Settling the Account (58 page)

‘Heavy work, indeed,’ Lizzie scoffed. ‘How
much heavy work is there to do with just the two of them, I’d like
to know? I
think
,’ she said, her voice dripping with
sarcasm, ‘I
think
she does the cooking herself. Though
nothing would surprise me about that girl.’

‘You know she does the cooking,’ Frank said.
‘Didn’t she make us that nice lunch the other day? And Richard told
me how he had to tell her not to cook him so much, because he’s not
out digging drains and suchlike all day. I think it’s nice he’s got
someone to help her.’

‘I
was married twelve years before I
got anyone to help me,’ Lizzie said self-righteously. ‘And I had
six children to look after as well as a husband. Richard spoils
that girl, and it’s doing her no good at all. It’s not good for a
young bride to have too much time on her hands.’

‘Why not?’ Frank asked.

‘It just isn’t, that’s all. Don’t you think
so, Amy?’

‘I think it’s lovely that Richard wants to
look after Maudie,’ Amy said, earning a look of exasperation from
Lizzie and a grin from Frank.

‘That’s just what I think,’ he said. ‘I
would’ve liked to have got someone to help you when we first got
married, too, Lizzie. Richard’s got the money, so why shouldn’t he
spend it on Maudie? There’s nothing wrong with a bit of
spoiling.’

‘Well!’ Lizzie said, glaring at them both,
‘if you two are going to side against me, there’s no point me
saying anything, is there?’

‘No point at all,’ Frank said.

After Lizzie’s comments Amy was expecting
something of a dragon, but when Sarah Millish arrived at the soirée
Amy saw an attractive young woman with an expression that, though
disconcertingly direct, was certainly not sour.

‘Oh, Sarah, come and sit next to me,’ Lily
said when Beth led Miss Millish into the room. ‘No, I must
introduce you to everyone before we sit down,’ she added, taking
her arm. ‘Miss Millish and I are cousins, after a fashion,’ she
explained to the room at large. ‘Miss Millish’s father was
distantly related to my mother, and he was very kind to Mother and
me. Now, you’ve met Mr and Mrs Kelly, and this is their daughter
Mrs Townsend, and her husband Doctor Townsend.’

Lily dutifully introduced Miss Millish to
everyone in the room, giving Amy plenty of time to study the
visitor before Lily reached Amy’s insignificant corner.

Miss Millish was very tall, with dark hair
piled above a pale face. Her eyes were large, and a striking dark
blue. It was a very definite sort of face, Amy thought, with its
prominent cheekbones, straight nose and rather broad jaw. There was
a firm set to that jaw that gave the impression of someone who
should not be crossed lightly.

‘And this is Mrs Stewart,’ Lily said when
they came to Amy. ‘She’s Bill’s cousin, Sarah,’ she explained. ‘Mr
and Mrs Stewart live on the farm next to Mr John Leith’s—remember
you were asking me the other day who lives there?’

‘How do you do, Mrs Stewart?’ Miss Millish
took Amy’s hand and turned a penetrating gaze on her from under
well-defined eyebrows. Amy felt an irrational desire to say
something clever to try and impress her, but all she could manage
was to murmur a polite ‘How do you do’ and wait for her hand to be
released. Amy was glad that she was at least wearing a smart dress
tonight. It was of yellow silk, and she had made it on the sewing
machine she had bought out of her annuity. It was not nearly as
beautiful as her blue silk dress; Amy’s confidence with the sewing
machine did not extend so far, nor did her pocket run to the amount
of silk she would have had to buy to imitate such an elaborate
style; but it was a good deal less old-fashioned.

Lily made Miss Millish sit beside her,
fussing over the guest and seeing that she soon had a cup of tea
and something to eat. Amy began to suspect that Lizzie’s assertion
that Lily was embarrassed by her young cousin was something of an
exaggeration, though she could see how the quick glances Miss
Millish constantly darted around the room might be off-putting. She
saw Frank squirm in his chair when he noticed Miss Millish studying
him, though the teacher had the grace to look away when she saw how
discomforted Frank looked.

The youngest girls were visibly struggling
to stay awake. At a nod from Lizzie, Beth and Maisie ushered them
off to bed. Beth came back into the room clutching an envelope; she
sat at Amy’s feet and held it out to her. ‘Here’s a letter from
Dave, Aunt Amy, it came today.’

Amy smiled at Beth and took the letter from
her. She glanced beyond the girl, and was mildly startled to see
Miss Millish staring intently.

‘Amy?’ Miss Millish said. ‘You’re Amy?’

