Lady Rose's Education (5 page)

June, 1891

The Easter term in Cambridge had concluded for the year, and this was the day Lady Letitia would return home for her summer leave. She would be accompanied by her fiancée, Lord Alderton, and another young gentleman named John Cowley. Mr. Cowley was also a student in Cambridge and a good friend of Lord Alderton. He was inhibited from going to his own home in the north, because the area and his family were suffering from an outbreak of influenza.

The atmosphere in the house that afternoon was twofold. Downstairs was abuzz like a wasp's nest. Upstairs was on pins and needles but doomed to the kind of painful immobility children experience on a Christmas morning. Norah was getting the worst of both worlds. Mrs. Motley kept signing her tasks that required constantly ascending and descending the stairs while carrying miscellaneous objects. Also, when she was dressing Lady Rose, the mistress was not without thorns on this day either. Lady Letitia's arrival aroused mixed feelings in her. The two sisters had not always been thick as thieves, but Lady Rose hoped that the situation might change now that they could both be characterized as adults. Lady Letitia's status had been altered even more, since she was now also a bride-to-be, which still seemed like a preposterous idea to her sister.

”Is there anything interesting in the paper, father?” Lady Rose asked the Earl who was sitting in an armchair with the newspaper.

”Apparently they are building a railway that goes across the whole Russia. 'Trans-Siberian Railway', they are calling it,” the Earl said. ”But no, I shouldn't think it interests you particularly.”

”Why not? Are trains not a feminine topic?”

The Earl pulled his eyes up from the page and looked at his daughter.

”Well, I wouldn't have thought so,” he said, ”but please correct me, if I am mistaken.”

Lady Rose tried to keep her mouth sealed but couldn't.

”Women occasionally take the train too,” she said.

”Yes, but they rarely participate in the building of the tracks.”

Mercifully the second footman William came in to tell Mr. Cartwright that the carriage was approaching the Abbey, and they could all rush outside to welcome the guests.

Lady Letitia was helped out of the carriage first. Once she stood outside, she wiped her skirt a few times so as to brush the travel dust off herself.

The two gentlemen followed her out, one more agilely than the other one.

”Welcome to Pembrooke,” the Earl said.

”Mother, father, may I present Lord Alderton,” Lady Letitia said bashfully, which was not her usual manner.

”I am very glad to make your acquaintance, Lord Alderton,” the Countess said.

Lord Alderton was a tall and intimidating man, especially tall and intimidating in his stately top hat. He shook hands with Lord Stowton and bowed gracefully at Lady Stowton and Lady Rose.

”May I, in turn, present my friend Mr. Cowley,” he said.

Mr. Cowley was not as elegantly dressed as his friend, but his facial features were more handsome of the two. He had dark hair, almost black, and there was an intensity in his eyes that invited Lady Rose to look again. She felt strangely hesitant and tongue-tied, when it was her turn to be introduced. Luckily she got over her confusion and was able to converse normally with her sister, when they all went inside and left the footmen to cope with the mountain of luggage.

”How was your train trip?” Lady Rose asked and gave her father a meaningful glance.

”Perfectly uneventful, thank heavens”, Lady Letitia said.

”I congratulate you on your estate, Lord Stowton,” Lord Alderton said to his future father-in-law, gaining a grateful glance from Lady Letitia. ”It looks splendid indeed.”

”Thank you, Lord Alderton,” the Earl said. ”And Mr. Cowley, we are sorry about the trouble with your family. The influenza is a terrible thing. Let us hope your family members will soon be on the mend.”

”Thank you. I appreciate the sentiment, but I'm afraid my grandmother is not at all well,” Mr. Cowley said. ”I have given this address to my parents, so that if there are any news, they can send me a telegram.”

”Quite right, well done,” the Earl said.

***

When the party had arranged themselves in different parts of the drawing room, Mr. Cowley retreated himself to the corner. He seemed to be contemplating some portraits of family's ancestors. Lady Rose felt it her responsibility to give him some company.

”That is my great grandmother, in the picture,” she said. ”Do you appreciate art, Mr. Cowley?”

Mr. Cowley shrugged.

”I am not sure whether I would call made-to-order portraits art,” Mr. Cowley said but then flashed a quick smile to her direction, to soften the harshness of his words.

”Please feel free to insult my ancestors,” Lady Rose said, more intrigued than offended.

”Ancestors? Oh yes, I can see the family resemblance,” Mr. Cowley said. Lady Rose noticed which painting they were looking at. It was a hunting scenery with only a fox as a subject.

Lady Rose laughed.

”Wit in the first conversation! Very daring for an Englishman.”

There was some quiet shuffling, while they moved in front of the next painting. Again the air quivered with criticism from the gentleman's direction. Lady Rose had to admit that the portrait of her great grandfather George was not particularly skilful. His gaze was matt and flat, and frankly, he looked like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. Of course that could have been his actual appearance.

”So, do you move in circles with many non-Englishmen?” Mr. Cowley asked.

”No, I can't say I do,” Lady Rose said and blushed, as if caught from a lie. ”I was only referring to – I admire some continental poets.”

