Adeline shifted under the covers, her back cracking as she arched it in the early morning light, which softly shone through a large, stately window. The sheets were softer than what she was usually accustomed to, though luck and circumstance had afforded her positions in estates just as extravagant. She smiled, still burrowed under the covers. There was that one family, she remembered, who had severely misunderstood the role of a governess and had only offered her a spare foaling room off the stables. She had fixed that quickly with a few stern words and a harshly worded letter to her agency, and the abashed family had moved her up to the private bedroom next to their library.
A bird shrieked outside and Adeline grimaced, pushing herself to a sitting position. The storm, at least, seemed to have abated, she decided as she stretched. "Don't you worry, little Miss," the coachman had said warmly, "Port's not far off, and I'll take care of you well enough on your travels." He had smiled encouragingly, but Adeline had only offered a stiff hand to shake and a curt, "Many thanks." Of course, when things went wrong, they went spectacularly wrong, Adeline thought. The thunder had spooked the horses, and by the time the coachman had regained control over them, with lots of shhh-ing and soft words, the road had been lost to them. He– and Adeline was sure that he had told her his name at some point, though she didn't remember it– went to flag down help, and Adeline stayed behind with the carriage.
Well, she would have stayed. She had enough of her wits about her to know standing around in the dark and rain would help her no more quickly towards safety, so she gave the nickering horses a reassuring pat and set off in the opposite direction.
And now here she was, Adeline thought, finally getting to her feet. She was dressed only in her thick nightgown, and for a brief moment she wondered if she'd have to greet her hosts in that unseemly state– but no, her skirts from the previous night were in the large wardrobe, freshly laundered and folded. She breathed a sigh of relief. If she'd been wearing the furs she'd brought in her trunk for Russia–
Russia.
Adeline's eyes opened wide with alarm. She was going to miss her boat. Where were her things? Her trunks? The bloody carriage? She began pacing up and down the room, still dressed in her nightie. "Damn!" It hadn't meant to come out; she never swore (at least out loud), and she reflexively covered her mouth, then steeled herself. Grabbing a loose robe from the wardrobe, she opened the door to her room and turned quickly down the long hallway. "I need to write a letter," she called to whomever could hear her. "And I must go find my trunks, please, I need–"
A bird shrieked outside and Adeline grimaced, pushing herself to a sitting position. The storm, at least, seemed to have abated, she decided as she stretched. "Don't you worry, little Miss," the coachman had said warmly, "Port's not far off, and I'll take care of you well enough on your travels." He had smiled encouragingly, but Adeline had only offered a stiff hand to shake and a curt, "Many thanks." Of course, when things went wrong, they went spectacularly wrong, Adeline thought. The thunder had spooked the horses, and by the time the coachman had regained control over them, with lots of shhh-ing and soft words, the road had been lost to them. He– and Adeline was sure that he had told her his name at some point, though she didn't remember it– went to flag down help, and Adeline stayed behind with the carriage.
Well, she would have stayed. She had enough of her wits about her to know standing around in the dark and rain would help her no more quickly towards safety, so she gave the nickering horses a reassuring pat and set off in the opposite direction.
And now here she was, Adeline thought, finally getting to her feet. She was dressed only in her thick nightgown, and for a brief moment she wondered if she'd have to greet her hosts in that unseemly state– but no, her skirts from the previous night were in the large wardrobe, freshly laundered and folded. She breathed a sigh of relief. If she'd been wearing the furs she'd brought in her trunk for Russia–
Russia.
Adeline's eyes opened wide with alarm. She was going to miss her boat. Where were her things? Her trunks? The bloody carriage? She began pacing up and down the room, still dressed in her nightie. "Damn!" It hadn't meant to come out; she never swore (at least out loud), and she reflexively covered her mouth, then steeled herself. Grabbing a loose robe from the wardrobe, she opened the door to her room and turned quickly down the long hallway. "I need to write a letter," she called to whomever could hear her. "And I must go find my trunks, please, I need–"