‘Are you writing that book again, Sarah?’
Bill asked, grinning at the sudden flush his words brought to Miss
Millish’s face.

‘I-I’m sorry, Mrs Stewart,’ she said. ‘Lily
may have told you that I’m very interested in names and their
meanings. I suppose it comes of struggling away at my Latin for all
those years. And… and I’ve a friend called Amy, and it’s not a name
one hears often. It’s the French for “loved”, did you know that?
Amy,’ she said, as if playing with the sound in her head. ‘It’s
such a pretty name, isn’t it?’

‘I was named for my grandmother,’ Amy
said.

A smile spread across Miss Millish’s face,
banishing its severity and lending an extra prettiness. ‘So was I,’
she murmured. She took up her tea cup and appeared to give it her
complete attention for some time.

Lily was called upon to entertain. She
played several pieces before offering her place at the piano to
Miss Millish.

‘You play beautifully, dear,’ Lily said when
Miss Millish stopped for a rest. ‘The last time I saw Sarah she was
so small she had to be lifted onto the piano stool,’ she told the
audience.

‘I play adequately,’ Miss Millish said.
‘
You
play beautifully, Lily. You’ve a true gift.’

‘It’s thanks to your father that I play at
all,’ Lily said. ‘He paid for my piano lessons, you know.’

‘I remember his saying it was the most
worthwhile money he ever spent,’ Miss Millish said. ‘Father loved
music, though he didn’t play himself. He often used to speak of
your playing after you moved away.’

‘He was a lovely man,’ said Lily.

‘Yes, he was.’ Miss Millish’s face was
suddenly serious again. She gave herself a small shake. ‘I’m sure
you don’t want to hear me play all evening. Mrs Stewart, do you
play?’

‘Oh, no,’ Amy said quickly. ‘No, I
don’t.’

‘Perhaps you’d like to sing, then?’ Miss
Millish coaxed. ‘Is there something I could accompany you in?’

‘No, I don’t sing either. I can’t do
anything, really,’ Amy said, smiling ruefully.

‘What rot!’ Lizzie said. ‘You can do lots of
things! What about the lovely embroidery you’ve taught my girls to
do? And bottling and things—Amy’s won prizes for her jam, you
know,’ she told Miss Millish.

‘I didn’t mean things like jam,’ Amy said.
‘Everyone can do that sort of thing. I meant clever things like
music.’

‘Well, you could have played if you’d only
had the chance to learn,’ Lizzie said, undeterred. ‘It was just
that there was no one to give you lessons. Even the magistrate’s
wife said you were musical, remember? She looked at your hands and
said you’d be good at playing the piano. And
she’d
know
about that sort of thing.’

‘Honestly, Lizzie, you make me sound like…
oh, who was the girl?’ Amy said half to herself, flustered by
Lizzie’s prattle. ‘The one whose mother was always going on about
how good she would’ve been at this and that except she’d never
learned.’

‘Anne de Bourgh,’ Miss Millish said. ‘Lady
Catherine’s daughter. That’s who you mean, isn’t it?’

‘Who’s she?’ Lizzie asked the room at
large.

‘You’ve read Miss Austen?’ Amy asked Miss
Millish.

‘Oh, a book,’ Lizzie remarked. ‘I might have
known.’

‘I’ve got that one, haven’t I, Richard?’
Maudie put in, clutching at her husband’s sleeve to attract his
attention away from his conversation with Frank.

‘Hmm? Oh,
Pride and Prejudice
. Yes,
darling, so you have. It’s one of the books we bought for you in
Tauranga, isn’t it? It seemed a very suitable book for you to read.
Will you play for us, Maudie? Your father hasn’t had the chance to
hear you for a little while.’

Maudie took Miss Millish’s place at the
piano and began playing, while Miss Millish moved a chair close to
Amy’s and sat down beside her. When Maudie had played her pieces,
conversation in the room resumed.

‘I’ve all Miss Austen’s works,’ Miss Millish
said. ‘She’s quite delightful. Though I do find her heroines
irritating at times, with their obsession over finding husbands.
Miss Brontë is more satisfying—her women tend to find a career for
themselves, even if they do become shackled with a husband
later.’

‘Are you shackled, Lily?’ Bill asked, trying
to look serious despite his grin. Lily shushed him frantically.

‘Oh, I… perhaps I went a little far in
saying that,’ Miss Millish said. ‘I’m sure marriage isn’t always
bondage. But you must admit that women are often denied their just
place in society? That we’re held down just because we’re
women?’

