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Jillian Dare: A Novel
by Melanie M. Jeschke

Published: 2009-06-01
Paperback : 284 pages
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They’re from two different worlds. Can love unite them? Things are looking up for Jillian Dare. She’s left her Shenandoah Valley foster home behind and is striking out on her own. Thrilled to land a job as a nanny at a large country estate in the rolling foothills of Virginia,, she is ...
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Introduction

They’re from two different worlds. Can love unite them? Things are looking up for Jillian Dare. She’s left her Shenandoah Valley foster home behind and is striking out on her own. Thrilled to land a job as a nanny at a large country estate in the rolling foothills of Virginia,, she is enthralled with the beauty of her new home, her young charge Cadence Remington , and frequent travel to the Remington family castle in England. But just as Jillian begins to feel at home, she meets  her handsome but moody employer, Ethan. In spite of herself, Jillian realizes she might be falling for her boss.

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Excerpt

Life is full of surprises: some kissed by joy, others
stabbed by sorrow. My own life had experienced more
of the latter in its brief span. I was, therefore, embarking
on a new job and a new situation with an ambivalence
borne of hopeful anticipation and cautious dread.
The first surprise on my journey was the deer that suddenly
leaped out of the woods and across the roadway. I
slammed on the brakes just in time to avoid hitting it. I must
confess that my fear of auto accidents borders on phobic.
My little Honda Civic lurched and stalled.
“Great,” I muttered as I fiddled with the ignition, and
then I looked up. I sucked in my breath and exhaled loudly.
“Oh my . . .”
Emerging from the tree-lined boulevard across a vast
lawn, Carter Plantation sprawled before me—a gracious
three-storied brick Federal mansion with a portico sup-
ported by white Doric columns. On either side of the central
building spread identical two-storied wings in that perfect
balance typical of the Georgian style.
What wasn’t typical was the sheer size of it all. I couldn’t
recall ever seeing such a large house before—and I was on
my way to work there. I had accepted a job as a nanny to
Cadence Remington, a little toddler of thirteen months, an
age I felt perfectly competent to manage. But this enormous
house was more than I had bargained for. The image of Julie
Andrews as Maria in The Sound of Music, cowed by her first
glimpse of the von Trapp mansion, flashed into my mind.
As I slipped my car into gear, I tentatively and then more
boldly sang Maria’s tune, “I have confidence in confidence
alone!”
Driving up to the mansion, I recalled my job interview
at the Strasbourg Inn just a week earlier when I had met a
small elderly woman with soft white wooly hair and bright
blue eyes. She looked as huggable as a lamb and smelled
faintly of lilacs.
“You must be Jillian,” she had said warmly, extending her
hand.
I had grasped it firmly. “Mrs. Remington?” I asked with
some confusion.
She laughed lightly—her laughter had a pleasant musical
sound like wind chimes. “No, dear. I’m Mrs. Carter. I
should have introduced myself. I’m Elise, Ethan Remington’s
aunt.”
I hadn’t meant to frown, but I must have looked puzzled
because Mrs. Carter added, “Ethan asked me to conduct the
interview for him today. His work keeps him very busy. He’s
the founder and CEO of his own international company—
Remington Telecommunications or RemTel—you’ve heard
of it?”
I nodded.
“Much of his business is in the UK, so he travels quite a
lot. His father was British, and the Remingtons still own an
estate over in England.”
This explained the enticing part of the job description I
had read at the agency, calling for a nanny willing to travel to
England. That was what had really appealed to me, a young
woman who had never been farther away than the beaches
of Delaware but who had, nevertheless, procured a passport
just in case the opportunity to travel presented itself.
“You see,” she continued to explain, “both of his parents
have passed on, so everything has fallen on him. But with
his business to run and two estates to manage, he really can’t
do it all on his own. It’s just too much. That’s why I’m tasked
with the interview.”
“And Mrs. Remington?”
Mrs. Carter shook her head mournfully. “I’m sorry to say
Mrs. Remington is no longer with us.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I murmured. How dreadful for Mr.
Remington to have lost so many loved ones! “That’s so sad for
him and for his daughter.”
“Yes, yes, it is very sad. A terrible business.” She sighed
heavily. “It’s a mercy the baby is so young and doesn’t know
any better. Poor Ethan has been a single father practically
since she was born, which is why we must have a full-time
nanny. I’m just getting too old to be chasing a toddler around
the house all day.”
Mrs. Carter brightened. “Now if you decide to take the
job, your contract states you will have afternoons and three
evenings a week off, plus a full weekend every month. I’ll try
to give you lots of privacy, and I think you’ll find your rooms
