by Kellyn Roth
“Of course.” Nettie’s posture slumped in relief. “Did one of your friends contact you, perhaps?”
“No—save Lois, I have heard nothing from any of them. Which is exactly what I want, of course.” If any of her old schoolmates discovered her, the scandal would be great. Thankfully, a few who did use her dress shop were always confidently handled by her assistant.
Thank God for that.
“Good. Then …?”
“I’ve decided Alice ought to go to Miss Selle’s Boarding School for Girls.”
Nettie’s mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened. “I-I … how? She couldn’t! Not as … forgive me, Claire, but not as your daughter.”
Claire’s jaw tightened, but so did her resolve. “No, she will not attend as my child but as the young orphan ward of the Eltons. I’ve already written a letter to Lois requesting she contact the Selles with this request.”
“But she couldn’t! We would be found out. We risk—”
“We risk everything?” Claire forced a smile to turn the corners of her mouth upward. “We already are, Nettie. You knew that from the first!”
“Yes, but …” Nettie wrapped her arms around herself. “But I thought I’d be with her.” Her eyes turned to Claire, pleading. “Don’t make me be without her. I love the child. We can continue keeping her a secret, can’t we? Both Alice and Ivy? And what sense does it make to send one and not the other?”
“You know I can’t send Ivy to school,” Claire snapped. “She wouldn’t make it. But Alice would! She’ll make friends, as I did, friends who will take her away. Friends who will perhaps offer her a proper presentation. She will be secured of the future she must have. The future she deserves.”
Claire could see the bitterness seeping into Nettie’s face, her posture. Her chest rose and fell quickly, and her hands were fists at her sides.
“What future does she deserve, then, Claire?” Nettie shot up and spun to face Claire, eyes alight. Claire knew that fire well, and she wouldn’t try to smother it. The inferno would have to burn bright enough to extinguish itself. “The illegit—”
“Nettie!”
“No, Claire. You know it’s true.” Nettie went to the window. “We shouldn’t send her away. She’d be open to ridicule. Even if we teach her to use an alias, she’s honest—she could never be anything but—and she isn’t old enough to be wise about her words. It will get out. We’ll lose everything.”
“But if she stays, we’ll lose everything, too.” Claire related the tale of Mrs. Maston and her judgmental friends. “There can be no more Alice. No one knows about Ivy that I’m aware of, and if they do, I have no choice but to keep her here. But Alice will thrive, Nettie. We have to give Alice the chance to thrive.”
“W-we would have her for holidays, though?”
The trembling in Nettie’s voice made Claire want to reassure her that indeed it was so, that there was nothing to fear. But she couldn’t. “Nettie, if we’re going to make this work, we need Alice to stay there all year long.”
Nettie fell back onto the bed and covered her face with her hands. She didn’t move or make a sound for so long that Claire was afraid she’d fainted.
“Nettie?”
“I need a moment.”
“We can visit, occasionally, if we’re very discreet. Or you could, if you used an assumed name.” Claire swallowed. It wouldn’t be possible for her to make the journey; there were too many risks involved. “It wouldn’t be often, but it would be something. Every few years, perhaps.”
Nettie moaned. Claire scooted along the bed and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder.
“It’s what’s best. I know you’re attached to her, and I myself have cried many a time over the last few days.” Claire swallowed. The nights always took her by surprise with their empty darkness, but that was neither here nor there. “It’s what we have to do.”
“I … I see.” Nettie lowered her hands and rested them in her lap again. “You won’t hear another protest from me.”
Claire examined the tight press of Nettie’s lips, the wrinkles on her brow. The lack of protest came at a heavy cost, she could tell. “You can’t let Alice know you’re frightened for her, either. She cares for your opinion as much as mine. You must know your attitude toward this will make the difference to Alice.”
