Salvation of Ignorance

Chapter 4: Previous Tomfoolery

“Really?”

Mrs. Emmons nodded, “Mr. Barrettmore has taken to the novel task of employing a slave to be her governess. By the name of Mary, I believe.”

“So, she has received no proper education.”

“Not by conventional standards, no.”

Standards had to be ignored to explain her education. Niall believed some pity had to be paid to the girl, for she was clearly the product of neglected parenting. Mr. Barrettmore’s pre-occupation in salvaging his isolation encouraged him to forgo his responsibilities to his daughter’s upbringing, but to allow employment of a negro governess was ludicrous.

“However, from what spells of speech can be expelled from her, she seems quite adept in Herbology.”

Most likely a product of her studies in voodoo.

“Though, it seems that plants are the only thing that stirs her interest,” Mrs. Emmons added to her statement.

“Perhaps, but from my impression, I’ve seen very few things that haven’t received her mirth.”

Mrs. Emmons’ grip on his arm tightened, “Yes, her tempers are easily pleased, but she’s a fervent listener.”

After the departure of the person of topic, the two at present resumed their morning leisure in the woods, but this time, with Niall redirecting them toward the origins prior to this venture for fresher air. Any sanctity nature provided initially were now a scintilla and tainted with remnants of previous tomfoolery.

Peter and Miss Barrettmore were a match in their inducement of embarrassment on their behalf when forced to observe their floundering behaviors. It was a painstaking task to be the audience of Miss Barrettmore’s twitching, forced sentiments, and hunched shoulders. He never believed himself capable of finding someone who could best Peter’s ridiculous utterances, but unfortunately the unwanted search was complete.

Despite the new acceptance in the match, Niall re-examined the image his mind now canvassed after taking her details. Her bonnet had improperly been abandoned, but noticing the lack of it was an after-thought to the blotch coloring in her cheeks.  The white, blonde locks made a feeble attempt to conceal them as the ribbon in her hair meagerly attempted to restrict their freedom. All this on his mind, what captured his attention most was the wrinkled jacket she adorned. A gentlemen’s jacket.

Perhaps the lack of bonnet could be explained by her flighty persona and the rosy color of her cheeks by exercise. The jacket, however, provoked mental stirrings of a serious matter and her smiles only furthered to support said stirrings.

“Did you notice the book?”

Niall turned his head to the woman, but avoided eye contact.

“A few years back, she had the habit of attaching a book to her in all forms of events. Social and non. She--,” The widow placed a gloved hand to her lips to quell her giggle, “I caught her once whist she dropped her book and the aggregate of twigs and leaves hoarded there was a sight.”

Although distracted by her other attributes, he did find the swell of her book a peculiarity.

“I see,” Niall gave permission for the woman to relinquish her giggles.

“Does she often venture here?” He slipped.

Any remaining giggles were expelled in weak coughs. “Possibly. I know she often spends her time in nature, but her home is five lots south from here.”

His upper lip twitched. “Such lengths without a chaperone? Perhaps it would be more responsible of her to keep to her lot.”

“She did have her hound.”