Chapter Text
Six children in need of a governess who is kind, clever, and well read.
Olivia Caliban had spotted the very short, to the point advertisement and had been curious, but hadn’t had need to think it over; she had a fine job, one where she was very happy at her father’s bookstore. She’d been having such a lovely morning when she’d spotted the request, just nestled under an advertisement looking for new nurses at a hospital, among other things. She’d dismissed it all without a thought, finished her breakfast, and went to work.
Three hours later, she was out of a job.
She’d fought long and hard to keep the bookstore – it had been her father’s when he’d passed, and as Olivia had been his only child she had inherited it. That hadn’t sat well with the solicitors and despite her parents’ strict instructions that the shop was to go to no one else but her, Olivia had been unkindly outed with the excuse that she was not a male heir, and could do nothing to keep the property. She’d said very unkind words, but in the end had been forced to pack her meager belongings from the flat above the shop, and find a new source of income. And home.
She was determined she would have the shop back. Even if she had to spend years earning the money back. The money that had belonged to her father was untouchable now, and the thought made her all the more angry. None the less, Olivia Caliban would not be left out in the cold. She was strong, independent, and had excellent references.
The advertisement had stared her back in the face until she’d caved during a quick bite at a corner deli, half curious and half needy. She had never been much of a tutor or governess, but she thought the other qualifications listed fit her perfectly. She’d hastily scribbled the address down, and set off at once. It was a house and a job all in one, and even if she worried perhaps the children would be absolute terrors, she would be brave and noble and do her very best.
The noise of the mid-afternoon surrounded her as she walked down the sidewalk, trying to avoid the others out for a stroll or clearly in a hurry, judging by their paces. Carriages rolled by on the cobbled street, street merchants calling out to sell fruit or pies, candy or salted meats – it was an atmosphere Olivia had grown used to over the years until it became little more than background noise on her walk. The city was always so terribly busy; she fancied taking a trip to the country just to hear nothing. Clearly that would be put off for some indeterminable amount of time, given her finances were now very slim. She could hear everything perfect that particular morning, however, each shout and hit of a shoed foot, her senses hyper-aware. The city was loud, and it made her miss her quiet flat above the bookshop all the more. Things were never quite so loud in a place with books.
She turned a corner onto the listed street, glancing up at the buildings. They were fine structures, houses that Olivia felt for a moment she had no business being at. Her parents had been well off and she’d never wanted for much of anything growing up. Yet these elegantly styled homes seemed quite beyond her bringing up. Perhaps it would be best to turn around and find another position interviewing. Surely she would be so far out of her element among this sort, the types to host the glamourous parties and social gatherings Olivia did her best to avoid.
Six children in need of a governess who is kind, clever, and well read.
Well-read governesses were hard to find, though . . . she’d hate for bright-minded youth to suffer in their educations because they ended up with a governess who was not at all clever. Or kind. Olivia fancied herself kind; she tried to be, at the very least. Most never noticed her, so it was rather easy. The few social functions she’d attended Olivia had very happily stood to the back of the room, nursing punch and waiting until it would be a polite time to excuse herself and go home.
No. She could do this.
She needed this.
The house listed was somewhat nondescript, at least on the outside. It looked like every other home on the street, large and well kept. It looked inviting, at the very least. Yes. She could do this. Olivia gathered her skirts in one hand and took the steps with only the tiniest bit of hesitation and a worrying feeling in the pit of her stomach. She felt so far out of her element, awash in a vast sea of unknown. But Olivia Caliban is brave.
At least, she tries to be.
As she raised her hand to ring the bell, the door swung open with a sudden fierceness that Olivia took a step back. Thankfully, because a woman her own height with a pile of blonde hair and a dark expression swept from the front door. Olivia was nearly knocked over as the woman stomped down the steps with as much dramatic flair she could manage, and hauled herself into a waiting carriage at the curb. It happened so quickly Olivia had only half a second to process it before the carriage took off down the street.
Well then.
“May I help you?”
There’s an older girl standing in the doorway, looking unbothered at the woman who’s just left in such a hissy fit befitting someone of the age of four. The girl’s face is kind, dark hair pulled back into a ribbon and wearing a dress the colour of lavender. Olivia blinked.
“Ah, yes? I was responding to the posting in the newspaper . . . ?”
The girl smiled warmly, and stepped aside.
“Please, come in.”
She obeyed, stepping into a grand entryway that was as warm and inviting as it was beautiful. It looked lived in, not cold and sterile like some houses she’d been inside of. The girl headed down a hallway and Olivia assumed she is meant to follow, so she does. Vaguely she tried to peer into other rooms, curious, but in the end she’d been too worried about being lost if she didn’t pay attention to the way the girl was headed. She turned into a room off the main hall and when Olivia made the same turn, she is both surprised and awed to find herself in a very well stocked library.
She’s struck by the sudden melancholy that she’s without her books. All of them had been so carefully and lovingly stored at the bookshop. The solicitors had not allowed her to take them, and it had very nearly broken her heart.
Seeing so many books in one place helped heal the hole in her heart just a margin of an inch.
“I’m Violet,” The girl from before spoke and Olivia realized she’d been staring at the shelves, not her host. She finds there are five other children in the room of varying ages, and suddenly she felt like she were facing solicitors all over again. Young solicitors. With slightly kinder faces.
“These are my siblings, Klaus and Sunny.” She gestured to the dark haired boy, who had a small toddler in his lap. “And Isadora, Quigley, and Duncan.” The three near identical children were wedged together on a sofa, staring at Olivia with such scrutiny that it made her worry immediately.
“It’s lovely to meet you.” Olivia smiled, despite such. “Olivia Caliban.”