Her maid’s head jerked up and down. “I suppose I never should have let myself get this attached. But you know I’ve always wanted to be a mother, Claire, and though things have never worked out in that regard—” She stopped herself and sighed. “I’ll bear it. I’m sorry—this is such a sacrifice for you, and I’m … I shouldn’t be …” She rose. “I’ll finish unpacking. How soon will she leave?”
“I’ve only just sent a letter to Lois requesting a reference.” Claire also stood and walked toward the door. “With her recommendation, we can do this. An Elton’s word will be enough for even the strictest headmistress, and she will help us.”
“I’ve no doubt of it.” Nettie removed an armload of stockings from the trunk and dumped them on the bed. She raised her eyes to meet Claire’s. “Don’t fear for me; I’ll be all right. God will give me all the strength I need. And I’ll pray for you, too. I know this isn’t a decision made without consideration of the price.”
Claire nodded and left the room. She knew Nettie disagreed about the cost versus the benefits in this case.
Lord God, please let this be the right decision for us.
Within a fortnight, Alice bid a tearful good-bye to her dear mother and twin. Ivy cried and asked her to stay, not understanding Alice’s insistence that she must leave. It wasn’t her decision; she never would have chosen to go.
Mummy was resolute to the end, but Alice believed that there were tears in her eyes as she kissed her daughter one last time. “I love you, darling. Be good.”
As the carriage drove off to the train station with Alice—and Nettie as chaperone—inside it, she had never felt so lonesome. She looked out the window and watched London go by. The people walking along the cobblestone streets, the bright storefronts, and the carts and carriages seemed boring and blurry. She brushed a hand across her eyes to wipe away the tears, and the sights became visible for a time. She sniffed and sniffed again. Nettie’s arm slipped around her, and a handkerchief was pressed into her hand.
“It’s going to be all right, Miss Grace.” Nettie pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll be with you for the journey. You’ll love it there—so many girls your own age! How lovely that will be. And think of what a good education you’ll get.”
Alice didn’t reply. That would mean more crying, and she hated to cry more than anything else. Even so, her throat felt full and her stomach caved.
Why were they making her leave them?
Chapter Fourteen
They arrived in Hunstanton, Norfolk on a rainy September day. The carriage drove by tall, waving grasses beside a wide strip of beach, which led down to a gray but calm sea.
“Even the weather matches me.” Alice pouted. “Sad.”
Nettie smiled consolingly and squeezed her hand. “It’s going to be all right, Gracie.”
“No, it’s not.”
Nettie didn’t reply.
The carriage was dim, though it was only mid-morning, and felt even damper and colder with the curtains open. Alice pulled her shawl closer about her shoulders and stuck her lip out as far as it would go. She had long since ceased to cry in favor of being sullen.
“I believe we will arrive in thirty minutes or so.” Nettie had been trying to read since they left the train behind, but the light—or, rather, the lack of—made it impossible. She put the book into one of the bags, touched her hair, and straightened her dress.
“Hunstanton was founded in the eleventh century.” Nettie gestured to a little collection of cottages going by through her half-shaded window. “The ruins of St. Edmund’s Chapel are located here. St. Edmund supposedly built the village. You know, darling, Edmund the Martyr. Have you studie
d him?”
Alice scowled, refusing to be interested. “A bit.”
“Perhaps you will more now that you’re here. There’s a river, too. It runs into the North Sea.” She gestured out the window. “Did you know that there’s also a New Hunstanton? It was developed by a man named Henry Le Strange—I remember the name because your mother thought it was funny—not so very long ago, when I was a girl. It’s a beach resort.”
Alice crossed her arms across her chest. Even if Mummy had lived here all right for several years, surely Alice wouldn’t be able to. And there was nothing, absolutely nothing, interesting about Hunstanton.
“There’s an old church that was originally built in the 1300s.” Nettie reached over and adjusted Alice’s hat. “And in the graveyard, there are soldiers who died in a battle against smugglers on this coast.”
That brought her head up, knocking Nettie’s hands aside. “Really?”
Nettie laughed. “Yes, really. The smugglers were tried in Thetford a year later, but there was insufficient evidence, and they couldn’t secure a conviction.”
