by Joan Smith
Though I agreed, I felt compelled to mention it was not for youngsters to judge their elders. “Maybe I ought not to have mentioned it, but I know you won’t mind my thinking and judging for myself, for you have often said people should do so,” she pointed out.
"Very true, but be sure you do not say such things in front of your mama. Or uncle,” I added carefully.
“I mean to keep out of Mama’s way this week. She is angry with Alice, and takes it out on me, only because I am here.”
“Why is she angry with Alice?”
“Harmsworth wants to marry her, and Mama wants it too, but Alice wants to marry Captain Tierney, and Uncle Phil doesn’t want her to marry anyone.”
“Poor Alice. And what does her papa want?”
“He wants them all to leave the poor girl alone he says, but he means he doesn’t want to hear all the squabbling. Who do you think she should marry, Miss Fenwick?”
“If the choice were mine, I should choose Harmsworth, but if she actively dislikes him, I do not think she ought to marry either one.”
“She does not hate Harmsworth so much as love Captain Tierney. Will you marry for love?”
“If I ever marry, it will be a man I can love, certainly, but I shall take some care not to go falling in love with an officer. It would be a nomad’s life, following the drum in foreign countries."
“What is a nomad?” she asked. I was happy to divert the topic, happier still to see her taking such a keen interest in increasing her vocabulary, in keeping her ears open to learn new facts.
For the immediate present, it seemed a good idea to practice caution till Lady Synge got over her fit of pique. Dottie and I remained at home that afternoon and got down to some good hard lessons. I hoped to find a moment to speak to Alice, but she did not join us at all. I believe she knew my feelings about her captain, and avoided me on purpose.
Chapter Eleven
I was at pains to be on hand when Harmsworth came to call on Miss Crowell the next day. This was accomplished by watching for his arrival from the window in Dottie’s room, where we chose to study on that occasion. I slid swiftly downstairs and passed my parcel to him before he entered the saloon. He accepted it with a silent wink. Just what procedure would be employed to transfer the money back to me was not set upon, but I supposed he would return the next morning, and trusted his ingenuity.
Meanwhile, there was a day to be got in somehow. It turned out to be a fine day, and a perfectly wretched evening. But first for the day. Some cousins of Lady Synge had landed in town for a piece of the Season, and were putting up with relatives in Berkeley Square. They had, apparently, a daughter whom they optimistically hoped to see shot off in a few weeks. The papa was a bishop. As there was a daughter in the party, Dottie and Alice were taken along, leaving me free. I cherished these days of freedom. It was a great pity Lady Monterne had left the city, for it would have been an excellent occasion to visit her.
I have not thus far mentioned them, but my father also had some relations in the city whom I had not yet gotten around to calling on. They lived rather away from the center of things, out in Hans Town. The paterfamilias was a retired sea captain. They did not live in a high way, but the house was genteel and the family had been educated. Piano, books, carpeted stairway and other marks of gentility were in evidence. The wife was lively, a gossipy soul who reveled in my tales of the ton. As it gave her so much pleasure to hear the words “Marchioness,” “Lord” and “Lady,” I sprinkled them liberally over my talk.
"Your mama’s sister married some cousin of the Monternes, did she not?” Captain Danner asked.
“My mama was part of the family herself,” I informed him.
“Ah, that would be why you’re so interested in all these aristo people. Not much use for them myself. They put on their trousers one leg at a time like the rest of us, when all’s said and done.”
“True,” his wife told him with a sage nod, “but the trousers have deeper pocket, eh Olivia?”
“I hope you have not taken the absurd idea I am impressed with a title, only because the people I associate with are all lords and ladies. You may be sure they will be saying there is nothing but a sea captain for me, when I go back to Russell Square talking of you, Captain Danner.” I rallied him.
"You could do worse, Dear,” Mrs. Danner told me.
