by Three Graces
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 th
e 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.
“You have all met Miss Hartington, I hope?” said Miss Chadbourne. “She arrived this afternoon.”
There was an affirmative murmur.
“Good. I know you will all make every effort to welcome her to our little community.” And with this Miss Chadbourne turned to her soup.
The table ate in silence for a while; then Mlle. Reynaud addressed some remark to Mlle. Benzoni opposite her, and others began to talk quietly as well. Thalia turned to the woman on her left, a lively-looking dark girl of about thirty or thirty-five, she guessed. “I am sorry, I have forgotten all the names already,” she said. “Did Mrs. Jennings say you teach music?”
The other smiled. “Yes. And I am surprised you can remember even that. It is so difficult when names are thrown at one in that way. I am Miss Reynolds; I instruct the girls on the pianoforte and harp, while Julia, Miss Allen, teaches them voice.”
“Miss Allen is…?”
“Second down opposite,” replied the other promptly, “I shouldn’t worry about getting all the names at once, you know. In a few days you’ll find you know everyone.”
“I suppose so. But it seems rude to forget.”
Miss Reynolds shrugged good-naturedly. “Everyone is the same at first. I know I was.”
“Have you been here long?”
“Long enough. Three years.”
“And do you like it?”
The older woman grimaced. “Oh, like it! As much as can be expected, I suppose.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, one doesn’t really wish to be a teacher in a girls’ school, no matter how exclusive, does one? But as schools go, this is certainly one of the most pleasant.”
“It seems so to me.”
“Is this your first post?”
“Yes. I was… living with my aunt until her recent death.”
“I thought you looked very young. Well, I will ask you again in several weeks’ time, and then we can discuss schools.” Miss Reynolds smiled ironically at her.
Before Thalia could reply, her companion’s attention was diverted by the woman on the other side. Thalia returned to her dinner briefly, then looked to her right. The teacher on that side was much younger than Miss Reynolds. She seemed, in fact, nearer Thalia’s own age. She was a blond, rather plump, and looked good-natured. Catching Thalia’s eye, she said, “I am Miss Anderson, in charge of the second form. Welcome to Chadbourne.”
“Thank you.”
“I hope you’ll like it. But you’re far too pretty to be stuck here with us. I daresay Mlle. Reynaud will have it in for you because of it.”
Thalia flushed a little. She started to speak, but Miss Anderson forestalled her.
“Oh, I should not have said that, I suppose. But it’s the truth, and why shouldn’t you know it? You will be teaching literature, I understand?”
“Yes. I am not certain just what works.”
“Whatever you can cajole the girls into reading,” laughed the other. “I wonder if you have any idea what lies before you?”
Thalia smiled. “I am not so naive as to believe that every student will love poetry, or any such thing. I realize that teaching is hard work.”
“Do you? Well, that’s to the good. My girls are so obstinate sometimes that I wish I could beat them, as they do boys.”
“You are in charge of the second form?”
“Yes. The first three forms, the younger girls, are kept with one mistress for everything. It is only the last two who are taught by our ‘experts.’” She gestured toward the top of the table with amusement. “And of course, we occasionally encounter a particularly talented younger girl, and she is given special tutoring.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps. I’ll ask you again in three weeks. Then you’ll see.”
“Miss Reynolds said something very like that just now. I do realize I have a lot to learn.”
“Did she?” Miss Anderson nodded as if satisfied.
“Would you be so kind as to repeat the names for me?” asked Thalia then. “I want to learn them as soon as possible.”
The other girl grinned. “Certainly. You know Miss Chadbourne, of course. You will have been to the inner sanctum already. Well, the lady to her right is Mlle. Reynaud. She’s been here forever. She claims she left France during the troubles, trying to imply that she is an aristocratic refugee, but no one believes it. She teaches French, of course. Then opposite her, on Miss Chadbourne’s left, is Mlle. Benzoni. She’s simply mad. She screams and yells something awful when she teaches. Italian. I can’t blame her, considering how stupid some of the girls are with languages. Beside her is Miss Allen, the voice teacher. She’s a sweet, quiet little mouse, has a lovely singing voice herself. Are you taking all this in?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Thalia, trying not to laugh. Miss Anderson’s characterizations were amusing.
Hearing the enjoyment in her voice, Miss Anderson grinned. “Just so. Opposite Julia Allen is Miss Hendricks—drawing and painting. She’s quiet too, but she has a fine wit when you get to know her. You’ve spoken to Miss Reynolds. Opposite her is Miss Eliot, in charge of manners and deportment. She teaches the girls how to make a court curtsy and that sort of thing. I should hate it, but she seems not to. I don’t know her well; she keeps to herself. And that leaves only us plebs, the lower-forms mistresses. Ellen Jones, across from you, has the third, and Georgina Jacobs, opposite me, the first. We’re a jolly lot, rather separate from the others.”
Miss Jones and Miss Jacobs, being close enough to hear these remarks, smiled indulgently at Miss Anderson. “Some of the time we are,” added Ellen Jones across the table.
“And there you are,” finished Miss Anderson. “My first name is Lucy, by the by. What’s yours?”
“Thalia,” she answered, grimacin
g slightly.
“Thalia? How strange. It sounds Greek or something.”
“It is. My mother was, ah, fond of classical poetry.”
“Indeed? That is just like Miss Chadbourne; her first name is Aurelia.” The servant came to clear away the main course, depositing shallow bowls before each diner as she did so. “Oooh,” exclaimed Miss Anderson. “Pudding!” And she subsided into her dessert.
After dinner, the students had a free hour, and most of the teachers went quickly up to their bedchambers, eager for a little solitude after a busy day. After a few minutes, Thalia followed suit. She knew none of the pupils, and though they examined her curiously, none seemed eager to introduce herself.
Thalia read for a while in her small room, then made ready for bed. She had been told that her corridor was also inhabited by other teachers, but she saw no one when she went down to the bath. At last, she got into bed early, thinking over the events of the day. Tomorrow she would teach her first class. The thought was both exciting and a little frightening. She fell asleep wondering what Miss Reynolds and Miss Anderson had meant by saying that they would ask her in three weeks what she thought of the school.
Eight
When Thalia opened her eyes early the next morning, they met the golden ones of Juvenal, who was sitting on the windowsill at the head of her bed. He stared at her inscrutably as she blinked and woke up fully, then turned his back and looked out over the dew-covered lawn. Thalia laughed a little. “Is it a fine day, Juvenal?” she asked, throwing off the bedclothes and sitting up. The kitten did not reply, but looking over his black-furred shoulder, she saw that it was. The sun was just rising behind some trees to the east, throwing long shadows across the gardens below.
Thalia dressed hastily but carefully, wrapping her braids into a coronet at the back of her head and putting on the least dowdy of the dresses her aunt had thought suitable for a young girl. She then sat down at her writing desk and looked over the thin sheaf of papers she had left there last night. When she had first learned that she had gotten a position as teacher at Chadbourne, she had set down her ideas on what literature she would teach. And when she had submitted these to Miss Chadbourne some weeks past, there had been no objection. She scanned them again. Shakespeare; some of Milton’s sonnets; Pope and Dryden; Gray and Scott and Cowper; Dr. Johnson; and daringly, a novel lately published, Pride and Prejudice. She drew a deep breath. This was an ambitious program for the sort of classes she would face, she knew. Folding the sheaf in two, she rose and went down to breakfast, taking Juvenal to the kitchen on her way.