He looked at her and now his eyes flickered with genuine interest.

”Which ones?”

”Goethe, Schelling, Madame de Staël...”

”Indeed? I would call
that
daring, for a peer's daughter.”

Lady Rose waited him say something more, but he didn't. She had to break the silence.

”Are you a history scholar like Lord Alderton?”

”Yes, indeed I am,” Mr. Cowley said.

Again Lady Rose waited in vain for a longer account. It didn't appear, but after a while Mr. Cowley looked straight at her and abruptly said, ”So, I guess you must be next.”

Something about his direct gaze made Lady Rose blush.

”I peg you pardon?”

”As soon as Peter – Lord Alderton, I should say – and you sister are wed, you are expected to start the great search. To find your future husband. Is that not how it works in your circles?”

Lady Rose looked away. ”Impertinent puppy,” she thought to herself.

”Do you not count yourself as part of 'our circles', as you put it?” she asked.

”Good golly, no, I don't. My father is a gentleman, but a country Earl he is not.” When he said ”country Earl”, Mr. Cowley made a sweeping gesture with his hand, indicating the vastness of the estate around them.

”You say it like there is something wrong with being an Earl,” Lady Rose said, now a little annoyed.

”Oh, no, you misunderstand me. I have a great respect for the peerage.” From his tone it was hard to tell whether he spoke in scorn, so Lady Rose thought it best to change the subject.

”Have your parents been infected by the influenza?” she asked.

”My father was, but he seems to be over the worst by now. My mother has stayed in good health so far, but I am quite concerned for her. Her lungs are not strong.”

”I see,” Lady Rose said. His sonly concern had softened her again.

”There are very worrisome news in the papers, you see,” Mr. Cowley said, now completely serious. ”The influenza seems to be reaping the nation.”

”Yes, I understand that you are concerned,” Lady Rose said, ”but please try not to fret. I am sure your mother will be alright.” She touched the gentleman's arm lightly and he looked surprised.

”Thank you, Lady Rose, you are very kind,” he muttered.

***

”How are you, Letitia?” Lady Rose asked her sister, when they got their first chance to talk alone.

”I am enjoying the blessed quiet,” Letitia said. ”On campus it is never quiet, anywhere. The conversation and debate is endless.”

There was a brief silence. Lady Rose wondered why their conversation was always awkward when they were alone. She looked at her sister more closely.

”You are wearing the same dress you were wearing the day you left for Cambridge. Have you been wearing it the whole time?” Lady Rose said.

”Yes,” Lady Letitia said huffily. ”I didn't have a maid in Cambridge, as you know, so how could I get out of it?”

For a second Lady Rose looked startled, and Lady Letitia howled with laughter.

”There is an element of truth to what you said, however,” she said, when she calmed down. ”On campus I have to appear only half woman, half scholar. If I should wear a pretty dress, I would make it exceedingly easy for them to treat me like a decoration in the room. I would not be taken seriously. Not that I often am now.”

”If that is so, how did you succeed in gaining an admirer?” Rose asked, now truly curious.

A coy smile played on Lady Letitia's face, when she said, ”There was one evening party in which I forgot myself and let my guard down, and that was when Lord Alderton asked me to dance.”

”Do you still not call him by his first name?”

”Not within earshot of other people. He is very fond of propriety.”

”Yes, he looks it.”

”Rose.”

”Yes?” Lady Rose said and looked up.

”I know you always like to make your sarcastic little comments, but I don't want to hear them about him. Not quite yet,” Lady Letitia said.

”Really? You have turned into a romantic,” Lady Rose said. She might have envied her sister, but then she looked at Lord Alderton and couldn't quite arrive at that feeling. The man looked more fit to inspire fearful admiration than any gentler sentiment.

”I am happy for you,” she said grudgingly.

From the other side of the room she could feel a pair of inquisitive eyes on her, but when she turned her head, they were gone. Lady Rose focused her attention on her sister again.

”While we are in the subject of maids, you will soon meet my new maid Norah. She is a very clever girl. I have quite taken her into my confidences.”

”Yes, mother told me about her in a letter,” Lady Letitia said and looked at Lady Rose scrutinisingly. ”But you
do
realize that if you pay someone to be your companion, it is probably not genuine friendship?”

”So I have been told before,” Rose said haughtily, ”but I have not found that to be the case.”

”Aunt Sarah, it is so difficult,” Norah said. ”It feels like the whole Abbey dislikes me. Not only the people. The house itself.”

”You are probably just imagining things,” aunt Sarah said warmly.

”Every time I go outside, I can feel the walls and windows staring at me, saying 'Don't come back'.”

Norah shed a few tears. It was a most magnificent relief to get to say these things out loud. She didn't mind that aunt Sarah probably couldn't understand what she was talking about. In her small and comfortable kitchen, next to the friendly fire blazing, it didn't sound too sensible to her own ear, either. She had spent all of her half-day off at Aunt Sarah's and uncle Matt's house, and it had filled her with courage again.