quite nice. And you should know that Ethan is very generous
to his staff. He’ll pay your social security, health insurance,
and your travel expenses. And he’ll put money in an IRA
for you too. We’ll have the month trial period, but I do hope
you’ll be happy with us and everything works out.”
She paused and went on cautiously, “I thought Caroline,
our former nanny, was happy, but then she quit quite suddenly.
I’m not sure why, but it left us high and dry.”
“It all sounds perfect to me,” I said. “But, Mrs. Carter, I’m
sure you’d like to ask me some questions first.”
“Oh yes, yes, of course. Now let me see . . .” She rummaged
around in an enormous black handbag until she pulled out
a crumpled piece of paper. “Here it is!” She laughed as if
delighted with a wonderful discovery. “All of Ethan’s questions.”
And with that, Mrs. Carter conducted the interview and
promptly hired me for a one-month trial period, which
brought me to this moment of singing, “I have confidence in
me!” as I pulled up to the portico of the mansion. I breathed
a silent prayer, mounted the stairs with all the confidence I
could muster, and rang the bell. I endured a very long wait
while that confidence began to evaporate.
Suddenly the door swung wide and there stood Mrs. Elise
Carter.
“Jillian!” she cried. “Do come in. I’m sorry to keep you
waiting so long. We rarely use this door. We all park around
back near the kitchen and come in that way.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, Mrs. Carter. I can move my car.”
“No, no. We can take care of that later. I’ll ask Jack to move
it and carry your things to your rooms. Now please come
in and make yourself at home.” She stepped back for me to
enter and opened her arms in greeting. “Welcome to Carter
Plantation, Jillian! We’re so glad you’re here.”
“Thank you so much. I’m very happy to be here.”
“Do you need to freshen up, my dear? There’s a powder
room just down the hall. And after that, could I get you
something to drink? Some sweet tea, perhaps?”
I gratefully accepted both offers and was astonished that
Mrs. Carter bustled about until I was comfortably sipping
iced tea on the veranda under the portico roof. I wasn’t
certain what to expect on my arrival at Carter Plantation,
but I hadn’t expected to be treated as a guest.
Mrs. Carter settled into a wicker chair opposite mine.
“There now. I love to sit out here when the weather’s nice.
Isn’t this a grand view?”
I agreed that it was. The prospect looked over the gently
sloping lawn to the boulevard lined with trees sporting their
autumn cloaks of scarlet and orange against a brilliant azure
sky. The periwinkle shadows of the Blue Ridge Mountains
loomed in the distance beyond the rolling hills of Fauquier
County in northern Virginia. Although it was October, the
bright sun of an Indian summer afternoon spread along the
veranda, and I lifted my face gratefully to its warmth.
“I never tire of this view,” Mrs. Carter said cheerfully as
she sipped her tea. “I was so blessed to marry into the Carter
family. You know, Carter Plantation has been in this family
for generations—ever since Robert ‘King’ Carter was
granted about half of Virginia from King George II back in
the colonial days.”
Now I really was confused. “I thought Mr. Remington . . .”
Mrs. Carter’s laughter chimed. “Oh, the estate does belong
to Mr. Remington now, but it’s still in the Carter family. You
see, my sister-in-law was Ethan’s mother. His full name is
Ethan Carter Remington. Sadly, my dear husband and I were
never blessed with children. So when George passed away, he
willed the house to Ethan. But since Ethan travels so much,
he’s happy to leave me in charge here. And of course, he wants
me here to look after Cadence while he’s away.”
“Mrs. Carter,” I asked, “what is Cadence like? Could you
please tell me a little more about her?”
“Oh yes! She’s a darling, precious little girl.” Her face lit up.
“Very precocious and curious and absolutely delightful. She’s
very energetic, though, and I just can’t keep up with her—
even with Jack and his wife, Marta, to help. But Cadence is
the joy of my life! Really, of everyone’s life, especially Ethan’s.
My, how he dotes on her! By the way, Cadence is napping
now. So you arrived at just the right time, because I’m quite
at leisure to show you around the house.”
Mrs. Carter rose, and I followed her about the mansion,
trying to process all the information she poured forth as
well as to orient myself so I would not lose my way later.
The Carters had fastidiously maintained the integrity and
elegance of the original Federal era structure. The more modern
additions had every contemporary convenience without
compromising the overall architectural harmony.
I could barely contain my delight when shown my own
set of rooms. My own rooms! And not just one—but a suite
complete with private bath, sitting room, and fully equipped
kitchenette. Although I could enter the apartment from the
main house, I also had my own separate entrance, which
opened on to a patio overlooking the gardens in the back.
“We hope you’ll take most of your meals with the family,”
Mrs. Carter was saying as I ran my hand over the shining
teakettle in the kitchenette. “But if you prefer not to, especially