It’s then she also comes to the realization that none of them are adults in any sense of the word. She has yet to see any adult, except the dramatic woman who’d run out the front.
“You responded to our newspaper advertisement for the governess position?” The one girl, Isadora, asked politely and Olivia nodded.
“I did. I admit entirely I’ve never been a governess before, but I like to read, and introduce wonderful books to others as much as I can.”
“Are you trustworthy?”
Olivia’s brows knitted together at Klaus; what a strange question for a boy.
“Yes? I mean, I’ve never given anyone a reason not to trust me. I keep secrets that are told to me. I’ve never turned my back on someone who needs me. I, ah, I have a list of references and some of my other qualifications if you’d like.” She said and withdraws the freshly crisp and written paperwork she’d hastily put together over lunch. She offered out copies to each of them before returning to the spot she’d been standing before. Silence settled as they read, and Olivia let her gaze drift back to the shelves. The books look to be a mix of old and new, some so aged she couldn’t make out the titles on the worn spines. Their condition still looked better than some, and Olivia was quietly impressed they’ve had such a loving caretaker – or caretakers, her mind adds with a glance back over to the six children who apparently have placed such a strange advertisement.
Perhaps she wasn’t so entirely out of place after all.
“Your mother seemed upset.” She said, for all her attempts at casual conversation. Each of them looked at her confused, before the youngest of them all, Sunny, interrupted.
“Fashion!”
“What my sister means to say is that woman is not our mother.” Klaus frowned, and Olivia didn’t miss the dark expression that colored their faces. “We don’t even like her.”
“We don’t have parents.” Violet added, quieter and Olivia felt her stomach and heart both lurch. “They died. All four of them in separate fires.”
“Certainly you don’t live here alone?” Olivia asked before she could stop herself, concern evident in her tone. She can’t imagine six children in a house like this, alone and uncared for.
“No, we have a guardian. But he put us in charge of finding ourselves a teacher and governess.”
Had their guardian so clearly forsaken them to such a point? That these children were forced to find a proper educator and care-er on their own? Olivia felt a sudden surge of what she could only assume to be maternal instinct to the children. Surely they weren’t old enough to be on their own in a house so large without someone older for company and care.
“Your guardian isn’t home?” She asked, delicately, mindful of her word choosing. She still needed this job, and already she wanted to protect these children. She could see it in their eyes, the sheer maturity forced upon them. No chance to be proper children.
“His work takes him away suddenly here or there.” Duncan said, and Olivia noted how cautious he was being in his own phrasing. “It’s why we’ve in need of someone like you.”
“Oh. Of course.” She didn’t feel like putting her own foot anymore further into her mouth, as the expression went, so Olivia snapped it shut and cast her gaze down to the aged floors covered in decorated rugs. It was a well used room, clearly, judging from the furniture marks on the wood and the clear threadbare spots on the rugs visible from the daylight filtering in the arching windows behind the children. The candles in their spots along the wall looked nearly burned to the nubs, used up entirely with wax dripping along the edges. Very well lived in. The whole house gave off the vibe; perhaps it wouldn’t be a bad position at all. Especially if she had access to such an extensive collection of books. Perhaps one of them would give her answers on how to legally obtain her bookshop back. At the very least, her flat and the books she had been forced to abandon.
“Do you have a favorite book?” Quigley asked suddenly, and Olivia snapped her gaze back to the other triplet. Her smile came unbidden – she could discuss such a topic in varying and vast amounts of length, and would so happily if given the chance.
“That’s a very loaded question for a librarian. Might you narrow it down to fiction or non, at the very least?”
“Your current favorite?”
“Idylls of the King by Alfred, Lord Tennison. The retelling of the legends in poetry brings it to life in a way I can’t put into words, and his clear written commentary on the present day climate within certainly makes one think.”
There was a pause, and Olivia worried that perhaps she’d said the wrong thing – but it was better to be honest in interviews, was it not? It was her current favorite at the very least; she often cycled through several favorite books every few months, depending on her current situation and what genre she happened to be picking through at the time.
"What do you consider important in learning?" Duncan asked. Olivia felt as if she were being questioned by a panel of detectives.
"That one should learn as much as possible, but not just from lessons. The world as well. One never quite stops learning, in my opinion."
"How do you feel about Isadora and Violet and Sunny learning the same as us?" Klaus asked next. Most girls received very little education, she knew. Olivia had been a rare exception and only because her father had taught her everything and more.
"I think it should be expected that girls are just as clever as boys and deserve to gain knowledge as much as any man. You should be tutored equally on all subjects."
"Would you be opposed to living here in the house?"
"I would prefer it, actually. A more stable household is a far better environment."
They seemed satisfied for a moment. Olivia crossed her fingers behind her back, willing that despite the rather hellish start to her day, she might find a moment of relief for being hired as a governess to six very kind, clever, and well-read children. The six exchanged looks, communicating without speaking in a way Olivia was almost jealous of. Almost. The bond of siblings and friends was never something she'd had all her own.
“How soon can you start?” Violet asked suddenly, glancing at the other children. Olivia blinked.
“Um, immediately? I’m – I have no other commitments.” Or a house.
“Perfect.” Isadora beamed, and stood from the overstuffed sofa. “You’re hired, Ms. Caliban.”
“You don’t want to consult your guardian?”
“As we said, he gave us full permission.” Klaus replied. “He’ll be home later tonight, to meet you.”
Olivia nodded, wringing her hands on a frayed edge of her sleeve; a nervous habit.
“I have on request, if I am to accept.”
“Of course.”
Olivia smiled for the first time genuinely that day, glancing at the children each in turn. Their warm faces. The sharpness of the world reflected in their eyes.
“You must call me Olivia.”