by Three Graces
“Oh, yes.”
He smiled down at her. “How did you come to study Greek, Miss Hartington? It is so unusual for a girl.”
“It is, I know. I simply wanted to. And my aunt kindly engaged a special tutor for me. Our old governess sat by and knitted, as a chaperon, you see.”
“I begin to. It is quite a picture.”
Thalia laughed. “It was. Miss Lewes—that was our governess—always used to fall asleep after a few minutes, and she snored amazingly. And then, of course, I would begin to giggle. I couldn’t help it; it was so absurd. And my poor tutor would shake his head and sigh. He despaired of me at first, but then I began to improve.”
“I envy him.”
“Oh, you shouldn’t. I don’t believe he cared for his job at all. He didn’t think women ought to study Latin and Greek, but he needed the fees my aunt paid him to teach me.” She paused, then added, “And even so, I think he tried to discourage my aunt from letting me learn. What a peal she must have rung over him for that!”
“Your aunt sounds like an unusual woman. Was she in favor of female education?”
Thalia wrinkled her nose. “Well, no, not exactly that. She was certainly unusual, but insofar as we could tell, she wasn’t in favor of anything. There were a great many things she didn’t favor, however.”
“Such as?”
“Oh, well. Dogs. Port wine. The vicar.”
He laughed ringingly. “And she liked…?”
“Cats. Claret. And, uh…”
“And her nieces, I hope. Did she really drink claret?”
“Oh, yes. But not to excess, you understand.”
“Of course not.”
“And as for liking us—I suppose she did. It was difficult to tell. She was always very kind about material things, my lessons and Euphie’s and so on, but she rarely said anything kind, and of course she…” Thalia broke off; she had almost told him about her aunt’s will.
He waited a moment, to see if she meant to go on, then asked, “What made you want to learn, then, Miss Hartington?”
She cocked her head. “Made me? What do you mean?”
“Well, you say you learned because you wanted to, and your aunt was kind enough to provide a teacher. But why did you want to? It is not a common desire.”
“No, I suppose it isn’t,” replied Thalia, frowning. “It’s not like Euphie wanting to study music, because lots of girls do that.” She considered the question.
“Perhaps your father encouraged you? He must have known and loved the classics, if your name is any indication.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Thalia involuntarily. She added, “I mean, he may have done. I can’t remember very clearly; he died when I was only seven. He never read to me or anything like that.” Her frown deepened. “It is odd. I have wondered before why I wanted to study. I simply did, you know.”
“You had a natural bent, I suppose. I was the same.”
“Were you?”
“Oh, yes. I was always plaguing my father for books. He never knew quite what to make of me. He cares for little beyond his estate and the hunting field himself, and my older brother is the same. There’s no accounting for such things.”
“I suppose not.”
“Look,” he added, “that’s where we’re going.”
Thalia looked up. Ahead of them, off to the right of the road, was a massive pile of fallen masonry, all grown over with ivy and creepers. Two perfect arches still stood near the edge, but otherwise all was tumbled rock and cracked pavement. “Oh,” she said.
“Do you like it?”
“It looks like one of Mr. Gray’s poems.”
He laughed. “A bit. His landscapes are rather neater, I think.”
“You’re right. But I do like it. And I can see how it might remind you of Greece.”
“Not ancient ruins, but old ones, at any rate.” He pulled the gig off the road and urged the horse a little way toward the pile. “We can’t go farther, too many stones.”
“We can walk,” responded Thalia gaily, throwing off her lap robes and preparing to climb down. Juvenal, revealed by this action in a huddle on the floor, protested.
“Wait,” said Elguard. “I’ll help you.”
“No need.” Thalia sprang lightly down and reached to set Juvenal on the grass.
“Rrrooww,” said Juvenal, swatting at her skirt with one tiny paw.
“No sir,” she replied. “You shall walk around a little. Try to live up to your name.”
