Jane Ashford (11 page)

Thalia smiled and shrugged.

They had by this time come to the high wall of the Chadbourne School and were driving along it, approaching the gate. Thalia abruptly realized that it might cause a good deal of comment if she drove up to the door in the company of a handsome young man. “I’ll get down here,” she said, as they reached the gateposts.

“Nonsense. I mean to drive you to your threshold.”

“Please don’t. I mean, I wish you wouldn’t.”

“But I could not be so discourteous.” He frowned at her; then a thought seemed to strike him. “You think it might look odd?”

A bit embarrassed, Thalia nodded.

“Yes, I see. I am unknown here. Very well.” He pulled up before the gates. “But I warn you I mean to bring about a proper introduction, and to take you to call on my mother and sister when they arrive. Will you come?”

Thalia, climbing down from the gig, looked up at him. His gray eyes smiled in response, and he looked altogether charming. “I should like that.”

“Good. And in the meantime, do you always go walking on your holidays?”

She cocked her head, dimpling. “Invariably.”

“Splendid. That pond is a fine place to spend one’s leisure hours.”

“So peaceful,” agreed Thalia.

He laughed. “Indeed. I shall hope to see you soon, then, Miss Hartington.”

Thalia nodded and went to open the gates and slip through; she stood on the other side, looking back at him and smiling.

“You look shut away from the world.” He laughed. “I am still not altogether convinced that you are not a wood nymph who will disappear when I turn my back and never be found again.”

“Oh, no,” replied the girl, setting Juvenal on the ground beside her feet. “I shall be here, boringly real, reading Pope to my students and trying to convince them he is admirable.”

He laughed again. “Good luck! I shall see you soon again. Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.”

Thalia started up the drive, and Elguard turned the gig toward Bath. Neither of them noticed a small group of schoolgirls among the shrubbery near the gate, but one of that group, a tall sturdy blond, quite obviously noticed them.

A week passed in the usual routines. Thalia taught her classes, met with individual pupils in the afternoons, and chatted with the other teachers at meals. But through it, she felt a new lightness and happiness which she did not attempt to define. Everything simply seemed better. Even Lady Agnes was less trouble. She stayed generally silent in the classroom, merely staring at Thalia with a faint smile on her face. This new tactic rather amused the older girl. If Lady Agnes thought to outface her so, she would be disappointed.

Toward the end of the week, she heard that Lady Agnes had been given special permission to go into Bath on Thursday, to visit some family friends. This was a rare treat, and Thalia believed this fact accounted for the girl’s silent superiority. No doubt she felt that she was somehow triumphing over Thalia by going into society. Thalia smiled to herself and went on with her work.

Thursday, the half-holiday, came round again more quickly than she had expected. Lady Agnes was absent from her class that morning, making it easier for everyone, Thalia thought. Even the girl’s particular friends were pleasanter when she was not there to urge them on.

After lunch, Thalia fetched Juvenal and a heavy shawl from her room and went outside. A chilly breeze was stirring the foliage in the garden, making the day cool despite bright sun. With Juvenal following, she went across the lawn and down the drive to the gate. There she found Lucy Anderson and the other two lower-form teachers just setting out for town.

“Hullo, Thalia,” said Lucy. “We’re going shopping. Come along.”

Thalia flushed a bit. “Thank you, but I am going the other way. I want a walk in the fields.”

Lucy grimaced. “Whatever for? You’ll only get damp feet and inflammation of the lungs. Don’t you want to see Milsom Street and all the fine Bath shops?”

“Another day.”

Lucy shrugged, and she and her friends set off at a brisk pace toward town. Thalia watched them for a moment before turning right herself. Oddly enough, she really had no desire to go with them.

She walked down the lane and off on the footpath that led to the copse. The wind pulled at her shawl and tightly pinned braids and made her long to run and take great lungfuls of air. She did skip a few steps now and then, startling Juvenal and causing him to leap ahead of her, fur bristling.

Reaching the trees, she walked surely to the little pond. It was warmer in the copse, and when she reached the water, the hush was in marked contrast to the wind outside. At first glance, the clearing appeared deserted, but then she saw James Elguard, waiting in the same place as before and looking eager. He noticed her at nearly the same instant and hurried forward. “You did come!” he exclaimed. “I am glad. I was afraid the wind might keep you at home.”

“What, this feeble breeze?” mocked Thalia. “I am not so frail.”

“I’m glad,” he said again, looking down at her with a warm smile.

All at once, Thalia felt uncertain. She had looked forward to this outing the whole week, but now that she was here, a certain awkwardness threatened to descend upon it. What would they do? What would they find to say to one another, standing here beside the quiet pond? She wondered suddenly whether she should have come.

Seeming to sense her feelings, Elguard said, “I have a scheme for the afternoon, if you like.”