She noticed aunt Sarah looking at her concernedly.

”Keep your head down and get good at the work, no other way around it,” aunt Sarah said.

***

The dusk was falling, and Norah walked fast. She hoped she'd have left sooner, so as not to be caught in the dark. She was on the path that would cross the river soon.

The way back is usually shorter, but it wasn't this time. Norah was tired and found it very difficult to negotiate the windings, rises and depressions of the road without the help of a lantern. Where the trees opened up, small lights glimmered from the Abbey's direction. They looked warm and cosy, at least from the distance, but still Norah dreaded getting there.

”Mother, how did you make it your home?” Norah asked silently. But then, her mother had left, so maybe she hadn't managed it either.

There was a stillness in the air, trees or bushes were not moving. As she approached the river and a hint of sludge appeared in the evening freshness, Norah saw a dragonfly in the air. Uncle Matt had told her that dragonfly was really a savage creature. It could eat its own weight of butterflies and moths in a half an hour.

Norah stared at the dragonfly's furry body and its whirring wings, transfixed. After a while this caused a strange optical illusion: it started to seem as if the dragonfly was still and the scenery around it vibrated instead.

Suddenly she felt unsettled. Something was moving at the edge of her vision. She returned the background into focus, and there was a man standing between the trees and staring at her. Norah drew in a quick breath and pressed her hand on her heart.

The man was smartly dressed, however, and there were enough cues about his identity that Norah could work it out.

”Lord Charles?” she said.

”Yes,” the man said. ”Who is asking?”

”I am Norah, the new –”

”New Elsie,” Lord Charles said. He was standing straight as a column, and the way he looked at Norah was somehow so direct, so unabashed, that she had to look down. The silence stretched on and on. It was so deep that it made the dragonfly's hum sound like a distant thunder.

”I should get back,” Norah said and started to walk away. The cool evening air was making her shiver under her thin cardigan. If she expected lord Charles to bid her a courteous farewell or to say anything at all, she was disappointed.

Norah forced herself to stroll at a calm pace for a few dozen steps, out of politeness, but then she rushed ahead. When she cast a furtive glance back, Charles's tall figure was still looming among the trees. She could feel his eyes following her.

***

Norah was sitting on the edge of her bed and doing some sewing. She was still feeling rattled after her strange encounter, but now she was really getting in a good swing with the camisole she was making for Lady Rose. Only a few weeks ago her sewing hand had been wobbly like that of a child who is just learning to write. The stitches on this camisole, however, looked like a bird had tiptoed its way around the garment.

Working on her new skill calmed her nerves every time. Her aunt had been pleased that she wanted to improve herself and had taught her to do sweet little pin tucks.

Nellie was making such tucks on the front of the garment, when Nellie came in.

”Practising your sewing?” Nellie said. ”I guess that's wise. You don't want to give Lady Rose any more reason to be off with you.”

”I don't think my sewing is the problem,” Norah mused to herself. ”The problem is the other thing she expects from me.”

”What? What does she expect from you?”

Norah flinched. She had not meant to say it out loud.

”She... she wants us to discuss poetry and such, when I am dressing her and doing her hair.”

Nellie laughed. ”Anyone can see you're not the bookish type. Why would Lady Rose think you are?”

”She doesn't. It's more like... she thinks that everyone
understands
poetry, the way she does. She says, 'Use your spine, Norah, not your intellect'.”

”Oh, right,” Nellie said, ”I'm sure that's the big problem: you are bothering her with your
intellect
.” She stood with her arms akimbo. ”Sounds like you have it easy. She only wants you to echo everything she says, and obviously you will, because it is not like you'll have any opinions of your own.”

”No, she's not like that,” Norah said decidedly. ”I think she really does want to know what I think, but...” But so far the poems she had read at Lady Rose's urging had not aroused any great epiphanies in her. She didn't want to be a disappointment.

Norah pricked her finger with the needle. A perfectly round drop of red appeared on her finger. She quickly moved her hand away from the fabric. She knew it was not a good idea to confide in Nellie, but she had a powerful urge to tell someone about a concern of hers.

”Nellie,” she said, ”has Lord Charles ever talked to you? I mean, in some kind of a strange tone.”

”The man doesn't do anything that isn't strange,” Nellie said. ”What did he say to you? Maybe he wants to find a follower for Elsie. Someone new to warm his bed.”

”Nellie!” Norah said. ”He is a gentleman and she is... deceased. Don't say grass things!”

”You know what they say?” Nellie said, sitting on her bed. ”That maybe he killed her. Maybe he pushed her into the river.”

”Why would he have done that? Were they not... in love?” Norah said.

”Maybe he got her pregnant,” Nellie said knowingly. ”That would have been a problem, don't you think?”

”Nellie, that's horrible! You have to stop saying such disloyal things or you will be out of the job. And anyway”, Norah said, ”it's just gossip and absurd at that. Of course he didn't drown her in the river. It was an accident.”

”Could be,” Nellie admitted morosely, ”but I wouldn't put it past him. He is a peculiar bugger.”