Influences of Stars

Chapter 8

"If you are to work within my household, then you will vow to be good and mind God in everything you do, both here and in the rest of your life. I shan't have you bringing in sin to darken my home, do you understand?"

Charis felt as if she was heard this whilst he held her underwater. There was a calmness to the house that dulled the noise like water may do and the view of the house seemed somewhat blurred.

"Yes, sir," Charis said. She did not look at him as she promised this, for he bid her not to. Instead he demanded she get down on her knees and pray to God to give her the strength she needed to maintain her vow.

Obadiah Yeardley was a tired yet handsome looking gentleman of fifty years old. There was a loneliness about him that did not simply manifest from the recent loss of his wife. As long as Charis could remember, a black halo clouded his hair, draining his face of a smile unless it was instigated and contaminating his eyes with a soullessness.

However, he spoke with softness and with God's presence etched into each word. He comforted and guided the town when he could, standing as a figure of Christian morality. Yet there was a temper to him; many had seen his outrages in the church, condemning any accused for their corruption. He had been seen beating men in the town before their trial; to many, he was the decider of morality itself. Mr Yeardley enforced judgement with a strength. He kept his children locked away from he corruption of the outside world. Now that his wife had passed, he needed a maid to maintain this until he remarried.

Tibby said it was an adventure- an opportunity to see the best kept secret in all Rowley Bridge. What were the Yeardley children truly like and why were they shut themselves away from the world? However, Charis did not see an adventure in everything she did. She simply saw work that needed to be done to care for her family's wellbeing.

Obadiah gave Charis no further instruction. He left her with the expectation that she discover what she must do and complete it before the end of the day. He resigned himself to a room at the edge of the house where he managed the dealings of the farm, never practically handling it himself. Sometimes he would send Charis with instructions to the overseer of the town; she became a vessel through which he communicated with his people.

Strangely, she felt more awake than she had done for so long. At first she thought it was because he didn't allow her to leave, meaning she did not move from spending all day on housework to running about the woods with her friends for hours until the brink of sleep. Instead, she did her worked, prayed in silence and went to bed.

However, soon she realised that it was his eyes which kept her awake. She feared doing any wrong for there was an omniscience about him that trapped her into alertness. It jumped within her chest. She tried to calm it through any distraction, but it built up once more whenever she heard his smooth voice which cut like a wave crashing against the surface of the sea, breaking its steady rhythm.

"Miss Wiley," he said to her nearing the end of her first week. She hated hearing her name in his mouth. It sounded corrupted, as if she had done something wrong. "You may attend church with your family and have the rest of the afternoon free." She let out a breath of relief, then in her calming hindsight wondered why his voice always sounded so accusing.

"Thank you, sir," she said. She afflicted her voice with breathless gratitude. She knew already that his sensibilities were moved by excess appeals.

"You're most welcome." He smiled at her. It was such a kind smile that she couldn't help but smile back. The moment she did, he said, "Do not be coy, child. It doesn't become you. Remember true modesty."

She returned to graveness. She bowed from the room and felt like dying of shame. How could she have been so careless in her mannerisms, presuming to smile at a sincere gentleman such as Mr Yeardley? Such casualness was coarse and she prayed for him to look over her misdemeanour, yet dared not to apologise in case he had already forgotten.