Jane Ashford (8 page)

“Don’t thrust her out of the house, Anne,” said her husband.

“Of course not! But you agree, do you not, that she should go soon?”

“I do. Business matters should be settled with dispatch.”

“Well, I mean to go soon,” responded Aggie. “Perhaps tomorrow.” But there was doubt in her voice. She did not really care when she went home, as long as she might see John Dudley beforehand.

With this in mind, she sat all morning in the drawing room. But no callers appeared. After luncheon, she walked out to the stream, remembering as she went all the occasions she had met Mr. Dudley there. But though she sat and tried to read for quite an hour, he did not come. Anxiously she hurried back to the house, thinking he must have called in her absence. But the butler told her that no one had come.

Puzzled, and a little hurt, Aggie climbed the stairs to her bedchamber and sat down in the window seat. Where could he be? He had been so eager to speak last night.

Brutus came over and began to claw his way up her skirts. Absently she picked him up and set him beside her. Then she looked down. “I shall send a note,” she told him positively.

“Rrroww,” answered Brutus, as Aggie got up and went to her writing desk.

The note was duly dispatched. Aggie had her valise brought up and began slowly to pack her things. She would have to go soon. She was just finishing her packing before changing for dinner when one of the maids brought in an envelope from Dudley.

Aggie tore it open and scanned the contents; then her face fell. The note said:

I regret that an unusual press of business prevents me from calling on you just now.

Be sure that I congratulate you heartily on your recent good fortune and wish you all the best for the future.

Sincerely,

John Dudley

Aggie read it again, frowning. What had happened to make him so stiff and cold? Why should he treat her this way?

She refolded the note and put it back in its envelope, slipping it into her valise. There was nothing to wait for now. She had stooped to summon him and been humiliated. She would leave for home tomorrow.

Thalia arrived in Bath after a full day on the road. The school at which she was to teach was on the outskirts of the town, and her carriage took her past the Pump Room and the fashionable shops on the way. She looked at them with interest, but without regret at the idea that she was unlikely ever to enter them. Since her childhood, Thalia had been more interested in books than in anything else, and she rather looked forward to trying to teach other girls this love.

The Chadbourne School was a large red brick building situated in its own extensive gardens near the edge of Bath. Thalia leaned out of the coach window to survey it as they drove up the drive. This would be her home for an unknown number of years. She had already heard a good deal about it, for Chadbourne was one of the most exclusive and best-known of the Bath seminaries. Here the girls were said to get the finest education available to them in England. Thalia’s green eyes were bright as she looked it over. She had no fears of failure, for she knew her abilities were great; she wondered only what sort of people she would meet and whether they would be pleasant companions and colleagues.

A footman opened the carriage door for her and helped her down. She saw her luggage unloaded, then walked up four steps and through the wide double doors of the entrance. In the hallway, a diminutive maid awaited her. She curtsied slightly and said, “Miss Chadbourne will see you now, miss. If you’ll come with me.”

Thalia followed her up one flight of stairs and down a corridor to an oak door. “Here we are, miss,” said the girl, and she opened the door onto a large, pleasant office/study, shutting it behind Thalia without coming in. The room was painted blue, and broad windows gave onto the front of the building and the side garden. Books covered the other two walls, even in shelves over the doorway, and there was a large table set before one of the windows with two blue velvet armchairs before it. Thalia liked the room immediately; she felt comfortable in it. And this disposed her to like the woman at the desk, who was now rising to greet her. This must be Miss Aurelia Chadbourne, the headmistress and descendant of the founder of the school.

The two women looked at one another frankly for a moment. Thalia saw a tall, slender, commanding woman with light gray eyes and brown hair. Miss Chadbourne was dressed quietly, but with an elegance that made Thalia the more aware of her own drab traveling dress and the braids wrapped around her head. “Good day, Miss Hartington,” said the older woman then. She did not smile. “Sit down, please.”

Thalia moved to one of the armchairs, and Miss Chadbourne sat down behind her desk once more.

“I want to welcome you to our school,” continued the headmistress. “I hope you will be comfortable here.”

Thalia looked around the room, her eyes lingering on the leather-bound books on the walls. “I think I shall,” she replied in a voice as cool and cultivated as her companion’s.

A slight smile curved Miss Chadbourne’s lips. “You must not take this room as typical, I fear. Here I receive our parents and guardians. It is furnished for them. Your own quarters will not be so luxurious, Miss Hartington.” She watched Thalia closely.

“I don’t care for luxury.”

“Doubtless.” The other’s voice was dry. She hesitated, then continued. “I wanted to speak to you immediately, Miss Hartington, even before you were taken to your room, because I have some misgivings about our association. Frankly, I am not at all certain that you
will
like it here.”

