Death at Dawn - Caro Peacock [36]
‘Please sit down, Miss Lane. Have you eaten?’
I hadn’t. The smell came from half a mutton pie, wrapped in yet another sheet of paper and left down by the grate, as if she hoped that even its fireless state could give a memory of warmth. If so, the hope failed. The pie was as cold as poverty and mostly gristle.
‘There is tea, if you like.’
The tea suited the rest of the room, being cold and grey.
‘I have your letter of application,’ she said. ‘You will need to copy it out in your own hand.’
She went to her bookcase, moved some volumes aside and brought out more written sheets of paper. By then I was so tired from the long day that I could have put my head down on the table and slept, but tea and pie seemed to be Miss Bodenham’s only concession to human weakness. She cleared a space for me among the papers, put written sheets, blank sheets, a pen and an inkwell down in front of me. I looked at the letter I was to copy and recognised the severe and upright hand from the note he’d sent me.
‘Is this by Mr Blackstone?’ I said.
She had already sat down on the other side of the table and started writing something herself. She looked up, annoyed.
‘Who?’
‘The gentleman who sent me to you.’
‘It is not necessary for you to know that.’
‘Why not? Do you know?’
She bent back to her writing. She was copying some thing too, although the hand was different.
‘Is Mr Blackstone his real name?’
Only the scratching of her pen for an answer.
‘What did he tell you about me?’ I said.
‘That I was to lodge you, assist you in applying for this post, and instruct you in your duties.’
‘As a governess?’
I meant ‘… or spy?’, wondering how much she knew. The expression of mild irritation didn’t change.
‘As a governess, what else? I understand you have no experience of the work.’
‘No.’
‘Then we should not waste time. Copy it carefully, in your best hand.’
The address was given as 16 Store Street, the date the present: 26th June.
Dear Lady Mandeville,
I am writing to make application for the post of governess in your household. I have recently returned to London after being employed for three years with an English family resident in Geneva and am now seeking a position in this country.
The reason for leaving my former position, in which I believe I gave perfect satisfaction, is that the gentlemen who is head of the family has recently been posted to Constantinople and it was considered best that the three children who were my charges should be sent back to school in England. I enclose with this a character reference which my previous employer was kind enough to furnish.
As well as the normal accomplishments of reading, writing, arithmetic, history, geography, use of globes and Biblical knowledge, I am competent to teach music, both keyboard and vocal …
‘Should I mention that I could also teach them guitar and flute?’ I said.
She didn’t look up from her writing.
‘The flute is not considered a ladylike instrument. Keep strictly to what is written there.’
… plain sewing and embroidery. If I were to be fortunate enough to be offered the position, I should be able to commence my duties as soon as required.
Yours respectfully,
Elizabeth Lock
‘Must I use a false name?’ I said.
‘Apparently.’
So even my poor father’s name was denied to me. With so much else gone, I should have liked to keep one scrap of identity.
‘Could I not still be Liberty at least?’
‘Who in the world would employ a governess named Liberty?’