The few pieces of furniture that were present were so simple and roughly made they looked as though they had been retrieved from the city's refuse yards. There wasn't even a carpet or a rug on the hardwood floor. I was dismayed. What sort of a house had I come to? Should I be scared for my life? I wondered.
         Someone tugged at my sleeve. It was the maid. She wanted my coat so I slipped it off and gave it to her. But I still continued to stare in disbelief. This was my first time at being a governess but I had been a private tutor to privileged children before and had seen the insides of countless noble houses. None of them, as I recalled, had lacked decoration and decadence. That is until I had entered this one.
         It was useless to imagine this drabness was simply a nuisance of the culture of a strange land to which I had not yet become accustomed. But the Inn had been brightly decorated and as my carriage had rumbled up the street I had watched the passing houses from the window and had glimpsed, as doors opened and closed, paintings, tapestries, and statuary. This place didn't even have a potted plant to give it life. Why was it so rich without and so poor within?
         A horrible thought crossed my mind. What if these people were not so rich as they had made themselves out to be? What if they had sold all their lovely things to afford me for their children? I admired their dedication to the education and care of their little ones but I wished they had told me of the situation. I would have demanded a lower price. I might even have suggested a governess from their own city rather than spending valuable money bringing me here. I knew it had become the fashion around the known world for nobles to import teachers for their children from a foreign land but I wondered it this particular family had enough title to support such a whim.
         To force myself to stop staring at the emptiness of the house I pulled the letter from the band of my skirt where I had put it for safekeeping and read it for what was probably the thousandth time.

         Ms. Mary Ann Iacchus,

         My wife showed me the poem entitled 'Soft Falls The Spring' which was published in her lady's journal and which you yourself wrote. It was most impressive since true poets such as yourself are rare indeed. But that is not the reason for this correspondence.
         In the same issue there was also printed, as I am certain you are aware, some little information about the contributors found within. I was most pleased to find upon reading your mini biography that you have had experience in teaching children. Further inquiries to the journal revealed that you come with numerous recommendations.
         Therefore this is the end to which I have penned this letter. To impress upon you an offer of employment within my own house hold. It would be kind of you to make yourself available to work for me and to teach my children also.

         Yours hopefully,

         Lord Ian Hywell

         Also Signed,

         Lady Ailla Hywell

         And,

         Jaan

         And,

         Sabina

         P.S. We hope you will accept our invitation and will send a reply to the inn, which our messenger will indicate to you within the nineday so that the necessary preparations can be made.

         The last two signatures had been done in such rough and inexpert hand writing that I could only imagine they must be the signatures of the children I was to teach. True there was no mention in the letter of the word governess. But the job description made me think or a governess so that was the title I had subconsciously assigned my future position.
         I was understandably confused by the term 'nineday' which was used in the P.S. of the letter and had asked the messenger to translate it. He explained to me that it was like a week but with nine days instead of seven. I asked him why they simply did not call it a week and he replied that a week and a nineday were not the same thing.
         I indicated that I understood, although I did not, and asked him to wait while I wrote an immediate response. The truth of the matter was that Lord and Lady Hywell aroused my curiosity. It was well known that the only people who appreciated poets were other poets, and elves. And since the later did not seem to exist and the former is difficult to find; we poets live a lonely and unappreciated life. The Lady's Journal my poem had appeared in was one of those magazines which publishes everything, for a price, and is read by no one. Strange that a noble lady should read it, and impressive that she should find my tiny piece hidden among its numerous advertisements.
         Besides this I had been unable to find employment lately and was in danger of losing my lodgings within a fortnight or less. So you understand that had the position been even as humble as scullery maid I would have been unable to refuse. I counted myself fortunate to be offered the position I was.
         I handed the messenger my handwritten acceptance and he tipped his hat and left hurriedly.

         I wished I could remember what I had written in that letter but my concentration was interrupted by the opening of a door and the pounding of little feet coming into the foyer. Startled I looked up from the plain bench where I was sitting to see two children dressed as plainly as the house.

         "Give her back!" screamed the little girl, "Give me back my doll right now!"
         "What?" laughed the boy, "This doll?" and he climbed up on the bench and held the doll above his head to keep it from the girl who was leaping for all her worth to grab it.
         "She's mine!" she protested, "Lizabet's mine! Give her back!"
         "Sure here!" he held Lizabet by her rag head and handed her back down to the little girl who grabbed her and hugged her. But the boy, being a boy, had actually still been teasing the girl and attempted to yank the doll from her embrace once more but only succeeded in ripping it's stuffed head from it's stuffed body.
         "You killed her!" screamed the girl, as she stared in horror at the headless body of her doll "You tore Lizabet!"
         "It's your fault," said the boy, "if you had let go it wouldn't have torn."
         "I hate you!" screamed the little girl, then ran out to mourn noisily.
         "It's just a dumb doll!" he shouted, "You're just a dumb girl!" and he jumped off the bench to follow her.