“I am perfectly capable of doing the job,” replied Thalia stiffly.

“Oh, indeed. I am not concerned about your skills. They are, in fact, far above anything we usually require. From the list of your studies and the reports of your quite impressive tutors, I should say you are an exemplary scholar. No, I am more worried about your reaction to the day-to-day living situation here. You are used to something quite different, I know, and can have no idea of what you face. I think you will have difficulty adjusting.”

Thalia frowned at her. “I cannot, of course, dispute that, for as you say, I have no definite idea of the conditions you refer to. But I can say that I am ready to make any adjustments necessary.”

Miss Chadbourne, who had continued to watch her closely throughout this exchange, smiled genuinely for the first time. “I think you mean that.”

“Of course I do.”

The other’s smile broadened. “I am not insulting you, Miss Hartington. Women who are
forced
to take employment such as this, as you have been, are not often so ready to change their way of living. I have had trouble of that sort before. But perhaps I will not with you. I am glad. And if I can be of any assistance to you, at any time, you need only ask.”

“Thank you.”

It seemed that Miss Chadbourne almost laughed, though Thalia could see nothing amusing in her response. Then she added, “Let us just discuss your duties briefly, before I summon Mary to show you your room. As I said, I fear your learning is far broader than we really require. Our girls study music, dancing, and languages chiefly. We have recently added some instruction in household economy. But I must admit that our literature classes are quite rudimentary. Our oldest girls study it a bit, chiefly poetry, but we make no attempt to give them more than a passing acquaintance with it. I hope you understood this when you accepted the position.”

“I did. But I was given the impression that you wished to expand this course.”

“A bit, perhaps. But the scope will be limited, Miss Hartington. You will be fairly free to choose your subject matter, but I must tell you that none of our pupils have any real knowledge of the classics. I understand that your chief interests are there.”

“Yes. But I have read widely in modern literature as well.”

“Of course. Well, I fear your Latin and Greek will be useless here. I hope that does not disappoint you.”

“Not at all.”

“Good.” Miss Chadbourne rose and went to pull the bell. “I’ll let you go to your room now and begin to settle in. Then you will want to speak to Mrs. Jennings, our housekeeper, about the daily routine and so on.”

Thalia rose. “Yes, thank you.”

The headmistress’s pleasant smile appeared again. “You needn’t thank me, Miss Hartington. We are very fortunate to acquire a teacher with your intelligence and skills. I hope our association may be a long and happy one.”

“As do I.”

The maid came in, and Thalia took her leave, following the girl up more stairs to a room on the second floor. “Here we are, miss,” she said. “This is your room. The bath is at the end of the hall. If you need anything, you can ring.” And with that, she went away again.

Thalia stepped into the bedchamber. It was very high and narrow, with only one small window looking directly out onto the drive. There was a small bed, a writing desk and chair, and a battered washstand in the corner. The wallpaper and hangings were drab. Thalia looked around with some bewilderment. This was wholly unlike Miss Chadbourne’s study, or the communal rooms she had glimpsed as she came in. It was rather dispiriting, in fact.

A sudden noise broke into her thoughts. It came from the wicker basket on the top of her pile of luggage, which someone had brought up while she talked to Miss Chadbourne. Thalia went quickly and opened it. A black kitten with great golden eyes poked his head out and surveyed his surroundings slowly. He then transferred his steady gaze to Thalia.

“I know, Juvenal,” she said. “It is not what you are used to. Well, it is not what I am used to either. But we must accustom ourselves to it as soon as may be.”

The cat made no reply. He looked toward the window.

Thalia lifted him down and put him on the bed, from which Juvenal leaped onto the windowsill and began to examine the landscape below.

“I suppose I should have asked Miss Chadbourne if I can keep a cat here,” continued Thalia. “I quite forgot. I shall ask the housekeeper.”

Juvenal, his curiosity satisfied, turned from the window and jumped back to the bed. There he curled into a neat ball and rapidly went to sleep.

Thalia laughed. “Well, I needn’t worry about you, apparently. You seem quite at home already. I wish I felt the same.”

Juvenal opened one golden eye, looked at his mistress, then went back to sleep.

Thalia laughed again. “Indeed. It is not so bad as that, is it? I must not fall into a decline. I shall wash and go in search of Mrs. Jennings, and perhaps I may find something for you to eat.”

This she soon did. And hot water and a fresh gown made a great difference in her mood. By the time she went downstairs again, Thalia felt much better, and her interview with the housekeeper was very amiable. Mrs. Jennings, a massive, motherly woman of about fifty, told her the hours of meals and gave her a general plan of the building, saying that she would know the place in a trice. She explained what services the maids provided to the mistresses and told Thalia what instruction room had been set aside for her. “I hope you’ll be happy here, miss,” she finished. “We’ve done what we can to make you so, and you must let me know if anything is not to
your liking.”

