The College loomed on the horizon as the sun rose over the lush green valley. The Earl of Lorebury sat back glumly in his plush carriage as it jostled down the dirt road.
"I still don't understand why I actually had to come with you to hire a new Estate Scholar, Wesley," he muttered, staring intently out of the window. Wesley was not only Lorebury's butler, but he was also his greatest and oldest friend. They had grown up together. Each had taken over his father's place upon their deaths.
"Because, Sir," Wesley said with false propriety, "you will have to deal with the new scholar almost on a daily basis! I would prefer if you actually approved of him." Wesley rolled his eyes. Lorebury shook his head and grumpily slumped back into his seat.
"Try to look amiable sir." Wesley laughed as they pulled into the main driveway at the central hall of the college. Lorebury faked a smile as he climbed down and a footman showed him to the room that he would be sequestered in for the next several hours.
"Wesley"
"Yes sir?"
"When we are done, remind me to kill you," Lorebury said in a serious tone.
Wesley chuckled. "Of course sir, it would be my pleasure."
"Any luck sir?" Wesley asked as Lorebury rubbed the back of his neck.
"These men are either extremely smart or they barely know anything. Either way, I would likely kill them because of their arrogance. I can't stand any of them."
"Maybe you just need a break."
Lorebury laughed at Wesley's statement, "You have no idea," he said haggardly.
"Try the rose garden sir, I hear it is fantastic."
Lorebury responded with a despondent sigh, but said nothing.
"Charles, you need to be easier on yourself. It's only been six months." Wesley patted Lorebury's arm, at which he smiled and wandered outside, heading for the rose garden.
Lorebury walked slowly, looking at the various colors of roses: reds, yellows, oranges, but none of it was really amusing him. He stopped in front of a large bush of yellow roses.
"Lovely aren't they sir," Lorebury looked up to find an elderly man, obviously the gardener, looking at him, smiling a crinkled, crooked smile. In turn he couldn't help but smile at the man's open nature.
"Yes, they are quality roses Mr…."
"Silksome sir. Charles Silksome. If I might be bold sir, who are you?"
"Charles Fyrmont, Earl of Lorebury," he said matter of factly.
"Lor' Mr. Fyrmont. No need to wield such mighty standings over a lowly gardener," Mr. Silksome laughed, "What brings you to Strains sir?" Silksome proceeded to snip at some roses with his shears.
"Our Estate Scholar died. I need to hire a new one." Suddenly Mr. Silksome had his full attention on Fyrmont.
"You be needing a scholar?"
"Well yes, that what I just-"
"Please sir, you have to hire my daughter. Please sir, it isn't safe for her here anymore."
"Your daughter?"
"Sir I promise you, she is smarter than any man here, she will do well sir I swear."
Fyrmont raised an eyebrow and examined Mr. Silksome's face. Worry lines had dug their way into his features. Fyrmont broke.
"I can give her an interview, but I can't promise anything."
Silksome's face lit up. "Oh thank you sir! I'll get her now. You won't regret it sir!" he beamed as he hurried to go find his daughter. Fyrmont shook his head. He felt as though he would regret something from meeting this gardener's daughter, but was irritated when he couldn't decipher why.
Fyrmont sat dozing in the small office the college had given him for the interviews. The late afternoon sun shone in through the blue and red stained glass windows. His dark hair hung limply in his face as he slept. A knock at the door startled him awake and Wesley poked his head in.
"A girl, Miss Silksome, is here. She claims she has an interview." Fyrmont blinked at Wesley before jumping up.
"Oh right! Yes, show her in please," he said fidgeting with his cravat. Wesley shook his head, left, and then re-entered with Miss Silksome. She did not curtsy as a woman should have, and she did not shake his hand as all the other scholars had. She merely stood there looking at him with large green eyes set in a pale face. Fyrmont found himself staring, only realizing what she was waiting for when one of her eyebrows quirked upward, and she shot him an incredulous look.
"Oh! Sorry, please do sit down Miss Silksome," He waited until she was seated before sitting himself.
"So, Miss Silksome, what are your qualifications? And other than your father basically begging me to, why should I take you on?" Fyrmont sat back, looking at a rather large folder containing the girl's school records. He almost jumped when she stood up abruptly.
