by Holly Webb
For Tom, Robin and Will – so proud that you
are growing up and getting ready to vote
Contents
Cover
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Author’s Note
Back Ad
Copyright
Chapter One
One afternoon in June, a carriage rolled up to the door of a tall house in a quiet London square. The girl who climbed down the steps was dressed in the height of fashion, her dress heavily trimmed with lace. She was swathed in a rich sable stole and she stroked the fur smugly as she looked up at the house and the discreet brass plate by the front door.
Miss Minchin
Select Seminary for Young Ladies
“I have come to visit Miss Jessie,” the girl said to the sour-faced parlour maid who answered the door.
“I’m sure I don’t know, miss,” the parlour maid began. “I’m not sure what Miss Minchin would say. Shall I take in your card to her?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Mary,” the girl snapped. “It’s me, Miss Lavinia. Just show me into the schoolroom.” And she tilted her head sideways so that the maid could see underneath her enormous hat.
The parlour maid peered at her, and her mouth turned down even further. “I didn’t recognize you, miss,” she said coldly, standing back to allow her in. “I’ll show you to the schoolroom. As if you didn’t know exactly where it was,” she added under her breath. She glanced behind her and smirked a little as she watched Lavinia primping in the mirror on the wall, adjusting her hat to show off her sharply pretty face and the elaborate piles of her hair.
“Miss Lavinia to see you, Miss Jessie.” The maid threw open the schoolroom door and stepped back to allow Lavinia to swan graciously inside.
“Lavinia!”
“Lavvie! Oh, you’ve come to visit!”
“Look at your dress, and, oh, Lavinia, the furs! Did your papa buy them for you?”
The girls swarmed around her, cooing and stroking the rich brown fur and admiring the puffs of ostrich feathers on Lavinia’s extravagant hat.
“Do you think she put on her very grandest things, just to show off to all of us?” muttered a younger girl, sitting in the deep window seat that looked on to the street. “She looks ridiculous. That hat – she can’t even see out from under it without cricking her neck.”
“Ssshhh, Lottie, she’ll hear you.”
“I don’t care if she does,” Lottie retorted. “It’s not as if she can do anything to us now, Ermengarde. Miss Minchin’s has been almost bearable since Lavinia left. Jessie isn’t nearly so bad without Lavinia here to egg her on.” Lottie watched the others, who were listening delightedly to Lavinia’s boasting, and turned back to the window in disgust, watching the dusty, sunny street in front of the seminary.
Almost bearable… Lottie had been at Miss Minchin’s since she was a spoiled baby of four. She had grown up in luxury, surrounded by Miss Minchin’s grand furnishings, taught French and literature and dancing by the most expensive teachers. She was a Young Lady, through and through, just like Lavinia and the other girls.
She hated it. No one actually liked Miss Minchin’s – unless Lavinia had? Lottie glanced back at the crowd in the middle of the schoolroom and frowned. Lavinia had always been a bully, but a clever one. She seemed to know the most hurtful thing to say, at the very worst moment. As a favourite pupil of Miss Minchin’s, she was almost unstoppable – certainly Lottie would never dare to complain about Lavinia’s cruelty. She had ruled the schoolroom with her sharp tongue and sharper nails. Yes, perhaps Lavinia had enjoyed her time as queen of the seminary. She had learned from Miss Minchin herself, Lottie thought. Her cutting remarks were just the same sort of things Miss Minchin said about wrong sums or daydreaming or bitten nails.
The pupils at Miss Minchin’s knew quite well who the favourites were. Not the cleverest girls, but the richest ones. The ones who had families that would recommend the seminary, and send more girls to be shut up and stifled in the tall dark house.
The heat had yellowed the leaves on the trees early and there wasn’t a breath of wind to move them, but Lottie still ached to be outside. Not in a slow, tortuous crocodile of polite little girls, but running around the square, chasing after a hoop or a ball, as the children from the other houses in the square did sometimes. She sighed, and Ermengarde sighed too.
“Perhaps Jessie hasn’t been so awful to you.” Ermengarde stroked her cheek nervously with the fluffy end of her plait. “But she never stops telling me how stupid I am. And Lavinia visiting is only going to make her worse.”
