Miss Hartwell's Dilemma (3 page)

Miss Hartwell rattled through this speech at a great pace, having given it many times before. She paused, wondering if she would have to continue with Churchgoing, healthful food, and country walks. Meanwhile, Lord Daniel looked somewhat stunned.

“It sounds perfectly adequate,” he assured her.

“The girls wear blue muslin in summer, blue merino in winter. I shall give you patterns to be made up. And now let me call Mrs. Vaux to show you about the house.”

Before she could ring the bell, there was a tremendous rattling crash. Amaryllis glanced up at the ceiling in alarm and Lord Daniel jumped to his feet. Then they both turned sheepish as torrential rain began to drum on the windowpanes. Lightning flashed, and once more thunder boomed.

“On second thoughts,” said Miss Hartwell, “I shall show you myself. My aunt is terrified of thunderstorms and will have run up to hide her head under the counterpane.”

She thought he smiled, but the room had grown too dark to see anything with certainty.

“On my own second thoughts,” said his lordship, “I must not stay. This downpour will soon make the roads impassable, and I ought not to keep my horses standing in it. Thank you for your time and patience, ma’am. I shall bring Isabel on the first day of term. Here is a bank draught for the fees.”

“Thank you, my lord. I shall expect you on the fourth of September.”

He bowed. After locking the bank draught in a drawer, she rose to show him out. He followed her to the vestibule, where they found Miss Tisdale and the vicar looking out at the rain.

“Surely you will not go out in this deluge, Mr. Raeburn,” Amaryllis exclaimed, seeing the umbrella in his hand.

“Indeed I must, Miss Hartwell. As I was just saying to Miss Tisdale, my poor sister does not care for thunderstorms and I must not leave her alone. I do believe the rain has already slackened a little.”

Amaryllis and Miss Tisdale exchanged a look. Miss Raeburn kept her brother under the cat’s paw without ever raising her voice, by the simple means of suffering an attack of nerves whenever things did not go her way. Since things generally did go her way, she found in thunderstorms and dog-fights and such incidents an excellent excuse for reminding him of her delicate sensibilities. Amaryllis was privately convinced that had it not been for his sister’s opposition, the genial vicar would have long since offered for Tizzy’s hand.

Lord Daniel stepped forward. “Allow me to offer you a ride, sir,” he said unexpectedly.

Her opinion of him raised another notch, Amaryllis performed the introductions. She thought the vicar looked somewhat flustered when he heard his lordship’s name, but the vestibule was almost as dark as her office had been. Indeed, as the gentlemen left, huddling behind raised collars as they dashed towards the waiting carriage, Daisy brought in a branch of candles.

“Beg pardon, miss,” she said breathlessly, “I’da brung ‘em sooner only Cook were that startled she dropped the best teapot. Smashed to smithereens, it were, and bits all over the kitchen floor. I did tell her as you won’t turn her off wi’out a reference, miss, but you know how she is.”

Miss Hartwell knew. Every time there was the slightest mishap in the kitchen, Cook was sure she would be dismissed without notice. She sighed.

“Tizzy, would you mind reassuring Cook, or we shan’t get any dinner. I must run up to make sure Aunt Eugenia is all right.”

As she mixed a glass of hartshorn and water, she pondered the unlikely romance between Mr. Raeburn and her governess. Tizzy had certainly never been pretty, with her pale blue eyes, long, narrow face, and decided chin. Her hair was a nondescript brown, now greying, and so determined to be straight that no quantity of curling papers could put the least wave in it. Besides, Tizzy’s ineradicable habit of quoting the Scriptures, with chapter and verse, on all occasions was enough to dissuade most gentlemen from pursuing the acquaintance. That she quoted with a certain disdain for appropriateness and frequently followed the quotation with a witty but sceptical disclaimer must eliminate most clergymen from consideration as suitable spouses.

Amaryllis carried the restorative to her aunt’s chamber. Mrs. Vaux was curled up on her pink, frilly counterpane with the pillow over her head and pressed to her ears. She peeped out as her niece sat down on the edge of the bed, then cautiously emerged.

“There is only a faint, distant rumble now and then,” Amaryllis reassured her. “Come, drink this hartshorn and you will soon feel more the thing.”

“I am sorry to be such a fool,” said the widow faintly but with dignity. “Only it does give me such a megrim.” She swallowed the potion.

