A School for Brides

by Patrice Kindl

  “And then one day I lost one of my little booklets of calculations. I returned to the room where I had left it to find no trace of it. I recollected seeing Mr. Rupert Crabbe pick something up off the floor as I left the room, but when I taxed him with it, he denied finding a notebook.

  “After that, I wondered. Some days later, I left another completed booklet where he might find it, and observed him from a place of concealment. He took it up, looked long at the work inside, and then secreted it upon his person. Again, he denied knowledge of its whereabouts. Mr. Rupert Crabbe’s behavior in absconding with my other material does not surprise me at all. I assumed that, when once he had proposed and I had rejected him, he would do precisely that.”

  “Then—then you were determined to refuse him? Of course you were, since he could act in such a low and duplicitous manner! But how strange that he should purloin your work like that when he had hopes for your future together! I do not understand it at all.”

  “I believe I do. He could not be certain of me, you see. I did not behave with the deference he thought due to his sex and position. And so he sought to—I believe the term is ‘hedge his bets.’ If I agreed to marry him, all well and good: he would have access to my work, both present and future, as well as to my fortune and my person. If I did not agree, he would at least have my formulae upon which he could base a learned paper, and thereby win himself a name.”

  Miss Asquith could not help but smile a little at Miss Franklin’s serene assumption that any paper based upon her formulae would of course result in renown and respect for its author. However, the fact that Mr. Rupert Crabbe had put himself to the trouble of stealing it rather lent weight to the assumption.

  “But since you knew he was stealing your notebooks . . . ! Pray forgive me, Rosalind, but why did you not better guard them? How often have I observed you leaving them in a small heap on a table in the parlor! Will this not be a dreadful loss to you?”

  Miss Franklin picked up a fan from the table next to her, discarded by one of the other young ladies, and began to thresh it back and forth in front of her face, which had the effect of shielding her expression from Miss Asquith’s gaze.

  “I did indeed invest a great deal of time, thought, and effort in those notebooks,” she admitted. “However, I have decided that, since I do not have access to a telescope of my own, it will be best if I shift my explorations from astronomy to a science that does not require such expensive equipment—at least until I get some control of my own money, that is. I had thought of botany, which merely requires a garden. I am much interested in the variability of species, and I might be able to do something with fast-growing plants that could be selected for some specific trait, you know, which would—”

  Miss Asquith reached out and seized hold of her hand. “Pray stop waving that fan about, Rosalind. I cannot see you properly, and it is not that hot in this room. What was in those notebooks that Mr. Rupert Crabbe stole?”

  “Observations on the orbit of Uranus,” Miss Franklin responded, “and a theory that certain perturbations in that orbit might indicate the existence of another planet beyond it in our system. The equations and the observations used to expound the theory, all of which are reported in the notebooks, would appear to bear it out.” She gazed wide-eyed at Miss Asquith.

  Miss Asquith studied her face. “You say ‘a theory.’ And the equations ‘would appear to bear it out.’” She frowned in concentration and then went on, watching Miss Franklin carefully. “No, I do not believe it can be a tarradiddle, a nonsense you made up to impose upon him. He is far too intelligent and knowledgeable in the discipline to be gulled by some rubbish you invented. So I see that you are quite truthful in saying that you spent a great deal of time and effort on those booklets, ensuring that they were convincing to an informed and powerful intellect. Then, in fact you do not believe that there are any planets out past Uranus?”

  “Certainly I do,” responded Miss Franklin. “And if only I had regular access to a good lens, somewhat larger than Mr. Rupert Crabbe’s, I should prove it.”

  “Ah, I see! You would prove it, if only you were given the opportunity. But, as you have not had the opportunity, your notebooks do not in reality prove any such thing?”

  Miss Franklin looked down at the fan, resting inert in her lap, a small smile flickering across her face.

  “Perhaps there might be some errors in the pages of those notebooks,” she conceded. “One who is anxious for fame in scientific circles, who is unwilling to do the lengthy work of checking my observations and deductions, might be misled into believing that I had proof. However, I am sure that Mr. Rupert Crabbe would never be so foolish as to take the unsupported word of a mere woman and simply attempt to publish my findings as his own without extensive review.”