Possibly Lavinia heard her name – she certainly looked over at just the wrong moment, when Ermengarde was doing her very best impression of a frightened white rabbit, and Lottie had wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Lavinia, seated on one of the schoolroom chairs with her ankles graciously crossed, smiled at them, at her grandest. Her expression was sweet and pitying – the smile of an adult faced with two silly girls. “Is there something the matter, Lottie?” she asked gently. “You look quite ill. Perhaps you should go and see Miss Amelia and ask to be put to bed.”
Lottie smiled back. “I do have a little bit of a headache,” she admitted. “I’m afraid your necklace is making it worse. It’s just so glittery. Paste jewels are very bright, aren’t they?”
Lavinia sucked in a breath. “These are real diamonds,” she snapped. “My papa gave them to me, for my presentation at court. They are not paste!” She managed to plaster her smile on again. “Of course, a little girl like you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.” She whisked round, and carried on talking to Jessie about her court presentation dress and its eleven-foot train. She was telling the others about all the compliments she’d received, but there were red patches across the tops of her cheeks, and it was easy to see that she was furious.
“I don’t think her court presentation can have been that much of a success, if she has to come back to Miss Minchin’s and boast to Jessie and all of us,” muttered Ermengarde. “Doesn’t she have a huge horde of fashionable new friends now that she’s a debutante?”
“Ermie!” Lottie nudged her admiringly. “That was almost catty. Well done. Pity you said it to me instead of Lavinia, though.”
Ermengarde shuddered. “I can never think of anything to say when she’s actually in front of me, you know that. It’s one of the things I miss most about Sara – she knew how to put Lavinia in her place, every time.”
Lottie watched thoughtfully as Lavinia showed off the absurd plumes of her hat. “Except that Sara was always so perfectly ladylike about it. She couldn’t bear to be as nasty as Lavinia, because she was trying to behave like a princess, and a real princess wouldn’t lower herself to be rude. Well, I don’t ever want to be a princess – imagine only ever talking to stuffy, idiotic princes! I’ll be as rude and common as anything if it gets a rise out of Lavinia.” She giggled. “She did mind about that necklace, didn’t she? Do you think it is real?”
Ermengarde peered at it, trying not to be too obvious. “I suppose so. Her parents are terribly rich. You were probably too little to remember, but Lavinia’s clothes were the nicest at the school, until Sara came. I think that’s why Lavinia always detested her. Lavinia loved being the one that everyone admired, and Sara’s things were so beautiful, no one looked at Lavinia any more.”
“I suppose you’re right. But even if those are real diamonds, it’s just showing off to wear a grand necklace like that to come a
nd visit your old school. Where does she think she is, Buckingham Palace? And it’s far too warm to wear sables in June, it’s ridiculous. She’s put on her dressiest things, just to make us all feel small.” Lottie pouted, and turned away to watch the square again. It almost hurt, to be cooped up in the stuffy atmosphere of the schoolroom. “It’s worked too,” she whispered miserably to Ermengarde. “I do feel small. I hate it here, Ermie. It makes me mean.”
“Only Lavinia and Jessie make you horrible,” Ermengarde told her firmly. “You’re nice to me. And most people aren’t. Ignore Lavinia, Lottie. She always was a beast, and growing up hasn’t made her any less of one.”
“I wish she wasn’t so tall.”
“You’re getting taller.”
“She and Jessie and all the older ones still think of me as Baby Lottie, though,” Lottie argued, pressing her nose against the window. “Even you and Sara do sometimes, I can see it in the way you look at me. There are lots of younger ones now – Daisy and Victoria and Meg. I can’t help being small, and having curls.”
Ermengarde smiled at her. “I should think that Lavinia looked quite like you, when she was little. She has blue eyes and fair curls too.”
“Ugh!” Lottie shuddered.
“Oh dear, Lottie. I was just coming to say goodbye, but I see your manners haven’t improved. What a very unladylike noise.” Lavinia gathered her stole around her shoulders, and stood smirking down at the pair of them in the window seat.
