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Chapter Four: A Witch
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It didn't occur to me that I had woken up late, but minutes away from my first meeting with my governess. I wearily sat up in bed and looked around the room thinking of what I should do. Suddenly, my maid, Margaret, burst into the room, her face flustered and angry. "What are you doing just sitting in bed! Get up for God's sake, child! Your governess will be arriving soon!"
Margaret, or Maggie, as I called her, came up to my bed and hauled me off it (rather aggressively if you ask me). She pushed me into my dressing area and did the usual. First the dress, then the hair, then my face, and then finally the shoes. I spoke not a word to her, seeming a tad bit out of it that day.
"Oh," she sighed. "This will have to do. If you had woken up earlier, you would be more presentable." While she was saying that, I wondered why nobody took the care to wake me earlier.
The gown she chose for me to wear that day was a bright yellow dress, as frilly as the others I had worn. I had gradually grown use to its restrictiveness, but I could tell that this dress was relatively new, for it was terribly tight.
"Go on, now. Go downstairs and tell them you are ready." I obeyed, happy to get away from Maggie.
I was stuck with two relatively annoying women during most of the day. Elizabeth was always out doing business in town, and Will was always at his blacksmith shop, which I had yet to see. Plus, Roland was away at school until mid-afternoon, so I was stuck with Maggie and Lisa, our cook. I did get to know the other servants around the house, particularly the male ones because they were less bothersome than Maggie or Lisa. One of them was Peter, the head butler and doorman. He was old, but less bossy than the others. He was sometimes even funny, but I still felt utterly alone in the house; but that was about to change. I would have a governess.
I walked slowly down the steps trying to delay my arrival, but to my dismay, my feet left the last step too early.
"Good luck today," Roland said, walking up to me. "I hear that your governess is worse than Maggie and Lisa combined."
"And where did you hear that from?"
"Mum told me. Well, not really. She said that your governess' name was Missus Heather Whitman. I told my friend about it as Mum was taking me home, and he said his older sister had Missus Whitman and said she was a witch."
"I don't think they would do that to me."
"They probably don't know her, but it's true."
"Are you trying to scare me?"
"No, Astrid. If I was playing a joke on you, I would tell you that..."
"That she's a witch?" I crossed my arms and peered at him.
"No! I would say that she's a witch from... hell."
"Roland William Turner!" Elizabeth, or Mother, yelled as she walked up to us. "Watch your language!"
"Sorry, Mummy," he muttered.
"Come along. I need to take you to school." She turned to me and smiled. "Don't worry. I'll be back before your governess arrives. I'm sure you are very excited."
"I am," I replied.
"Well, you can go ahead and eat breakfast in the kitchen. Missus Whitman won't be coming for a while."
"But Maggie just scolded me for waking up late! She said my governess was coming in a couple of minutes!" Mother laughed at my complaint.
"Oh, Astrid. Maggie is always tense. She expects everything to be prompt. Don't mind it." She took Roland's hand and they walked out of the door. I watched them walk down the pale, cobblestone walkway to a big black box with wheels, feeling rather out of place at the time. I was so caught up in it all that I didn't notice Will, or Father, walking up the street.
"What's so interesting that you're looking at?" he said, disrupting my daydream. I looked up at him with blank eyes, and he picked me up. As soon as I felt him pick me up, I squeaked because he had taken any air within me due to my stiff dress. "Are you sure you can breathe in that thing?" he asked.
"No," I moaned.
"Well, just don't faint because your governess is coming soon."
"I know, I know. I have to be on my best behavior and so on and so forth. Daddy," I said. To my surprise he turned to me with a warm smile. "Roland said my governess is a witch. Is that true?"
"Oh, so Roland said she was a witch, now did he?" he replied.
"Yes. I asked him if he was just trying to scare me, and he said that if he was, he would say that she was a witch from hell."
"That Roland. He's a funny thing, very imaginative. He learns a lot of that stuff from his schoolmates."
"Why don't they have schools for girls?" By now, we were in the kitchen and Will set me down on a counter yet again, and Lisa scolded him for putting me there as always.