The kitten stared up at her with his great golden eyes, then turned haughtily and stalked off toward the ruin.
“You have been finely set down,” laughed Elguard, coming around the gig with a basket on his arm.
“Odious cat.”
They walked side by side up a slight incline to the pile of stone. Elguard led the way around to the right. “There is a place that should be out of the wind,” he said.
They went toward the two standing arches. Just beyond, through one of them, was a spot where three walls remained up to shoulder height. The fourth had fallen outward, leaving the shell of a small room intact and a fine prospect to the south.
“Oh, but this is lovely,” cried Thalia.
“I thought you would like it.” Elguard spread one of the lap robes on the dry stone paving and gestured grandly. “My lady’s tea awaits.”
Thalia dropped a tiny curtsy. “My thanks.” She seated herself on the robe. “What a good idea this was.”
“You should wait and see if the tea has kept any heat at all before you judge it.”
“Of course it has.”
He took a metal flask from the basket and felt the side. “I believe you’re right. What luck.”
He poured tea into two mugs from the basket and got out a packet of sandwiches. “There. No cakes, I fear.”
“We don’t want them. Juvenal? Have you recovered your manners? If so, I will give you a bit of tongue.” She held it out.
The kitten, relinquishing his pique in the face of this inducement, came and took it daintily. Thalia drank her tea and watched him, smiling.
“My mother arrived in Bath yesterday,” said Mr. Elguard after a moment. “I want you to meet her.”
“I hope to.”
“Could I ask you to call at her hotel? I will escort you. I would bring her to the school, but…”
“Of course. You have only to let me know when. I have little free time, I fear, however.”
“Oh, that’s all right. We’ll arrange something.” He leaned back against the rock wall and sighed happily. “How Mother will like you.”
“You think so?”
“Oh, of course.”
Thalia watched him for a moment, as he looked out over the countryside. His blond curls were tumbled by the wind, and his face reddened. He looked content, and she suddenly felt a great contentment descend on her as well. It was exceedingly pleasant to sit here in this way.
They sat thus for some time, until Thalia reluctantly said it was time she was getting back. Then they gathered up the picnic and Juvenal and set off the way they had come. The sun was halfway down the western sky, and it was getting colder, so Elguard urged the horse to greater speed. In half an hour they were approaching the copse again, and a little while later, the wall of the Chadbourne School came into view.
“I very much enjoyed this outing,” said Mr. Elguard then.
“I too.”
“I hope we may repeat it.”
She nodded.
“But first you must meet Mother, and my sister as well. Perhaps on Sunday?”
“I am free on Sunday afternoons.”
“Splendid. I will arrange it and send a note round to you.”
She nodded again.
“Perhaps once you have met her, she could do something… that is… she might be able to help…”
“Help what?”
He hesitated, then burst out, “It is damnable that you are shut up in that school day after day. You should be out dan
cing and, and that sort of thing.”
“But I have said—”
“Yes, yes, I know what you say. But I am convinced that you are too noble a creature to tell me how it really is.”
Thalia stared at him, and he looked down, flushing slightly.
“I suppose I must let you down at the gate again,” he continued.
“I think it would be best.”
“Best!”
“What is the matter?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” He pulled up beside the front gate, and Thalia started to climb down. “Wait. I’ll help you.”
“Who will hold your horse, then? I can manage perfectly well.” And she jumped down and reached for Juvenal.
“You always manage perfectly well, don’t you, Miss Hartington?”
Puzzled by his peculiar tone, she smiled. “Not at all. Rarely, in fact.”
He met her eyes and, after a moment, smiled ruefully back. “Of course. I beg your pardon. I will write to you very soon.”
“I look forward to meeting your family.”
“Thank you.”
Thalia turned to open the gate. “Good-bye.”
“Good-bye.” And as she shut the gate behind her, he drove off.
