A Lady at Willowgrove Hall by Sarah E Ladd

with the rose garden.”
    “Aye. But now it is about pleasing the new master, is it not?”
    Nathaniel bristled. The man who was to inherit Willowgrove wanted to redesign the gardens to match the new, more fashionable symmetrical gardens. Nathaniel shifted. “He’s not the new master yet. They arrived a little while ago. I will speak to him about it.”
    Silas nodded.
    And with that, Silas continued down the path, and Nathaniel turned his attention back to the estate.

    Enthusiasm quickened Cecily’s steps as the chimneys of the great house jutted out of the tree line, reaching far into the late-morning sky. With the journey from Rosemere behind her, and having had a good night’s rest, her curiosity and excitement were mounting.

    Rebecca had looped her arm through Cecily’s. She glanced to the side to see the groundskeepers watching them.
    Rebecca must have noticed, too, because she whispered, “Pay them no heed. They are merely curious. Just be as you are, and everyone will adore you, just as I do. Even Mrs. Trent.”
    “But what did Mr. Turner mean by wishing me good luck?” Though spoken in jest, the comment seemed foreboding.
    “Mrs. Trent has a reputation for being strict and particular. But please, do not let this sway you. For Miss Vale was quite fond of her and was vastly contented. So, as I said, be yourself and all will be well.”
    Rebecca’s advice brought to mind Mrs. Sterling’s words spoken the day before she left Rosemere.
    Be true to yourself.
    “Isn’t it grand?” asked Rebecca as they turned the corner from a path that wove through a garden and Willowgrove Hall stood before them in all its grandeur. “I am so accustomed to it I fear I take its magnificence for granted.”
    Cecily’s steps slowed in sheer awe as she beheld the structure. It was by far the finest structure she had ever seen. Even Aradelle paled in its shadow. It was a symmetrical building of gray stone, highlighted with lighter stone for the quoining. The front parapet boasted an ornately carved stone above the main entrance, which was flanked with columns. A balustrade ran the length of the home, interrupted by eight massive chimneys poking above the hipped roof. A cupola with a bright dome reached into the blue sky. Rows of paned sash windows reflected the sun’s light to the grounds below, and the grand steps welcomed guests. A black carriage pulled by four matching bays was in motion, moving away from the entrance. Servants dressed in black and white scurried about.
    Mrs. Sterling had indicated that Willowgrove was majestic, but Cecily never expected anything this elegant.

    “So many people!” Cecily said. “I was under the impression that Mrs. Trent lived alone.”
    Rebecca looked toward the party on the front lawn. “I believe Nathaniel said she was traveling with her nephew, but I was hardly paying attention. It takes a great many people to run the estate, whether Mrs. Trent is home or not. Here, let’s go around to the kitchen entrance. Most likely Mrs. Trent will not wish to meet you until she is settled.”
    Cecily drank in her surroundings as they walked the tree-lined path, floating as if in a dream. The sunlight danced in the bright leaves and cast lacy patterns on the ground. Roses lined a stone garden wall, and the breeze carried away their sweet fragrances. Optimism, bright and endless, surged within her. Here, her past could be forgiven. She was convinced.
    Cecily listened to Rebecca prattle on about the grounds, pointing out Mrs. Trent’s walled rose garden, the water fountain, the kitchen gardens, the cold house, and the stable block.
    Cecily tried to pay attention, but she was still in awe of her surroundings. Was she really going to live here? To be a lady’s companion? Surely this was the outcome her mother would have wanted for her. One her sister would be proud of.
    She was eager to learn everything. See everything. In fact, she was so engrossed in the gardens she was passing that she nearly