         They had been too preoccupied with their little spat to notice me but I had certainly noticed them. Not that I had a choice. And I couldn't help noticing the turbans they wore. None of the other children I had seen since I crossed the boarder had worn turbans and even more curiously I had never known a girl to wear a turban before. I guessed that they must be young Jaan and Sabina since certainly no servants children would have been allowed to behave in such a manner or have such free reign of the house either. I began to wonder if the absence of decorations was because of their, or at least the boys, rambunctiousness and consequently if I should have demanded a higher salary.
         I had heard horror stories about children who loved nothing better than torture and chase away governess after governess and I wondered if these were two of them. I was very seriously considering bolting for my life when the door opened again. It was the maid who had returned from hanging up my coat.

         "Ma'am will see you now." it was the first thing she had said since we met and I had no time to respond but had to follow her quickly or fear losing myself in this strange house.

         Once out of the Foyer the decorations and furnishings did not improve. Not that I would have had time to look at anything as I hurriedly followed the maid.
         She led me down a drab hall way and into a drab room where drably dressed woman was mending drab cloths. Drab, drab, drab, everything was so drab, everything except for the woman that is. She, like her daughter for I guessed that this must be Lady Hywell, also wore a turban and looked elegant in it. She was so beautiful she could probably make anything look elegant without even trying. The maid whispered something in her ear which caused her to smile and put her mending down. She rose and greeted me.

         "You must be Miss Iacchus." she said matter-of-factly.
         "Please ma'am," I stuttered, "call me Mary Ann. Everyone else does."
         "Good," she laughed, "and you will please call me Ailla as I wish more people would."
         "Pleased to meet you Ailla," I curtsied.
         "Pleased to meet you Mary Ann," she nodded back, "won't you come sit with me?" and she motioned to her little sewing corner.
         I followed her over and sat on an embroidered cushion.
         "Was your trip pleasant?" she asked.
         "Very" I answered.
         "I am sorry," she said, "that it was necessary to ask you not to bring any - what do you call them? - ah yes, knickknacks, and to keep your wardrobe as simple as possible with no unnecessary frills. I am pleased to see that you have done so. I hope it was not inconvenient."
         "I don't own any frilly clothing or any knickknacks," I answered, "so it was hardly inconvenient for me to give up what I don't have."
         "I can't say the same for myself," she said quietly and sadly looking around then added more cheerfully, "would you like some tea?"
         I could only stare blankly, "Some what?"
         "Tea," she explained, "you'll love it." then she called, "Vanessa!" and the maid reappeared.
         "Yes Ma'am?" she said.
         "Bring some tea," ordered her mistress, "oh, and bring the children too I want them to join us.'
         "Yes Ma'am," she answered and left.
         "Now then, Mary Ann," said Ailla, turning back to me, "what did you bring?"
         "Only a few changes of clothing, some personal maintenance supplies, and this," I answered handing her my poetry composition book which I always carried with me.
         "May I?" she asked, taking it from me.
         "Go right ahead" I told her, and she opened the book and began to read.
         She read quickly, something I have never been able to do, and handed it back to me.
         "Simply amazing!" she declared, "Simply amazing, wonderful, and delightful too. You have a superb talent Mary Ann."
         "It's nothing," I blushed, no one had ever complimented me on my writing the was she did and I found I liked it, "it's easy really"
         "So said the sparrow when the turtle asked her how to fly," said Ailla.
         "I'm sorry, what?" I asked.
         "You've heard the story of 'the sparrow and the turtle', haven't you?" she inquired.
         "No, I'm sorry I haven't" I answered.
         "No one has," she sighed, "this is such a strange land with strange tales. I even had to teach Van how to make tea. Can you imagine that?"
         I certainly could since I didn't even know was 'tea' was.
         She sighed regrettably and looked at the poetry book she had handed back to me, "I'd keep that in a safe place if I were you. Nice things have a habit of disappearing around here."
         "Oh," I asked, "why is that?" fearing the answer may have had something to do with her son.
         "I'd rather let my husband tell you that when he returns in an hour or so." she answered.
         I decided not to press the matter further and was saved from adding the next line of conversation by Vanessa who had returned carrying a tray with a pot of hot liquid and four cups. She put it down on the table in the center of the room then left again and returned this time with the two children I had 'met' earlier.
         The boy dragged his feet and the girl, still clutching her headless toy, walked like she was in a funeral procession. Her eyes were also red and swollen and she sniffed as though she were still trying to cry but couldn't squeeze any more tears out."
         "What's wrong, Sabina?" asked Ailla, holding her arms out to the girl.
         "Jaan tore Lizabet," sniffed the child, showing her mother the headless doll and then flinging herself into her arms.
         "Jaan," Ailla looked at the boy now, "where is Lizabet's head?"
         He grumbled, and then reached into his pocket, pulled out the tattered head and handed it over.
         She took it from him and he hung his head.
         "Look sweetness," she said, gently lifting her daughters chin "she can be fixed". Ailla held the head and body together and showed them to her. "Is it okay if I fix her for you?"
         Sabina sniffed and nodded.
         "Then I'm going to put her right here at the top of my sewing basket and I'll fix her just as soon as we're done with tea." She put the doll down and kissed Sabina who kissed her back. Then she turned to her son again "Jaan," she said sternly.
         "Yes mother," he kept his head hung.
         "I want you to say you're sorry to your sister." she ordered.
         "I'm sorry, Sabina," he said, still not raising his head.
         "Say you're sorry for tearing her doll," she instructed him.
         "I'm sorry, Sabina, for tearing your doll," he reminded me of a prisoner at an inquisition.
         "Very good," his mother said, indicating by the tone of her voice that the apology could have been done better. Then she held her cheek out to him and he kissed it obediently. "Now then," she said, "Everyone go sit down for tea. You're father and I have brought you a tutor and I want you to meet her."
         The two children noticed me for the first time.
         "Really?" asked Sabina whose face had gone from sorrow to excitement.
         "Wow!" said Jaan, "Our very own tutor!"
         "Her name is Mary Ann," said Ailla, "now go sit; I want you to meet her properly"
         The children both ran to pull out a chair for me.
         "I want to sit by Mary Ann!" shouted Jaan.
         "No I want to sit by her!" protested Sabina.
         "Silence!" ordered their mother, "You will both sit next to her, and I will sit across from her." the children seemed pleased with this arrangement until she added, "Which means that you will sit across from each other."
         "Aw! Mother do we have to?" they complained in unison.
         "Yes, now scoot!" was the reply.
         They went obediently to their opposite chairs.
         We had just settled ourselves when I heard new voice.
         "Can you make room for one more?" it was male and very pleasant sounding.
         "Daddy!" cried Sabina who lept from her chair and hugged her father. She kissed his face all over once, and then again to make sure she hadn't missed a spot. "You got us a tutor!"
         "I know!" he laughed, rubbing his nose against hers "that's why I hurried home as quickly as I could. I wanted to meet her too."
         Lord Hywell pulled up a fifth chair and Vanessa returned yet again with another cup.
         "Finally!" declared Ailla, after she and her husband had kissed 'hello', "shall we begin?"