Alice sighed. “Oh.” She had imagined that the smugglers would have some terrible death—burned or hung or cut up into little bits as a warning for further villains—but no, they got off free. And so Alice’s conviction that Hunstanton was a terrible place became even firmer.
The carriage stopped in front of a building that was about average in size compared to the house at Pearlbelle Park. However, with two imposing stories, it was large compared to most structures.
The house was a bit back from the road, and short, bright-green grass covered the yard in between the house and the lane. The siding was of brown shakes, wind-beaten and sea-weathered, but somehow still grandiose.
The sign in front read:
Miss Selle’s Boarding School for Girls
Founded 1835 by Mr. and Mrs. James Selle
Nettie gestured to the sign as they exited the carriage. “Their daughters are in charge here now, I believe.”
As if on cue, a woman opened the door of the house. “I’m expecting a Miss Alice Elton, accompanied by her nanny, Miss Annette Atwater. You must be them.”
“We are.” Nettie walked to the porch, motioning for Alice to follow.
Miss Selle had those high cheekbones that are meant for broad, friendly grins, but she gave only a cold smile. Her hair was arranged stylishly, her dress a nauseous spring green in color, and her eyes gray, a bit like Nettie’s but harder, firmer.
Alice imagined she was the ideal headmistress except for one thing—she was not old. Why, Miss Selle was only her mother’s age. That would have surprised Alice out of her grouchiness if that glare had not already. Miss Selle should have been bent and ugly.
“I’m glad to meet both of you. Won’t you come in?” Miss Selle’s voice reminded Alice of the metronome Nettie tirelessly set to keep Alice playing her piano pieces at a consistent pace. Not that Nettie could play, as both of them were horrid at anything musical. “The girls are at their lessons now, but in half an hour, they’ll be released for a fifteen-minute break. Meanwhile, I’ll show you the dormitories. Please come this way to my office.”
Her office was small but neat. There were papers scattered on the desk, but that was the only trace of untidiness. She went behind the desk, sat down, picked up a pile, and sifted through the pages to find the desired one.
“These are the forms that Miss Lois Elton filled out on her distant cousin’s behalf. I have everything I need, but I was informed you—Miss Atwater, is it?—would be able to handle any details I needed, and I do need a signature to this sheet which is a promise of good conduct.”
“I can.” Nettie accepted the sheet of paper, scanned it, and wrote her signature on the given line.
Miss Selle took the paper back, set it on top of the others, and stood. “Alice will be sleeping in room eight with two other girls: Georgiana Kingston and Abigail Peabody. Miss Kingston is eight, and Miss Peabody is nine. I believe you will find them very agreeable. Another girl, arriving sometime in the next few days, will also share Alice’s room. Her name is Lady Mary O’Connell, and she is seven.”
Nettie blinked. “I had no idea you had so many younger students.”
“Indeed. It is an unusual year.” She led them out another door from the office, down a hall, and up the stairs. “On this second level are our classrooms. I won’t interrupt the teachers just now.”
They walked down a long hall lined with closed doors and up another flight of stairs. The third doorway on the left was closed. Miss Selle opened it and led her two companions in.
The room contained four small beds, each with a chest of drawers on one side and some hooks on the other. On the hooks farthest from the door, a coat and a hat hung, both beautifully made. The bed was messy, and a pile of rumpled clothing lay on the floor. The bed next to it was neater. The covers didn’t look rumpled, and the hats and coats hung neatly on their hooks. The shoes were tidily arranged under the hooks, where they belonged, instead of thrust under the bed, and two books were stacked beside a small music box. The pair of beds across from them were crisply made and awaiting their new occupants, and the accompanying hooks and chests of drawers appeared ready to hold Alice’s and Lady Mary’s clothing and outer wear.
“I had a man go out for Miss Elton’s things, and I think I hear him on the stairs,” Miss Selle continued without a break.
