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Authors: Kate Moore
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on the table, and her friends bent over their newspapers.
The select and restricted world of Miss Weston's Academy had been unintentionally kind to Lady Ophelia Brinsby and Miss Henrietta Gray when it had brought them together. At twelve years old, Hetty, the new girl, had been plump, pretty, and unprepared for the snobbery and cruelty of her classmates. Ophelia, though younger, knew the haughty ploys of her privileged schoolmates and set out to teach her friend survival. Hetty, for her part, offered Ophelia books, books Ophelia had never dreamed existed.
They read the novels of Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Rad cliffe, and Mrs. Brunton, following their heroines into ruined abbeys and down American rivers. They followed Samuel Richardson's Clarissa Harlowe from the priggish confines of her family home through all her encounters with her seducer Lovelace to her inevitable death. They read Voltaire and Rousseau, Tom Paine and the French Encyclopedists and Wollstonecraft. At sixteen they wrote A Treatise on the Ideal State of Man, which Solomon Gray, Hetty's father, printed for them. Some five hundred copies were out when Ophelia's parents discovered the book. The duke purchased or reclaimed all of the copies and threatened Solomon's publishing business. Ophelia was removed from Miss Weston's Academy and forbidden to continue her friendship with Hetty.
Ophelia had a clear recollection of that day. Her father had taken her aside after he'd destroyed the copies of their treatise to tell her about the duties of her station in life and what she should do to please him. "You are to be lovely and proper and quiet. Call no notice to yourself while your mother and I make every provision for you." He had made repeated allusions to the disgrace Lady Caroline Lamb had brought upon herself, and had urged Ophelia never to make her family look ridiculous. After that episode she'd developed her strategy of compliance. She would willingly keep most of the rules, in order to break the one that kept her from Hetty.
Ophelia looked down at her friends, absorbed in their newspapers. Solomon Gray was entirely bald, but his lack of hair contributed to the fierce vigor of his face with its dark, sharply peaked brows, intense eyes, and strong, straight nose. Hetty's pale golden curls framed a delicate countenance in which a pair of intelligent blue eyes seemed at odds with her soft beauty.
" What a solemn pair!"
Hetty's head came up instantly. "Ophelia! Where have you been? We've been very dull, as you plainly see. We've needed you." She rose and came to Ophelia, giving her a quick hug and drawing her to the table.
"And I you. You don't know how much."
Solomon Gray smiled broadly. "Miss Ophelia, come, sit," he invited. "Let me tell Mrs. Pendares you'll be wanting some coffee."
Ophelia took a chair beside Hetty, peeking at an open book. "What's this?" She scanned the title. "Celia in Search of a Husband."
"It's for review," said Hetty, pushing the book aside.
"May I help?" Ophelia opened the volume.
"Of course. Where have you bee n? I didn't know what to think," Hetty said, "or whether I should risk a letter."
"Father sacked William, and I've had to contend with a new groom this week."
"You must have brought the new man around to your side."
Ophelia kept her gaze on the little book. "By a lady," the title page read. "We've achieved a sort of truce."
"Has it been war?"
A little commotion outside the breakfast room made them both turn. Mrs. Pendares, the Grays' housekeeper, opened the door for Solomon, who carried a tray laden with coffee and a plate of biscuits.
"Now, Mr. Gray, you oughtn't to be taking my business upon yerself in this way," Mrs. Pendares protested, blocking the door. She was slim and cheerful, with silver strands in her dark hair, and Ophelia could not remember a time when she had not been with the Grays.
"Step aside now, ma'am," said Solomon. "I don't want to drop your biscuits in Miss Ophelia's lap." He winked at Ophelia, who
The select and restricted world of Miss Weston's Academy had been unintentionally kind to Lady Ophelia Brinsby and Miss Henrietta Gray when it had brought them together. At twelve years old, Hetty, the new girl, had been plump, pretty, and unprepared for the snobbery and cruelty of her classmates. Ophelia, though younger, knew the haughty ploys of her privileged schoolmates and set out to teach her friend survival. Hetty, for her part, offered Ophelia books, books Ophelia had never dreamed existed.
They read the novels of Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Rad cliffe, and Mrs. Brunton, following their heroines into ruined abbeys and down American rivers. They followed Samuel Richardson's Clarissa Harlowe from the priggish confines of her family home through all her encounters with her seducer Lovelace to her inevitable death. They read Voltaire and Rousseau, Tom Paine and the French Encyclopedists and Wollstonecraft. At sixteen they wrote A Treatise on the Ideal State of Man, which Solomon Gray, Hetty's father, printed for them. Some five hundred copies were out when Ophelia's parents discovered the book. The duke purchased or reclaimed all of the copies and threatened Solomon's publishing business. Ophelia was removed from Miss Weston's Academy and forbidden to continue her friendship with Hetty.
Ophelia had a clear recollection of that day. Her father had taken her aside after he'd destroyed the copies of their treatise to tell her about the duties of her station in life and what she should do to please him. "You are to be lovely and proper and quiet. Call no notice to yourself while your mother and I make every provision for you." He had made repeated allusions to the disgrace Lady Caroline Lamb had brought upon herself, and had urged Ophelia never to make her family look ridiculous. After that episode she'd developed her strategy of compliance. She would willingly keep most of the rules, in order to break the one that kept her from Hetty.
Ophelia looked down at her friends, absorbed in their newspapers. Solomon Gray was entirely bald, but his lack of hair contributed to the fierce vigor of his face with its dark, sharply peaked brows, intense eyes, and strong, straight nose. Hetty's pale golden curls framed a delicate countenance in which a pair of intelligent blue eyes seemed at odds with her soft beauty.
" What a solemn pair!"
Hetty's head came up instantly. "Ophelia! Where have you been? We've been very dull, as you plainly see. We've needed you." She rose and came to Ophelia, giving her a quick hug and drawing her to the table.
"And I you. You don't know how much."
Solomon Gray smiled broadly. "Miss Ophelia, come, sit," he invited. "Let me tell Mrs. Pendares you'll be wanting some coffee."
Ophelia took a chair beside Hetty, peeking at an open book. "What's this?" She scanned the title. "Celia in Search of a Husband."
"It's for review," said Hetty, pushing the book aside.
"May I help?" Ophelia opened the volume.
"Of course. Where have you bee n? I didn't know what to think," Hetty said, "or whether I should risk a letter."
"Father sacked William, and I've had to contend with a new groom this week."
"You must have brought the new man around to your side."
Ophelia kept her gaze on the little book. "By a lady," the title page read. "We've achieved a sort of truce."
"Has it been war?"
A little commotion outside the breakfast room made them both turn. Mrs. Pendares, the Grays' housekeeper, opened the door for Solomon, who carried a tray laden with coffee and a plate of biscuits.
"Now, Mr. Gray, you oughtn't to be taking my business upon yerself in this way," Mrs. Pendares protested, blocking the door. She was slim and cheerful, with silver strands in her dark hair, and Ophelia could not remember a time when she had not been with the Grays.
"Step aside now, ma'am," said Solomon. "I don't want to drop your biscuits in Miss Ophelia's lap." He winked at Ophelia, who
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