Ours Is Just a Little Sorrow (2 page)

I curtsied again. "Violet Merriweather. I am pleased to make your acquaintance."

"I'm John Winston, the Colonel's son." He smiled again, his face obviously used to the action, so unlike his father's.

Goodness. My heart pattered much too hard. Were I given to swooning and fainting, I should have required salts. Instead, I returned his easy smile.
"Surely, you are not my new charge?"

John Winston barked with an unexpected laugh. "Alas, no. It is my younger brother in need of chaperonage."

Another voice joined us then. A deeper, richer voice, laced with a sardonic quality I didn't believe John could possess. "Indeed, that I am."

Leaning against the jamb, a young man leered at us before he drank from the amber liquid in his glass. From across the room, it was apparent that his
clothes were quality, like John's, but the stranger wore them with a disheveled grace. His white shirt was not fastened all the way, exposing far more of
his throat than was proper. His jacket was slung over his arm, and a cravat hung loose and undone around his neck. His hair, darker than midnight, was
shrubbed about as if he'd recently left his pillow.

He straightened and bowed like John had, only it seemed the opposite of courteous. His eyes held mine in challenge as he inclined his head and body, and as
my body responded in a curtsey by habit, I somehow felt judged for it being so rote. As if my well practiced manners were an affront to him.

"Miss Merriweather," John said tightly. "May I present to you my younger brother, Gideon Winston, as he darkens the door way." John seemed resigned, as if
an introduction were a bad idea. "Gideon, this is Violet Merriweather, the new governess."

Gideon crossed the room in a graceful gliding fashion, and I imagined suddenly that he would be a wonderful dancer. He reached for my hand and kissed the
inside my wrist just above the line of my glove while he stared into my eyes like he was daring me.

My pulse skittered madly from the shock of his lips on my bare skin. I wished for the first time that I were the swooning type, anything to end this wild
moment that seemed to stretch longer and longer, pulling me into an abyss of feeling I didn't understand. His eyes were blue also, but not like the day lit
skies of John's eyes, rather the color of the ocean at storm. And that storm was thrashing me about, pushing me under the waves of Gideon's making. He
seemed to understand his power over me, for at that moment he winked and dropped my hand as if it had never happened.

"Certainly you are not my charge either," I stammered, resisting the urge to rub my still tingling wrist.

"No, Miss Merriweather," John said, his voice like a life preserver in the tumultuous seas I'd been treading. I clung to the rope of his words and let him
reel me back to safety. "Though Gideon could use a chaperone more than anyone I know, it is our youngest brother, Phillip, who will require your services.
He's to turn five next month."

Briskly nodding, my pulse slowed and my breath returned to a natural cadence. I stood like the tip of a triangle between the two brothers, each so
different from each other, and though I was reluctant to believe in such things, a sense of foreboding settled into my bones as they looked first at each
other and then to me. I should not like to find myself in this geometric position, but I felt hopeless to stop what seemed so inevitable. It was as if we
were all aware that our future was being written in that moment, and we were all powerless to fight the furious quill.

Chapter 2

A
S IF SENT from God or the devil himself to break the tension filled moment I was sharing with the brothers Winston, a whirling dervish of what I assumed
was young master Phillip, spun through the room chasing an aero-winged flyer that had gotten free from his control.

"Ho there!" John cried as he ducked just in time to avoid serious head injury. "I say, Phillip, turn that thing off."

"It won't listen," Phillip complained, holding aloft the metal box of gears that should have controlled the flight.

John raced to the flyer while Gideon beckoned me to join him as he dashed to the pianoforte. He pushed me under first and then took shelter next to me. We
watched the show while John tried to catch the aeroship. He tagged it once with an athletic jump into the air, but the toy eluded his grasp while
maintaining a now dodgier flight owing to its bent wing.

The aeroship turned on Phillip then, so I waved him to our hiding spot. It chased him all the way to the pianoforte, until he dove into our nook. Gideon
snatched the box from him while I tucked the young boy into my side protectively.

"Who are you?" he asked.

I looked into his sweet face and fell into instant adoration. He had Gideon's eyes and dark hair, but his quick toothless grin reminded me instantly of
John. The brothers Winston definitely knew how to entangle a girl quickly.

"I am your new governess, Phillip. You may call me Miss Merriweather in the company of others, but you will likely call me a bitter, hissing crone when you
are alone for I intend to make you study very hard and become a great man."

The aeroship whizzed by us once more, making a sick choking sound.

Phillip smiled at me. "I don't like reading, but maths and art ain't so bad."

"They
aren't
so bad," I corrected.

At that moment, the flying toy crashed into a display of vases just as a voice boomed from the doorway. "What is the damned ruckus?"

Phillip shrank into my side a little deeper while John explained to the Colonel the happenstance we'd found ourselves, pausing while he trapped the ship
against the wall. The Colonel glared in turn at each of us. It perhaps wasn't the best first impression of a governess to find her crouching under one's
pianoforte, but then again, it could be said that it was his own fault for not interviewing me properly.

Not that I had any intention of telling him that.

The Colonel's face was mottled red and he seethed unhappily while John took apart the toy with a tool he had in his pocket. I wondered why he carried such
a tool with him, whether this kind of occurrence was, perhaps, not unusual.

To my relief, the Colonel left the room, containing his rage to one slam of the door. The ornate tick-tocker on the wall began to play its chimes to
signify it was tea time. I crawled from my spot, dismayed that not one of the Winstons offered me assistance. I sat on my knees and looked over my shoulder
to Phillip.