on your evenings off, we’ve tried to make everything
as comfortable as possible for you. Whatever suits you. By
the way, Ethan has everything wired so that you have your
own cable television and a laptop computer.” She paused for
a moment then asked almost anxiously, “So, Jillian, how do
you like it?”
How could I explain to this sweet woman, who was so
eager to please, that I could be satisfied with very little?
Having grown up in a progression of foster homes, I had
never had a room of my own—let alone an apartment. I
looked around the cheerful, well-appointed au pair suite
and exclaimed truthfully, “Oh, Mrs. Carter, I love it!”
“I’m so glad.” She beamed at me with genuine pleasure.
“There’s one more thing. Let me show you how the security
alarm works.” Leading me over to a control panel, she demonstrated
how to check that the system was operating.
I paid close attention. I was accustomed to living out in the
country, but in the Shenandoah Valley, even the wealthiest
people seldom locked their doors, and I mentioned something
to that effect.
“I know, I know,” Mrs. Carter replied. “We didn’t lock our
doors either when I lived here all those years with George.
But after those teenagers murdered that doctor up in Loudoun
County, Ethan insisted on putting in this system. If
anyone tampers with the doors or windows, the police are
automatically alerted. I suppose since he’s gone so much, he
worries about little Cadence.”
She glanced down at her wristwatch. “Now we just have
time for you to meet the household staff.”
She led the way to the kitchen and introduced me to
Jack and Marta Thornfield, an affable couple in their late
fifties or early sixties, who managed the house and grounds
and lived across the yard in a renovated cottage beside the
garage and stables. Jack stood tall and wiry while Marta
was plump and doughy. Jack Spratt and his wife—that’s
the mental image I could hang his name on. But Marta
would be harder to remember. Mrs. Carter interrupted
my thoughts, explaining that a cleaning crew as well as
a gardener came in several times a week for the heavier
chores.
As we chatted in the kitchen, a handsome black Labrador
retriever rose from his bed near the stone fireplace and approached
me, wagging his tail with friendly curiosity. He
sniffed my shoes and I held out the back of my hand for him
to investigate before venturing to pet him.
“This is Ranger, Ethan’s dog,” Mrs. Carter said.
“He’s beautiful,” I murmured as I ran my hand over his
thick coat. “I love labs. They’re so good-natured.”
“Seems you meet with his approval too. I’m glad you
like dogs. But we should finish our tour. It’s time you met
Cadence.”
I followed her back to my wing of the house and the
nursery suite next door to mine. She tapped lightly on the
closed door and opened it to a playroom painted in bright
primary colors. A pretty teenaged girl with straight shoulderlength
blond hair slouched on a sofa. She looked up from
her reading as we entered.
“Hello, Corinne,” Mrs. Carter cheerfully greeted the
girl. “Meet our new nanny, Jillian Dare. Jillian, this is our
babysitter, Corinne Cooke. She comes over every weekday
afternoon during the baby’s naptime and keeps an eye on
her until supper. That will give you a few hours every day
to yourself.”
“Hi, Corinne,” I said. “Nice to meet you.”
Corinne eyed me. Did I note a look of disdain or was it just
bored indifference? I guessed she wouldn’t be very impressed
with my lack of stylishness. Although I was only a few years her
senior, I had tamed my curly waist-length light brown hair by
braiding it and twisting it into a neat bun. I had also carefully
chosen my outfit to reflect a serious, mature professional. I
wore a long gray jersey skirt and a modest royal blue sweater
set, which would enhance the blue of my eyes. I’m never sure
how to fill in the blank on forms requesting the color of my
eyes. They are an indeterminate and constantly shifting color—
gray, green, or blue. Like the color of the sea that reflects the
sky, my eyes reflect what I’m wearing.
The babysitter grunted a return greeting and gathered up
her schoolbooks, which had been scattered over the couch.
“Should I wake up Cadence now?” she asked.
Mrs. Carter checked her watch. “Yes, dear. Why don’t you?
If she naps too late, we’ll never get her to sleep tonight. Plus
I’d like for Jillian to meet her.”
While Corinne went into the adjoining room to wake the
child, Mrs. Carter pointed out the amenities of the nursery
suite. The layout was identical to mine with a kitchenette, but
entirely childproofed and looking much like a well-equipped
preschool. The playroom contained a child-sized table and
chairs, a flat-screen television with a DVD player, and organized
bins and shelves full of toys, puzzles, books, and craft
supplies. Evidently a tremendous amount of thought and
care had gone into designing this nursery suite.
Mrs. Carter mentioned that Mr. Remington’s rooms connected
to Cadence’s bedroom, just as mine connected to the
nursery sitting room.
“He likes to be able to check on her easily when he’s home,
but unfortunately he does travel a lot. You have a monitor in
your apartment so that you can hear her if she should wake in
the middle of the night, and we also have monitors throughout