  Miss Asquith regarded her in silence for a moment.

  “Do you know, I am often thought to be rather daring in my attitudes and my manner. But I must say, my dear Rosalind, you quite outdo me. You are rather a devil, aren’t you?”

  Miss Franklin smiled, but said nothing.

  “Very well. I shall not wrack my feelings on your account. You have lost nothing of worth and are heart-whole. Now, if only we could resolve the matter of Miss le Strange’s necklace as satisfactorily as that, I should be much relieved, and fully two-thirds along the road toward perfect happiness.”

  “Do you know—I had quite forgot—there is something about Miss le Strange I meant to tell you. I probably ought not to speak of it, however.”

  As Miss Asquith considered the best way in which to pry loose this interesting secret from Miss Franklin’s rather undeveloped sense of propriety, an interruption occurred.

  “Mrs. Fredericks of Crooked Castle,” announced Robert, beaming all over his handsome face, and ushering the new mother, making her first morning call after her confinement, into the parlor with an extravagant bow. “And Master Rodney Fredericks, I believe!”

  “Yes, here we are, and I have so much to tell you all!” said Mrs. Fredericks, flinging her bonnet, gloves, and parasol hither and yon with great abandon. “I have brought Rodney along with his nursemaid, as I find I cannot bear to be parted from him for long, so we shall keep our visit short, lest he should grow testy. He’s rather a poppet, but when he feels he is not being appreciated, look out! is all I can say.”

  The young ladies gathered around to admire the young man and the blooming health of his mother.

  “Oh, I am excessively well—both my son and I are positively bursting with vigor and well-being. You need not concern yourselves with us. But listen! Now that I am allowed to get up and exert myself, I have determined to make a stir in the neighborhood.

  “My dears, I intend to give a ball! This week fortnight!”

  19

  AND YET, DESPITE the raptures lavished upon Mrs. Fredericks for her kind intentions, several of the young ladies appeared to be less delighted than they ought to be.

  Quite naturally, some, like Miss Victor, were euphoric. At her age, any entertainment more sophisticated than watching Cook pluck a chicken for supper was an extravagant and urbane delight. And although professional musicians would be in attendance, Miss Briggs had already been asked to perform as well; she was therefore pleased and gratified. Then, of course, even though Mr. Arbuthnot was not yet quite well enough to dance, it would be the engaged couple’s first official appearance together in public; he and Miss Evans were calmly looking forward to the event.

  On the descending scale of happiness, Miss Pffolliott was divided in her feelings. On the one hand, Mr. Rasmussen was her admitted suitor, so she would have a partner, and not have to suffer the indignity of sitting by and watching others dance. On the other, she could not bring herself to like her parentally endorsed admirer; by turns, she both smiled and sighed.

  Miss Asquith was grieving for the loss of Mr. Crabbe, yet such was her nature that she could not help but look
forward to any form of merriment. Miss Franklin was indifferent; she planned to smuggle a treatise on the cell division of plants into the ballroom to entertain herself whilst her fellow students frivoled the night away. And, at the nadir of this list of pleasurable anticipation, Miss Crump was made miserable by the thought that she might be expected to perform, either on the dance floor or in conversation.

  Although the Fredericks had agreed that its stated reason was to celebrate Miss Evans’s and Mr. Arbuthnot’s engagement, it was Miss Mainwaring whose happiness the ball had truly been meant to promote. Thus, Mrs. Fredericks’s eye was on her niece as she made her announcement, and she was concerned to note that Miss Mainwaring did not appear elated by the news.

  “Oh yes. How delightful,” she said. “What could be more exciting?”

  “As you are so enthralled by the idea, Cecily, perhaps your teachers will excuse you from lessons this afternoon so that you can be my assistant and run errands and so forth?” Mrs. Fredericks looked at her stepsister and her stepsister’s friend with lifted eyebrows.

  “Oh, certainly!” said Miss Hopkins. “I know Miss Mainwaring would enjoy helping you with the preparations.”

  If this was true, Miss Mainwaring did not display any signs of it. She avoided her aunt’s eyes. “Miss Quince said I ought to spend more time practicing my French,” she objected.