“I’m sure I will be. There is one other thing, Mrs. Jennings. I have a kitten. I hope that’s all right?”

“A kitten, is it?” The older woman frowned. “Well, we don’t usually hold with animals. The girls aren’t permitted to keep them.”

“He is very quiet and well-mannered. He won’t disturb anyone. And I’ll see to it that he stays in my room if you like.”

“Oh, well now, he won’t like that, will he? I suppose it’s all right. I shall have to ask Miss Chadbourne. Come to think of it, Miss Leveret had a dog years ago. It died, and she never got another. But he was no trouble at all.”

“Nor will Juvenal be, I promise you.”

“Juvenal?”

“My kitten.”

Mrs. Jennings frowned. “What an odd name you’ve given him.”

“My aunt named him. She left him to me in her will.”

“Indeed. Well, in that case I’m sure it will be all right. You just take him down to the kitchens and tell Mrs. Fife that I said it was allowed.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jennings.”

“That’s perfectly all right.”

Thalia stood. “Well, I must get settled in. Thank you for all your help.”

“Glad to oblige. You have only to ask, and we will do everything possible to make you comfortable.”

At this renewed offer, Thalia took a breath and said, “I did want to ask… that is… I was wondering. My room is rather small and close. Is there any other I might have?”

Mrs. Jennings drew back a little. “All the rooms are the same, miss. Except Miss Chadbourne’s, of course, and some of the senior mistresses’. But all the rest have the same, Miss Hartington. We try to keep them as cheerful and clean as possible.”

“Of course.” Thalia moved toward the door.

“It’s not easy,” continued the housekeeper, “looking after more than a hundred girls, all used to the best, and the mistresses as well. No one is ever satisfied.”

“Indeed, Mrs. Jennings, the room is quite all right. Good day, thank you again.”

“Dinner is at six,” was the housekeeper’s only reply.

Thalia hurried back upstairs. She spent the hours before dinner unpacking her things and trying to arrange such personal possessions as she had brought to make her room more pleasant. She found that this helped a great deal. The sight of some of her books lined up along the back of the writing desk, and her Dresden figurine on the mantel over the fireplace, made the room seem much more her own. She vowed to use some of the small sum her aunt had left her to purchase new curtains and a new counterpane for her bed. Then, she thought, the room might be very nice, though still small.

Before she went to dinner, she introduced Juvenal to the kitchen staff. To her relief, the cook liked cats, and it seemed there would be no trouble over his meals. This established, Thalia walked toward the large dining room on the ground floor. A buzz of conversation already came from that direction. The whole school took its meals together.

In the dining-room doorway, Thalia halted, taken aback by its size and by the seemingly countless number of females in it. The room seemed huge at first glance, and it was filled with long narrow tables, now populated by a horde of chattering girls. The noise alone was daunting. Thalia hesitated, but then she saw the housekeeper beckoning her from the front of the room and walked quickly toward her. She was conscious, as she did so, of many pairs of eyes turning to follow her progress, and of conversations stopping abruptly, to be replaced by interested whispers. Only natural, she told herself. In such a closed community, any new arrival must excite comment, and that of a new teacher even more.

Mrs. Jennings took Thalia to a table at the front of the dining room, where a number of older women stood at their places waiting for the meal. “This is the mistresses’ table,” she told her. “You sit there, Miss Hartington.”

Thalia obediently went to a chair near the foot of the board. She nodded to the others.

“This is our new teacher, ladies,” continued Mrs. Jennings. “Miss Hartington. And these are Mlle. Reynaud, the French mistress; Mlle. Benzoni, the Italian mistress; Miss Hendricks, who teaches painting and drawing and use of the globes; Miss Allen and Miss Reynolds, the music teachers; Miss Eliot, manners and deportment; Miss Jones, mistress of the third form; Miss Anderson, second form; and Miss Jacobs, first form.”

The housekeeper had started at the top of the table and worked her way past Thalia to the foot, but the names and labels were so many and so rapid that the girl retained few of them. The other teachers nodded and smiled at her, and she greeted them collectively, but she knew it would be a while before she could identify them all as individuals.

At this moment, Miss Chadbourne entered the dining room, and the noise died down. She walked majestically to the head of the mistresses’ table, paused, and sat down. Mrs. Jennings followed suit, at the foot of the table, and then the rest of the teachers. This was the signal for the students to sit down, which they did, with much giggling and scraping of chairs. The kitchen staff began to serve at once.