The Governess Read Online Free PDF Page A

of what was to come. Nor would there be insolent looks from Joseph alone before much longer. There would be such glances from every single one of the servants, except poor Vilkins, as well as deliberate failure to accept the orders she was bound from time to time to give.
    Next to Joseph in the servants’ rank stood Hannah, the first housemaid, already little inclined to do what she was asked. Vilkins, standing next to her, a drip on the end of her big red dab of a nose, would not be support enough if all the house was set against her. Even Nancy, the scullery maid, would no doubt find occasion for some display of contempt, and lubberly John, last in the line in his tight-fitting, button-sparkling uniform, could well play some trick or other on her.
    Mr Thackerton, having left as was his custom a minute’s pause after the family had entered and taken their places, came striding in.
    He marched, heavy-footed, to the top of the long table where on the thick green cloth that covered it at this hour there had been placed the large family Bible, opened at the page he was to read from. His arrival at the head of the table was the signal for all to kneel while he recited the Lord’s Prayer, to which they all in their different ways murmured accompaniment.
    Miss Unwin, with as usual her eyes only half-closed so that she could keep a watch on little Pelham, was able to detect across the width of the cloth-covered table that Joseph’s voice this morning was noticeably louder and clearer, almost as loud indeed as the Master’s at the table’s head.
    A reading from the Bible followed. Next Mr Thackerton was accustomed to intone a short prayer commending them all to their duties for the day. He finished, as usual, by closing the Good Book with a resounding bang as much as to say ‘That’s that’. At once the servants got to their feet and filed out to start again on the duties to which they had been so firmly directed. The family waited for them to have gone and then Pelham’s mother and grandfather wished him good morning. His father seldom remembered.
    It was while they were all moving across to the breakfast-roomand its laid table that Miss Unwin was greeted directly by Joseph.
    ‘Good morning, miss,’ he said, putting himself in her path as she followed the others and even for a moment sticking his thumbs into the pockets of his white uniform in a cocksure parody of Mr Thackerton’s customary stance.
    ‘Good morning, Joseph,’ Miss Unwin replied, loudly and clearly.
    She looked straight back at him, her expression as devoid of feeling as she could make it. He smiled, the long teeth curving between the pale lips of his large-featured face.
    Miss Unwin resolved then that, before the day was out, she would have done something to see that this triumph was shortlived.
    She took the first step to achieving that end when she went in the afternoon to read to Mrs Thackerton senior. Generally, few words were exchanged on these occasions. Mrs Thackerton often would do no more than extend a thin hand towards the book they were working their way through. Then, fighting off the torpid heat of the blinds-darkened room, it would be Miss Unwin’s duty to read steadily on until asked to stop. Yet sometimes Mrs Thackerton liked a little undemanding talk. She would ask how Pelham’s lessons were progressing, comment in mildly shocked tones on the weather, or boast feebly that she had gone for a whole week without having had to summon the doctor.
    So Miss Unwin acted quickly now to forestall the long, bone-thin fingers pointing towards the book.
    ‘Did you hear about poor little Pelham and his sugar-mice?’ she asked, making the question as casual as she could.
    ‘No. No, I hear nothing of what goes on in the house.’
    Miss Unwin gave her a quick glance in the gloom, and was struck not for the first time by the thought of how young ‘old Mrs Thackerton’ really was. Though her face was lined there was hardly a grey strand in her pale