"Well, girls are too busy doing chores and other duties around the house, which is why they grow up not really wanting an education."
"I want one. I hate chores. Jack made me do them with the crew all the time."
"Well, you're an exception. I suppose Eliz—Mum, knew that you would not be like other girls and planned to give you a governess."
"Have you met mine?"
"No."
"How old is Roland?"
"Same as you."
"So he just began school?"
"Yes." He picked me up from off the counter and set me on the ground. I walked over to the table and took my seat and Lisa handed me my food. Daddy was about to walk out when I poured out one more question.
"Dad?" I asked. "Do you think Jack will ever come back?" He looked at me with a heartsick countenance and said:
"Don't worry about things like that, Astrid. Leave that to me. It's all right to let go of it right now."
"It is?"
"Absolutely."
"All right. Will I ever see him again?"
"I really can't say, Astrid. I have to go now. Elizabeth should be back soon." He bent down and kissed my head, tousling my hair which Maggie had worked so hard on. "Bye, Astrid."
"Bye, Daddy." He turned back to look at me one last time, and he smiled. I smiled back, and he walked out of the kitchen. The sound of his shoes echoing down the hallway.
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Elizabeth, I mean Mum, sat nervously next to me on a couch in the living room. We were, of course, waiting for Missus Whitman to arrive. I felt a little nervous, but not as much as Mum was. She fidgeted in her chair and grasped my hand every now and then, making her seem rather childish.
At last, a knock on the door made her jump from her seat, but she quickly sat down again, remembering that Peter would be getting the door. Mum tugged at my hand and whispered: "Come, Astrid. We must greet Missus Whitman." She took my hand and we walked out of the living room and into the main hallway where Peter was escorting Missus Whitman to us.
"Hullo, Missus Whitman!" I said, smiling at her. Her eyes narrowed at me.
"That is not how you greet a lady. You say, 'Good day, Missus.' "
She was an old lady, most likely in her upper fifties. Her hair was a misty gray and looked more wiry than soft. Her face was lined and thin, and her hands were knotty and skinny. Her eyes were a piercing ice blue and her skin was pale. I disliked her from the moment I saw her.
"And to think that you will be my new student. Lord, this will be hard work." I sensed that Mother was wincing at Missus Whitman's harsh remarks towards me, but all I wanted to do was kick the old hag.
Missus Whitman neared me, her eyes looking as if they were trying to find my deepest thoughts. "What is your name, young lady?" she said. Her voice was even hoarse with age.
"My name is, Astrid . . . madam."
"Well, it is obvious that you need a lot of tuning done. Come. We must begin your lessons immediately." My hand slipped reluctantly from Mum's, and before taking me to the study for lessons, I looked back at Mother and pouted. Mother laughed and mouthed, 'Don't worry. You'll get out soon.' Then she left, and I was left alone to suffer with the awful Missus Whitman.
She began by teaching me proper posture. She scolded me for walking rather loosely like a boy, and she told me I had to walk with balance and grace. After poking me in the back to get me to walk upright, she put books on my head to balance my walking. I felt like a complete ass. Her methods were ridiculous and stupid. After she had seen some hint of progress in me, she made me sit and began with my actual learning.
She first introduced to me what I would be learning that month. I would start learning French, History, basic mathematics, and then, of course, writing and language use. She told me tedious tales about the history of Britain, and I had to watch her for she was the only thing entertaining in the room. She spoke of numerous kings and queens that I had no interest in and how they were wonderful rulers and so on and so forth. I did the mistake of yawning and resting my head on the table in front of me, and she became enraged and whipped me to sit upright again.
At last, she stopped jabbering about history and she moved to mathematics. She taught me numbers and I learned how to count to ten. Though, I already knew how to because Jack had made me count with him how many rum bottles he had a day. The most he had in one day was ten, so I knew how to count up to there. She proceeded to teach me the numbers beyond ten and since I didn't know them, she decided to end my math lesson early, but she did say that I would have more to do tomorrow.
"Can you read, Miss Astrid?" she asked as we moved on to English and language.
