Colleen McCullough - The Independence of Miss Mary Bennet

Loud gasps went up; Charlie whooped.

“Very well, let us assume that we’ll have six hundred thousand pounds in trust for the Children of Jesus orphanages,” Fitz went on. He gave Mary a minatory glare. “And before you go off half-cocked, Mary, kindly hear me out. To spend money on the construction of an orphanage is one thing, but the cost of a building and its land doesn’t mean we can build a hundred of them, or even half a hundred. Before even one additional institution can be contemplated, we must first arrive at the cost of keeping the original orphanage going. If one hundred children are to be properly fed and clothed, comfortably accommodated, adequately supervised and satisfactorily educated, we will need three teachers and one headmistress, ten nursemaids and a matron, four cooks, and at least twenty general servants. Otherwise you’ll have a typical parish orphanage, in which the staff are too few, too poorly paid and too discontented to be fair or kind to the children, where education does not happen at all, and the children are put to work in place of general servants. It’s my understanding that you wish to conduct an institution which will serve as a model for all other orphanages. That means you’ll want to prepare the children to set forth at fourteen on productive and lucrative careers, rather than unskilled. Am I correct?”

“Yes,” said Mary.

“Then your original orphanage will cost you about two thousand pounds a year in staff wages alone. You must allow about twenty-five pounds per child per year for food and clothing. That’s another two thousand, five hundred pounds. Many items from bedding to towels will wear out at least once a year. And it goes on, and on, and on. I mention these figures to give you some idea of the expenses incurred in running one institution. Take them in and keep them in your minds.”

He glanced to right and to left, avoiding Angus’s eyes for fear he’d laugh. “If we invest our six hundred thousand pounds in the four-percents, they’ll yield an income of twenty-four thousand pounds a year. I would suggest that four thousand be re-invested to allow for rises in prices as time goes on. So your income for running expenses will be twenty thousand pounds per annum. I strongly urge that you err on the side of caution, my fellow Founders. Build a second orphanage, by all means, but no more. Then you’ll always have the money to keep them solvent, for once you apply to any other sort of body for additional funds, you’ll lose control, autonomy. In conjunction with Matthew and my solicitors, I’ll draw up deeds of trust that prevent any future trustees looting the funds. It will be Angus’s task to commission external auditors.”

I am so happy! Elizabeth was thinking, her mind far from the business at hand. Why did I fear it so much? Oh, how lovely it was to be in his arms, hold nothing back! He was so gentle, so tender, so considerate. He led me like a little child, explaining to me why he did this or that, the pleasure he felt in doing them, encouraging me to let go of my fear and feel the pleasure too. I am voluptuous, he says, and now that I know what the word means, I’m not offended by it. His hands stroke me so perfectly! How did he put it? He sent that man-no, I mustn’t think that way!-he sent that part of himself to sleep for ten years. As time goes on it gets easier, he said. And I sent myself to sleep too. Or rather, I never awoke. But now that we’re both awake, it is a whole different world.

“Lizzie!”

Blushing scarlet, Elizabeth recollected her surroundings and looked anywhere but at Fitz, who was smiling as if he knew what she had been thinking about. “Oh! Yes?”

“You didn’t hear a word I said!” Mary snapped.

“I am sorry, dear. Say it again.”

“I think we should build at least four orphanages, but no one agrees with me-not even Angus!” She turned on the hapless Scot in fury. “I hoped for your support at least!”

“I’ll never support you in foolishness, Mary. Fitz is in the right of it. If you built four orphanages, you couldn’t split yourself into four segments, which means the institutions wouldn’t be properly supervised. You’d be cheated, taken advantage of. What we view as charity, others will view as rich pickings. There’s an old saying, that charity begins at home. Well, many who work in charity institutions have adopted that as their credo-but not in any admirable sense.” Angus looked heroic at successfully defying Mary: Mary looked taken aback.

“Bitten by a tartan moth, Mary?” Charlie asked wickedly.

“I can see that no one masculine agrees with me,” said Mary sulkily.

“And I do not agree with you either,” said Elizabeth. “I suggest we build two Children of Jesus orphanages-the one near Buxton, and a second near Sheffield. Manchester is too vast.”

And so it was arranged.

The forty-five existing Children of Jesus had settled in at Hemmings and discovered all the horrors of reading, writing, and sums. In one respect Mary retained her common sense; the senior teacher and the head nursemaid were to be sparing with the rod, but not spare it entirely.

“Having been so isolated and regimented, they are bound to go the opposite way for a while,” she said to teacher and nursemaid, both petrified of her. “They must be given good principles now, not later. Their true characters will emerge under our kind regime, but we must not hope for forty-five angels. There will be imps-William is one-and possibly a devil or two-Johnny and Percy. Set them predictable standards, so that they will all know which deeds will be praised, which condemned and which will earn the birch rod. The sort of child who cannot be disciplined by the birch rod will have to be threatened with expulsion, or some other dire consequences.” She looked around. “I see that there is a pianoforte here. I think we should offer music lessons to children who like music. I will look for a music teacher. In our Children of Jesus institutions, we will offer pianoforte and violin.” She looked fierce. “But not the harp! Fool instrument!”

And off she marched to the carriage. It was a long way to visit Hemmings. Once ensconced in the vehicle, she leaned back against the squabs and sighed in sheer pleasure.

Who could ever have believed what would come out of her brief odyssey? The days when she had dreamed of Argus seemed lost in the mists of time, so much had happened. I suffered a schoolgirl’s passion, she thought. His ideas inflamed me, and I took that as evidence of love. Well, I still don’t know what love is, but most definitely it isn’t what I felt for Argus. Who hasn’t corresponded with the Westminster Chronicle since I went away. I wonder what kind of summer he has had? Perhaps his wife has ailed, or a child. Those are the kind of things that destroy private passions. I can wonder, but I don’t feel anything beyond a natural sorrow for his plight, whatever it may be. He has done great work, but what else can be done, when Fitz says the Parliament won’t act? The Lords rule Britain because the Commons is stuffed with their second, third, fourth and so on sons. Nothing will happen until the Commons is filled by true commoners: men whose roots do not lie in the Lords.

She must have dozed, because the carriage had passed through Leek and was now on the Buxton road. Waking, she didn’t remember quite what she had been thinking. Well, time to think about her own future. Fitz had seen her yesterday and apologised to her sincerely-how changed he was! Not proud or haughty at all. Of course any fool could see that he and Lizzie were on much better terms; they floated around like newlyweds, exchanged speaking glances, shared private jokes. Yet at the same time they had developed that irritating habit only people who had been married for many years possessed: they said the same thing at one and the same moment, then smirked at each other.