“If you cannot break out of your habits, then I fear we are done before we’ve even started.”
At that, Emma pushed back. “And how would you know what happened at the dinner? I did speak to Lord Dunmeath.”
“I know what happened because I never left the room,” Mrs. Harding answered. “I was there the entire time. I saw precisely what you did—and didn’t—do.”
At that, Emma’s face flushed. “None of the men wanted to talk to me,” she murmured. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“So, you gave up.”
The judgment in the woman’s voice bothered her deeply. Yes, she’d given up. She was so accustomed to feeling awkward and unwanted that she’d fallen back on familiar habits. Even after Lord Dunmeath had come to speak with her, despite the hopes she’d gathered... she didn’t truly believe that it would work. After all, the earl had asked half of London to wed him already. Why would he have any real interest in her? Especially when he couldn’t be bothered to remember her name.
And yet, she couldn’t deny that Mrs. Harding was right. If she didn’t do something, she would find herself being sold off into marriage soon enough.
“I suppose I did give up,” Emma admitted. “I didn’t like being the center of attention.”
“What sort of husband do you want?” Mrs. Harding asked.
She took a long moment to think about it. “Someone who lets me be who I am. Someone ordinary, who doesn’t expect me to plan grand parties or be in charge of a large household. I shouldn’t marry a man with a title.”
“And why not?”
She shrugged. “I’m not able to handle all the responsibilities. It’s too much.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment at her ignorance.
“Does it have anything to do with your eyesight?” Mrs. Harding asked. “When was the last time a physician examined you?”
A flush came over her at the realization that the matron had overheard her quiet conversation with Lord Dunmeath. She lowered her gaze and admitted, “Years ago, when I was seven. He told my father I would be fully blind by the time I turned eighteen.”
“And are you?”
She shook her head. “Not yet. But one day, I fear it may happen.”
The matron fell silent for a long period of time, and Emma couldn’t quite tell whether it was pity or whether the woman was trying to decide what to do.
“Has your sight become worse over the years?”
Emma shrugged. “I don’t really know. But I can only see things that are farther away. And even then, it’s mostly colors.” Truthfully, she couldn’t recall ever being able to see properly. Whatever that meant. She knew how to count steps in familiar places so she would find the doorways. She knew colors, but even when she was close to someone, she couldn’t quite make out all their features.
“Why didn’t you tell us this when you first arrived?”
Emma’s skin grew cold, and she suppressed a shiver. “Because whenever anyone learns that I cannot see well, they presume that I am incapable of doing anything at all. If I say nothing, they assume I have a ladies’ education.”
“And do you have an education?” the matron prompted.
She felt sick to her stomach at the prodding. “I can’t read, if that’s what you’re asking. I didn’t write your list because I cannot see the letters I am printing. I couldn’t read your instructions this morning.”
“I noticed that you ignored them,” she said. “You were walking around the house instead.”
“It was the only thing I could do,” Emma admitted. The sting of humiliation washed over her. “I can’t paint with watercolors or do needlepoint. If you ask me to locate Italy upon a map, I would have no means of finding it, not even if the name was printed on it.” She shook her head, holding back hot tears. It humiliated her, admitting all that she couldn’t do. But she saw no reason to hold back anymore. Most likely, the matron would now refuse to take her as a student.
“Conversations are difficult for me because I have nothing to talk about,” Emma continued. “I’ve never traveled anywhere or done anything.” Despite her attempts to keep her emotions under control, the tears finally escaped. “I’m sorry. It’s just that... it’s so hard. What man wants a wife who is practically blind?”
Against her hand, she felt the headmistress press a handkerchief into her palm. “I think I misjudged you, Miss Bartholomew. And hearing what you’ve said has made me reconsider your lessons.”
Mrs. Harding paused for a moment and said, “I believe part of your lessons should be receiving an education on all the things you wanted to learn but couldn’t.”
The woman’s sudden kindness only made her tears come harder. Emma struggled to gather her thoughts amid her sobs and admitted, “I would be grateful.”
“Then we will begin in the morning.”