“How would you know what’s ladylike?” Lottie snapped. “Just because you’ve left school, it doesn’t mean you know everything suddenly. A real lady wouldn’t come here wearing diamonds and gloat over us all.” Then she smiled at Lavinia, dimples suddenly showing, and her eyes glittering. “Perhaps you could go next door to Mr Carrisford’s house and show your diamonds to Sara. I expect she’d like to see them. She could show you some of hers.”
Ermengarde pressed her hand over her mouth but Lottie and Lavinia still heard her sputtering with laughter. Ermengarde couldn’t hold it back, Lottie realized. It was irresistible. She was smiling herself, even though she could see the dangerous colour sweeping up Lavinia’s neck and the ugly expression in her eyes.
“Don’t you dare,” Ermengarde squeaked, jumping up and pushing Lavinia’s hand away, as the older girl went to box Lottie’s ears.
Lavinia flounced off to the door, surrounded by a mob of twittering girls. Lottie put her arms around Ermengarde and leaned against her shoulder. “Whenever I tease you, Ermie,” she whispered, “just remind me that you did that.”
“I did…” Ermengarde murmured shakily. “I actually did. I need to sit down, Lottie, let go of me a minute, my knees have gone all wobbly.” She sank back on to the window seat and Lottie huddled next to her.
“I hate Lavinia,” Lottie said bitterly. “I hate it here.”
“Ssshhh…” Ermengarde said. “Look. Miss Minchin.”
The fish-eyed mistress had appeared in the doorway, drawn by the noise of the excitable gang of girls fussing around Lavinia. Or perhaps it was just her nose for trouble. Miss Minchin always seemed to appear whenever anything interesting was happening – usually to stop it at once. Her black silk dress whispered over the polished boards, and Lottie shrank into the cover of the window seat, behind the curtains. She had lived at Miss Minchin’s for years, but oddly, each year she grew more afraid of her, not less. A spoiled four-year-old only cared that she wasn’t allowed cake at tea – at the age of ten, Lottie saw the hollow coldness behind Miss Minchin’s smiles and sweet words.
Miss Minchin’s sister, Miss Amelia, was hovering behind her, looking anxious, which meant nothing. Miss Amelia always seemed to be worried about something.
Miss Minchin stood surveying the schoolroom and the chattering died away to an uncomfortable, nervous silence. Then she smiled, her lips stretching thinly. “Miss Herbert. How very pleasant to see you. You have come back to visit your school friends, I suppose? A generous-spirited thing to do.” She moved forward, slow and stately, and held out her hand graciously for Lavinia to shake.
Lavinia burrowed into the thick dark softness of her stole, as if she was drawing strength from the expensive fur. It seemed to remind her that she was not a child and had no need to dread Miss Minchin’s cutting tongue any longer. Lottie saw her straighten her shoulders and apply a bright, social smile. She extended her hand rather limply, as though it was a great effort, and drawled, “Yes, indeed. It seems such a very long time I’ve been away. I have missed everyone.”
“All of a month,” Lottie whispered to Ermengarde.
“And you’ve been presented at court, I believe?” Miss Minchin said approvingly. “What a great honour, to have the chance to appear before Their Majesties.” She looked round the schoolroom at the other girls. “Several of you, also, will be presented in due time, girls. I hope Lavinia has impressed you with the need to pay attention in our etiquette classes.”
“Oh, yes,” Lavinia agreed hurriedly.
“Did you have a beautiful dress, Lavinia dear?” Miss Amelia asked, clasping her hands together and gazing at Lavinia eagerly. Lottie saw Miss Minchin lift her eyebrows slightly. She did not tell Miss Amelia off in front of the girls – or not often – but it was obvious that she thought her younger sister was flighty and far too interested in dresses and jewellery and gossip.
“It was ivory silk,” Lavinia told her. “Very simple. But the train makes a huge difference and of course I had white feathers in my hair and the veils.” She closed her eyes for a second, remembering her moment.
“Goodness,” Miss Amelia sighed. “And did the dear queen look beautiful? You’re so fortunate, Lavinia, being presented in the coronation year.”
