AN: Thanks for the great reviews for the last chapter - and now, as promised, a chapter of Ruth governessing...
"Cartilia puella sedet in horto. Can either of you tell me what that means?"
Her two eager pupils paused to think for a moment, but it was Miss Eleanor who arrived at an answer first. "'The girl Cartilia is sitting in the garden', Miss Evershed!"
Her governess smiled and nodded. "Very good, Eleanor. Jane, what case is horto taking here? And why?"
"The ablative, after the preposition in, meaning 'in', Miss Evershed."
"Excellent." Ruth glanced at the schoolroom clock, noting that it was now three o'clock in the afternoon. "I think that's enough Latin for today, girls. If you tidy your books away quickly, we may have time for a short walk before afternoon tea."
The girls hurried to pack away, chattering excitedly. Their former governess, the aptly named Miss Drear, had, she had discovered, instilled a strict rule of silence in the schoolroom. Their lessons had consisted of hours of listening and copying in silence, with rare occasions when they were called upon to recite some bit of information or read aloud from a dry text. It had been the first thing of which Ruth had rid them. No child could learn in complete silence. Jane and Eleanor Harris, at thirteen and fifteen respectively, were quick and cheerful pupils, eager to come to their lessons now that their governess was so much more aware of their needs. In the short few weeks she had been with them, Miss Evershed had become a friend and confidant, as well as teacher, and much of their time was spent together.
Previously, the girls' curriculum had been severely restricted - etiquette, art, music, embroidery, writing and French, with daily prayers and a weekly dancing lesson. Ruth had reviewed this with sadness, although no surprise, on her first full morning in the Harris household, and had at once determined to make changes. Lady Harris, like many women of her class and position, was not particularly concerned about the education of her daughters beyond what was necessary to launch them successfully first into society and secondly into the house of a suitable husband. She and Lord Harris also had a son, Nicholas, a year younger than Jane, who had followed in his father's footsteps to Eton, and Ruth spent much of her private time in wondering what it would be like if a similar school for girls existed in England - not a mere ladies' seminary, but a true school, where academic ability was prized and rewarded, and where young women were prepared for useful, active lives. Nonetheless, Lady Harris's indifference had been somewhat of a blessing. She had not, thus far, intruded on the schoolroom, and Ruth and the girls had been left to their own devices. Eleanor had reassured Miss Evershed, too, that this was not unusual.
On her second morning, therefore, Ruth had made several drastic changes to the curriculum. The dancing master came every Wednesday for two hours between one and three o'clock and Miss Cardle, an impoverished young woman from the village, came every morning at eleven o'clock for an hour to give, alternately piano and drawing lessons. Other than that, Miss Evershed found that she could arrange her teaching as she wished. She ventured, therefore, to remove writing from the timetable; the girls, she found, both wrote daily in journals and sent letters to cousins of theirs in Taunton. Embroidery went the same way; the girls sewed beautifully, and Miss Evershed felt that it was far more appropriate for such a skill to be relegated to the status of a leisure activity. To replace them she introduced mathematics, history and geography. French and etiquette were retained, of course - Jane was not yet as fluent as her sister, and both girls, perhaps because of the restrictions under which their former governess had placed them, were more lively than even Miss Evershed felt was wise, when they would all too soon be in society. However, Ruth set them work to be completed after their lessons in the daytime, a new experience for them all. The Latin lessons had begun when Eleanor had knocked on Miss Evershed's door one evening, complaining of a problem with her mathematics, and had idly asked what Ruth had been reading. It had been the Aeneid, and once the subject matter had been explained to her, Eleanor had expressed a wish to begin learning the tongue that would enable her to one day read it for herself. At first, Ruth had believed that it was a fleeting schoolgirl whim, but after a week, it was clear that this was not the case. The girls had taken to their new lessons with great enthusiasm and it provided at least a little joy to their teacher. Ruth had also been pondering as to whether to introduce her pupils to German.
