Филиппа Карр - The Love Child

Her eyes were fixed on me. They betrayed nothing, but the lips moved a little. They tightened as though she did not exactly like what she saw. I told myself that I was allowing Sally Nullens and Emily Philpots to influence me.

“Mistress Connalt has been telling us something of her teaching programme,” said my mother. “It sounds very interesting. I think, Priscilla, you should show her her room. Then you might let her see the schoolroom. Mistress Connalt says that what she wants is to get down to work as soon as possible.”

“Would you like to see your room?” I asked.

She said she would, and I led her out of the room.

As we mounted the staircase, she said, “It’s a beautiful house. What a mercy it was not destroyed during the war.”

“My father worked hard to preserve it,” I replied.

“Ah!” It was a quick intake of breath. She was walking behind me and I could feel her eyes on me, which made me feel uncomfortable, and I was glad when we had mounted the staircase and could walk side by side.

“I gather your home is a rectory,” I said conversationally.

“Yes, it’s in Westering. Do you know Westering?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“It is in Sussex.”

“I hope you don’t find it bleak here. It is, they say in the southeast. We’re near the coast, too. We get the full force of the prevailing wind which is east.”

“It sounds like a geography lesson,” she said, and her voice had laughter hi it.

I was pleased and I felt happier after that. I showed her her room, which was next to the schoolroom and not very large. Emily Philpots had occupied it, but she had been moved to a room on the floor above, next to Sally Nullens. My mother had said that the governess should be next to the schoolroom. It was another grievance for poor old Emily.

“I hope it is comfortable,” I said.

She turned to me and replied: “It’s luxurious compared with the rectory.” Her eyes went to the fire in the grate, which my mother had ordered should be lighted. “It was so cold hi the rectory, I used to dread the winter.”

I thought then: I believe I’m going to like her.

I left her to unpack and wash, telling her that in an hour’s time I would come up and show her the schoolroom, where we could look at some of my books and I could explain to her what I had been doing. I would show her the house and gardens if she would care to see them.

She thanked me and she smiled at me rather shyly. “I think I am going to be very glad I came here,” she said.

I went down to my parents. As was to be expected they were talking about the new governess.

“A very self-possessed woman,” said my mother.

“She has a certain poise without doubt,” replied my father.

My mother smiled at me. “Here’s Priscilla. Well, my dear, what do you think of her?”

“It’s too soon to say,” I parried.

“Since when have you become so cautious?” My mother continued to smile at me. “I think she will be very good.”

“She is clearly well brought up,” added my father. “I think, Bella, she should join us for meals.”

“Join us for meals! The governess!”

“Oh, come now, you can see she is different from old Philpots.”

“Undoubtedly different,” agreed my mother. “But to join us at table! What if there are guests?”

“She’ll mingle, I don’t doubt. She seems articulate enough.”

“What when the boys come home?”

“Well…what?”

“Do you think…”

“I certainly think you cannot condemn a young woman of her breeding to lonely trays in her room. Obviously she can’t be with the servants.”

“It is always like that with governesses. How I should hate it!”

“What do you think, Priscilla?” said my father, and so astonishing me by asking my opinion for the first time in my life-I certainly never remembered its happening before-that I stammered and could find no ready reply. “Let her join us,” he went on, “and we’ll see how it works.”

The servants would think it very strange that one who was only slightly higher in the social scale than they were should sit with the family at dinner. I knew that there would be a great deal of gossip in the Nullens-Philpots combine.

I couldn’t help thinking that it was rather mysterious that my father should concern himself first with the state of my education and then the comfort of my governess.

So there was mystery. I should not have been myself if I did not wonder what it was all about. Christabel Connalt would bring change, I knew. I could feel it in the air.

For the next few days she was the centre of attention in the house. Sally Nullens and Emily Philpots discussed her endlessly and the rest of the servants only slightly less so. Naturally I spent more time with her than anyone and I felt I was gradually getting to know her. She was not easy to know; I changed my opinion of her from hour to hour. There were times when I thought her completely self-sufficient and at others I seemed to sense a certain vulnerability. It was that telltale mouth which would turn down at the corners when it expressed all sorts of emotions. There were times when I fancied she harboured some sort of resentment.

There was no doubt of her erudition and ability to teach. The Reverend William Connalt had determined to send her into the world equipped to earn a living. She had taken lessons with the sons of the local squire, and I fancied that she had made an attempt to keep up with them if not surpass them. There was something I quickly learned about Christabel; she wanted to be not only as good as everyone else but better. I presumed that came from being poor.

At first there was a certain amount of restraint between us, but I determined to break that down and I did succeed quite well-largely because she found me somewhat ignorant. It appeared that my father really had been right and that if I had been left any longer to the mercies of Emily Philpots I should have emerged into the world of adults as a somewhat ignorant young lady.

All that was going to be changed.

We studied Latin, Greek, French and arithmetic, at all of which I Scarcely shone.

At English literature I was not so bad. Visits to Aunt Harriet (as I called her, though she was not my real aunt) had made me interested in plays and I could quote passages of Shakespeare. Aunt Harriet, though long retired from the stage, was still fond of arranging little entertainments and we all had to become players when we were there. I enjoyed it and it had the effect of arousing my interest.

I noticed that during our English literature sessions Christabel was less pleased than during others. It was then that I realized she was happy only when she could show me how much cleverer she was than I. She did not have to stress that. She had come to teach me, hadn’t she? Moreover she was about ten years older than I so she ought to have learned more.

It was very odd. When I made stupid errors, although she would speak gravely, her mouth told me that she felt rather pleased; and when I shone-as I did with literature-although she would say, “That was excellent, Priscilla,” her mouth would form itself into that tight little line, so I knew she wasn’t pleased.

I had always been greatly interested in people. I remembered the things they said which taught me something about them. My mother used to laugh at me, and Emily Philpots said: “If you could only remember the things that mattered, you’d be more credit to me.” The longest rivers, the highest mountains, I simply could not care about them. But I was completely intrigued by the way people thought and what was going on in their minds.

That was why I quickly discovered that there was some resentment in Christabel; and if it had not seemed so absurd, I should have thought it was directed against me.