“And of course you are not frightened in the least,” teased Amaryllis. “I confess that first thunderclap terrified me as well. I looked up expecting to see the chimneys crash through the ceiling, and Lord Daniel jumped from his seat like a scalded cat.”

“It was very loud, was it not? And so sudden! Yet Miss Tisdale scarce even blinked, I vow.”

“She has more backbone than any half-dozen gentlemen of my acquaintance. I wanted to talk to you about her if your headache is abated.”

“It is nearly gone, my love, thanks to the hartshorn.”

“And to the retreat of the storm.” She plumped the pillows behind her aunt and moved to a chair. “I should like to see Tizzy married.”

“To the Vicar?” said Mrs. Vaux doubtfully. “I cannot think she will like to live with Augusta Raeburn.”

“Precisely. Nor will Mr. Raeburn ever brave his sister’s vapours to pop the question.”

“I wish you will not use such vulgar expressions, Amaryllis.”

“You know I guard my tongue in front of the girls and their parents. I have decided that we must dispose of Miss Raeburn.”

“Surely you do not mean to murder her!” gasped Mrs. Vaux. “I cannot think that justified, however cross-grained she may be.”

“What an odd opinion you have of me, Aunt Eugenia. No, I shall not stoop to murder unless all else fails. She must have other relatives on whom she might inflict her presence. I believe the vicar has mentioned a brother in London.”

“But what should we do if Miss Tisdale did marry? We cannot run the school without her. I never did perfectly understand the use of the globes.”

“Nor I.”

“Are you…Are you going to close the school and go to America?” The widow’s lips trembled and she looked suddenly old and frail.

Amaryllis hugged her and laughed. “No, indeed. I had a thousand times rather teach—even the use of the globes—than sell nails and whatever else ironmongers sell. If we manage to install Tizzy in the vicarage, I expect she will not be too grand to help us still. And if she has not the time, why, I daresay there must be dozens of unemployed governesses who would jump at the chance.”

“Oh yes. I am sure you are right. But I do think it very noble of you, my love, to promote Miss Tisdale’s happiness when you rely on her so.”

“Fustian, aunt. I rely on both of you, but I hope I shall not stand in your way when you choose to look about you for a second husband. Now I will leave you to rest, for I have a hundred things to do.” She went to the window, flung up the sash, and breathed deep. “I do believe we shall have a fine evening after all. The air is fresh and clear as a mountain spring, and Ned is out already tying up the plants the rain battered down.”

Amaryllis went downstairs with a slow step. It was true that she relied on Tizzy. There was a hollow space under her ribs when she thought of losing her. Her enforced departure from Hart Hall had come just at the moment when she might be thought to have outgrown the need of a governess, but she remembered with a shiver the anguish with which she had begged her father to let Tizzy stay. Of course, dear Papa had laughed and agreed without the slightest argument.

London would not have been bearable without Tizzy. She loved her aunt and realised with gratitude that Mrs. Vaux had not only guided her through the pitfalls of Society without a misstep but succeeded in turning a country miss into an elegant young lady. Yet it was to her governess she had turned when troubled or unhappy. She owed her more than could ever be repaid, and if she cared for Mr. Raeburn she should have him.

Miss Hartwell spent the next two hours dealing with her correspondence. It was gratifying to be able to turn down so many requests for places in her school. Had there been room in the house, she might easily have employed another teacher.

They dined, as usual, at six. Cook, having recovered her composure and being anxious to make amends for the teapot, had done wonders with the lamb. Ned, the gardener and handyman, had provided fresh, tender runner beans and a baby vegetable marrow. Ned preferred to let his vegetables grow as large as possible before he picked them, however tough or bitter they became, but the storm had torn his vines to pieces so the ladies profited by the destruction.

After dinner, Amaryllis took a pruning knife and went into the front garden to tidy the rain-battered rosebushes. The setting sun caught the scattered petals in its golden glow and turned them into a carpet finer than any out of Turkey. Pink, crimson, yellow, and a dozen shades of green, all the colours in the garden seemed exceptionally vivid. Amaryllis concentrated on her task, carefully cutting off the petal-less heads, breathing the mingled scents of flowers and rich brown earth.

“Miss Hartwell.”

