CHAPTER FIVE
“In time, the child will feel in its little tender breast the movements of affection.”
Private Education: A Practical Plan for the Studies of Young Ladies.
Elizabeth Appleton. 1815.
“Iknow full well how to walk,” Phoebe contested.
“No, you don’t,” Amelia replied. “You slouch. Now place these three books on your head and pretend you are…gliding across Almack’s floor into the embrace of a handsome young duke.”
After all, wasn’t that what every fifteen-year-old dreamed of?
Not that they existed. All the dukes Amelia knew had nose hair and liver spots.
Phoebe crossed her arms. “I’m never going to Almack’s. It sounds humdrum.”
Amelia brought a hand to her forehead.
As a young girl, she herself had been given all the usual lessons by her mother’s companion, a genteel lady who’d been thoroughly ruined by a rake and thoroughly enjoyed it, but thoselessons had been…fun, albeit a little unusual. They’d gambled to study percentages, staggered about in mother’s silliest shoes to learn the waltz and readTom Jonesto explore England’s geography.
Charlotte had advised to begin with reading for the first day as what could go wrong? But the little imp had read Hamlet within an hour, answered every question Charlotte had prepared and then sat back with a jaded expression.
Taking a seat, Amelia contemplated her charge. Today she was wearing a black crepe dress from some three decades past that, even when fashionable, had only been worn by devoted widows after their spouses’ immediate demise. It was gruesome – all black scratchy lace and black starchy collar.
“Which modiste do you visit for your gowns?”
Phoebe plucked at the skirts. “I refuse to visit a modiste. These are my great-aunt Rebecca’s. She gave me her old widow’s weeds.”
“I was told your great-aunt Rebecca became too ill to look after you?”
“An onset of the ague, although…” The girl wrinkled her nose. “She didn’t really want me there anyhow but she is my sole female relative so there was nowhere else to go. I could do as I pleased though. Wear what I wanted. No…governesses.”
Which explained much.
“But Mr Cadwalader wishes you to have a governess now he is your guardian. So you may gain knowledge for the world you will soon be entering.”
“Uncle just wants me distracted.”
Did he?“Why is that?”
“He’s other matters on his mind,” she said flatly.
“And I notice you call him Uncle?”
“He was friends with my parents and so like an uncle to me,” she replied yet more flatly.
“They must have been close.” Amelia gave a cheery smile. “And do you have many friends?”
“No. Great-Aunt Rebecca once told me to talk with the neighbour’s elder girls, said I would learn much, but they were silly as geese. Prattled of ribbons and…boys.” She spat the last word as if expelling pond slime.
“Well, what would you have liked to learn about then?”
Phoebe’s eyes widened as though she’d never been asked before. “Oh… I… I’d have liked to learn of… Learn about…” She wrung her hands, teeth chewing her lip, and Amelia abruptly worried she wished to discuss how babes came about.
“You can ask me anything,” Amelia offered, crossing her fingers.
“I’m sure you won’t know.”