I did not mean to stay so long, but somehow the whole afternoon slipped away, and I got back to Synges just in time to change for dinner. Lady Synge was awaiting me in my room. I was astonished to see her making free of my desk and library. "Can I be of help to you, Ma’am?” I asked in my frostiest manner.
Her puffed breast and liverish face told me there was something amiss. "It is a fine thing when I pay you four hundred guineas a year, and you are away all day long,” she said, her eyes snapping.
“I was told the girls would be occupied all afternoon,” I pointed out.
"It is a great pity I ever took them to meet the Fowlers,” she said. “Not that I mean to say for a second it is Dottie’s fault.” The accusing eye told me that whatever had occurred, the blame lay in my dish and no other.
“Suppose you tell me what I have done, so that I can make some sense of this conversation,” I suggested. I set aside my bonnet, removed my pelisse and shook it out before hanging it up, to show her how little I was moved by all her agitation and angry looks.
“What happened, Miss Fenwick,” she said, drawing in her breath till I feared she would burst her corset, “is that Dottie took the ill-conceived notion of relating to Miss Fowler the lascivious stories you have been feeding her about..." She stopped and braced herself for the horrendous word. It came out in a gasp. “Sex!”
Though I was ready to wring Dottie’s little white neck, I answered offhandedly. “Why, Ma’am, you do me too much credit to infer I invited the whole. I did not feed her any stories, but the truth. I feared it was something serious, when you forgot yourself to the extent of coming into my room when I was not here."
“It is extremely serious indeed when a bishop and his wife tell me to my face my daughter is a trollop, and they do not wish Dolores to meet with her in future.”
"I should not think you would wish to meet again with such insular people,” I replied, sinking to the side of the bed in shock and regret, both carefully concealed, it goes without saying.
“Insular indeed!” she bristled, and would no doubt have said more had she had the least idea what the word meant. “You said you had nothing to do with that unholy Godwin person,” was her next shot, which was at last a charge of which I was innocent. “The Bishop says he is an atheist!”
"I believe it is so, but I have never met the man. You knew perfectly well I was teaching the girls about the body and its functions,” I went on, pressing my advantage, and my luck.
“Bones and veins and muscles, Miss Fenwick! Not all that other wretched stuff.”
"I must say it is a fine thing when a bishop sets himself up to criticize the works of the Almighty,” I said, gaining courage at her muddling way of taking me to task. “One wonders who is the atheist, he or Mr. Godwin. If God in his wisdom has devised the way in which he wishes the human race to be continued, I cannot think it was His intention that we keep it a secret from young ladies. Did you want the girls to gain their theories from kitchen maids and modistes, Lady Synge? I assure you it is not the way it is done in the better homes nowadays. Lady Monterne saw to it her girls knew all there was to know on the matter before they left the schoolroom. The Duchess of Tavistock as well. In fact, I used the same text as the Duchess. Dr. Ward’s excellent book. You are familiar with it no doubt, with your keen interest in modern education. I was happy to see you had a copy on your shelves.”
“But Dottie is only a child!”
“She will be out next year. She is physically a woman now. When did you intend telling her the facts of life? The night before her wedding, to send her to do her duties in a state of shock? I cannot believe you to be so foolish.”
“Yes, but she told Dolores, and the Fowlers are so old-fashioned there is no bearing it.”
“They sound positively Gothic,” I answered quickly, wishing her to continue on this track.
“You should have seen the outfit on her!” she told me, happy to get into territory with which she was familiar. “She wore a riding-coat dress with three collars. I haven’t seen one since the French Revolution. And Dolores wearing a cap and a gown with long sleeves. I swear the girl had on ten pounds of clothing.”
“I expect they told her she was delivered by the stork,” I said, risking a laugh.
“It is as much as she’ll ever have to know, for if they think to find a match for that one they will be disappointed. There is not a parti in London would touch her with a pair of tongs. Lady Monterne told the girls the whole of it?” she asked, with a conniving face.
“There was not much they did not know. Debbie was delivering foals when she was twelve.”
