to see any . . . difficulties befall her. And I know that these seaside places are full of all sorts of people, including gentlemen whose behavior is less than respectable. Miss Lane has such an impulsive nature.”
“So you are urging me to keep a strict eye on her, is that it, Mrs. Medlock?”
The headmistress nodded in relief. “Yes. That is all. Just be vigilant, Mrs. Aldritch. Now, I will leave you to freshen up. One of the maids will show you to the drawing room when you are ready.”
With Mrs. Medlock gone, Caroline turned back thoughtfully to the basin of water. Mrs. Medlock, who had always been so proper and reserved on the few times they had met in the past, was urging her to be “vigilant” about Phoebe? What was going on?
Caroline frowned at her reflection in the small mirror above the basin. She had thought it would be so easy to be a chaperon and mother figure. They would go to Wycombe, Phoebe would meet some sober young vicar or squire, and she would marry him and be secure and cozy for the rest of her life.
Oh, Caroline knew that Phoebe was rather high-spirited, as all young girls were. There had been occasional letters from Mrs. Medlock about some small prank or other Phoebe and her friends had undertaken. But those had been ages ago. Phoebe was seventeen now, a young lady of an age to settle down.
Caroline thought very carefully now about Mrs. Medlock’s words. She had been so very certain that Phoebe would be eager to listen to her counsel, to meet nice young men. She was so intent on making certain that Phoebe did not make her past blunders that perhaps she had not seen the obvious.
That perhaps Phoebe was exactly like Caroline was at her age, heedless and romantic, ripe for making mistakes.
At least Mrs. Medlock had seen fit to warn her.
“I will be vigilant,” Caroline whispered fiercely. “Phoebe will not end up with another Lawrence, that I promise.”
Phoebe watched Caroline carefully across the tea table, where she sat making polite conversation with Mrs. Medlock and the music instructor. Her sister was not exactly as she had remembered.
Phoebe always thought of Caroline as being elegant and sophisticated, as indeed she was, though rather plain in her dress for Phoebe’s taste. From her childhood, she remembered her sister as being fun, with a ready smile and a merry laugh. She had always been ready for any lark.
The Caroline who sat across from her now, the Caroline she had known for the past few years, always seemed rather, well, worried. Quiet and intense, as if she always had some deep worry lurking in her mind.
Phoebe smiled secretly behind her teacup. Well, she would soon have her sister smiling again. And laughing and dancing and wearing bright, daring colors. Making merry was what Phoebe did best; all her friends agreed that she was the very best at coming up with pranks to pull on Mrs. Medlock. And Wycombe-on-Sea sounded like it could be very merry indeed. At least compared with this school.
The sort of place where a determined girl could get up to some grand schemes.
“Why must we go to a sea resort, of all places?” Harry whined for the tenth time in as many minutes. “There will be no one but old ladies and invalids there. If we have to go to the sea, we could at least have gone to Brighton.”
Justin frowned at his brother. They had been trapped together in the carriage for hours, and Justin had had about all he could take of Harry’s complaints. If he had to hear one more, he would surely toss Harry out of the carriage on his gold satin-covered backside.
Their mother, though, didn’t appear to notice the squabbling at all. She watched the landscape pass by out the window, humming a cheerful little tune under her breath.
“We are not going to Brighton, Harry,” Justin said through gritted teeth, “because there are too many opportunities for you to get into trouble there, with the Prince Regent and his cronies in residence.”
Harry
“So you are urging me to keep a strict eye on her, is that it, Mrs. Medlock?”
The headmistress nodded in relief. “Yes. That is all. Just be vigilant, Mrs. Aldritch. Now, I will leave you to freshen up. One of the maids will show you to the drawing room when you are ready.”
With Mrs. Medlock gone, Caroline turned back thoughtfully to the basin of water. Mrs. Medlock, who had always been so proper and reserved on the few times they had met in the past, was urging her to be “vigilant” about Phoebe? What was going on?
Caroline frowned at her reflection in the small mirror above the basin. She had thought it would be so easy to be a chaperon and mother figure. They would go to Wycombe, Phoebe would meet some sober young vicar or squire, and she would marry him and be secure and cozy for the rest of her life.
Oh, Caroline knew that Phoebe was rather high-spirited, as all young girls were. There had been occasional letters from Mrs. Medlock about some small prank or other Phoebe and her friends had undertaken. But those had been ages ago. Phoebe was seventeen now, a young lady of an age to settle down.
Caroline thought very carefully now about Mrs. Medlock’s words. She had been so very certain that Phoebe would be eager to listen to her counsel, to meet nice young men. She was so intent on making certain that Phoebe did not make her past blunders that perhaps she had not seen the obvious.
That perhaps Phoebe was exactly like Caroline was at her age, heedless and romantic, ripe for making mistakes.
At least Mrs. Medlock had seen fit to warn her.
“I will be vigilant,” Caroline whispered fiercely. “Phoebe will not end up with another Lawrence, that I promise.”
Phoebe watched Caroline carefully across the tea table, where she sat making polite conversation with Mrs. Medlock and the music instructor. Her sister was not exactly as she had remembered.
Phoebe always thought of Caroline as being elegant and sophisticated, as indeed she was, though rather plain in her dress for Phoebe’s taste. From her childhood, she remembered her sister as being fun, with a ready smile and a merry laugh. She had always been ready for any lark.
The Caroline who sat across from her now, the Caroline she had known for the past few years, always seemed rather, well, worried. Quiet and intense, as if she always had some deep worry lurking in her mind.
Phoebe smiled secretly behind her teacup. Well, she would soon have her sister smiling again. And laughing and dancing and wearing bright, daring colors. Making merry was what Phoebe did best; all her friends agreed that she was the very best at coming up with pranks to pull on Mrs. Medlock. And Wycombe-on-Sea sounded like it could be very merry indeed. At least compared with this school.
The sort of place where a determined girl could get up to some grand schemes.
“Why must we go to a sea resort, of all places?” Harry whined for the tenth time in as many minutes. “There will be no one but old ladies and invalids there. If we have to go to the sea, we could at least have gone to Brighton.”
Justin frowned at his brother. They had been trapped together in the carriage for hours, and Justin had had about all he could take of Harry’s complaints. If he had to hear one more, he would surely toss Harry out of the carriage on his gold satin-covered backside.
Their mother, though, didn’t appear to notice the squabbling at all. She watched the landscape pass by out the window, humming a cheerful little tune under her breath.
“We are not going to Brighton, Harry,” Justin said through gritted teeth, “because there are too many opportunities for you to get into trouble there, with the Prince Regent and his cronies in residence.”
Harry
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