When the girls were not in the classroom, Ruth took them on walks in the countryside. The Harrises lived on an estate smaller than either Kieley or Middlethorpe, but Miss Drear had never allowed the girls to go beyond its gates, even chaperoned. That was changed immediately - walks through the lovely surrounding woods, and even as far as the nearby village, were added into the timetable every day, as much for the benefit of Miss Evershed as for that of her charges. Later, they would sit together in the small parlour that was situated between Jane and Eleanor's rooms, and talk or read to each other. In the evenings, the young ladies would spend an hour or so in the drawing room with their parents - if Lord and Lady Harris were not otherwise engaged - and Ruth would retreat to her small chambers next to the schoolroom for a precious period of solitude. She wrote to Lady Radford, of course, and Rosalind and Elizabeth too. She read a little, and marked the girls' work.
And most of all, she tried desperately to stop thinking about Sir Henry Pearce.
It was easy to forget him during the day, when her young charges fully occupied her mind and senses, but at night, when she read and wrote by candlelight, he was an ever-present ghost in her mind. All their many conversations played out before her once more. His voice rang in her ears as she read the book of Ovid he had given to her. She saw his face every time she closed her eyes. She had imagined that her work would be oppressive and fatiguing. She had imagined that there would be little joy in it. She had been wrong. When her hours of relaxation were filled thus, it had fast become a relief to occupy herself with something that required her entire attention. It became a relief to fill her ears with the sound of Jane and Eleanor's idle chatter and not have time to close her eyes.
And so Miss Evershed's life went on. The Harrises entertained, of course, but their governess was not welcome at such gatherings. Ruth did not wish to be welcome at them. Her life was easier now she had no need to speak to or hear of people who might remind her of those few, brief months of happiness. This was her life now - and it could indeed be very much worse. Jane and Eleanor were lively, kind, welcoming, and eager to please. Their father, George Harris, was occupied by his books and the running of the estate, and their mother was more concerned with her looking-glass than with either her marriage or her daughters. In many ways, it was a relief to be left to one's own devices in both work and play. In any case, it lessened the sense of degradation that daily choked Ruth. But what other choice did she have? To have remained with Lady Radford would have been unendurable - how could she have borne it, to be so indebted to a woman who was already more a mother to her than anyone else she had ever known? The guilt would have eaten away at her until she could stand it no longer.
But it was still her greatest pleasure to write to her ladyship, and to receive letters in return. Her only anxiety was that Lady Radford was not replying honestly to her inquiries about her health. In correspondence it was exceedingly easy to tell untruths and pretend to higher feelings of happiness and health than one truly felt. Ruth knew this, because she did it herself. Not one word of complaint escaped her in her letters to Elizabeth, or to her godmother. It was only to Rosalind that she felt able to admit the little disappointments of her new circumstances - the distant disdain with which Lady Harris treated her, the way the servants chafed at any small request she made of them, the sense that she was slowly suffocating in such a daily routine as was now her lot; she could rest assured that her oldest friend would not overwhelm her with pity, but would rather write sensibly and firmly. Rosalind was sympathetic, but could never be described as doting. Miss Evershed never dared to ask about Sir Henry; Rosalind never mentioned him. She spoke of London, as the season began again, and of her anxiety that Major North was being worked too hard.
She wrote when Captain Carter was killed and the news was so shocking that Ruth sank back into her little chair and shed several tears over it. Miss Evershed had not been well acquainted with Captain Carter, but from what she knew of him, he had been a kind, open-hearted man and a dear friend to Sir Henry. And his son, an orphan now that both his parents were dead… Would Sir Henry now be responsible for him? Would he accept that responsibility? She could not imagine how he would cope, with a small child, running wild around Middlethorpe. Did young Wesley have a tutor? Would he be sent away to school?
Her hands itched to be doing something. She drew a fresh piece of writing paper towards her, readied her pen, and was halfway through a letter to Middlethorpe when the remembrance of her parting from Sir Henry crashed down around her again. She dropped the pen in disgust, blotting the neat rows she had already penned, and stood up. It was none of her affair. Perhaps if they had married… She closed her eyes. At times like this it was difficult, in spite of everything, to avoid thinking of what power to do good she would have had as mistress at Middlethorpe. The power to influence her husband, and provide a real, loving, permanent home for his godchild and for any other connection of his who asked it - how wonderful that would have been! And that would have satisfied you? the nasty voice in her head asked. You would have been able to bear the knowledge that he did not love you, for the sake of a large house, wealth, influence?
She swallowed. She knew not how to answer.