“And the Duchess as well?”
“But of course. She holds the modern view in education, as all enlightened ladies do now.”
I relaxed, knowing a mere bishop hadn’t a chance against a marchioness and a duchess. “To be sure we do. Mrs. Fowler is little short of an antique,” she confided.
“Of course I had not meant for Dottie to broadcast our medical lectures abroad. I must speak to her about it. She is a trifle indiscreet, don’t you think?”
"A hoyden, but she is much better than she was before you came to us, Miss Fenwick.”
I had turned her around, saving my skin in the process, or so I thought. Her next remark caused me to suffer a doubt. "Synge feels I should... but I can always talk him around.”
“What does he feel?” I asked, determined to know the whole of my disgrace.
“He mentioned trying to get Miss Silver back…”
Miss Silver was my predecessor. Lord Synge thought, in other words, that I should be tossed out on my ear. I weighed in my mind the wisdom of pointing out that I had a contract which I would expect to see honored with cash whether I stayed or not, versus a cavalier and immediate offer to leave them to return to Lady Monterne. I judged the latter to be more likely of impressing my employer.
“It is a great pity I had not known it yesterday, and I could have returned to Dawlish with my cousin,” I said, in a weary, impatient way that hid all my fears.
“Rubbish!” she exclaimed, pushing herself up from the chair with two hands in a graceless manner. “I can handle Synge. I want my gels to have a good modern education. I shall tell him what you said. Only fancy Bishop Fowler being next door to an atheist,” she said, shaking her head as she waddled towards the door.
“He means no harm. Older churchmen always want to stop the clock. Papa has often mentioned it. They would still be stoning sinners in the public square if each new generation did not take some step towards ameliorating conditions.”
“Perfectly true,” she agreed, nodding her head and storing up the phrase for transmitting to her spouse.
“I have a touch of migraine,” was my next speech, to remove the last difficulty from her path. She would bring her husband round her thumb in privacy. "Would you mind terribly if I had dinner in my room?”
“Not in the least, Miss Fenwick,” she assured me with genuine feeling. “We’ll talk again tomorrow, after I have told Synge how antique the Fowlers are. Imagine Dolores wearing caps, when she was brought here for the purpose of nabbing a fellow.”
The door opened and I was left alone, to tremble at the closeness of my escape. Indeed the affair had the inexplicable result of reinstating me in the lady’s good graces.
An afternoon, especially when a lady has her own carriage, can be got in very agreeably. An evening somewhat less so. In short, I was bored to flinders, sitting alone in my room, for Dottie did not come to me, and I was not so eager to see her minx's face that I went after her. I read, wrote a letter home to Papa and Doris telling them I had been to visit the Danners. It would please Papa. He had asked twice whether I had been to call on them.
Next I took the resolution to arise early, which made an excellent excuse to retire early as well. I am not usually in bed with the tapers extinguished by ten o’clock, but I was on that night, when Dottie came tapping at my door, with her nightgown on.
“I’m sorry I disgraced you, Miss Fenwick,” she said in a penitential voice.
“You did not disgrace me, my dear. Not in the least, though your mama and I have decided it is better if you not discuss our medical lectures outside of the classroom. In future, we...”
“But are you not leaving?” she asked. I could not see her face, but I knew the look it wore—surprise.
“No indeed I am not.”
“Papa said…”
I lay in trepidation, wondering if Lady Synge had failed to conciliate her husband. I supposed the lord of the house had the final say, if he chose to be stubborn about it. "What did he say?”
"He said he never wanted to hear the name Miss Fenwick again,” the artless soul told me.
No sleep was possible after that. I lit the taper, while Dottie curled up on the bed for a chat. She was very sorry, very hopeful, and in the end very unsure of the outcome, but it was perfectly clear to me that I was as welcome as a bailiff in the house.
Dottie started sniffling, saying it was all her fault. She worked herself into a substantial lather. When I finally got her into her own bed, she had the migraine and a spot of fever, but I thought it was her mood that accounted for it.
