didn’t expect the door to be answered by the daughter of the house.”
“Oh no? Who did you expect to answer it then? The Prime Minister?”
“Well, the butler,” I said. “Or the maid.”
The little girl smiled. “We have fallen on diminished times,” she said after a long pause.
I nodded. I had no answer to this. “Well then,” I said. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Eliza Caine. The new governess.”
There was an almost imperceptible roll of the girl’s eyes and she opened the door wider to let me in. “It’s only been a few hours,” she said.
“Since what?”
“Since the last one left. Miss Bennet. Still, at least she’s gone. She wanted to go, terribly. But she couldn’t, of course. Not until she found someone to take her place. That was kind of her, I suppose. It does her great credit. And here you are.”
I stepped inside, uncertain what to make of this extraordinary speech. Looking around, expecting her mother or father to descend the staircase despite what Heckling had said, I found myself immediately impressed by the grandeur of the house. It was very traditional and no expense had been spared on its ornamentation. And yet, for all that, it seemed to me to be a home which had been decorated perhaps several years before,and little had been done to keep it looking fresh in recent times. Still, it was clean and well ordered. Whoever took care of the place did a good job. As the little girl closed the door behind me, it sealed with a heavy sound, making me jump and turn round in fright, at which point I startled again, for standing next to her, wearing a similarly white, crisp nightshirt, was a little boy, perhaps four years her junior. I hadn’t seen him before. Had he been hiding behind the door?
“Eliza Caine,” said the little girl, tapping her index finger against her lower lip. “What a funny name. It sounds common.”
“The working classes all have names like that, I think,” said the little boy, scrunching his face up as if he was almost certain that this was true but not entirely so. I stared at him, wondering whether he meant to be rude, but he offered me such a friendly smile that I felt he was just stating the obvious. If we had to speak in terms of classes, then I supposed I was working class. I was here, after all, to work.
“Did you have a governess when you were a girl?” he asked me then. “Or did you go to school?”
“I went to school,” I told him. “St. Elizabeth’s in London.”
“I’ve always wondered what that would be like,” said the girl. “Eustace here would suffer dreadfully at a normal school, I think,” she added, nodding in the direction of her brother. “He’s quite a delicate child, as you can see, and boys can be terribly rough. Or so I’ve heard. I don’t know any boys myself. Other than Eustace, of course. Do you know many boys, Miss Caine?”
“Only the brothers of the small girls I teach,” I said. “Or taught. I was a teacher, you see.”
“At the same school you attended as a girl?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness,” she said, smirking a little. “It’s almost as if you never grew up. Or never wanted to. But it’s true what I say, isn’t it? About little boys. They can be terribly rough.”
“Some,” I said, looking around, wondering whether we were going to stand here chatting all night or whether I might be shown to my room and introduced to the adults. “So,” I said, smiling at them and attempting to speak in an authoritative manner. “Here I am anyway. I wonder, could you let your mama know that I have arrived? Or your papa? They might not have heard the carriage.”
I noticed the boy, Eustace, stiffen slightly as I made reference to his parents but chose not to remark on it. The little girl, however, allowed her demeanour to slip a little and she bit her lip and looked away with an expression approaching, but not quite reaching, embarrassment.
“Poor Eliza Caine,” she said. “I’m afraid
“Oh no? Who did you expect to answer it then? The Prime Minister?”
“Well, the butler,” I said. “Or the maid.”
The little girl smiled. “We have fallen on diminished times,” she said after a long pause.
I nodded. I had no answer to this. “Well then,” I said. “Perhaps I should introduce myself. I’m Eliza Caine. The new governess.”
There was an almost imperceptible roll of the girl’s eyes and she opened the door wider to let me in. “It’s only been a few hours,” she said.
“Since what?”
“Since the last one left. Miss Bennet. Still, at least she’s gone. She wanted to go, terribly. But she couldn’t, of course. Not until she found someone to take her place. That was kind of her, I suppose. It does her great credit. And here you are.”
I stepped inside, uncertain what to make of this extraordinary speech. Looking around, expecting her mother or father to descend the staircase despite what Heckling had said, I found myself immediately impressed by the grandeur of the house. It was very traditional and no expense had been spared on its ornamentation. And yet, for all that, it seemed to me to be a home which had been decorated perhaps several years before,and little had been done to keep it looking fresh in recent times. Still, it was clean and well ordered. Whoever took care of the place did a good job. As the little girl closed the door behind me, it sealed with a heavy sound, making me jump and turn round in fright, at which point I startled again, for standing next to her, wearing a similarly white, crisp nightshirt, was a little boy, perhaps four years her junior. I hadn’t seen him before. Had he been hiding behind the door?
“Eliza Caine,” said the little girl, tapping her index finger against her lower lip. “What a funny name. It sounds common.”
“The working classes all have names like that, I think,” said the little boy, scrunching his face up as if he was almost certain that this was true but not entirely so. I stared at him, wondering whether he meant to be rude, but he offered me such a friendly smile that I felt he was just stating the obvious. If we had to speak in terms of classes, then I supposed I was working class. I was here, after all, to work.
“Did you have a governess when you were a girl?” he asked me then. “Or did you go to school?”
“I went to school,” I told him. “St. Elizabeth’s in London.”
“I’ve always wondered what that would be like,” said the girl. “Eustace here would suffer dreadfully at a normal school, I think,” she added, nodding in the direction of her brother. “He’s quite a delicate child, as you can see, and boys can be terribly rough. Or so I’ve heard. I don’t know any boys myself. Other than Eustace, of course. Do you know many boys, Miss Caine?”
“Only the brothers of the small girls I teach,” I said. “Or taught. I was a teacher, you see.”
“At the same school you attended as a girl?”
“Yes.”
“My goodness,” she said, smirking a little. “It’s almost as if you never grew up. Or never wanted to. But it’s true what I say, isn’t it? About little boys. They can be terribly rough.”
“Some,” I said, looking around, wondering whether we were going to stand here chatting all night or whether I might be shown to my room and introduced to the adults. “So,” I said, smiling at them and attempting to speak in an authoritative manner. “Here I am anyway. I wonder, could you let your mama know that I have arrived? Or your papa? They might not have heard the carriage.”
I noticed the boy, Eustace, stiffen slightly as I made reference to his parents but chose not to remark on it. The little girl, however, allowed her demeanour to slip a little and she bit her lip and looked away with an expression approaching, but not quite reaching, embarrassment.
“Poor Eliza Caine,” she said. “I’m afraid
Similar Books
