From the new novel by Tale Teller Club

The carriage approached Chrisington Hall as dusk fell. A quarter moon peeped through clouds and a startled bat flew past the horse as it came to an abrupt halt.



"It's no place for a lady M'am, if you don't mind me saying." said the driver.
"Got a bad reputation in the village. They say he's mad as a hatter, Mr. Elliam, and those daughters of his carry the curse."


"Ah, tittle-tattle! One should always avoid such gauche things," said the Governess.
The coach driver looked doubtful, "Rather you than me M'am, the staff never stay long."

The Governess stood at the large door with her trunk. She looked around to take things in. A bat flew to her shoulder and settled there for a moment. The Governess stroked its wing as darkness fell.

"Yes, I am going to like it here," she said softly.

The large oak door opened with a creek. The butler, without speaking, motioned that the Governess enter and sent a maid to collect the trunk.

"I'm Annabelle Madam..." Anabelle curtsied awkwardly, "and I will be your personal maid Miss, erm, Madam, Miss. Anything you need Madam.....I will oblige...... to my utmost...erm ability."

Annabelle was a scrap of a girl who looked underfed. She was nervous and jumpy. She would no doubt irritate the Governess with very little practice.

"I will show you to your quarters," said the Butler. "I am Vladamir. I too am at your beck and call and have been instructed to welcome you to Chrisington Hall and to ask that you treat this as your home."

Vladamir had a faint accent, presumably Russian. His height was hampered by a stoop and his uniform had seen better days. There was a heavy scent of wood polish and musk as they climbed the stairs steadily. The Governess' crinolines rustled to the rhythm of each step and a mouse came to see what was going on before scurrying away.

"Pesky mice," mumbled the Butler.

The quarters were adequate. Somewhat nondescript. The top floor, four flights up, provided a good vantage point to the front aspect. A small windowpane rattled and an owl made its presence known.

The Governess thanked the Butler and bade him goodnight. A plate of refreshments had been prepared on a side table with a small teapot.

Anabelle appeared from a side door.
"I ave just prepared madam's toilette, Miss, Madam, erm....yes. Erm, would Madam prefer that I unpack 'er things now or tomorrow?" she queried.

"Tomorrow," said the Governess. I will rise at 6 am sharp, please have my breakfast ready."

Anabelle curtseyed again, mumbling a combination of indescriminate titles, and scurried away in a similar fashion to the mouse on the stairs.

The Governess took her refreshments and prepared herself for rest. There would be little sleep for her tonight though. She removed her spellbook from her bag. It was bound in the skin of a previous lover. She smelt it and thought fondly of the times they had shared before his misdemeanors had forced her hand. Smiling at her nostalgic whimsy, she wrote notes on the people so far encountered at Chrisington Hall.

© 2021 Sarnia de la Maré
all rights reserved