My own was worse. On top of regret, I had some very real fears for my future. Without my continued salary, I could not redeem Mama’s diamonds. I could hardly go home without them. I had a welcome at Monternes’ in the country, but I felt the offer little better than an insult, coached in such terms as it was. I would have accepted an invitation to go to Debbie and Jack, but knew the chances of receiving one were so slim as to be negligible.
One thing I knew, I would not stay where I was if his lordship planned to relegate me solely to the schoolroom. I had come as a guest-governess; I had no notion of relinquishing the more enjoyable part of my status. I had the consolation at least of fifty guineas coming to me from Harmsworth in the morning. That would see me home, to Monternes’, or put up at an hotel while I looked for another spot. There must be another modern-minded mother in the city who would hire me.
Chapter Twelve
The next day brought fresh problems. In the view of the family, the more serious was that Dottie had come down with a raging fever. The doctor was called and diagnosed an extremely virulent dose of chicken pox. I had managed to escape that childish malady, and had not the least desire to contract it at my age. If I had not already become infected after such close contact with Dottie, it would be a wonder.
Lady Synge, not having achieved total success in turning Synge to her way of thinking, used it as an excuse to be rid of me temporarily.
"How fortunate your cousins, the Strathaconas, are in the city. You must go to them for a few weeks, Miss Fenwick,” she advised me.
I opened my lips to object, but she continued talking. “While you are away, I shall bring Synge to see reason. A couple of weeks should accomplish it. Sit right down and send Lady Strathacona off a note telling her you are coming. You can use my carriage to have your trunks removed. You would not want to ruin the springs of your light rig.”
“I am not at all sure they will be staying in town,” I told her.
“All the better. Go with them wherever they are going, for there will be a little talk about yourself. Mrs. Fowler is a wicked gossip. She is a positive antique, but she will be meeting many of the ton. It will be a nine days wonder. After Dottie is better and the Fowlers have left the city, you can come back to us and resume your work. I daresay you will enjoy the rest. Naturally I shall continue paying your salary.”
The matter of money loomed as large in my mind as being kicked out. I had to remain in the house till Harmsworth brought me m
ine, along with the important ticket that would allow me to redeem my necklace when I received my next allowance.
Writing to Deb formed an excuse to linger till he came. Of course I did not actually write the letter Lady Synge suggested. With her servant waiting, I had to send something, but it was a perfectly pointless epistle, telling her of Dottie’s illness, and that I would not be able to see her for a while. If she asked me to join her, that was something else. In the worst case, I was toying with the idea of taking to my bed and pretending I had caught the disease from Dottie. The lack of spots was all that stayed my hand.
There was one saving shred to my self-esteem in the affair. Deb condescended to return an answer in which she told me a secret not yet known to society. She was increasing. With such an excellent excuse not to have to invite me to her (disease in the house), she expressed every regret that she could not do so. This unexceptionable reply was shown to Lady Synge, who clucked and said perhaps it was better for me to go to Lady Monterne after all.
While we were still talking, her brother was shown in. "Phil, the worst thing imaginable,” she said, then went on to empty her budget to him.
“What exactly is the nature of Miss Fenwick’s transgression?” he enquired, upon hearing that Synge was in a bad skin.
“There was no transgression in the least,” she told him, to my infinite relief. “That old dowd of a Mrs. Fowler took offence that Dottie did not think she had been delivered by the stork.”
“I trust Miss Fenwick has informed both your daughters they were found under a cabbage leaf?” he asked blandly.
“He is jesting,” she told me. Philmot always wastes precious time in joking when there is serious work to be done. “Naturally she told them the truth, as all modern mothers are doing nowadays,” she said, turning her head to him.
“What an old-fashioned bunch of friends I must have!”
“I expect they are only more discreet than Dottie. Naturally we have told her she is not to repeat the story,” Lady Synge told him for me. She had learned all her answers very well.
