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Wednesday, May 22, 2019

story time, or the cracked governess


by emily de villaincourt





it was a lovely cool spring morning, and alicia took her seat on the stone bench, eagerly awaiting the arrival of miss feathers, the young new governess, who had been favoring her with such amusing and thrilling stories since her arrival in the household a few weeks earlier.

presently miss feathers arrived, but with what alicia could not help feeling was a rather sullen and resentful look on her face.

“good morinng, miss feathers ” alicia greeted the young woman, “i hope you are well today.”


miss feathers seated herself beside alicia. “actually, i feel rather miserable,” she announced, and she followed this pronouncement with a most unseemly and unladylike yawn, for which she did not apologize.

“well,“ alicia responded uncertainly, “perhaps the story this morning will put you in a more favorable frame of mind. although, of course, “ she added with a smile, “you already know the end to it, being the teller of the tale.”

“there will be no story this morning,” miss feathers replied. “i am not in the mood for it.”


“what!” alicia cried. “what say, you, miss? what insolence is this?”

miss feathers turned and looked directly at alicia for the first time since taking her seat. “i am not inclined to do so, this morning, that is all. there is nothing to make a great fuss about. perhaps you could tell me a story, if you fancy it.”

“oh! but it is you who are being paid to tell me stories, miss, not i who am being paid to tell them to you. if you do not wish to fulfill the terms of your employment, i am afraid i shall have … to… tell my mother.”

“do what you will,” miss feathers replied with a shrug.


alicia was not sure how to proceed as getting up and going in search of her mother might seem a bit undignified on her part, but at that moment clod, the elderly third gardener and handyman came shuffling past, and alicia called to him.

“go to mrs benson, clod ” - mrs benson was the housekeeper - “and ask mrs benson to ask her ladyship to come here.”

“yes, miss.” clod plodded off.


miss feathers seemed in no way discomfited by all this. “tell me,” she asked alicia, when clod was out of sight, “do you believe in the end times?”

“the end times? why, i believe i have heard the vicar mention them in sunday services on occasion. why do you ask?”

“because the end times are here,” miss feathers said matter of factly.

“do you really think so?” alicia replied . “i shall ask the vicar about it, next sunday morning, if i think of it.”


lady isobel arrived, looking properly ferocious. “what is going on, alicia, that you must disturb my artfully prepared schedule in this manner?”

alicia explained in the situation in a halting manner, as miss feathers gazed into the distance with a small catlike smile.

“is this true, miss feathers?” lady isobel asked wearily.

“you might say that it is,” miss feathers replied, “though it seems a great fuss over a mere story to tell a child.”


“that is the hardly the point. i am sorry it has come to this , miss feathers. i understand, and thought to take pity, on your sad situation , brought about as it was by the unfortunate financial meltdown which has so devastated modern society, but which was itself, i am convinced, largely brought about by the very irresponsible attitude to the path of duty which you are now displaying - “

“do you want me to tell you a story?” miss feathers interrupted lady isobel.

“i am afraid the time for that has passed.”


“well, then i will not tell you a story, but i will tell you that you will see for yourself the ending to a story, this evening when the sun goes down. yes - ha ha! - this evening just before the sun goes down, go out on to the broad highway, lady isobel, and look down the road and you will see something - yes, you will see the end of a story indeed, ha ha ha ha!”

“very well. i am going to summon mrs benson, miss feathers, and she will give you a sedative, and then i must ask you to leave the premises, without, i hope, making it necessary to summon the constabulary - an event which would serve no good purpose to any one concerned.”


lady isobel turned on her heel and headed to the house without looking back. poor thing, she thought, she is quite cracked, though i do regret exposing my progeny to her. i suppose it is for the best that her sad mental state exposed itself as early as this.

all the same, lady isobel could not help feeling a slight trepidation as to what would happen that evening, when the sun went down.



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