         I did not, I decided, love tea as Ailla had promised. It had a rough bitter taste and was certainly not to my liking.
         "That's because you gotta put lots of sugar in it," said Jaan who grabbed the bowl of sugar and began dumping several heaping spoonfuls into my tea. It didn't help the situation. Now it was too thick and sweet.
         "Thank you," I forced a smile, "much better." I faked taking a sip and said "Mmmmm!" until he smiled back, then I put my cup down and turned to Lord Hywell who like the rest of his family also wore a turban. "Sir," I asked him, "when do you want me to begin my work as governess?"
         "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't hire you to be a governess."
         "But your letter said I was to work for you and tutor your children," I protested.
         "Yes," he sipped his tea, "I want you to work, or more specifically write poems, for me. Tutoring the children will be a very small part of your work here."
         "But surely," I said, "the children need someone to take care of them."
         "That's Vanessa's job." he put his cup down, "you needn't concern yourself with that."
         "Sir," I asked, "why poems? It hardly seems worthwhile to bring someone such as myself across three Kingdoms just to write poems."
         "I have my reasons," he said.
         "Oh," I said, "then maybe you can tell me why everything disappears around here; as Ailla say's it does."
         "Not everything," he said seriously "Only things which are beautiful. You see," he explained, "this house has a terrible curse on it."

Authors Notes:

1. This chapter is the first of many. I will be putting it into "book" format as soon as I can.

2. This is the first time I have used first person in a story. Normally I utilize the third person or omnipotent point of view. But in this case I needed to limit the audience's perspective. Any advice on this would be helpful.

3. Yes this is a fantasy story. I promise there will be Elves, Wizards, and magic. But since Macie is the main character and the story is being told through her eyes I felt it was necessary to begin the story in her world.