Page 10 of Trouble

‘Good morning, Amy! I have been up since five, I was so looking forward to our day.’

‘Er .?.?. Good morning,’ said Emily, wondering what could have gone so wrong in this girl’s life that she wasexcitedabout her lessons, and then remembering – ah yes, deceased mother, lingering illness. She supposed that if you were overly fond of your parents, the loss might be quite significant.

Emily’s father had been a dedicated drinker, perpetually out of the house attending to ‘business’ and only aware of his daughters in an absent-minded, passing way; sometimes he came home feeling particularly sentimental and would tell stories from when the girls were small, mixing up the key details, casting himself as the heroic pinnacle of fatherhood in every one. In truth he was afather, not a papa. Their mother had been the steadier fixture; she was very fond of Amy and slightly alarmed by Emily, and had never bothered to hide either of these facts. Emily remembered her as practical and unfussy, but weak-willed when it came to her husband, and inclined to prioritise keeping the peace over all else.

Mrs Laurence had given up entirely after her husband died and had faded into the background of Emily’s life, unable to come up with any sort of plan to improve their fortunes. Emily had never forgiven her for it. Her own grief at her father’s passing, complicated as it was by the confusing impression he had made on her life, had quickly turned to resentment and anger at the state he had left them in.

She wondered what form Grace’s grief had taken at the loss of her mother.Shecertainly didn’t lookangry and resentful right now. In fact, she looked disconcertingly thrilled, although her expression twisted briefly into regret as she spoke.

‘Aster is .?.?. Well, I seem to have misplaced her. Shewashere, looking for a book, and I tried to sort of block the door with my body so she couldn’t leave, but she just waited and took her chance as soon as I sat down again.’

‘I see,’ said Emily. ‘We will do without her, for now. What were you studying with your last governess?’

‘Music lessons,’ Grace said, with a hint of distaste. ‘And social etiquette. I wouldn’t have minded – I love music and I dearly look forward to parties – but I’m afraid she was not .?.?. musically inclined, or particularly convincing as a potential party guest.’

‘Why don’t you just find something you’ve been reading,’ Emily said, sure that she would be exposed at once if she tried to start with music and etiquette, ‘and tell me about it?’

‘Really?’ said Grace, her face brightening. ‘I’ve been readingUdolpho! Have you read it? It’s about a young lady called Emily St. Aubert, and she’s having a miserable time of it.’

Emily didn’t even blink at the sound of her own name. She was improving already.

The number of miserable Emilys in the room doubled as Grace explained the plot ofThe Mysteries of Udolphoin great detail; Emily had not read it, but Amy had, and had recounted the entire thing to her in great detail even as Emily pressed her face into the mattress and begged her not to. At least simply listening to Grace and prompting with a few well-placed exclamations of, ‘And why do you thinkthatis?’ was infinitely preferable to attempting any real teaching.

Gracelovedreading. Emily knew because Grace had told her so three times. She wondered what it might be like, to have so much time dedicated to leisure that you could have favourite hobbies; Emily had always been so focused on the practicalities of life that she would have had no idea what to say if anybody had asked her what sort of thingssheliked to do.

She seemed to be endearing Grace to her without any effort on her part at all. Apparently nobody had ever asked her to talk at length about a book she was enjoying: this alone secured her, as Grace told her repeatedly, the top spot of all the governesses ever employed at Fairmont House.

Aster only strolled in when the time came for luncheon. She looked as if she was attending an entirely different occasion to Grace, in a simple day dress with something misshapen and hand-knitted thrown over the top. Emily wondered if Grace had knitted it, and if anybody had told her that she should never attempt the feat again.

‘And what have we been lecturing on today?’ Aster asked Grace, apparently pretending Emily didn’t exist.

‘Emily and Valancourt!’ said Grace.

‘Ah, yes,’ Aster said gravely. ‘The foolish Monsieur Valancourt. What a mawkish little harlot.’

‘Aster,’ Grace breathed, horrified.

Emily pressed her lips together and said nothing, and Aster levelled a very cutting look at her, waiting for her to react.

‘Luncheon,’ she said, her eyes flitting back to Grace again when Emily stayed silent.

‘But we should have luncheon with Amy,’ said Grace.

‘Father has summoned us.’

Grace almost pouted. ‘But I want to enjoy lively conversation and witty anecdotes over my luncheon!’

‘I am extremely lively,’ Aster said, as lively as a flattened badger.

‘You know as well as I do that we will answer Father’s questions about our morning, and then it’ll be nothing but silence until dessert. Incidentally, whathaveyou been doing with your morning?’

‘Pushing the boundaries of artistic expression,’ said Aster. ‘Making obscene shapes out of clay.’

Grace tried one more time. ‘I really do think that Amy—’

‘IfAmydesires company, I am sure she will feel very at home among theservants,’ said Aster.

This immediately obliterated any goodwill Emily had been feeling towards her for being occasionally witty. Whatever quirk of personality had resulted in Grace treating the staff as real people clearly hadn’t been genetic, because Aster was looking at her as if she was a household pest trying to make off with her sandwiches.