"I don't know . . . madam."
"Well, can you tell me what this says?" She wrote on my paper in curved letters that flowed harmoniously and presented the paper to me. "What does that say?" I squinted at the paper.
"It says 'bird,' " I said.
"So you can read. Recite the alphabet." I knew what the alphabet was because I found an old book of Roland's. I remembered that whenever I bothered Jack, he would send me to Ana Maria, and she would read to me sometimes from books left on board. I often looked at the pages while she read, and somehow I learned to read that way; but it was Roland's book that told me what the actual letters were.
"A," I began.
"Good. Continue."
"B," I said.
"Good, good, but pick up the pace, Miss Turner."
"All right, fine," I muttered, thankful that her old ears didn't hear me. I said the rest of the alphabet and for the first time, she seemed somewhat impressed with me.
"Now, I want to see if you can write. Here, take this." She handed me a quill and inkwell and set them down on the table next to a couple sheets of paper. "Write your name." She dipped the quill in ink and shoved it into my right hand. It took me a while to grip it comfortably, but I felt awkward as I pressed the tip of the quill on the paper. It occurred to me then that I was struggling. Of course, Missus Whitman noticed it as well.
"You're left handed," she sighed. She snatched the quill out of my hand and shoved it into my left. I held it easier in that one and I began to write my name on the paper. I did my best with my penmanship, but it seemed that I would be the only one able to read it. Missus Whitman took my paper and brought it up very close to her face. "Well," she sighed after a couple of minutes. "At least you can write. Not well, but you can write nonetheless."
She took away my paper, ink well, and quill and then dropped a book in front of me. I read the title. I let out a heavy sigh.
"Open your book. I will teach you French." I did as I was told and she told me to repeat words after her. After repeating them, she said what the word meant in French.
I recited more French for about an hour, and at last I heard a faint jingling bell.
"Well, it seems that you are done with your academics today. But I must have tea with you," Missus Whitman said, gathering up her supplies.
Great, I thought. We walked into the parlor and Elizabeth was waiting for us. Tea was on a dark table and I sat beside Mother. I was about to bring my cup to my lips, when Missus Whitman shrilled.
"That is not how you drink your tea, young lady!" she yelled. "I will have to teach you proper etiquette too." Thanks to Mum, I was let off easy, but I still glared at Missus Whitman over the rim of my teacup. Finally, she left. I was so angry with her that I did not even notice Daddy and Roland walking in only moments after Missus Whitman left. I was halfway up the stairs when they arrived, and Roland called after me.
"So, what'd you think of your new governess?" I turned around and looked at him.
"She's a witch," I growled.
"Well, I told you so."
"She's the worst old hag that I have ever seen! She shows little respect for anyone!"
"I told you so," Roland sang. I glared at him.
"Go ahead and say that again," I threatened.
"I . . . told . . . you . . . so."
Realizing the danger he put himself in, he took off flying down the stairs, and I sprinted after him. He ran out of the door, past Mum and Dad, and out into the cobblestone walkway. I chased him with pleasure after being locked up for most of the day inside the house. I reached out and grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked.
"Ah!" he yelled. I only laughed.
"Ha! Got you!" Roland fell back from my yank and got up and dusted himself off.
"Lucky try. I was feeling sorry for you because you had to spend a whole day with Missus Witchman. I mean Whitman."
"No matter. The name fits her." We laughed and began to head up the street back to the house. "Oh," I said, realizing something. "Did I tell you I'm part of your family now?"
"You are? No wonder I've heard you saying 'Mum' and 'Dad' to my parents. Wait . . . does that mean you're going to be my sister?"
"I guess so," I replied.
"All right. Sounds good to me. I'll race you back," he said. "First one to the door gets a sweet from Lisa. I saw her make some this morning while you were getting ready."
"All right. Ready?"
"Set!"
"Go!"
We raced again, and it was called a tie. Both of us snuck some of Lisa's sweets and relished our not-really-deserved rewards out in the garden. I saw Mum and Dad watching us, smiling, and it felt as if all my memories with Jack had gone missing.