Cavendish Manor

“One more time.”

“Another? But we’ve been over this a dozen times since we left Ermington!”

“Yes, and we will go through it again and again until we pass through the iron gates themselves. Now, once more.”

Maggie sighed loudly, knowing she couldn’t fight the will of Professor Tillman much longer. “Fine. Cavendish Manor stands as the largest estate in the country, run by a staff of servants under the supervision of Miss Anne Cunningham. It was designed and built by Josiah Cavendish, the father of Jeremiah Cavendish, who took what little money he had to his name after his wife’s death and nearly tripled it before his untimely death. Everything went to Jacob Cavendish, who had to be called away from abroad to oversee his grandfather’s affairs. And John--,”

Professor Tillman cleared his throat loudly.

“Sorry. Young Master Cavendish is the youngest in the powerful line of Cavendish men. He’s beginning to show early signs of the same disease that killed his great-grandfather, which is why I was called upon to be his companion whilst his father is away on his many business trips. There.”

“Must everything sound like village gossip when you say it?” he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He was busy thumbing through the thick book that had been resting in his lap most of the ride up to Cavendish Manor. Margaret wasn’t convinced he was actually reading it as the pages turned too fast between his fingers.

“Sorry. But I was right, wasn’t I?”

He snapped the book shut. Maggie jumped. “How many times must I remind you? It is not what you say, but how you say it, Margaret.”

She groaned. “Call me Maggie, everyone does.”

He nodded. “Yes, everyone does. Everyone in Ermington. Everyone not of the privileged class. Everyone doomed to live in that godforsaken village with no hopes of being more than a seamstress or a common butcher.”

Maggie crossed her arms over her chest. “My father was a butcher,” she spat.

Seeing the hurt in her face, Professor Tillman set his book aside and placed a hand on her knee. “I’m sorry. Your father was a decent man. He was my friend, after all. I’ve known you since you were a child, Margaret. But now you must leave such things behind. At Cavendish Manor, you will be expected to act like the lady your parents always wanted you to be treated as.”

She wouldn’t look at Tillman. Instead, she turned her teary gaze out of the window. The countryside passed by quickly. Everything looked so different. There were blue skies, clear pastures, birds twittering about. It was beautiful. Even the roads were smoother. The carriage traveled easily enough with hardly a bump felt by either passenger. Margaret wondered if this is what money bought people.

“Approaching Cavendish Road, sir!” the driver announced.

Professor Tillman straightened his position and began smoothing his attire. He produced a small cloth from his inside jacket pocket and polished the lenses of his glasses in his lap. “You will remember everything I’ve taught you, won’t you Margaret?”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Follow every instruction Miss Cunningham gives you.”

“I will.”

“And never speak out of turn.”

“I won’t.”

“Right then,” he said.

Cavendish Manor rose into view. Margaret pressed her face to the window to get a better look. It was enormous. The house looked more like a palace than a home. You could fit everyone from Ermington in there! she thought. The iron gates swung open to allow them in and Margaret couldn’t help but notice the letters “JC” formed at the top in what seemed like woven gold. A small portly woman stood alone in the drive. She was waving wildly at them.

“Professor Tillman…”

“Yes, Margaret?”

“I’m scared.”

.:~o*'Kaylyn'*o~:.