Page 41 of Trouble

Without Grace to instruct, and with the schoolroom already tidy, Emily could have retired to her room to be alone. She could have gone wandering by herself, making the best of the fine weather. Instead, she found herself drifting into the kitchen, ostensibly looking for something to eat, and then wandering through to the tiny housekeeper’s office, where she found Meera now elbow-deep in lists.

‘Do you need something, Amy? Just give me a moment, I am holding ten numbers in my head and if I let one drop, it will start somewhat of a cascade.’

Emily did not need anything, and was suddenly embarrassed to have come here, interrupting the real work Meera was doing. Meera finished writing something with a flourish and then put down her pen.

‘I am all yours.’

‘Oh, I wasn’t .?.?. I just thought I would check if you .?.?. needed me for anything.’

Meera gave her a slightly puzzled smile. ‘Not at all. It isverykind of you to offer, though.’

Emily had not felt kind. She had simply felt bored. If Meera misconstrued her actions as kindness, that was her problem.

‘I know you have been working hard with Grace, Amy, and that you would do the same with Aster if only she were within arm’s reach. Please, your time is your own.’

‘It isn’t real hard work,’ Emily said, before she could stop herself. ‘I mean .?.?. not like the kind of workyoudo.’

‘Whatever makes you say that? I believe instructing young ladies is one of the most important things you can do. You might not get a chronic back problem out of it, but I am sure it puts strain on other things.’

‘Do you have a chronic back problem?’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Meera. ‘But all the best people do.’ She was studying Emily’s face very closely; whatever had pulled Emily like a magnet to seek company had vanished, and she suddenly felt as if she had awoken from a spell that had led her into the lion’s den. ‘You know, we have never employed a governess before who was willing to get her hands dirty. I had never imagined such a person existed, but .?.?. here you are.’

‘Yes,’ said Emily, trying to keep the disquiet out of her voice. ‘Sorry. I’ll just be going.’

‘Do notapologise,’ said Meera, shuffling her papers into a neat pile. ‘You are unique, Miss Laurence, and we are grateful to have you.’

Emily let out a disbelieving little huff. ‘I am not entirely sure that Captain Edwards feels the same way.’

Meera tilted her head to one side and considered her again. ‘I don’t think that’s true.’

‘Have I lasted longer than the last governess, yet?’

‘Well,’ said Meera slowly. ‘Thepreviousgoverness did not believe that Grace was truly ill. She thought that it was a sort of laziness of character, and that she could fix her with endlesswalking, especially when she was feeling under the weather. Grace was too determined to cure herself to tell anybody what was happening. She collapsed in the garden and was in bed for a month. I have never seen Captain Edwards so angry.’

‘Oh,’ said Emily. ‘I didn’t know.’

‘I knowyouwill not do anything so foolish. I mean it, Amy. We areallso pleased that you are here.’

Emily wasn’t sure if she said anything in reply, or if it just came out as garbled nonsense. She exited as if pursued by a constable, and only felt able to breathe again once she was up in her room, sitting on her bed, where she should have gone in the first place.

When her heart had ceased hammering, she sat down to write to Amy, placing the two gold sovereigns next to her on the desk, where they gleamed ostentatiously in the light.

Dear Amy,

Nobody minds that I am here in your place, and you should not be worrying yourself about it; they are too kind for their own good and would probably be grateful for me even if I were teaching the children how to smash windows and set things alight like tiny Luddites (actually, not a bad idea – we need more baby revolutionaries in the world).

I have barely seen the captain, so please insert here whichever mental picture of him you prefer; an elderly seadog, a young whippersnapper dashing about on boats. Whatever pleases you will suit.

Re my being an acquired taste – nobody here is sampling me, thank you very much, so my taste is neither here nor there.

Do you remember when you fell in that puddle outside Jimson’s and the water went so far up under your dress you said it had entered via the exit and you were no longer thirsty, and I laughed so hard I almost made a show of myself?

The sea is a bit like that puddle, so no need to worry that you’re missing anything. Everything smells sort of fishy, and the air is so salty that I might as well be brushing my hair with a comb of fish ribs.

I am sure you are feeling better and sprightly, but in case you do need to call for the doctor so you can flirt with him and tell him off for being so damnably expensive, I have enclosed some money. Do not run off and spend it all at once on peppermints or give it to a charity that makes little peg legs for three-legged dogs.

All my love, really and truly,