“Beautiful,” Lavinia agreed, “but rather stern. She was wearing the most enormous pearl and diamond choker – it made her neck look so long and elegant.” Lavinia ran her gloved fingers over her own diamonds, before looking irritably sideways at Lottie. But Lottie was sitting neatly in the window seat, her ankles crossed and her hands folded in her lap, a picture of good manners. She had a gift for annoying Miss Minchin and she didn’t feel like being lectured, especially not in front of Lavinia.
Miss Minchin sniffed delicately. She disapproved of diamonds. She wore a mourning pin of her dear departed papa’s hair and a cameo brooch on special occasions, but jewellery was not really appropriate for the mistress of a seminary, even a seminary such as hers, for the most select young ladies, from the very best families. Certainly nothing so vulgar and flashy and, frankly, dishonest as diamonds. She was quite disappointed to see dear Lavinia wearing them. For the queen, of course, it was a different matter somehow…
“I must go, I’m afraid, Miss Minchin. Papa’s carriage was returning to fetch me, I expect it will be outside in the square now.”
“Of course,” Miss Minchin said, ushering Lavinia out. “Do visit again, Lavinia. So very fortunate for the girls to see one of their classmates fulfilling all the aims of young womanhood.”
Lottie turned to look out of the window at Lavinia’s carriage. It was there already, drawn up outside the house, the two gleaming chestnut horses stamping up and down.
The window was open at the bottom, just a little – Miss Minchin being a strong believer in the health-giving benefits of fresh air, providing there wasn’t too much of it – Lottie pushed it up a smidge further, struggling with the heavy frame, and felt Ermengarde helping her on the other side. “I just want to see the horses,” Lottie whispered. Now she could lean her arms on the sill and see out properly. The warmth and brightness of the light in the square half-dazzled her. The sun hardly seemed to make it through the dusty glass into the schoolroom. It was making the brass on the horses’ harness glitter.
Lavinia stepped out of the front door, nodding to Mary who had shown her out, and pattered down the steps to the carriage. A servant in a dark coat hurried to open the door for her and the carriage clattered away.
Lottie watched it go with a sigh. However much
she hated Lavinia, at least it was interesting to see her – and her horses were beautiful. Life at Miss Minchin’s was the same dull lessons and the same dull squabbles, over and over. The dullness was only brightened by the dancing class and visits to Sara at Mr Carrisford’s house next door. Miss Minchin hated Sara and her guardian, but now that Sara was so amazingly rich and the diamond mines she had inherited from her father were so fabulously full of diamonds, she couldn’t stop Lottie and Ermengarde visiting. It would be far too hard to explain to their families why they shouldn’t go to tea with one of the richest girls in London. Even if Miss Minchin had once turned that same girl into a servant and forced her to sleep in a rat-infested attic. It made visiting Sara even more wonderful, knowing that the mention of the Little Princess Sara must make Miss Minchin feel horribly, deservedly sick.
Tomorrow, Lottie thought, squeezing her hands together excitedly. She was to go to tea with Sara tomorrow.
A flicker of movement below caught her eye and Lottie realized that she had not been the only one watching Lavinia go. Beside the grand stone steps that led up to the front door of the seminary, there was a smaller, dingier entrance for the servants and errand-boys, through the iron gate and down the stairs to the kitchens and scullery in the basement. A small figure was standing on the steps, leaning on the area railings. She wore a rather faded black dress and a grubby coarse linen apron, with a white cap over her straggly greyish-fair hair. One of the maids, Lottie supposed. They changed quite regularly – Miss Minchin was tight-fisted, and did not pay well, and the cook was a horror, bad-tempered and mean. But Lottie had never seen a maid quite so small as this one. Even Becky, the scullery maid Sara had taken with her when she left Miss Minchin’s, had surely been older than this girl.
She might even be smaller than me, Lottie thought to herself, which was unusual. Some of the seven-year-olds were as big as Lottie. But surely the new maid couldn’t be her own age? Wasn’t ten too young to be working?
As if she could feel Lottie staring, the girl turned and looked up at the window. Lottie ducked back hurriedly and let out a mewing cry of pain as she banged her head on the heavy window frame.
