Snobbery With Violence - M. C. Beaton [8]
She did not summon her maid but went upstairs and changed into a plain tailored walking dress and a hat with a veil.
Rose then slipped out of the house and hailed a hack. She directed the driver to the address but then realized that with her disgrace being generally known, the governess might not be allowed to see her, so instead, she lifted the trap on the roof and called to the driver to take her to Kensington Gardens instead.
It was a fine day and she knew the nannies and governesses with older charges often walked there.
She paid off the hack and began to walk slowly up towards the Round Pond, looking to left and right. Ladies in stiff silks moved along the walks as stately as galleons. Regimented flower-beds blazed with colour and a light breeze blew the jaunty sounds of a brass band to Rose’s ears. The sky above was blue with little wisps of cloud. A boy bowling an iron hoop raced past her, bringing memories of childhood when one could run freely, unencumbered by corsets and bustles. Rose began to think it had been silly of her to expect just to see Miss Tremp when she spotted her quarry sitting on a bench by the pond.
Rose hurried forward and sat down next to her. “Miss Tremp!”
“My gracious. If it isnae Lady Rose!” exclaimed the governess, surprise thickening her normally well-elocuted Scottish vowels.
“I need your help,” said Rose. “Where are the children?”
“Two of them, boys. They are sailing their boats in the pond, my lady, and that’ll keep them busy for some time. I heard about your sad disgrace. It was in the newspapers.”
Rose bent her head. The newspapers had been kept from her but she should have known she would be written up in the social columns.
“It’s so unfair!” said Rose. “Sir Geoffrey should be the one in disgrace.”
“Gentlemen never get the blame in such circumstances. You should know that.”
“Miss Tremp, you educated me well, and for that I will be always grateful, but I could have done with a few lessons in the ways of the world.”
“Listen to me, my lady, I told you I approved of the vote for women. I did not tell you to demean yourself by appearing at a demonstration. And it was up to your mother, Lady Polly, to school you in the arts of society.”
Rose could feel herself becoming angry.
“It is an unfair world for women,” said Miss Tremp. “But you are privileged. It is your duty to your parents to marry well and then to your husband to have his children.”
“But you said women had a right to have independence and not to be a household chattel for some man!”
Miss Tremp flushed pink to the end of her long Scottish nose.
“I am sure I never said such a thing.”
Rose shook her head in bewilderment. “What am I to do?”
“I think the next step is surely to send you to India. That is the procedure for young ladies who have failed at their season.”
“I AM NOT GOING TO INDIA!” shouted Rose.
The nannies on either side leaned forward.
“Wheesht!” admonished Miss Tremp. “Ladies do not raise their voices.”
“You are suddenly a wealth of information about what ladies do and don’t do.”
“You would be best, my lady, to do what your parents tell you to do. Please lower your veil. I have my position to consider.”
“Do you mean you consider me a disgrace?”
“Unlike you, my lady, I have to earn my living. I was always of the opinion that you were a bit spoilt.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“It was not my place to do so.”
“It was not your place to fill my head with ideas of female independence which you should surely have known I could never be allowed to follow.”
“The day will come, my lady, when you will be grateful to me for a sound education to furnish your mind.”
Rose stood up. She opened her mouth to deal out some final recrimination, but her shoulders sagged. She nodded her head, turned on her heel, and walked away.
She had hoped for reassurance from Miss Tremp, for comfort, for a shared outrage at the iniquities of society.
Miss Tremp watched the slim figure of Rose walking away and sniffed. That was the English for you. No backbone.
Detective Superintendent