“Ouch!” Startled, she stabbed herself on a thorn, and turned to greet the vicar with a finger in her mouth. “Mr. Raeburn, it is most ungentlemanly in you to surprise a lady who is surrounded by rose thorns. Did you wish to see Miss Tisdale?”

“No, no, I have only a moment. Augusta expects me back for dinner. I hope you will not think me interfering, Miss Hartwell, but I feel I must warn you.”

“If you mean to warn me against pruning rosebushes, you are too late.”

“More serious than that, I fear,” he said with an unwontedly agitated look. “I greatly dislike speaking evil of anyone, but I cannot reconcile it with my conscience to leave you in ignorance.”

“In ignorance, sir? You must not accuse a schoolmistress of ignorance, you know.”

“It pleases you to tease, ma’am. I well know your playful humour, but I beg you will be serious. What do you know of Lord Daniel Winterborne?”

“Little enough. Only that he is, as I surmise, the son of Lord Bellingham and that he means to send his daughter to the Castle Hedingham Academy.”

“He is a rake, Miss Hartwell. I have known him by reputation for many years though I have never met him before today. I have heard tales of him that I cannot repeat to a young lady of gentle birth.”

“I thank you for your warning, Mr. Raeburn, but do pray be easy. It is my intention to teach his daughter, not to flirt with him. Besides, I did not like him above half. I am surprised to hear that he has the least success with females of any sort, since his manners are far from ingratiating. He was, in fact, abominably rude.”

So, she thought as she watched him trudge down the muddy lane in his galoshes, Lord Daniel is a rake. She had best keep an eye on the older girls when he came to visit Miss Isabel.

Chapter 3

With two weeks to go before the beginning of term, Mrs. Vaux set in motion her last-minute preparations.

Several women were hired from the village, in addition to the two regulars, to clean the house from top to bottom. Sheets were counted, darned, ‘sides-to-middled,’ replaced, hemmed, and re-counted. Vast quantities of coal and candles were ordered and delivered and arrangements made with a local farmer to supply almost equally vast quantities of milk, butter, and eggs. Two housemaids and a kitchen maid returned from spending the summer with their families and set to with a will polishing silver and furniture.

One fine day, Miss Hartwell and Miss Tisdale escaped from the excessive domesticity by hiring a gig and driving into Colchester. Amaryllis enjoyed her rare opportunities to take the ribbons, even though the Bell’s plodding nag could not have been more different from the matched greys she used to drive in Hyde Park. She did not miss them near as much as she did her favourite riding mare, but she had not ridden in six years. She sometimes wondered if she ever would again.

Miss Tisdale visited every bookshop in Colchester and returned to the gig, stabled at the Red Lion, followed by two boys laden with weighty packages. Miss Hartwell went straight to her banker and, after a half hour’s consultation, emerged smiling. She proceeded to the best dressmaker in town, spending there considerably more time than she had with her banker and again smiling when she left. She was followed to the gig by a single boy—not that she had any fewer packages than Tizzy, but they did not weigh so heavy.

The ladies treated themselves to a late luncheon at the Red Lion. Miss Hartwell ordered cold chicken and bread and butter. Miss Tisdale, as usual, insisted on having half a dozen oysters because they were a local specialty, although she did not care for them in the least. She was swallowing the last of these, with a wry face, when Amaryllis made an announcement in a portentous voice.

“Tizzy dear, I have been extravagant.”

Miss Tisdale choked. Red-faced, tears in her eyes, she coughed and spluttered, then reached for her cup of tea and recovered her breath.

“Oh dear,” she said guiltily, “so have I.”

Amaryllis was skeptical. The governess’s ideas of extravagance were unlikely to break the bank. “What have you bought?” she asked.

“Five novels! And then I saw a copy of Tom Jones, and I fear I simply could not resist it. It is a classic in its way, you know, though quite unsuitable for the girls.”

“How wicked you are! I hope you mean to let me read it? I am no longer your pupil, after all.”

“‘Strong meat belongeth to them that are of full age.’ Hebrews 5, verse 14. If you promise not to tell Mr. Raeburn I have purchased it, I will lend it to you.”

“I promise. He would be excessively shocked, I wager. Oh, don’t look so troubled, Tizzy. I am roasting you. I daresay he would not care a rush, for he is not at all sanctimonious. I have bought...But no, I believe my revelation shall wait until we are at home.”