"Phillip, when you find yourself hiding under a pianoforte with a lady, it is customary to stand first and then offer a hand to help her rise."

While Phillip scrambled from the nook to do his duty, Gideon smirked at me. "Customary, you say, Miss Merriweather? Do ladies hide under pianofortes often
then?"

I ignored his pithy remark and allowed young Phillip to be a gentleman, though I could have used a little more heft than he had to offer. John barely
registered our movement, so intent on fiddling with the aeroship that I think he'd quite forgotten the rest of us were in the room.

Since there seemed to be no Mrs. Winston about, I rang for tea, pulling the long tasseled cord. I sat as if nothing were amiss, though I felt the pins
sliding through my hair awkwardly releasing my twist. What a day I'd already had.

John absently took a seat, still distracted by the mechanisms of the broken toy. Like John, Gideon also took a seat, but unlike John, there was nothing
absent about his motions. He was far too intense, I decided. The way he watched me waiting for tea made me nervous.

Luckily, the tray walked in, behaving much better than the errant aeroship. I'd never seen one so grand. We only had one very old tea automaton at the
academy, and it wasn't for everyday use, but rather for practice. This trolley was free of encumbering rust and likely oiled every day. The two mechanical
robot legs worked together between two in-line bicycle wheels, propelling the wheels to roll each time one automated foot touched the ground. It stopped in
front of me, and I began the tea service as I'd been taught.

The tea table itself was built over the front wheel; over the back wheel was the food table. Below the heated plate for the tea and cooled plates for the
refreshments, a series of tubes ran liquideous aether through small boilers and iced bricks. Plates of cakes, sandwiches, and a tea service set into molds
sat atop the tray itself so as not to jostle free.

Phillip eyed the cakes with delirious fascination.

His nanny came in to collect him, apologizing for losing track of her charge and leaning heavily on a cane. She was old, far too old for such a daunting
task as keeping an active boy like Phillip in line. I wondered why she hadn't retired decades ago, and why nobody had thought to replace her.

"I should like to take tea with Phillip every day, in order to teach him the manners in a parlor as part of his curriculum. Will that be a problem?" I
asked.

She looked so relieved at the thought I thought she might lie down right there. "I'll make sure he's ready for you every day, Miss Merriweather."

She turned and trudged out, far less graceful than the automaton had breezed in. How odd that she continued to work so far into her elderly years.

"Phillip," I said, as I poured the tea. "Please tell me how many cakes there are on the plate."

He counted slowly, but correctly.

"Excellent." I began putting the cakes on plates. "If we each have one, how many will be left?"

"One?" He sighed. "I don't know if I can do many more numbers if don't get at least two. I'm tired, you see."

Precocious child. "If you tell me the correct answer, you may have two."

Phillip lit up and began the process of take away. The entire conversation was watched avidly by Gideon. Though I tried to put all my focus on Phillip, the
awareness of his older brother's gaze never left me.

His eyes bore into me, trying to ferret out secrets. Odd that he should think I had any. "Have you any memories of Earth, Miss Merriweather?" he asked
finally, after the awkward scrutiny had continued for far too long.

I raised the cup to my lips for an extra moment of thinking time before I answered. "None, sir," I lied easily. "I was near Master Phillip's age when I was
rescued by the good people of New Geneva."

Gideon pulled a flask from the pocket of his discarded jacket. As he poured a nip into his teacup, he chuckled wryly. "Yes, the good people rescued you.
How kind to save you in order that they might put you into service for them."

My proud chin often had a will of its own, and it stubbornly rose above our shared station. "I enjoy teaching children and am grateful for the
opportunities my education has provided."

Gideon left off his tea altogether and nipped directly from his flask. "I meant no disrespect."

Somehow, his apology didn't sway my opinion of his rancor. I knew it wasn't my place to care, but something about his attitude goaded me into
defensiveness. "Do you find that people in service are of less value somehow than those who…I'm sorry, what is it that you do, sir?" Since he'd
obviously just returned home in mid-day from whatever nocturnal excursion he'd participated in the night before, I guessed he had no occupation other than
being the son of a rich man.

"Touché, Miss Merriweather." He perused me with a glance from head to toe, and then settled back to my lips. "I think a better question might be, what
is it I don't do?"

His attention to my lips caused them to dry like a grape in the sun. I wanted nothing more than to wet them with my tongue, but knew that would be a
mistake. A grave one.

John cleared his throat. "Miss Merriweather, I'm certain that you're in need of a short rest from your long day. Oliver can show you to your room, if you
like. I'll make certain that Phillip is returned to the nursery."

"Yes," Gideon drawled. "She's likely tired from being purchased. By all means, let's get her a nap."

The flush of my face went hot and then cold as I gasped. John growled Gideon's name lowly.

"What?" Gideon asked. "Are we not to talk about it, then? "

I interrupted Gideon. "Phillip, would you please find out if my accommodations are ready? Oliver, I believe, would know for certain."

As soon as he was out of hearing range, I pinned Gideon with my most indignant expression. "In a very short time, sir, I have come to understand your
character and your apparent dissatisfaction with the society that enables you to live in this grand home. I urge you, however, to please have a care with
young Phillip's impressionable age when you seek to disparage the very life I lead."

"My brother does not disparage you, Miss Merriweather, he saves that for his family. Nothing we do is quite up to his ideals." John's voice may have been
full of acrimony, but it was underlined with a curious sadness that led me to believe he wished very much for a different relationship with his brother.

"Yes, my ideals. Those pesky ethics I seem to cart around like a heavy pack." Gideon pulled another healthy swig from his flask. "I'm so burdened by
principles."