The Mysterious Howling: Chapters 1–2

Perhaps that explains why Miss Lumley, despite her inability to remember the capital of Norway and her reluctance to muss her hair by leaning her head against the back of her seat, had finally succumbed to the soothing sway and rumble of the train.

The conductor stood in the aisle next to her seat and spoke a bit louder than he normally would, in order to be heard over the screechy din of the train’s brakes being applied.

In fact, the competence and dedication of the young conductor would soon come to the attention of his superiors, who would waste no time offering the stalwart fellow a promotion.

In fact, the competence and dedication of the young conductor would soon come to the attention of his superiors, who would waste no time offering the stalwart fellow a promotion.

Over the years, he would work his way up through the ranks and eventually become Chief Locomotive Officer, a position that would render him modestly well-to-do and a perfectly well-liked chap to all who knew him.

Over the years, he would work his way up through the ranks and eventually become Chief Locomotive Officer, a position that would render him modestly well-to-do and a perfectly well-liked chap to all who knew him.

He saw how the rapidly receding Miss Lumley stood unmoving among the great puffs of steam, the blood-curdling scream of the wheels singing high over the melancholy tenor of the train whistle and the deep bass roar of the engine.

Luckily, she knew better than to brood about such things.

These pithy kernels of truth were not unlike those you might find inside the fortune cookies at a Chinese restaurant—although you can be sure that neither Agatha Swanburne nor Miss Lumley had ever set foot in such an establishment.

Agatha Swanburne, Miss Lumley felt quite sure, would not succumb to nervous fits simply because she was standing alone on a train platform in a strange town with all her meager worldly goods around her, wishing that she had never had to leave her beloved school to make her own way in the world.

Miss Lumley had graduated (a year early and at the top of her class, it should be said), and there was no longer any room for her at the academy, “what with the constant influx of Poor Bright Females waiting for a spot to open up!”

Imagine: A studious-looking girl of fifteen, primly dressed, perched on a large, battered trunk and reading a well-thumbed volume of obscure poetry—what tableau could more perfectly match what any reasonable person might expect a young governess to look like?

Imagine: A studious-looking girl of fifteen, primly dressed, perched on a large, battered trunk and reading a well-thumbed volume of obscure poetry—what tableau could more perfectly match what any reasonable person might expect a young governess to look like?

Imagine: A studious-looking girl of fifteen, primly dressed, perched on a large, battered trunk and reading a well-thumbed volume of obscure poetry—what tableau could more perfectly match what any reasonable person might expect a young governess to look like?

In spite of her youth, he addressed her with all the deference due a professional educator.

Could it truly have been only a week since that fateful day?

Penelope found his imagery quaint, if a tad unoriginal, but knew better than to say so.

Startled by the sudden rise of a flock of geese from the roadside, the horses had broken into a canter. The coachman quickly pulled them back to a steady trot.

Penelope and Lady Constance converse to the accompaniment of strange noises.

But then, just when it seemed the excitement had reached a fever pitch from which you might never recover, the tedious ordeal of waiting in a long line for the bathroom may have suddenly made you so bored that you wished you were home in bed with the flu.

Dutifully she admired the golden-tipped canopy of leaves and observed how the sunlight could penetrate only here and there, dappling a lush undergrowth of ferns.

Some of these she could identify even from a distance: Hart’s-tongue ferns, cinnamon ferns, and some with attractive crinkled edges she thought were called corrugated ferns or, if they weren’t, ought to be.

Penelope had read several novels about such governesses in preparation for her interview and found them chock-full of useful information, although she had no intention of developing romantic feelings for the charming, penniless tutor at a neighboring estate. Or—heaven forbid!—for the darkly handsome, brooding, and extravagantly wealthy master of her own household.

Lord Fredrick Ashton was newly married in any case, and she had no inkling what his complexion might be.

Lord Fredrick Ashton was newly married in any case, and she had no inkling what his complexion might be.

However, she took the interruption as a reminder that wallowing in self-pity, even in the privacy of her own mind, was not the Swanburne way.

Instead, she cheered herself with the idea that she might soon have three pupils of her own to teach, to mold, and to imbue with the sterling values she felt so fortunate to have acquired at school.

Instead, she cheered herself with the idea that she might soon have three pupils of her own to teach, to mold, and to imbue with the sterling values she felt so fortunate to have acquired at school.

These were the cottages in which the servants lived, and where the blacksmith, tinsmith, and tanner plied their trades.

The coachman brought the carriage straight to the front of the house and assisted his passenger brusquely to the ground.

She jangled the large ring of keys she wore at her waist and gave Penelope an appraising look.

Still, it was impossible to ignore the sheer size and quantity of the rooms, the plushness of the carpets underfoot, the curtains of sumptuous velvet, the way the woodwork shone with the burnished glow of a dark jewel.

Still, it was impossible to ignore the sheer size and quantity of the rooms, the plushness of the carpets underfoot, the curtains of sumptuous velvet, the way the woodwork shone with the burnished glow of a dark jewel.

“Have a seat there by the window, dear. The air will refresh you. You must be starved! There’s tea at hand, but now that you’re here I’ll bring up a tray of sandwiches in case you feel peckish. Speaking for myself, I can’t travel more than a half mile from home without taking some refreshment, and here you’ve come all the way from who knows where—”

She sat back pertly in her chair and folded her hands, as if she were the one in need of a job.

“Oh!” Lady Constance trilled a strange, forced laugh. “Let us not talk about the children just yet.”

Lady Constance stirred her tea again with vigor, although the sugar had long since dissolved.

“Forgive me! Of course you need to know the terms. I am utterly hopeless with numbers, but Lord Ashton drew this up for your perusal before he left for business this morning.”

She was suddenly dizzy and thought this must be what people meant when they said that a person was “in shock.” But she managed to stand up, and Lady Constance impulsively took her right hand in both of her own.

“Miss Lumley,” she said, “may I have your solemn oath that you will embrace the position of governess and fulfill its duties from this day forward? I would hate to endure the crushing disappointment I would feel, if you should suddenly change your mind.”