‘Men and women each have their own place,’
Lizzie said piously.

‘But why should a woman’s place be at the
bottom?’ Miss Millish demanded. ‘Why should the course of a woman’s
life always be decided for her by the men around her? Mightn’t the
world be a better place if women were treated as the equals of
men?’ Her attention swung to Amy. ‘Mrs Stewart, what do you
think?’

‘Me? Oh, I… I don’t really…’ Amy was
disconcerted by the knowledge that all eyes in the room were upon
her, then was abruptly angry at herself for appearing witless in
front of this startling woman. ‘I read somewhere,’ she began
hesitantly, and went on more boldly. ‘It said that when things get
better in countries, it’s always when they start treating women
more as equals. The man said you could tell how good a country was
from the way they treated women.’

‘ “
Through all the
progressive period of human history, the condition of women has
been approaching nearer to equality with men”,’ Miss Millish
quoted. ‘And didn’t he put it well?’

Amy stared at her in delight. ‘You’ve read
John Stuart Mill?’

‘I know that passage off by heart.’

‘I’ve never met
anyone
else who reads
John Stuart Mill,’ Amy said, hardly able to believe it. ‘No one I
can talk to about him, anyway.’

‘Somebody Stewart, is he?’ Lizzie asked,
unwilling to be left out. ‘Is he a relation of Charlie’s?’ she said
doubtfully.

Amy laughed. ‘I shouldn’t think so, Lizzie.
I don’t think they’d get on very well, either. No, he’s a man who
writes about that sort of thing—liberty, people’s rights, all those
things. He’s
wonderful
. He really makes you think. I had to
buy a dictionary before I could make anything of it, though,’ she
confessed.

‘I’ve his complete works,’ Miss Millish
said. ‘Perhaps I could lend you something? And Carlyle, too—he’s
rather dry after Mill, but it’s interesting to compare the
two.’

‘I’ve heard of him, but I’ve never read
anything by him.’

‘I must lend you some of my books, then.
Perhaps I could call on you?’

‘Oh, I-I’m not sure,’ Amy stammered, shy at
the thought of exposing Miss Millish to Charlie’s coarseness and to
the plainness of their cottage. ‘My husband doesn’t… we don’t get a
lot of visitors. I’d rather just see you here, if that’s all
right?’

‘Just as you wish.’ Miss Millish spoke
smoothly, though Amy was aware of the curiosity she was struggling
to hide. ‘And I
will
see you here,’ she announced. ‘I hope
we’ll see each other often.’

‘So do I,’ Amy said, smiling shyly at her
new-found friend.

Amy had to leave before the other guests,
constrained by the curfew Charlie had imposed. She was even more
reluctant to leave than usual, since it meant curtailing such
delightful conversation, but she said her goodbyes and went out to
the front door, Lizzie going with her as far as the verandah.

‘I’ve decided what’s wrong with that girl,’
Lizzie said in a low voice. ‘Why she’s so funny with everyone.’

‘She’s not funny, Lizzie,’ Amy
protested.

‘Yes, she is. It’s because of all that stuff
she was talking, you know, about women being as good as men. She’s
one of those suffragist women. Except there aren’t any proper
suffragists left, what with us having the vote. But there’re still
women like her with funny ideas. That’s why she hasn’t got married,
see? She’s quite pretty, and Lily says she’s got pots of money,
being an only child and her father was rich. But she’s full of
those funny ideas, so she can’t get on with men.’

‘What a lot of rot you talk sometimes,’ Amy
said, unsure whether to laugh or scold. ‘I don’t notice you going
around thinking you’re inferior to men—you don’t think you’re
inferior to anyone, and quite right, too. You don’t let Frank boss
you around.’

‘I do what Frank says. Yes, I do,’ Lizzie
insisted, seeing Amy’s expression. ‘Well, except when he’s wrong
about something, then I just explain how he’s wrong until he sees
it for himself. Anyway, it’s different once you’re married, but
there’s no sense frightening off every man in creation.
I
think she doesn’t like men at all. Look at the way she gives Frank
those funny looks—no wonder he doesn’t like her,’ Lizzie said with
the air of one who had demolished all arguments.

‘Well,
I
like her,’ Amy said. ‘I like
her very much.’

Lizzie regarded her thoughtfully. ‘It was
good to see you enjoying yourself tonight. Lord knows you can do
with something to cheer you up. I wasn’t going to ask that girl
again, but if you and her are going to get on so well I might as
well get her out to all the soyrees. She’s pretty good on the
piano, too.’