Walking back to the school building, Thalia wondered about his odd remarks. What had he meant? She was far too engrossed in her own concerns to notice a little group of pupils loitering in the front hall when she entered. She went directly to the stairs and up to her bedchamber, but they lingered to whisper eagerly together, then moved en masse to one of the parlors. There a tall blond girl sat down at the writing desk and began avidly to compose a note. When she had finished and read it over, she laughed. “I shall have John take it into town first thing tomorrow,” she told the others. “I’ll give him a shilling, and he’ll deliver it by hand. Then we’ll see something.” She laughed again, and one by one her friends joined her, but most of them sounded more nervous than amused.
Eleven
When Thalia came down to breakfast the next morning, she noticed Lady Agnes Crewe in the front hallway, in earnest conference with John, the school’s footman and general message carrier. As she looked, Lady Agnes gave him an envelope and some coins, saying, “You’ll hurry, won’t you?”
“Yes indeed, miss,” replied John, fingering the money appreciatively. “It’ll be there before the cat can lick her ear.”
“Good.” Turning, Lady Agnes caught sight of Thalia on the stairway. She started a little, then recovered and began to turn away.
“Good morning, Lady Agnes,” said Thalia with some amusement.
The girl looked sharply up at her, then returned the greeting before walking hurriedly away in the direction of the dining room. As Thalia followed more slowly, she wondered what kind of mischief the other was up to. For there was no doubt that she was plotting something; Lady Agnes was never so intent as she had been just now unless she was up to something devious.
Breakfast was a pleasant meal. Thalia was in a happy mood, and she had an interesting conversation with Miss Reynolds, on her left, about the pianoforte and its origins. Euphie’s interest in music had meant that her sisters also learned a great deal about it, and Miss Reynolds was pleased to find such a knowledgeable party beside her. Their talk lasted through the meal, until Miss Chadbourne rose to go out. As Thalia followed her, she saw Lady Agnes stop before Miss Chadbourne and drop a small curtsy. This was so unusual that she increased her pace slightly and came up with them in time to hear the girl say, “I wondered if I might see you today, Miss Chadbourne? There is something I want to talk over with you.”
The headmistress showed no signs of surprise. “Certainly, Lady Agnes. You may come up at two, after luncheon.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” The girl dropped another curtsy and walked away.
“Odd,” murmured a voice near Thalia’s ear, and she turned to find Miss Hendricks, the painting teacher, next to her. “I would wager that our Lady Agnes is going to tell tales on someone. It is one of her favorite little nastinesses, though she has never gone so high as Miss Chadbourne before. I sincerely pity her victim. Miss Chadbourne has very rigid ideas of propriety.”
“We should do something,” replied Thalia. “Perhaps I should speak to Lady Agnes and find out what it is. We don’t want any of the girls wrongly accused.”
“Oh, I doubt it will be wrongly. The little Crewe is usually careful to be sure. But you stay clear of it. You’ll only be pulled into the row yourself if you interfere.”
“And what does that matter, if I can help?”
Miss Reynolds merely looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “You’re a kind person, Miss Hartington,” she said as she turned away. “Do as you like. But I warned you.”
Thalia went to her classroom somewhat troubled as a result of these incidents. She was not sure what she should do. Lady Agnes sat in her customary place in the back of the room and smiled complacently through the session. Thalia felt a growing urge to wipe the smug look from her face, but she could think of no way to do so.
The morning passed placidly, with no untoward event marring Thalia’s classes. Indeed, Mary Deming came up after the first to tell her how much she had enjoyed the poetry they read. In Thalia’s weeks at Chadbourne, Mary had devoured every book she possessed and was well on her way to becoming a fine student of literature.
“Those last three lines,” she said to Thalia when the rest of the fifth form had filed out, “they are so beautiful I thought I should burst into tears when you read them aloud.”
“They are fine,” agreed Thalia.
“And you read them so well. How I wish I could do so.”
“I have told you that it is merely a matter of practice, Mary. Why not try some reading by yourself, in your room?”