Alice blinked—it would take her a while to get used to being referred to by that name and having to make believe Miss Lois Elton was a cousin of hers. But her mother insisted it was necessary for whatever reason.
An older man, whose hair was touched with gray, walked in, carrying Alice’s trunk and bags.
“This is Mr. Thom. He takes care of the garden and does any heavy lifting we require.”
After the man left, Miss Selle gestured back toward the door. “The unpacking may be done later. Come. It’s time for our break.”
They followed Miss Selle out of the room, down two flights of stairs, and onto a large back porch.
“You will meet the servants as time goes on. For now, I’ll just introduce you to the teachers and the girls who will be in Alice’s group,” said Miss Selle. “Ah, here is Miss Kelly.”
Indeed, a woman walked out onto the porch, smiled and nodded at Alice and her aunt, and stood slightly behind Miss Selle. Miss Kelly was about Miss Selle’s age with light-brown hair and pale-blue eyes full of benevolence.
“Miss Kelly usually works with the younger girls, everyone below fourteen,” Miss Selle said.
Miss Kelly nodded.
“Excuse me.” Miss Selle turned to Miss Kelly with an air of annoyance. “Well, what’s happened now?”
“They’re still in the schoolroom. I’m having some trouble with keeping order, but—”
Miss Selle frowned. “Have Miss Fabrey help. Bring them down.”
Miss Kelly nodded and departed.
A few minutes later, ten girls, aged eight through thirteen, marched out and stood before Alice.
“Good, you’re all here!” Miss Selle walked to the first girl and began introducing them.
The girls were all wearing white blouses and brown, tan, or gray skirts. They were simple, without frills or lace, but by no means unbecoming. Alice preferred simpler clothing anyway. Frills and lace got in the way, and unless there was some important occasion, she liked to be plainly dressed.
After Miss Selle introduced the last girl, she dismissed them, and they scattered about the yard.
Miss Fabrey, introduced as working with the older girls, came out a moment later. She was pretty in an exotic way and had an infectious smile. Her mouse-brown eyes were big and bright, and her brown hair curled loosely about a porcelain face. She spoke with a slight French accent.
Alice was also introduced to Miss Schilling, a teacher with light-blonde hair and glasses, both slightly askew. She looked as if she had a bad headache.
Miss Selle had a talk with Nettie and the teachers, wh
ile Alice watched her new schoolmates play, unsure if she ought to join them.
What was mother thinking? I would far rather be taught by Nettie!
Nettie kissed Alice’s cheeks for the hundredth time, pressing her close. “God keep you, my Gracie,” she whispered. “You’re going to be all right. Dwell in Him, all right?”
“All right.” Alice wiggled free, embarrassed by Nettie’s show of affection.
“No—promise me. Read your Bible, pray without ceasing, and make God’s will your first priority. Please, Miss Grace. This is all I’ll ask of you.” Nettie’s eyes were full of tears.
Alice patted her cheek. “I promise. Are you sad?”
“A little.” She pressed her close again. “But I love you, and I’m s-so excited for you! This is going to be the best thing that ever happened to you. Make friends … and remember what your mother told you.”
Alice swallowed. That was the hard part—remembering all the things she couldn’t say. But still, she nodded.
“Your mother loves you more than anything. You can trust her.” Nettie squeezed Alice’s hand and rose.
Alice watched the carriage bear Nettie away toward the train station and London and home. And Alice stayed behind and told herself that only babies cried, so certainly she would not.
Then she turned and dragged her feet up the steps of the house to where Miss Selle waited. She was led straight to the dinner table, where Miss Kelly greeted her with a gentle smile.
“Come now, you can sit next to me.”
After Miss Selle prayed over the meal, they began to eat. Alice wasn’t sure what she was putting in her mouth, chewing, and swallowing; she was too busy being quiet and polite.
Collapsing onto her bed that night, Alice was too tired to think so simply fell asleep.
The next morning, Alice ate at the breakfast table with the other girls. They whispered among themselves even though talking was not allowed at meals.