the house. Ah, here is our little darling!” she exclaimed
as Corinne carried the toddler into the playroom.
And Cadence was a little darling—huge blue eyes, dark
curly hair, and pudgy cheeks. At first she shyly hid her face
in Corinne’s shoulder, but when she was put down it only
took a few minutes for her to warm up to me and to begin
to bring me toy “gifts,” plopping them in my lap.
She won my heart in no time, and I hoped that I would
quickly win hers. The expense and consideration that had
gone into her care made me wonder even more about her
father and when I would be introduced to him. My curiosity
about the owner of Carter Plantation would not be satisfied
for another two weeks—and even after I met him, Mr. Remington
remained a mystery to me for quite some time.
I actually first made his acquaintance in cyberspace. After
dinner and Cadence’s bedtime, I began to put away my few
belongings and acclimate myself to my new rooms. Beside
the computer, I discovered a set of instructions for activating
my “nanny” email account. When I logged in, I was surprised
to find two messages in the inbox. The first was from Ethan
[email protected], my boss and Cadence’s father.
“He likes to be able to check on her easily when he’s home,
but unfortunately he does travel a lot. You have a monitor in
your apartment so that you can hear her if she should wake in
the middle of the night, and we also have monitors throughout
the house. Ah, here is our little darling!” she exclaimed
as Corinne carried the toddler into the playroom.
And Cadence was a little darling—huge blue eyes, dark
curly hair, and pudgy cheeks. At first she shyly hid her face
in Corinne’s shoulder, but when she was put down it only
took a few minutes for her to warm up to me and to begin
to bring me toy “gifts,” plopping them in my lap.
She won my heart in no time, and I hoped that I would
quickly win hers. The expense and consideration that had
gone into her care made me wonder even more about her
father and when I would be introduced to him. My curiosity
about the owner of Carter Plantation would not be satisfied
for another two weeks—and even after I met him, Mr. Remington
remained a mystery to me for quite some time.
I actually first made his acquaintance in cyberspace. After
dinner and Cadence’s bedtime, I began to put away my few
belongings and acclimate myself to my new rooms. Beside
the computer, I discovered a set of instructions for activating
my “nanny” email account. When I logged in, I was surprised
to find two messages in the inbox. The first was from Ethan
[email protected], my boss and Cadence’s father.
Dear Miss Dare:
Welcome to Carter Plantation. I am pleased you have
decided to take care of my daughter and trust we will work
well together providing for her needs. I hope you have found
everything to your satisfaction. Please let me know if there
is anything lacking in your accommodation or provision. I
plan to return to Virginia in a fortnight’s time. In the meantime,
feel free to contact me via email with any questions or
concerns you may have. In case of emergency, you may call
my mobile phone. My aunt has the number.
Best regards,
Ethan Remington
Although his email was appropriately businesslike in tone,
I felt pleased that my new boss had been thoughtful enough
not only to provide me with a computer and email account
but also to be solicitous of my needs.
The second message also had the RemTel domain address.
The sender’s name appeared simply as CC. The subject line
read “Nanny.” Surprised, I decided I should open it. The
three words all in capital letters on the otherwise blank page
made my stomach flip.
WATCH YOUR BACK!
Instinctively, I whipped my head around. Of course, nobody
was there. How silly of me. But who would write such
a thing? And how did they have my address?
I rapidly hit the delete button and shut down the computer.
Rising quickly, I slipped through the connecting door
and crossed the nursery sitting room to check on Cadence.
She was sleeping soundly, and the baby monitor seemed to
be working properly. I locked her hallway door from the
inside, and when I returned to my suite, I locked mine as
well. Next, I tried the door to the outside patio to make sure
it too was securely locked. After checking that the security
alarm was working, I peered under the bed and in the closets
and opened the shower curtain.
While I dressed for bed, I puzzled over the mystery message.
Who could CC be? So far I’ve met only Marta, Jack, and
of course, Mrs. Carter. Could Elise Carter possibly be CC? She
hardly seems the type to send threatening emails. But was it
a threat or a warning? She mentioned that in the next county
some teenagers had killed a doctor. The thought of teenagers
brought the babysitter Corinne to mind. What’s her last
name? Cooke. Corinne Cooke. Could she be CC? And what
about the former nanny—Caroline? Then again, there must
be hundreds of employees who work for RemTel and have access
to their email account. But why would anyone send me
such a message?
My mind whirled and I tried to reason myself out of my
fears. Placing a flashlight and the phone within reach on my
bed table, I left on a nightlight and lay on my back with the
covers pulled up to my chin until I finally fell asleep.
... view entire excerpt...