“What?”

“I have the gig once again. And I brought a flask of tea and some sandwiches. I thought we might drive over to a place near here and have tea—a sort of picnic tea—and then come back. It is a kind of ruin, an old abbey.” He shrugged sheepishly. “It has always reminded me of Greece, silly as that sounds. We used sometimes to stay near here when I was a boy, and I explored it then.”

“It sounds wonderful—a delightful plan.”

“Do you think so? It will be a little cold, I fear, but I have several lap robes.”

“Nonsense. There is bright sun. I shan’t be at all cold.”

He smiled. “A woman of spirit. Let us go, then.”

Accordingly, they made their way to the gig and climbed up. Elguard insisted that Thalia take two robes and wrap up securely, and once they were under way, she admitted to herself that he had been right. In a moving vehicle, the air was indeed cold. Juvenal was soon burrowing into the robe around her ankles and expressing his disapproval of the temperature sharply.

“Clearly a cat made for warmer climes,” laughed Elguard. “Your aunt was wise in naming him.”

“Yes, he is very lazy. He likes nothing better than to curl up before a good fire.”

“Unlike his mistress, who is impervious to cold.”

“Oh, I am fond of fires too. But I do like to get out, especially after being kept indoors all week.”

“Ah, that is too bad.”

“Well, I can walk in the garden, of course, but that is not the same.”

“No, indeed. I like walking immensely. During the last long vacation I did a walking tour of the Alps. I have never had such fun.”

“I should think so. How I envy you!”

“I mean to do the same in Greece as soon as I can, to see all the ancient sites.”

“Wouldn’t that be splendid—to come upon them just as one must have centuries ago, along the ancient roads.”

“That is what I hope to do. It won’t be just the same, of course, for they would not have been ruins then. But I think it will be wonderful.”

“Oh, yes.”

He smiled down at her. “How did you come to study Greek, Miss Hartington? It is so unusual for a girl.”

“It is, I know. I simply wanted to. And my aunt kindly engaged a special tutor for me. Our old governess sat by and knitted, as a chaperon, you see.”

“I begin to. It is quite a picture.”

Thalia laughed. “It was. Miss Lewes—that was our governess—always used to fall asleep after a few minutes, and she snored amazingly. And then, of course, I would begin to giggle. I couldn’t help it; it was so absurd. And my poor tutor would shake his head and sigh. He despaired of me at first, but then I began to improve.”

“I envy him.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t. I don’t believe he cared for his job at all. He didn’t think women
ought
to study Latin and Greek, but he needed the fees my aunt paid him to teach me.” She paused, then added, “And even so, I think he tried to discourage my aunt from letting me learn. What a peal she must have rung over him for that!”

“Your aunt sounds like an unusual woman. Was she in favor of female education?”

Thalia wrinkled her nose. “Well, no, not exactly that. She was certainly unusual, but insofar as we could tell, she wasn’t
in
favor
of
anything. There were a great many things she
didn’t
favor, however.”

“Such as?”

“Oh, well. Dogs. Port wine. The vicar.”

He laughed ringingly. “And she liked…?”

“Cats. Claret. And, uh…”

“And her nieces, I hope. Did she really drink claret?”

“Oh, yes. But not to excess, you understand.”

“Of course not.”

“And as for liking us—I suppose she did. It was difficult to tell. She was always very kind about material things, my lessons and Euphie’s and so on, but she rarely said anything kind, and of course she…” Thalia broke off; she had almost told him about her aunt’s will.

He waited a moment, to see if she meant to go on, then asked, “What made you want to learn, then, Miss Hartington?”

She cocked her head. “Made me? What do you mean?”

“Well, you say you learned because you wanted to, and your aunt was kind enough to provide a teacher. But why did you want to? It is not a common desire.”

“No, I suppose it isn’t,” replied Thalia, frowning. “It’s not like Euphie wanting to study music, because lots of girls do that.” She considered the question.

“Perhaps your father encouraged you? He must have known and loved the classics, if your name is any indication.”

“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Thalia involuntarily. She added, “I mean, he may have done. I can’t remember very clearly; he died when I was only seven. He never read to me or anything like that.” Her frown deepened. “It is odd. I have wondered before why I wanted to study. I simply
did
, you know.”

“You had a natural bent, I suppose. I was the same.”

“Were you?”

“Oh, yes. I was always plaguing my father for books. He never knew quite what to make of me. He cares for little beyond his estate and the hunting field himself, and my older brother is the same. There’s no accounting for such things.”

“I suppose not.”

“Look,” he added, “that’s where we’re going.”

Thalia looked up. Ahead of them, off to the right of the road, was a massive pile of fallen masonry, all grown over with ivy and creepers. Two perfect arches still stood near the edge, but otherwise all was tumbled rock and cracked pavement. “Oh,” she said.

