Title: Growing
Upside Down (Ch. 2 of 5)
Note: Takes place between Soul
Music and Hogfather, contains light spoiler-ish material
for the former.
Disclaimer: No affiliation with Terry
Pratchett or Harper Collins. No money is being made from this.
The senior girls left in a little caravan a few days later. Susan was stuck in a coach with three other twittering girls whose names she scarcely knew despite their having been in classes together since the age of six. Her friends Princess Jade and Gloria Throgsdaughter weren't coming, much to Susan's chagrin; it was felt, and in all honesty they agreed, that even in these broadminded times, their presence was probably not terribly desirable. Not to mention the fact that there was no time to reinforce and retrofit a carriage to make it suitable for Jade's weight.
Susan spent much of the journey with her knees drawn up in the corner of the coach, her nose buried in The Guild Houses of Ankh-Morpork (quite possibly the only book in the Quirm College Library that she hadn't previously gotten to). When the other girls giggled and crept between the rooms of the inns where they stayed and attempted to smuggle in bottles of fruity, cheap wine, Susan laid in bed and read, or merely stared at the ceiling, thinking about her future and her family.
It wasn't that she'd ever said to herself as a child that she wanted to be a governess. But as she'd grown older and become more educated, it became increasingly clear to her that for a lady of any kind of title, no matter how trivial the holdings, it was one of the very, very few viable alternatives to sitting around Sto Helit waiting for a husband. It was respectable, and more importantly, it was normal. One could have found a way to shirk convention and become what they called an adventuress, but after the business with her grandfather and all that, Susan felt no desire to seek out adventure. Indeed, she suspected that it was much more likely that adventure would be coming after her, and the best she could do would be to try and stay out of its way.
Imp ... well, she was sorry for that, to be sure; what was strange was that she also felt vaguely relieved. She tried to analyse it, but every time she circled around to the problem her brain seemed to go all squashy, a sensation she disliked immensely, and so it was much better to simply leave it alone for the time being. No, indeed, for all the weird circumstances of the world that had thrown them together, it would have never worked out in the long run, but she still did like him and she hoped he was all right; and that last time he'd kissed her she ... She rolled over and pulled the pillow over her head, as if that would somehow restore her rationality. It didn't.