Discussion Questions

At the beginning of the story, Jillian seems intimidated by her new surroundings. How does her confidence level change as the story progresses? What circumstances do you think contribute to this?

Jillian first meets Ethan Remington when he crashes his car in front of her. What was your first impression of Ethan? How did it change as the story progressed? What changes did his character undergo as the story progressed?

When Jillian first arrives at Carter Plantation, she begins receiving eerie emails from someone calling themselves “CC.” Who did you think was sending the mysterious emails? How do you think this affected Jillian’s feelings toward her new home and employer?

Ethan seems to take every moment he can spare to interact with his young daughter, Cadence. What do you think Ethan’s interactions with his daughter reveal about his character? Do they make him seem more or less sympathetic? What do you think a parent’s interaction with their child reveals about them?

When Jillian arrives at Keswick Hall in England, her relationship with Ethan changes. What circumstances contribute to that change? When does Jillian first realize she is in love with Ethan? When do you think Ethan first realizes he is in love with her?

Jillian encounters more than threatening emails during her stay at Keswick hall. Who did you think the Lady in White who appeared in the nursery door was? How would you have handled that situation?

After her mysterious encounter with the Lady in White, Jillian awakes that night to discover a fire in Ethan’s office. Who did you suspect set the fire? Did these mysterious circumstances make you suspect Ethan was not revealing something about his past?

After her arrival back at the Carter Plantation, how do you think Jillian’s feelings about her employer and her situation changed? Were you surprised by Ethan’s sudden marriage proposal? How would you have responded if you were in Jillian’s place?

When Ethan and Jillian travel back to England to make the final arrangements for their wedding, Ethan’s past returns to haunt him in a very hurtful way. How did you feel toward Ethan’s character after the fiasco in the dress shop? Do you think Ethan should have told Jillian about this part of his past sooner? What did you think of Jillian’s response? Would you have responded differently?

After Jillian’s traumatic trip to England, she seeks refuge with the children of her foster family, the Brookes. Did you see Jillian’s leaving as running away or a necessary step to distance herself from the situation? What would you have done in her place?

Jillian states a few different times that she felt like Ethan had become an idol in her life. In what ways did she put him on a pedestal? How do you think this contributed to the way she responded when Ethan revealed his past with Crystal? Have you ever put someone on a pedestal in your life with disastrous results?

After spending a summer with the Brookes’ children, Jillian is surprised to receive another marriage proposal from John Brookes. What were the key differences between his marriage proposal and Ethan’s? What did you think of John’s reasoning behind why he and Jillian should be married? What did you think of Jillian’s response?

When Jillian and Ethan are finally reconciled after his accident, how do you think their characters have changed? What lessons have they learned? How do those lessons affect their renewed relationship and eventual marriage?

What do you think of Jillian’s attitude toward the different circumstances that change her life throughout the book? How do you think her faith affects how she responds?

Notes From the Author to the Bookclub

Jillian Dare, a contemporary treatment of Jane Eyre, is intended as my homage to Charlotte Brontë’s classic. I’ll admit I have some qualms that my novel could provoke criticism from Brontë purists. However, this book was not written for the purists, but for three other types of readers. The first type--like me-- is the lover of the classics who enjoys contemporary adaptations and is intrigued by finding the similarities and differences with the original story, as well as by conjecturing how the author will work things out in a modern setting.  The second is the type who likes to read romantic suspense.  And the third is the person who has not yet read Jane Eyre. My great hope is that this reader will enjoy my novel enough to be inspired to read the original classic. I also hope that the story will encourage readers to extend compassion to those who have suffered through the tragedy of divorce. I love to hear from my readers, so please write to me at [email protected] or visit my website at www.inklingsauthor.com .

Warm regards,

Melanie Jeschke

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