“Do you like it?”

“It looks like one of Mr. Gray’s poems.”

He laughed. “A bit. His landscapes are rather neater, I think.”

“You’re right. But I do like it. And I can see how it might remind you of Greece.”

“Not ancient ruins, but old ones, at any rate.” He pulled the gig off the road and urged the horse a little way toward the pile. “We can’t go farther, too many stones.”

“We can walk,” responded Thalia gaily, throwing off her lap robes and preparing to climb down. Juvenal, revealed by this action in a huddle on the floor, protested.

“Wait,” said Elguard. “I’ll help you.”

“No need.” Thalia sprang lightly down and reached to set Juvenal on the grass.

“Rrrooww,” said Juvenal, swatting at her skirt with one tiny paw.

“No sir,” she replied. “You
shall
walk around a little. Try to live up to your name.”

The kitten stared up at her with his great golden eyes, then turned haughtily and stalked off toward the ruin.

“You have been finely set down,” laughed Elguard, coming around the gig with a basket on his arm.

“Odious cat.”

They walked side by side up a slight incline to the pile of stone. Elguard led the way around to the right. “There is a place that should be out of the wind,” he said.

They went toward the two standing arches. Just beyond, through one of them, was a spot where three walls remained up to shoulder height. The fourth had fallen outward, leaving the shell of a small room intact and a fine prospect to the south.

“Oh, but this is lovely,” cried Thalia.

“I thought you would like it.” Elguard spread one of the lap robes on the dry stone paving and gestured grandly. “My lady’s tea awaits.”

Thalia dropped a tiny curtsy. “My thanks.” She seated herself on the robe. “What a good idea this was.”

“You should wait and see if the tea has kept any heat at all before you judge it.”

“Of course it has.”

He took a metal flask from the basket and felt the side. “I believe you’re right. What luck.”

He poured tea into two mugs from the basket and got out a packet of sandwiches. “There. No cakes, I fear.”

“We don’t want them. Juvenal? Have you recovered your manners? If so, I will give you a bit of tongue.” She held it out.

The kitten, relinquishing his pique in the face of this inducement, came and took it daintily. Thalia drank her tea and watched him, smiling.

“My mother arrived in Bath yesterday,” said Mr. Elguard after a moment. “I want you to meet her.”

“I hope to.”

“Could I ask you to call at her hotel? I will escort you. I would bring her to the school, but…”

“Of course. You have only to let me know when. I have little free time, I fear, however.”

“Oh, that’s all right. We’ll arrange something.” He leaned back against the rock wall and sighed happily. “How Mother will like you.”

“You think so?”

“Oh, of course.”

Thalia watched him for a moment, as he looked out over the countryside. His blond curls were tumbled by the wind, and his face reddened. He looked content, and she suddenly felt a great contentment descend on her as well. It was exceedingly pleasant to sit here in this way.

They sat thus for some time, until Thalia reluctantly said it was time she was getting back. Then they gathered up the picnic and Juvenal and set off the way they had come. The sun was halfway down the western sky, and it was getting colder, so Elguard urged the horse to greater speed. In half an hour they were approaching the copse again, and a little while later, the wall of the Chadbourne School came into view.

“I very much enjoyed this outing,” said Mr. Elguard then.

“I too.”

“I hope we may repeat it.”

She nodded.

“But first you must meet Mother, and my sister as well. Perhaps on Sunday?”

“I am free on Sunday afternoons.”

“Splendid. I will arrange it and send a note round to you.”

She nodded again.

“Perhaps once you have met her, she could do something… that is… she might be able to help…”

“Help what?”

He hesitated, then burst out, “It is damnable that you are shut up in that school day after day. You should be out dancing and, and that sort of thing.”

“But I have said—”

“Yes, yes, I know what you say. But I am convinced that you are too noble a creature to tell me how it really is.”

Thalia stared at him, and he looked down, flushing slightly.

“I suppose I must let you down at the gate again,” he continued.

“I think it would be best.”

“Best!”

“What
is
the matter?”

“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” He pulled up beside the front gate, and Thalia started to climb down. “Wait. I’ll help you.”

“Who will hold your horse, then? I can manage perfectly well.” And she jumped down and reached for Juvenal.

“You always manage perfectly well, don’t you, Miss Hartington?”

Puzzled by his peculiar tone, she smiled. “Not at all. Rarely, in fact.”

He met her eyes and, after a moment, smiled ruefully back. “Of course. I beg your pardon. I will write to you very soon.”

“I look forward to meeting your family.”

“Thank you.”

Thalia turned to open the gate. “Good-bye.”

“Good-bye.” And as she shut the gate behind her, he drove off.