Evelyn Richardson (11 page)

“Now,” Catherine rose, “I can see that I have given you quite enough to think about for one day at least. I suggest you ask Olivia to distract you with an introduction to some of the more enticing shops on Milsom Street.”

She ushered a somewhat dazed Arabella to the door, nodded encouragingly, and then returned to her desk where she attacked the day’s correspondence with a good deal more energy than she actually felt. If she had given in to her own desires, Catherine would have put her bonnet back on her head and gone for a long leisurely ramble across the hills outside the city in order to clear her mind before tackling business, but she was nothing if not her own sternest taskmistress, and she concentrated on the task before her, forcibly emptying her mind of all thoughts of a beautifully sprung curricle pulled by an exquisitely matched team held in check by strong, skillful hands, not to mention the memories of an ironic smile and gray eyes that seemed to see everything and understand everything about her. Brutally she reminded herself that if Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies was going to be successful in teaching young women to lead purposeful lives, then its headmistress had better set an example worth following by taking hold of her own wayward thoughts.

And so, for the next several hours, she answered letters from anxious parents, assuring those who cared about such things that the instruction offered at the academy was equal to what they might hope for for their sons. Others she directed to Miss Chamberlayne’s establishment in Queen’s Square, where they could be confident that the very best dancing masters, singing teachers, and instructresses in needlework and watercolors would return to them a product as completely accomplished, aesthetically pleasing, and highly marriageable as any hopeful parent could possibly wish.

From the stack of correspondence, she proceeded to greengrocers’ bills, butchers’ bills, and accounts from stationers, linen drapers, and coal merchants, adding columns of figures, subtracting, projecting income and expenses until she thought her eyes would glaze over at the sight of another number. But at last she rose triumphant, the stack of bills recorded, letters answered, and accounts paid, all piled neatly before her on her desk and ready to be filed away the next morning.

And what did she have to show for it all? she asked herself wearily, as she surveyed the piles of paper in front of her. What indeed did she have except tired eyes, cramped fingers, aching shoulders, and an orderly heap of work waiting for her in the morning?

Catherine rubbed her forehead wearily. It is what you wanted, after all, she admonished herself sternly, and there is no one to blame but yourself now that you have it. With a tired sigh, she closed her office door behind her and went in search of Margaret.

The mathematics instructress was still in her schoolroom, bending over one of the younger girls who was struggling over her multiplication tables, her face the picture of misery. “I cannot, Miss Denholme,” she moaned. “I simply do not understand figures.”

“Very well then, Cordelia, let us look at it another way. Stop thinking of them as just numbers on a piece of paper. Think of them as…as… Well, what do you like?”

“Like?” Twisting one long chestnut curl unhappily the girl stared blankly at her teacher.

“Yes, like. Do you like flowers? Ponies?”

“Cats. I like cats.”

“Cats it is, then. Now suppose you had five cats and every day you put out a saucer of milk for each cat. But then suppose you found out that all these cats were going to have kittens. You would want a saucer of milk for each kitten as well, wouldn’t you?”

The girl nodded slowly.

“So, what would you do?”

“Find out how many kittens there were going to be?”

“Excellent! So you might ask someone very knowledgeable who might tell you that at most these cats would have five kittens each. How many saucers would you then have to have if each cat had five kittens?”

There was a long silence.

“Ummmm, twenty-five?”

Margaret patted her encouragingly on the shoulder. “Sometimes it helps if one stops thinking of them as figures and starts thinking of them as things. Then it does not matter if you are dreadful with figures or not.

The girl smiled shyly at Margaret. “Thank you. Miss Denholme. I shall try that.”

“There’s the spirit. Now, run along as it is time for tea.”

As Cordelia scampered off, Margaret turned to Catherine with a rueful smile. “It is fortunate for me that she is far too young for zoology; undoubtedly Letitia would have my head for suggesting that litters of kittens are always so predictable.”

“I shall make sure that she does not hear of it. However, scientist though she may be, I feel sure she would allow you some latitude when your cause is good.”

Margaret looked doubtful. “Letitia Grayson is the soul of rigor. That is what makes her the accomplished scientist she is, in addition to being a superb zoology instructor.”

“We
are all of us here souls of rigor.”

Margaret looked at her friend curiously. “You do not sound as though you consider that a good thing. Surely if it were not for rigor, or determination, none of us would be where we are today. And surely where we are and what we are doing today is a good thing?”

“I hope so.”

“But you know it is! Why, even the Marquess of Charlmont’s niece appears to be settling in and enjoying herself and she looked utterly bored and disenchanted when she arrived,” Margaret protested. It was not like Catherine to sound bitter or despondent. What could possibly have occurred to make her sound that way now? Even ‘Ugolino’, pompous and bullying as he was, had never succeeded in making her sound this way. If anything, his criticisms only made her more determined to succeed.

Margaret grabbed her cloak and satchel and followed her friend down the gracious staircase to the waiting carriage. As they passed one room after another filled with girls chattering together or poring over books by themselves and in groups, she wondered at the somber expression on Catherine’s face. Surely if she desired proof of the value of what she was doing she need only look around her, for there was proof in abundance everywhere.

But in spite of Margaret’s best attempts to distract her during the carriage ride home, Catherine remained in a sober, reflective mood, and it wasn’t until she was getting ready for bed that night that she realized that though she had teased Lucian for making no inquiries about educational establishments other than hers, it had never occurred to her to ask him how he had come to hear of Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy in the first place.

Chapter Twelve

Catherine not only went to bed in a sober mood that night but she awoke to it again the next day. Somehow, her outing with the Marquess of Charlmont, brief though it had been, had put her in a questioning frame of mind. Something about the way he had made her feel, even for the briefest of moments, recalled the happiness of times past. It made her wonder if in spite of all that she and Granville had accomplished, and all that she had managed to accomplish on her own, she was missing something. Had she, in her desire to pursue a life of meaning and purpose, neglected to live?