The younger girl flushed. “Actually, I… I have. Once or twice. But it sounded so foolish.”
“It does, at first. But if you keep at it, you will soon be declaiming like an orator.”
Mary laughed. “I? But I shall keep trying, Miss Hartington. Perhaps I can improve, at least.”
“I’m sure you will.”
Mary turned to go, but at the doorway she paused. “I wanted to tell you that I… I love your class. It is the best in the school, and I am so glad you came here.”
“Why, thank you, Mary.”
The girl ducked her head shyly, blushed, and left the room.
Thalia smiled to herself as she readied her papers for the next class. Mary was a sweet child; it was hard to believe that she and Lady Agnes Crewe were of the same universe, let alone the same age. Thalia wondered what had happened to each to make them so different.
When her morning classes were over, Thalia went up to her room to fetch Juvenal and take him down to the kitchen for his meal. She had just deposited him there and was walking back toward the dining room when one of the maids stopped her. “Here you are, miss. I’ve been looking everywhere. A lady has called for you. She’s outside in her carriage.”
“Outside? But it’s chilly.”
“I know, miss. But she wouldn’t come in. She asked that you come out and speak to her. Here’s the card.”
Thalia took the small square of pasteboard and read it. “Lady Constance Elguard.” Her cheeks flushed a bit and she caught her breath. “Oh.” She turned quickly back toward the stairs. “I’ll get my shawl.”
In three minutes Thalia was at the front door, her shawl wrapped around her. The school was going in to luncheon, but she ignored them. She would go without her meal, since Lady Elguard had been so kind as to call.
A luxurious private chaise stood outside, and Thalia went directly up to it. As she reached the gravel of the drive, the window was put down and a woman of about fifty looked out. “Miss Hartington?” she said.
“Yes, ma’am. And you are Lady Elguard. It is very kind—”
“One moment,” interrupted the other, and put the window back up with a snap.
Thalia blinked, but at once the door of
the chaise opened and Lady Elguard stepped down. Thalia caught a glimpse of a younger woman inside the vehicle, pale and sitting very straight, before she turned her attention to James’s mother. Lady Elguard was a tall woman, with prominent bones in her face and gray hair dressed in fashionable ringlets. Her clothes were good, but somber, and her eyes a piercing light gray. At the moment, she was looking Thalia up and down appraisingly.
“Pretty,” she said finally. “But that was to be expected.”
Thalia stared at her.
“Come,” said the older woman. “It is too cool to stand about here. Let us walk up and down.”
“But won’t you come in for a moment?” replied Thalia. “You must be chilled after your drive.”
“I won’t,” snapped Lady Elguard. “I told the maid so already.” She began to walk, and Thalia went with her perforce.
There was a short silence. Thalia, more and more puzzled, did not know what to say. But she was about to venture a commonplace remark on the weather when Lady Elguard snapped, “I have heard all about my son’s entanglement with you.”
Thalia stopped dead and stared at her.
The other faced her grimly. “I believe in plain talk, Miss Hartington. And I see no reason to mince words. You needn’t play the innocent, either; you know very well what I mean.”
Thalia shook her head slightly and started to speak.
“Oh, stuff, of course you do. Don’t playact with me. I have come to tell you that you won’t succeed. You may have fooled my son, but you won’t me. He’ll never marry you, and you may as well give it up.”
“M-marry,” stammered Thalia. In her astonishment, she couldn’t seem to put three words together.
“Of course marry. My son is destined for a great career in the church, Miss Hartington, and he must have a wife who can forward that career. No penniless little schoolmistress is going to stand in the way.” Lady Elguard looked her up and down again. “However pretty,” she added.
Thalia drew herself up. “You have made a mistake,” she said tightly. “There is no question of marriage.”
“Indeed? And I suppose you will say next that you did not entice my son into clandestine meetings, or spend hours alone in his company?”
