and there was humour lurking in their violet colour.
“Not if you call me Miss Douglas there won’t be.” She raised her chin in mock severity. “I have become quite used to you being unconventional and calling me Nicola.”
“So you forgive me for taking you out today?” He grinned, climbing onto the seat.
Adjusting her skirts so that a few inches of the leather seat showed between them, she nodded. “I will overlook it this time, but Mr West,” she paused to stare at him, “play straight with me and we’ll never have a cross word, I promise.”
“For you, Nicola, I will do anything.” He took her hand and kissed it, then straightening, he flicked the reins and they made for the Home.
* * *
Adjusting her position on the stool, Nicola scrutinised her sketch of the front of the Home. The house was in proportion and again she counted the windows to make sure she had included them all. The trees and gardens were positioned properly… She added a few more strokes to the tallest tree on the right of the house and using the side of her little finger shaded below it to add dimension. Yet, something wasn’t quite right with the curve of the drive. Head bent, she concentrated on fixing the problem.
A small brown butterfly fluttered over the page and landed on the edge of the sketchbook. She paused, admiring its hues of orange-brown. The still November day was heavy with sunshine, which brought out the bees and insects. Another glance up at the house scared the butterfly away and she watched it flitter among the recently planted gardens, which thanks to their new gardener, were taking on shape and colour.
“Excuse me, Miss?”
Nicola turned on the stool and brought her hand up to protect her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Yes, may I help you?”
The woman, carrying a small portmanteau, walked closer. Her bonnet, a little old fashioned shaded her face, and her faded grey dress emphasized her thin figure. “Is this Mr Belfory’s Governess Home?”
“That’s correct.” Nicola stood and placed her sketchbook on the stool. “I’m Miss Douglas, the manageress. Are you looking for a place?”
“I’m Sara Bent, lately arrived from the Shoalhaven district. My last position finished earlier this month and I’ve been unsuccessful in gaining another. I have a letter from my employer.” She awkwardly held her luggage and tried to open it.
“Miss Bent, please, we shan’t worry about that right at this moment.” Nicola stepped closer and laid a calming hand on the woman’s arm. Up close, Nicola realised the woman was young, no more than twenty at the most, and for some reason Sara Bent reminded her of herself when she first arrived. “I’m sure sharing a pot of tea will be a far better way for us to become acquainted. Shall we go inside?”
“Miss Douglas, first I must be made aware of the rate.” Worry clouded Miss Bent’s blue eyes. “You see, I recently sent some of my wage home to my mother and I also paid the arrears off my debt to the FMCE Society.” Her shoulders sagged. “Although I am very relieved to have cleared my mind of these debts it has left me short. I assumed I would find a place again straight away. However, it’s been harder than I thought. I’ve known no other family than the one I met onboard the ship. They, the Macalister’s, hired me when their nurse failed to show up as we were ready to sail.”
“Why did you leave that family?”
“The mistress decided to return to England to finish her daughter’s education. She felt I couldn’t teach the finer arts such as painting and music to the satisfaction she required.” Miss Bent raised her chin. “The fault was not mine, Miss Douglas. Mrs Macalister had grand notions that weren’t suitable to a small country place such as the Shoalhaven.”
“Come, you can tell me more inside. It is too hot out here.” Nicola collected her sketchbook and together they walked towards the front door.
When they reached the first step, Miss Bent stopped. “I can pay a pound for my lodgings. How long will such an amount allow me to stay?”
Nicola’s heart softened at the sight of this proud young woman. “If you paid me a pound, Miss Bent, how much would that leave you until you secured another situation?”
Miss Bent lowered her lashes, a faint blush covering her thin cheeks. “About four shillings.”
“Then save your pound.” Nicola took the portmanteau from her and found it