  “We shall speak nothing but French the whole of the afternoon,” Mrs. Fredericks replied with decision. “Come, Cecily! Go and get your bonnet on. I wish to speak with you. Dépêche-toi!”

  Reluctantly, Miss Mainwaring fetched her bonnet. Little Master Rodney stirred in the nursemaid’s arms as she stood, preparing to leave. Robert, who had been making ridiculous faces at the baby behind the nursemaid’s back, said, “Diddle-ums! Kootchy-coo!” and wiggled his fingers in front of the child’s face. The nursemaid stepped away from Robert with an air of snatching the baby out of range of some malign influence. Rather startled by this evasive action, Robert drew back to allow them to precede him, his smile slipping from fatuous glee to anxious uncertainty.

  Mrs. Fredericks, who had placed a hand at the base of Miss Mainwaring’s back in order to propel her out of the house, spared a moment to note this small interchange. When they had gained the front walk, leaving Robert drooping like a wilted begonia in the doorway, she decided to tackle this mystery first, before interrogating her niece.

  “Agnes, why did you behave just now as if that good-looking young footman was breathing the plague over my son?” she demanded, looking hard at the girl. Agnes was new to the household, having been brought up from London to care for Master Rodney.

  “Oooh, Ma’am!” replied the girl, attempting to curtsy while walking with her arms encumbered by the baby. “I know they say in the servants’ hall that he’s honest as the day is long, but what I say is, there’s no smoke without fire!”

  “Ah. The matter of the necklace, I suppose. Even I, in the midst of my maternal preoccupations, have heard about that,” Mrs. Fredericks said thoughtfully. “What say you, Cecily? Do you believe that Robert took those jewels? You were present, after all.”

  Diverted from her own worries, Cecily shook her head so decisively that her curls bounced about her face. “Certainly not! The servants’ hall is quite right. Poor Robert would not dream of doing it. No one likes that Miss le Strange in the least, for all she is so well-born.”

  “It is unlikely she would steal her own necklace, however,” said Mrs. Fredericks. She turned back to Agnes. “You heard what Miss Mainwaring said. Kindly do not spread any rumors. We must hope that the necklace turns up on its own.”

  Agnes did not quite dare to sniff, but she looked as though she was considering it. As a citizen of the great city of London freshly arrived at this little tin-pot village in Yorkshire, she felt herself to be a woman of the world in comparison with these naïve country folk. In Agnes’s opinion, even Mrs. Fredericks, pleasant lady that she was, had no more sense than a day-old chick when it came to the wicked ways of footmen. Once, Agnes had loved a handsome footman, only to be spurned and to see her tenderest feelings trampled upon. Agnes considered that she knew everything there was to know about footmen, and judged accordingly.

  Once at the Castle, Mrs. Fredericks sent Agnes off to the nursery to put young Rodney down for a nap, and prepared to pry open the oyster that was her niece.

  “Well, Cecily—” she began.

  “En français, non?” inquired Cecily.

  “What? Oh, good heavens no, you foolish creature! I merely said that to get you away. I am afraid I am not up to a discussion of your happiness in a foreign language, even if it is the language of love. And now, tell me in plain English why it is that you are facing the expectation of a ball with all the enthusiasm of a patient waiting to have a tooth extracted.”

  “Oh, Aunt Althea . . . !”

  “You are in love with that young Mr. Hadley, are you not?”

  “Aunt Althea!”

  “Don’t be such a goose. I am not more than three years your senior, but I feel a hundred. I expect it comes of my being such an old married woman now—it has a terribly aging effect on one, having to put up with the whims and foibles of men and babes. Come now! It is obvious that you love him. You go red and white by turns every time he enters a room. It is true that I have had my attention rather on other subjects of late, but I should have to be blind not to notice that!”

  “Well . . . yes, but—”

  “And what is wrong with that? In spite of what I said just now, I approve of matrimony. And motherhood as well, altho’ at times I do wish that babies would not cry quite so loudly, but that is neither here nor there. From all that I can tell, Mr. Hadley is a very decent young gentleman, and, assuming his prospects are as good as I have every reason to believe, I intend that you shall marry him. You want to, do you not?”

