“Mama has forbidden me from learning Latin,” she said dolefully. “I am not to addle my brain with book learning, she says.”
“Then what are you supposed to do with your time, hem handkerchiefs?”
“Embroidery, tapestry, painting with water colours, netting purses…”
“That sort of thing will addle your brain far more than a bit of Latin. Besides, if you can read Latin, you have the most amazing body of literature at your disposal, and no one could possibly object to that.”
“I can read the translations, as I was doing with Horace.”
“There are a thousand translations of Horace, all of them inferior to the original. Life would be insupportable without Latin, and the ability to reread the Odes on a regular basis — at least once a year.”
“Or to hear them spoken, as you do so well. That first meeting I overheard, when you read out that splendid poem.‘Donec gratus eram tibi nec quisquam potior bracchia candidae cervici iuvenis dabat.’That one. How does it go on?”
“‘Persarum vigui rege beatior.’Should you like to learn it by heart? I can teach you.”
“I am not allowed to open a book.”
“No, but I am, and if I were to write it out for you on a piece of paper, you would not need to open a book at all. And I should be very happy to help you with the metre and pronunciation.”
“Do you think…? But Mama would not be happy about it.”
“Bea, learning poems by heart is something that everyone does… or pieces from Shakespeare or the Bible. Besides, this is only a temporary prohibition. Once you are married, you will be able to spend all day buried in your books, if you want to.”
“As you do.”
He laughed. “As I do. Just make sure to marry a Latin scholar, who will help you with your deponent verbs and eccentric metres. Now, let me recite the first few lines for you to learn.”
Her smile of pleasure should have been its own reward, of course, but his treacherous insides jolted with excitement — he had convinced her to continue their morning lessons, and he had planted the idea that she might take a Latin scholar as her husband. And who better to fill that rôle than Bertram himself?
***
Bea buzzed with excitement, but she was nervous, too. She was not a naturally rebellious person. Thoughtless, sometimes, yes, but she had never deliberately defied her stepmother’s orders, and she was very much afraid that learning a Latin poem by heart came perilously close to defiance. But Bertram was not explaining the meaning of the words, only helping her remember them, so it was not precisely learning the language, was it? And recitation was one of a lady’s approved accomplishments. She had memorised many poems over the years, some of them in French or Italian, without having the least idea what she was saying, and this was no different. Or so she told herself.
After breakfast, her stepmother planned to keep her out of trouble by making her accompany the duchess on her domestic rounds.
“That way, you will have some idea of all that is involved in the running of a great house such as this, and Landerby is but one of the duke’s many estates. Since you will marry into such circles yourself one day, you should be prepared for the responsibilities which will be your lot.”
“Very well, Mama, although I believe you have already trained me well in household management.”
“Oh, at Highwood we have no more than twenty servants, and not even an under butler. That is nothing at all. At Marshfields, there are more than thirty indoor servants, letalone the gardeners, gamekeepers, dairymaids and so forth. Six just in the kitchens... no, seven. I forgot the pastry cook. I was remiss not to show you the scale of the operation there, to give you an idea. Never mind, we shall begin today, and if we are invited to Marshfields this autumn, we may take advantage of the visit to teach you a little more.”
“Yes, Mama,” Bea said dispiritedly.
All day she trudged along behind her stepmother and the duchess. They made a strange pair. Lady Esther fizzed with energy, clearly happy to be in her rightful place in society, issuing orders with authority and finding fault with everybody. The servants eyed her warily as she approached, took their reprimands stoically, and glowered after her as she left. The duchess, by contrast, skipped from room to room with a smile and a compliment and a casual, “You will know how best to do it, I am sure.” The result was that everyone smiled at her, and she left them all cheerful and willing. It was fortunate, perhaps, that Lady Esther swept into a room first, and the duchess followed in her wake, to smooth over the ruffled feathers. She never countermanded Lady Esther’s orders, merely modified them slightly. “Perhaps not quite so much syllabub,” she would say. Or, “Only if you have the supplies… or the time… or can spare someone to do it.”
At the end of the day, Lady Esther turned to Bea with a smile of triumph. “There now, I hope you have a better idea how to go on.”
“Indeed I have, Mama. I have learnt a great deal today. Thank you for allowing me to see you at work.”
And her stepmother basked in the supposed compliment, and, fortunately for Bea, never thought to ask precisely what it was that she had learnt. Such a question would have tested Bea’s powers of invention to their limit.
The only drawback to spending her day thus engaged was that Bea missed Bertram’s presentation to his fellow Latin scholars. She had been looking forward to hearing his lovely voice again, and seeing him striding up and down, the words of men dead for millennia echoing around the room. However, he was one of the first in the saloon before dinner, and she was able to ask him how it had been received.
“Very well, I think,” he said, settling on the sofa beside her. “Medhurst was a bit scathing, but then he always is.”
“But he is your friend!” she cried, appalled by this seeming betrayal.
Bertram only laughed. “Indeed, we are the best of friends, but that does not mean he will concede to the rightness of my arguments. Nor I to his,” he added, eyes twinkling merrily. “Where the Latin poets are concerned, it is hard to find a single point of agreement between us, but that is the fun of such meetings.”