And it did not help the next morning to have the footman deliver a note from the Marquess of Charlmont requesting the honor of her company on another drive into the country. The moment she recognized the bold writing on the envelope, Catherine became mired in an agony of self-doubt. What sort of person was she that a mere invitation to go driving could make her feel suddenly lighthearted and free, could make her look forward to the day in a way she had not for as long as she could remember? Was her own desire to live a useful life and to justify her own existence by the performance of good works no longer enough to satisfy her? What was wrong with her? Had she strived her entire life to develop into a person of values and ideals only to degenerate into a woman whose sum total of happiness was to be seen in the company of a highly attractive and eligible man?

No, she amended, she did not care a farthing for being seen in his company. In fact, she preferred not to be. What she did look forward to, however, was his companionship. And by the time the appointed hour rolled around, she had made quick work of all the tasks with which she had planned to fill her entire day.

“Much better,” Lucian remarked, as he strolled into her office a few minutes after she had signed her name to the last letter in her pile of correspondence.

“Better?” Catherine had mentally prepared herself for any of half a dozen things he might say. She had even thought up a number of impressively convincing excuses as to why she could not possibly find the time to go for a drive with him, but his obscure comment drove them all completely from her head.

“Your costume. It is far less sober and infinitely more in your style than the stiflingly respectable attire you selected yesterday when you knew you were going out for a drive with me. But surely you know that there is not the slightest need to convince me that you are a serious-minded woman who is highly qualified to run a superior educational establishment. I have always had the utmost respect for you capabilities.”

“I had no need… Well, I mean, it is true that I was not expecting to see you today.” Catherine could feel the blush rising in her cheeks as she glanced down at the double flounce of her high-necked muslin dress and then over at the blush-colored spencer hanging on the peg. There was no denying the truth of the statement. Lucian Verney had always been uncomfortably acute, and that acuteness had been one of the things she had found most attractive about him, until now.

“I, on the other hand, have come fully prepared to prove to you beyond a doubt that I am not the slipshod ramshackle fellow that you think me. While you have been poring over your accounts and your correspondence this morning, I have visited no fewer than four extremely respectable institutions for the education of females, including Miss Chamberlayne’s in Queen’s Square, which came highly recommended to me by no fewer than three terrifying-looking dowagers I encountered taking the waters in the Pump Room, but I assured them that it could in no way compare with Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy for Genteel Young Ladies.”

“You didn’t!” Half scandalized, half amused, she raised a hand to her mouth to stifle the laugh that rose to her lips.

“I assure you, I did. No, do not look so horrified. I promise you I have done your academy’s reputation no harm for I am extremely respectable now. I grant you that if Lord Lucian Verney had recommended your establishment, it would have been quite another matter altogether, but believe me, when the Marquess of Charlmont puts his seal of approval on a place, its success is assured.”

“You are incorrigible!” She did laugh this time and he laughed with her.

“Good. I am glad that you have not completely lost your sense of the ridiculous. Now, come, before we waste any more of this beautiful day indoors.”

He was right; it was a glorious day, and as they drove to the top of Kingsdown, Catherine felt all her self-doubts and her sober mood vanish with the soft breezes that wafted the faint sweet scent of dog roses from the hedgerows now bursting into bloom. She could not help drawing a deep, satisfying breath as she gazed at the broad panorama below them. It seemed ages since she had paused long enough to take pleasure in the beauty that was all around her.

Watching her closely, her companion seemed to sense this. “You should not wall yourself around with your duties, you know. An afternoon’s escape now and then will not undo everything you have strived to create. All your tasks will still be waiting for you when you return, and you may just find yourself so revived and refreshed by your break that they will seem far less burdensome to you.”

She turned to find the gray eyes fixed on her, no longer teasing, but filled with genuine concern. “Yes. I know, but…”

“But what?” He pulled his team off on a convenient cart track that led off across a field, jumped down, tied the horses to a nearby tree, and then came to hand her out of the carriage.

‘There is so much to be done.” She allowed him to help her down and pull her hand through the crook of his arm as he led her to the brow of the hill.

“Catherine, in your life, there will always be much to be done. If you do not stop to enjoy yourself now and then, you will spend your time finding even more things for you to do, so that you never have time to take pleasure in anything and everything will become a duty.”

How well he knew her. How well he understood the struggle that was always with her—the wish to accomplish more and more and the longing to pause and appreciate what already existed.

“But if I stop, who knows what will happen? What will become of the academy?”

“Nothing will happen.” He covered her hand reassuringly with his. “Believe me, I am not advocating abandoning your responsibilities, or even ignoring them. All I am suggesting is that you give yourself a moment to escape from your duties long enough to reflect on the things you have accomplished and to give yourself credit for them. After all, what is the point of accomplishing them if you yourself cannot appreciate it. I know, I know.” He held up an admonitory hand as she opened her mouth to speak. “At the outset there was a great deal that needed to be done in order to establish the academy and see to it that it ran efficiently. But now it is running efficiently. I have seen a fair amount of the world, you know, and some will even tell you that I have seen too much of it, but I have seen enough to know when an establishment runs like clockwork. Lady Catherine Granville’s Select Academy runs like clockwork, I assure you of that. And my explorations of this morning have only served to confirm that impression.”

“I suppose you are right, but…”

“Of course I am right. Even “Ugolino”, as you call him, could not possibly fault you on the reputation for excellence that the academy is beginning to acquire.”

“He would if he could.”

“But he cannot.” Lucian turned her to face him. “Is it…?” He hesitated for a moment as he looked deep into her eyes, frowning slightly as though he were about to ask a question he seemed to have answered already for himself.