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After closing the door on Mrs Garth, the footman introduced himself to Jane. “I’m Frederick, ma’am. At least, that’s what the mistress calls me. Perhaps you’ll be wanting to send your maid to fetch your trunk?”
“Well, I suppose so…” said Jane, not having anticipated such a precipitate removal from the Gardiner household.
“It’s all right, ma’am,” said Sally, standing and quickly assessing how the move could be effected with the single hackney fare in their possession. “I’ll walk back to Gracechurch Street and get your trunk. Is there anything you wish to leave at the Gardiners’?”
“Oh! I cannot think! You had better bring it all… and do not forget the books on the commode table,” said Jane, remembering the children’s primers she had left there after re-perusing them on the previous night. To think, she would have to start work without them!
As Sally went off with the Garths’ footman, Meg begged Miss Bennet to follow her down the red hallway.
The children’s schoolroom seemed to be set at some distance to the parlour, and Jane became quite lost after the third turn. The house seemed to be a veritable labyrinth. She gave up all hope of remembering the path to the front door. In her confusion, it occurred to Jane that she had been completely remiss in not asking the names of her charges—an oversight she could only ascribe to the unsettling discovery that she was expected to start immediately.
After mounting two flights of stairs, they reached a landing from which yet another, narrower, set of stairs ascended. Jane wondered if she was being led to her bedchamber in the attics. The stairs led directly to a door without a landing, behind which a raucous argument was in train. The maid’s knock silenced this cacophony abruptly and two young voices commanded simultaneously: “Come in!”
The door was opened to reveal a spacious room carved out of the attics, well-lit with natural light. Entering behind the maid, Jane encountered the direct stares of three children: the youngest—a girl of such tender years that Jane checked if she was wearing leading strings; the eldest—another girl who looked old enough to have graduated from the school room; and the third—a boy who was intermediate in age between the two.
“Excuse me, Miss Cherise, but this is Miss Bennet,” said the maid curtseying. “The mistress asked if you would make the introductions.”
The older girl stepped forward, instantly in command of herself, though it was clear that she and the boy had been the disputants in the heated altercation.
She gave a creditable curtsey, saying “Good day, Miss Bennet, I am Cherise Garth and this is my brother, Felix Garth…”
The boy executed a quick bow.
“…and my sister, Amabel Garth.”
The little girl held out her skirts and performed a neat curtsey.
“Well! How wonderful it is to meet you all!” said Jane, smiling upon them. “I am so sorry that your governess had a fall…”
At this pronouncement the two eldest children exchanged a meaningful glance that did not escape Jane.
“…now, would you like to tell me where you are up to in your studies?”
“Until nine, Felix writes the conjugations of his Latin verbs,” said Cherise, looking pointedly at the blank slate in Felix’s hands; “while I read aloud to Amabel.”
“But not a novel!” exclaimed Felix. “You are supposed to be reading poetry!”
Cherise glared at her brother in a way that indicated payback was looming for his outburst.
“And I draw and practise my letters on Father’s old account sheets!” added Amabel, waving a piece of paper.
As the youngest Garth seemed to be the only student doing exactly what they ought, Jane focused on her work.
“Well! That is very good, Amabel!” praised Jane. “May I see?”
Amabel raised her sheet of paper. “This is a ‘b’,” she announced, showing a letter that looked like a ‘d’; “and I have drawn something starting with ‘b’.”
Jane focused on the picture of two stick figures. “Let me guess! Are these two boys?” she asked Amabel.
“This one is a boy,” said Amabel, indicating one of the two indistinguishable figures drawn side by side, before pointing to the other; “and this one is a girl.”
She leant a little closer to Jane. “They are kissing!” she confided.
“Of course!” said Jane, wondering if the novel Cherise was reading aloud had inspired this artwork and desperately trying to think of a diversion. “But of course, ‘b’ is also for ‘baiser’, which is the French verb ‘to kiss’!”
“Yes!” said Felix slyly, holding his chalk aloft. “I believe I will conjugate that verb!”
Jane blushed at her faux pas. Casting her eyes desperately round the schoolroom, she spotted the piano with some relief. “Perhaps we could sing some French songs?” she suggested.
