The Diary of Cozette by Amanda McIntyre Page B

was not something I’d often seen, much less given over to the luxury of it. I’d learned, with my experiences, how to be strong. On my own, I was strong, resilient and resourceful, but in her eyes, it seemed I was but a dab of clay awaiting her sculptor’s hands.
    “Did you hear that, Master Archibald? She reads. Why, that will immediately place you in a higher wage bracket, wouldn’t you say, sir?”
    He did not take his gaze from the window and barely nodded in response.
    I glanced over her shoulder at the view beyond the window. Outside, the afternoon sun was giving way to the purple twilight. This time of day has always been my favorite, perhaps connected to that special time when I would meet Ernest in the root cellar. He is the only person who knows such secret things about me. He is the only one with whom I have ever shared any intimacies dear to my heart.
    In silence, I stared out the window near me, watching as the light of day offered itself up to the night. Out here, apart from the buildings that destroyed the view, the last dredge of sunlight stretched its fiery red fingers across the indigo horizon.
    Every view from the carriage was a lush acreage of meadow and wooded glen. My gaze was drawn to the stark, black silhouette of a giant oak tree perched alone on a hill in the distance. Its fingers reached out into the twilight sky, claiming its freedom and my heart stilled. It had been years since I’d seen open fields and groves of trees.
    The coach pitched on its steel springs and my mind was brought back to the present as we rounded a curve and started up the straight dirt lane. I held my breath as we passed between two tall brick columns, each bearing atop it a grand stone lion. I made note to come in the light of day for a better look.
    My stomach churned. I was anxious to turn in my seat and see what would be my new home.
    “We’re here, Cozette. I’ll summon Mr. Coven to take your things to your room.”
    I turned the wool cap in my hands and glanced up at her. It and what I wore on my back were all I owned.
    “Oh, my dear, forgive my ignorance. First things first. We will get you into a nice warm bath and a sleeping gown. We will measure you for your uniform and you will be responsible for its upkeep. That means of course that it is to appear presentable at all times, clean and neatly pressed each day, and your shoes…”
    She glanced down at the worn mud-covered boots. The state of affairs of my attire, deplorable as it most assuredly was, changed with my mistress’s instruction. But for the time I needed their warmth and protection, my trousers, tweed coat and wool cap had served me faithfully.
    “The child has suffered a long trip, Virginia,” Lord Archibald pointed out.
    My stomach growled plaintively.
    “A plate of food is in order, I think or else she will not have the strength for all of your intentions…noble as they may be.” He offered a hand to assist his wife as she stepped from the coach and led her across the wide stone path. I did not follow immediately, mesmerized by the enormous front doors that looked as though they belonged on a cathedral.
    “Sir?” I heard the coachman say by way of a prompt.
    I hopped from the carriage, ignoring his hand. Stretching side to side, I took a deep breath of fresh country air, glad to be free of the confines of the carriage. My gaze traveled the breadth and height of what my new mistress referred to as her modest home.
    Its enormity could easily house more than ten of Madam Rose’s theaters. My feet planted firm as was my gaze, unable to move.
    “Come, Cozette, it grows dark. Miss Farrington will not wish to be up too late, duties at Willow Manor come with the dawn.”
    She glanced over her shoulder as I followed quickly, fearing that I would soon awaken from this fantastic dream.
    “Perhaps it would be best if we met at the kitchen entrance in the back, Lady Archibald?”
    My new mistress turned. “Ah, Mr. Coven. Prompt as always.”
    I