  Miss Mainwaring’s eyes misted up and threatened to overflow.

  “Oh yes, most dreadfully!” she cried, but at this point she was interrupted by the entrance of her uncle Fredericks, carrying a messy stack of papers that looked as though they had been disinterred from a badger’s den.

  “Oh, do go away, Mr. Fredericks!” cried his affectionate wife. “I have got your niece to admit that she wants dreadfully to marry Mr. Hadley, and now you must come barging in and ruin everything!”

  “Hadley? Hadley, do you say? Not Caruthers Hadley, surely?” demanded Mr. Fredericks.

  “I do not believe so. The given name of your beloved isn’t Caruthers, is it, Cecily?” Mrs. Fredericks inquired of the now openly sobbing Miss Mainwaring.

  “No, certainly not,” she replied, mopping at her tears with a tiny handkerchief more composed of lace than linen. “His name is Arthur!”

  “Oh, good, good!” exclaimed her uncle. “Shouldn’t think you’d want to marry old Caruthers. Must be fifty if he’s a day, and the most awful scoundrel I ever met. Tried to cross me in that indigo deal—you remember, Althea—swore I’d never have dealings with the man again. Ha! Caruthers Hadley! The old crook!”

  “As the gentleman you mention is not the gentleman in question, perhaps we could delay discussion of his various crimes until a later time?” inquired Mrs. Fredericks.

  “Oh, indeed. Don’t you even think of marrying Caruthers Hadley, though, Cecily! Greatest villain un-hung in England. That being understood, I believe I will allow you two ladies to sort out your various problems on your own,” and Mr. Fredericks hastened out of the room again, shedding several dog-eared and dirty pages as he went.

  “Now we have got rid of him, I believe we may find we have need of him after all,” reflected Mrs. Fredericks as she pressed her own, rather more practical, handkerchief into service for her niece-by-marriage’s tear-spattered face. “I want him to inquire into Mr. Hadley’s parentage and financial situation, and nobody is better equipped to find out about finances than your uncle. However, do
not fret, Cecily dearest, we will know all about him soon, I assure you. Pray tell me your grief and we will see what can be done to assuage it.”

  And so Cecily Mainwaring told her of her growing fondness turning to love for the man who had seemed so interested in a childhood spent on an Indian indigo plantation, and whose father was heavily invested in the East India Company. This connection had seemed to draw them together, until quite suddenly he had begun making the most extraordinary overtures to Miss Crump.

  “And she hates it, Aunt, she hates it! Poor, dear Miss Crump cannot bear these—these peculiar stories he tells her about his home and his family. He draws the most bizarre picture of his circumstances, apparently in an attempt to woo her. Only, it seems to me that he actually wishes to repel her. Oh! It is so confusing!”

  “I see,” said Mrs. Fredericks thoughtfully. “Or I think I do. At least, I have an idea. We shall have your uncle initiate a bit of research into Mr. Hadley’s background. That is the first step.”

  Her niece blotted her eyes with the handkerchief and sighed.

  The date for the ball was set, and preparations began in earnest. Not Miss Mainwaring alone, but all of the students were pressed into service to run errands, choose music, help to plan the menu for the dinner, and sew silk flowers as decoration. When not actually engaged in helping to ready the Castle for the celebration, they mended and refurbished their best gowns, experimented with new hairstyles, and tried on one another’s gloves and petticoats.

  A letter came from Lord Baggeshotte’s attorney, stating that the Viscount was still living, but too ill to speak. If valuable property had been stolen, the attorney recommended that the guilty party be handed over to the local magistrate. If an engagement had occurred between Miss le Strange and Lord Baggeshotte, the attorney knew nothing about it, and neither, upon being questioned, did any of the Viscount’s servants or family connections. Miss le Strange’s position as fiancée was therefore unsupported by any evidence, and her possession of the necklace conceivably unauthorized. Here the letter became vague; his lawyerly caution dreaded possibly offending his employer’s rightful bride, yet the idea that an imposter had managed to gain possession of, and then lost, a precious family heirloom was not to be contemplated, either.