“Do you knowwhyI believe this?” she continued. “It is because my own heart, deep down, was never mean-spirited or ungenerous or unwelcoming or rude—not to Ana or Cynde or anyone else. When I said and did all the terrible things to all the undeserving people, there was...” and now she fluttered her hand in the air, “...another ‘badness’ that compelled me to be so very small, petty, and mean. I am not afraid of whatever causes you to challenge me and call me names—and, it can’t be said enough, I’m not afraid of you.
“I am committed to working with you, no matter how rude you become; partly because I need the money and partly because I enjoy the work. I have a sentimental place in my heart for girls who do and say terrible things. Lucky you.
“We are stuck together, the three of us. We can make the most of it, we can ignore it, we can fight until the bitter end, or we can do some combination of the three. But I cannot be put off.”
The twins sat before her in silence. Either they had taken this under advisement or they were planning their next volley.
And by “they,” of course she meant Imogene. Beautiful, defensive, prickly, expertly rude Imogene.
Drew watched them. When no one spoke, she ventured,“The reason I asked about your various interests is because I’d like to arrange lessons for each of you. Some of this instruction, I’m afraid, will be mandatory. Whether you like it or not, you must learn to dance; if you know a foreign language, you should brush up on it; if you play a musical instrument or have voice training, we will continue with this; if there are gaps in your schooling, we should arrange for a tutor. Horses are not mandatory, but if you’ve an interest in riding, I believe there is benefit for every female in proficiency on horseback. Beyond these required lessons however, if there are areas of interest near and dear to your own hearts, these may also be included—assuming your uncle agrees. Tutors and instructors can be hired to instruct in countless areas of study.”
Imogene remained silent, watching her with suspicious, narrowed eyes. Ivy, however, finally looked up from her plate.
“What areas of study?” Ivy whispered.
“Well, as an example, my very favorite hobby is actually bird-watching. I adore birds and whenever I have free time, I spend it out of doors, usually hidden within a bush, sitting very still and quiet and watching birdlife. I have a sketchbook and pencils and record what I observe with drawings and notes. I have studied migratory patterns and seasonal behaviors. I also have a small reference library of books about birds.”
No surprise, Imogene opened her mouth to make some reply. The impulse to ridicule bird-watching was irresistible. It wasn’t glamorous or fashionable or exciting. As hobbies went, it was quiet and boring, popular mostly to pensioners.
But Imogene did not tease. She closed her mouth.
Progress, thought Drew.Or,the joke hadn’t been worth the effort.
Drew forged on. “Up until several years ago, my bird-watching prowess was entirely self-taught. But then I discovered a professor at London University who offeredguided tours of popular birding trails, including lectures about the British birds and advice on where and how to view various species. I paid the fee and joined the tour and learned so much more. After his tutelage, I enjoyed my hobby a hundredfold.”
They looked at Drew as if she, herself, were a bird and they’d convened at the dining table to study her.
Drew joked, “You’ll not appreciate this, but I am now something of abirding expert.”
If their silence was any indication, they didnotappreciate it.
Drew chuckled and continued, “That is a way of saying, think of your own interests, no matter how obscure, and we’ll see if we might locate an expert to help you learn more. Or do it better. Whatever it may be.”
“You’ll arrange this simply to...” Imogene speculated, “...indulge us? Or to spend Uncle’s money? I don’t understand. You do it because your heart is so very touched by our... our... by whatever appeal you claim we possess?”
“Oh no, I do it because being passionate about something will make you more interesting. Which is part of my job.”
More blank stares.
“When the Season begins,” she explained, “you’ll see that every debutante offers some curated mix of harp playing, French speaking, quadrille dancing, with the possible addition of flower arranging or watercolors tossed in. And good for them. If either of you wish to pursue these, we shall arrange it. However, the mostinterestinggirls are the ones whose passions look beyond the expected repertoire of ladylike diversions; the ones who learn a skill or follow a passion because they truly enjoy it, rather than simply because generations of grandmothers deemed it suitable and tidy and serene. Do you understand? You should do what you love—and not only because you love it, but because it makes you more of who you are.”
“Do you believe that watching birds makes you more interesting?” asked Imogene, and Drew laughed. Whetherthe girl meant to insult Drew or birds, she couldn’t say. It didn’t matter. They were listening.
“To the correct people—that is, the people whoIwish to know and with whom I spend my time—bird-watching is perfectly interesting. Or at least,Iam interesting because I have this passion. Also, I should like you to have interests that enrich you, independent of making a splash at your debut or finding a husband. A woman should have something to sustain her—multiple somethings—no matter how the Season falls or what the future holds. And also, the more you know about anything, the better off you are.”
And now they’d returned to silently watching her. Drew made a mental note to teach them torespondwhen people addressed them. The blank stares must cease. But for now, perhaps she’d said enough.
“Think on it, both of you,” she said. “By tomorrow, I’d like to hear a few ideas on lessons or hobbies that interest you—and window gazing does not warrant. Let us also think on what you may already know. I mentioned languages and instruments and the lot. Gaps in these skills should be filled right away.”
“We’ll need all of it,” said Imogene, turning to look at her square in the face. “Every. Single. Thing you’ve said.”
The direct answer—and an answer lacking in hostility, to boot—caught her off guard. Her goblet was halfway to her mouth. She put it down.
“Oh,” she said. “Very good then. Thank you, Imogene. All of it.”
She wanted to glance over her shoulder, to see if the duke heard—moreover, if he approved—but she dared not lose the engagement.
“What language?” Drew asked lightly.