"Forgive me, Mr. Fyrmont. I did not realize this was a pity interview. I will go, I shan't waste your time," Her voice was soft but stern, like a school marm. Fyrmont stood, motioning for the chair.
"Please, Miss Silksome, please sit. I will still interview you. You look to be quite accomplished here, and this is not because of pity that I agreed to interview you," Mr. Fyrmont asserted. She looked him up and down before again raising her eyebrow and sitting back down.
"Very well….As to my qualifications, I've been the top of my class in everything, I can speak French and Spanish, I play piano and trumpet fairly well and I would like to think I'm a pleasant person but that is my own opinion I suppose," she said matter of factly. Mr. Fyrmont scowled briefly, and before standing adjusted his vest and cravat.
"I will not waste anymore of your time. I will look over your…." He hefted up the heavy portfolio, "Files and I will get back to you before Friday." Miss. Silksome stood, adjusting her flowing green silk dress.
"Don't toy with me sir. It is obvious that you, or anyone else for that matter, will not hire me. I am a woman in a man's world. Just be honest with me sir. You will not hire me will you?" she smiled sadly.
"I cannot promise anything, but I will consider you. On that I give you my word." Mr. Fyrmont led her to the door. As she left, she bowed her head slightly.
Wesley entered shortly after and smiled knowingly at his friend. "You liked her. Admit it, you did!" he laughed. Mr. Fyrmont shook his head before looking up at Wesley.
"She was well qualified it is true, and she did seem rather pleasant. I still have others to consider though," He added rather as an afterthought. Wesley shook his head before leaving quietly. Fyrmont walked over to the stain glass window, watching as the distorted figure of Miss Silksome glided over the grounds. Her proud façade had slipped, and she now walked with her head down, avoiding the looks that all the male scholars were shooting angrily at her. Again Mr. Fyrmont scowled.
"Look boys! It's little Rose!" a dog faced boy sneered as he and his friends came across Miss Silksome sitting on a bench in the gardens. Rose closed the book she had been reading, stood smoothing out her pale blue dress, and looked at the four boys.
"What do you want Mr. Burchly?" she sighed. The boys began to close in and circle her.
"I heard you got an interview with that Lorebury chap. So did I. What made you think he would hire you? You'll never be hired little girl," Burchly taunted. Rose looked at him blandly.
"If I am a little girl, then you are but an infant." With this comment, Burchly lunged forward, grasping Rose's arm, and pulled her closer than what would ever be appropriate.
"You little twit, you have no right to insult me!"
"Get off me!"
"What's going on here?" A deep, throaty voice spoke. Burchly practically flung himself away as he saw that the voice emanated from Mr. Fyrmont.
"Nothing sir, just talking to little Rose here," he said in a complacent tone. Mr. Fyrmont glanced between the two, taking in Miss Silksome's pale face.
"I would inform you, Mr. Burchly, that I will not be hiring cads like you," He held out his hand to Miss Silksome, "You, however, Miss Silksome, are hired." She looked at him in astonishment as she gingerly took his hand, allowing him to lead her away.
"Are you alright Miss?" Mr. Fyrmont asked tenderly. Her face was still pale and she was constantly fixing her skirts.
"Thank you Sir," she said softly.
"I see why your father wanted you to leave."
"Yes. Well, while I appreciate the look on that cad's face, I don't appreciate you lying that you hired me," she laughed slightly. Mr. Fyrmont stopped walking, and turned to face her.
"Miss Silksome. I was not lying. You are hired. We leave tomorrow in fact." Mr. Fyrmont laughed at her shocked expression, and left her to pack.
"I want you to stay outside her door Wesley," Fyrmont muttered, with his hand on his chin.
"Why sir?"
"I fear the horrible men I saved her from earlier might try something. The leader of them was not too happy." Mr. Fyrmont was writing a letter to the Dean of the college, informing him of his student's behavior to the lady.
"Yes sir," Wesley made to leave.
"If anything does happen, come and get me. We will leave immediately if only for her safety."
"Why does it matter so much to you sir?"
"Why shouldn't it! Wesley, those boys were going to do something terrible to her! She may be a scholar, but she is still a respectable woman!" Fyrmont began to shout. Wesley held up his hands.
"Of course sir. I'll be off then." So Wesley spent the rest of the night keeping an eye out for Burchly and his despicable band of friends.