An Independent Woman. Candace Camp

      Lilith Barre was an icy blonde, attractive in a long, slender way most unlike Juliana’s small, curvaceous mother. She did not seem, Juliana thought, the sort whose lap one could climb onto to lean one’s head against her shoulder. And she certainly did not display any sort of affection for either Juliana or Juliana’s mother. The young girl found it hard to believe that she was related to them in any way.

      Lilith looked at Juliana in a cool, assessing way, then instructed one of the maids to take the child up to the nursery to meet the governess and the other tutors.

      The governess was a woman who seemed to be of varying shades of gray, from her iron-colored hair to her charcoal-hued dress. She was, she told Juliana, Miss Emerson, and these were Master Crandall Barre and Miss Seraphina Barre.

      Crandall was a sturdy boy a year or two older than Juliana, with a haughty expression and cold dark eyes. “You’re another poor relation,” he had announced and stuck out his tongue.

      Juliana, unused to other children, had been rather shocked, but she gave him the polite curtsey her mother had taught her and turned to his sister. Seraphina was about Juliana’s age and took after her mother in looks, tall for her age and slender, with long blond hair carefully woven into braids and coiled on her head.

      “Hullo,” Seraphina said in a rather friendlier manner than her brother. “Mummy said that you would play with me.”

      “Yes, if you’d like,” Juliana had replied, relieved that this girl, at least, did not seem to actively dislike her as her brother did.

      Juliana’s eyes had gone past the two children to another boy who slouched against the bookcase behind him, his hands thrust into his pockets and a closed, sullen look on his face. He was a few years old than Juliana, with thick black hair, messily tumbled about his face, and black eyes. He looked at Juliana without expression as Juliana studied him curiously.

      “Hullo,” she had said finally, intrigued by the boy, who seemed to her much more interesting than the other two. “I am Juliana Holcott. Who are you?”

      “What do you care?” he had replied.

      “Nicholas!” the governess exclaimed.

      “He lives with us,” Seraphina volunteered.

      “He’s an orphan,” Crandall had added with a sneer.

      The boy cast a dark look at Crandall but said nothing.

      “He is Nicholas Barre,” the governess had explained to Juliana. “The children’s cousin. Mr. Trenton Barre is his guardian. Mr. Barre is, as you know, a most generous man and kindly took him in after his parents’ sailing accident. However, your question was quite rude. You must learn to mind your tongue.”

      Juliana had looked at the woman in surprise, saying, “But how else was I to learn who he was?”

      Miss Emerson had frowned at her and cautioned her once again to curb her tongue. Juliana, remembering her mother’s strictures, had swallowed her protest. She had glanced over at Crandall, who was smirking at her, then at Nicholas, who was watching her impassively.

      They had begun their schoolwork. Juliana, whose scholarly father had taught her in the past, found their schoolwork easy enough and frankly boring. When Miss Emerson read to them from a book that Juliana herself had already read, it had been a struggle to keep her eyes open. A glance across the table told her that Nicholas, head down on the table, was not even pretending to listen. Juliana secretly wished she could be so bold.

      Later in the afternoon, as Miss Emerson stood at the chalkboard on the wall, writing math problems, Crandall squirmed and twisted in his chair, obviously bored. After a moment he pulled out the contents of one of his pockets; then, after putting the rest back in his pocket, he picked up a small, smooth stone. Looking around, he noticed Juliana watching him, and he grinned, waggling his eyebrows at her, then turned and lobbed the pebble at the governess. The small stone missed her, cracking into the blackboard, and Miss Emerson jumped in surprise.

      The governess whirled around, her eyes blazing. “Nicholas! That was a dangerous thing to do. Hold out your hands.”

      She marched across the room to him, grabbing up her ruler.

      “I didn’t do it!” Nicholas shot back furiously. “It was Crandall.”

      “And now you are adding lying to your sins?” the governess asked. “Hold out your hands this instant.” She raised her ruler.

      “I didn’t do it!” Nicholas repeated as he rose to his feet and faced their teacher pugnaciously.

      “How dare you defy me?” Miss Emerson cried, looking a little frightened. “Go to your room.”

      “But he’s telling the truth,” Juliana protested. “It was Crandall who did it. I saw him.”

      Nicholas’s cold dark gaze turned to Juliana. The governess whirled to look at her, too, her face alight with anger.

      “Don’t lie to me, young lady,” she told Juliana sternly.

      “I’m not lying!” Juliana exclaimed, incensed. “I don’t lie. It was Crandall. Nicholas didn’t do anything.”

      Her words seemed only to infuriate the woman even more. “Has he corrupted you already? Or are you simply of the same sort of seed? No doubt that is why you, too, have been cast upon the world. Having to depend on others’ generosity…”

      Tears sprang into Juliana’s eyes, and she was filled with a desire to fling herself at the woman, kicking and hitting.

      “It’s a good thing we don’t have to depend on your generosity,” Nicholas told the governess, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. “It’s clear you haven’t any.”

      “Go to your room. Right now. Let’s see how defiant you are tomorrow after no supper tonight.”

      “That’s not fair!” Juliana cried.

      “And you, miss, will go stand in the corner until I tell you otherwise. I suggest you think over your actions just now and ask yourself whether a proper lady would say and do the things you just did.”

      Nicholas strode out of the schoolroom and into a small room adjoining it, slamming the door behind him.

      Juliana took up her place in the corner, and later, when Miss Emerson allowed her to return to her lessons, she kept her mouth shut and ignored Crandall’s smug looks. During luncheon, she sneaked a few bits of food into her pocket. Later, when the children were supposed to be reading but Miss Emerson had nodded off in her chair and the others had taken the opportunity to lay their own heads down on their desks to nap, Juliana crept over to Nicholas’s door and eased it open.

      Nicholas was standing on a chair, gazing out the high window, and he whipped around at her quiet entrance. Frowning, he hopped lightly down from the chair and came over to her.

      “What are you doing here?” he asked in a none-too-friendly whisper. “The Dragon’ll punish you if she catches you.”

      “She’s asleep,” Juliana whispered back, reaching into her pocket, then pulling out the napkin and passing it across to Nicholas.

      He looked down at the roll and ham that Juliana had secreted there. He looked up at her questioningly. “Why are you doing this?”

      “Because I thought you would be hungry,” she replied simply.

      He looked at her for another moment, then began to eat.

      “You shouldn’t do that, you know,” he told her.

      “Give you food?”

      He shrugged. “And contradict the Dragon. Crandall is always right, you see. And I am always wrong. That is the way to get along at Lychwood Hall.”

      “I don’t understand. That’s not fair.”

      Again he shrugged, the look in his eyes far older than his