20th January, 1890 — Evander’s House, Irvingly
Louisa Clearwater & Charity Lloyd

“Very good, Miss Clearwater,” Evander said, from where he was sitting across from her in the parlour. He ran through the list of interview questions he had duly prepared in his head, though found he had asked the potential governess all that he could think of. (He had done many interviews and questionings in his career, but never had he felt quite so out of depth in any as in this one.) “I am quite out of questions for you - so unless you have any? - I suppose I ought to introduce you to the charge you would be taking on.”

The interview had been cordial enough - Evander was certainly trying his best to be pleasant - for Miss Clearwater, as her references had predicted, came across quite as accomplished in person, and indeed so much better than the other candidate who had written that he was keen that it all go smoothly. Perhaps this was, in part, out of a slight edge of desperation: Charity had only been here a few days, but there had been so much to do and such a grand adjustment for them both that he had had to take the time off work to deal with it all, and he did not think he would feel well spending his days at the Ministry until Charity had someone like a governess to be with her (... for company as well as supervision, though he would not say it).

But, painstaking and pedantic as he would like to be in hiring anyone, Evander privately felt Miss Clearwater had known better what answers to give than he knew what to listen for... and compared to the other candidate who had written, some girl just out of school with little experience at all, Miss Clearwater was near faultless. Unfortunately, she was rather more prepossessing in looks than he had expected. This was bad because it did not discount the possibility she would one day still abandon her station to marry; this was worse because Evander was already finding himself distinctly uncomfortable at the idea of having to share the house with her.

But needs must. “Shall we?” He added as he stood, gesturing her to the open door so he could bring her upstairs to meet Charity (who was hopefully waiting in her room, the picture of a perfect angel).

---

Well, this is going about as well as it could, Evander was just insisting to himself - and then they succeeded in walking into each other. Or, indeed, he nearly ploughed into her when she came to an abrupt halt just beyond the doorway. A hand shot up and hovered at her shoulder for a split-second in instinct before he pulled it back and stepped away in a mirror of her movements, hoping he only looked half as embarrassed as she did when he probably felt doubly awkward about it. (It might be her interview, but awkwardness was, after all, a special talent of his.)

Nonetheless, she recovered herself quite gracefully and Evander hastened to make amends. “Oh - yes - quite right,” he assured her with a small attempt at a laugh, “that would be sensible, wouldn’t it?” With that, he stepped past her (with a little more care) towards the stairs. “This way,” he offered, grateful to go first and have the time it took to ascend the staircase to be sure his face was cleared of all embarrassment. And, he told himself, it was not as though one new person in the house (even after the last addition!) was possibly going to make it feel cramped - in fact, Evander had used to feel quite conscious of all the space he had that was never enough used - but still, it would be an... adjustment, at first.

“Just here,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a momentary smile, and then knocked on Charity’s door before stepping in and holding the door for the governess. “Miss Clearwater, this is Charity. Charity, Miss Clearwater.” Probably-to-be-your-governess Miss Clearwater. It was his decision, ultimately, of course; but Evander was quietly, privately, very much relying on Charity’s reaction today for some sort of assurance that Miss Clearwater really would be suitable.

---

To say Charity was excited about getting a governess would have been an understatement, because having a governess was one of those things that normal girls had and orphaned girls became. One of her first worries after her father had passed was that she'd be sent off to a girl's school rather than Hogwarts, and that, like so many of the poor girls in her story books, she'd have to earn her keep. But Uncle Evander was looking for a governess, which meant he cared about her education, which meant she'd likely go to Hogwarts, too—but that was something she would bring up anytime soon. She would have to prove that she was smart enough, first, which having a governess would help.

She knew one of the candidates would be interviewing today. She'd asked the housekeeper about it directly, and she'd—surprisingly—been given a straightforward response. She didn't know when, though, so she'd taken up a bit of light reading by the window. She was so deep into her book that she failed to notice the woman's arrival, and so invested in the plot that she jumped at the sudden rap on her door.

She hopped right to her feet at the sound of Uncle Evander's voice, because he didn't usually come to her room unless there was something important to talk about. The door had already opened by the time she reached it, and there she stood. She looked like a governess right out of her stories: stern, well put-together, yet pretty. Charity immediately envied her pretty blonde hair (which rested atop her head in a neat bun unlike Charity's unruly ringlets) but she smiled nevertheless.

"It is very good to meet you, Miss Clearwater," she said with an unceremonious curtsy. (Or should she have offered her hand? Did girls shake their governess' hands? Oh Lord, she really did need a governess.)

---

Now that it was Charity’s turn to meet her, Evander felt - well, ‘able to relax’ was a strong word, but he did marginally less under pressure, which gave him an opportunity to take a step back and take stock.

And survey Miss Clearwater more directly without being worried about her brisk blue-eyed stare focused on him as it had been when he had interviewed her downstairs. Now he watched as she greeted Charity with a curtsy and a gentle smile, supposing this was a sign she could be fair as well as stern, and not too intimidating a sight for a girl who had already been through enough upheaval in the last few weeks. No, Miss Clearwater had rather the serene, calming presence (- he certainly wasn’t flustered when she undoubtedly caught his gaze, and smiled back, no, not at all -) that he hoped might lend Charity a sense of stability.

“She’s very fond of reading - aren’t you?” Evander remarked hastily, so as to look as though he’d been listening and not just staring; he had needed to look to Charity for reassurance, not really able to presume beyond the books that had been bought for her bedroom bookshelf. He wanted the governess to know he cared for his ward’s wellbeing and interests and character, but the truth was that he scarcely knew his niece at all.

Hopefully that would change, in time. If she had a governess, at least she would have someone else to go to if she never ended up warming to him.

---

Her eyes flickered between her uncle and the governess, pleased to find no sign of disappointment or uncertainty in either's eyes (well, Uncle Evander always looked uncertain when it came to anything to do with her or her interest, but there was nothing notably worrying about the look on his face).

"I am fond of reading," she replied with a nod. Not too eager, not to slow, she reminded herself. She needed no reason to give the woman any doubts—not before Uncle Evander hired her. "I was trying to read The Iliad. It's very long, but I think I'm understanding it just fine," she explained with a curt nod.

---

Impressive, Miss Clearwater had said. Evander was very grateful merely to listen here, and take her word for it - he knew so little about children that age that he would accept her expertise, and feel relieved that Charity was such an exemplary child. He ought to have expected no less, really - Evelina had been accomplished in her youth, and had always been the more reasonable sibling, a safe middle ground between he and his brother. To be frank, most of what he heard about other children about his niece’s age were their explosive, inconvenient and often unsettling bouts of uncontrolled magic... so in comparison Charity seemed twice as accomplished.

And if she was reading the Iliad, well. (Though... was that not a little gory for a girl of her age? It was war, after all: he could not think of a book that contained more death.)

But as long as Miss Clearwater wasn’t faulting either of them for it, Evander was content to stand quietly and let the two of them converse. He was pleased that Charity thus far seem interested in books and learning at all - that was something they had in common. If she had already been at a stage where she talked of nothing but hair ribbons and fashion plates, he would truly have been in trouble.

---

Charity smiled brightly, but then her smiled faltered as she remembered, "Well, I do have a reading companion and a dictionary with me at all times. I like big words." She was not so smart, and it would be wrong (and potentially damaging) to give her potential governess the impression that she was so capable when she was not. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to read things aloud she barely understood!

"But my favorite part is when baby Astyanax is thrown to his death. It's very tragic." It helped her remind herself that her own life was not so terrible. Being tossed to her death as a babe would have been far worse than becoming an orphan—not that she would be here to compare the two fates if she had.

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