Diane Setterfield - The Thirteenth Tale

I inquired after the father's family - -for though Mr. March is deceased and the children never knew him, still, his blood is theirs and has an impact on their natures. Mrs. Dunne was able to tell me very little, though. Instead, she began a seriesof anecdotes about the mother and the uncle, which, if I am to read between the lines (as I'm sure she meant me to), contained hints of something scandalous… Of course, what she suggests is not at all likely, not in England at least, and I suspect her of being somewhat fanciful. The imagination is a healthy thing, and a great many scientific discoveries could not have been made without it, but it needs to be harnessed to some serious object if it is to come to anything. Left to wander its own way, it tends to lead into silliness. Perhaps it is age that makes her mind wander, for she seems a kind thing in other ways, and not the sort to invent gossip for the sake of it. In any case, I immediately put the topic firmly from my mind.

As I write this I hear noises outside my room. The girls have come out of their hiding place and are creeping about the house. They have been done no favors, allowed to suit themselves like this. They will benefit enormously from the regime of order, hygiene and discipline that I mean to instill in the house. I shall not go out to them. No doubt they will expect me to, and it will suit my purposes to disconcert them at this stage.

Mrs. Dunne showed me the rooms on the ground floor. There is filth everywhere, all the surfaces thick with dust, and curtains hanging in tatters, though she does not see it and thinks of them as they were years ago in the time of the twins' grandfather, when there was a full staff. There is a piano that may be beyond saving, but I will see what can be done, and a library that may be full of knowledge once the dust is wiped and one can see what is there.

The otherfloors I explored alone, not wanting to inflict too many stairs at once on Mrs. Dunne. On the first floor I became aware of a scuffling, a whispering and smothered giggling. I had found my charges. They had locked the door and fell silent when I tried the handle. I called their names once, then left them to their own devices and went on to the secondfloor. It is a cardinal rule that I do not chase mycharges, but train them to come to me.

The second-floor rooms were in the most terrible disorder. Dirty, but I had come to expect that. Rainwater had come through the roof (I expected as much) and there were fungi growing insome of the rotting floorboards.This is a truly unhealthy environment in which to raise children. A number of floorboards were missing, looked as if they had been deliberately removed. I shall have to see Mr. Angelfield about getting these repaired.I shall point out to him that someone could fall downstairs or at the very least twist an ankle.

All the hinges need oiling, and allthe doorframes are warped. Wherever I went I was followed by a squeaking of doors swinging on their hinges, a creaking of floorboards, and drafts that set curtains fluttering, though it is impossible to tell exactly where they come from.

I returned to the kitchen as soon as I could. Mrs. Dunne was preparing our evening meal, and I had no inclination to eat food cooked in pots as unpleasant as the ones I had seen, so I got stuck into a great pile of washing up (after giving the sink the most thorough scrubbing it had seen for adecade) and kept a close eye on her with the preparation. She does her best.

The girls would not come down toeat. I called once and no more. Mrs. Dunne was all for calling and persuading, but I told her that I have my methods, and she must be on myside.

The doctor came todine. As I had been led to expect, the head ofthe household did not appear.I had thought the doctor would be offended at this, but heseemed to find it entirely normal. So it was just the two of us, and Mrs. Dunne doing her best to wait at table, but needing much help from me.

The doctor is an intelligent, cultivated man. Hehas a sincere desire to see the twins improve and has been the prime mover in bringing me to Angelfield. He explained to me at great length the difflculties I am likely to face here, and I listened with as much politeness as I could muster. Any governess, after the few hours I have had in this house, would have a full and clearpicture of the task awaiting her, but he is a man, hence cannot see how tiresome it is to have explained at length what one has already fully understood. My fidgeting and the slight sharpness of one or two of my answersentirely escaped his notice, and I fear that his energy and his analytical skills are not matched by hispowers of observation. I do not criticise him unduly for expecting everyone he meets to be less able than himself. For he is a clever man, and more than that, he is a big fish in a smallpond. He has adopted an air of quiet modesty, but I see through that easily enough, for I have disguised myself in exactly the same manner. However, I shall need his support in the project I have taken on, and shall work at making him my allydespite his shortcomings.

I hear sounds of an upset from downstairs. Presumably thegirls have discovered the lock on the pantry door. They will be angry and frustrated, but how else can I train them toproper mealtimes? And without mealtimes, how can orderbe restored?

Tomorrow I will start by cleaning this bedroom. I have wiped the surfaces with a damp cloth this evening, and was tempted to clean the floor, but told myself no. It will only need doing again tomorrow when I scrub the walls and take down the curtains that are so thick with dirt. So tonight I sleep in dirt, but tomorrow I shall sleep in a bright clean room. It will be a good beginning. For I plan to restore order and discipline to this house, and to succeed in my aim must first of all make myself a clean room to think in. No one can think clearly and make progress if she is not surrounded by hygiene andorder.

The twins are crying in the hall. It is time for me to meet my charges.

I have been so busy organising the house that I have had little time for my diary lately, but I must make the time, for it is chiefly in writing that I record and develop my methods.

Emmeline I have made good progress with, and my experience withher fits the pattern of behavior I have seen in other difficult children. She is not, I think, as badly disturbed as was reported, and with my influence will come to be a nice child. She is affectionate and sturdy, has learned to appreciate the benefits of hygiene, eats with a good appetite and can be made to obey instructions by kind coaxing and the promise of small treats. She will soon come to understand that goodness rewards by bringing the esteem of others in its wake, and then I will be able to reduce the bribery. She will never be clever, but then I know the limits of my methods. Whatever my strengths, I can only develop what is there to start with.

I am content with my work on Emmeline.

Her sister is a more difficult case. Violence I have seen before, and I am less shocked thanAdeline thinks by her destructiveness. However, I am struck by one thing: In other children destructiveness is generally a side effect of rage and not its primary objective. The violent act, as I have observed it in other charges, is most frequently motivated by an excess of anger, and the outpouring of the anger is only incidentally damaging to people and property. Adeline's case does not fit this model. I have seen incidents myself, and been told of others, in which destruction seems to be Adeline's only motive, and rage something she has to tease out, stoke up in herself, in order to generate the energy to destroy. For she is a feeble little thing, skin and bone, and eats only crumbs. Mrs. Dunne has told me of one incident in the garden, when Adeline is known to have damaged a number of yews. If this is true, it is a great shame. The garden was clearly very beautiful. It could be put to rights, but John has lost heart over the matter, and it is not only the topiary but the garden in general that suffers from his lack of interest. I will find the time and a way to restore his pride. It will do much to improve the appearance and the atmosphere of the house if he can be made happy in his work and the garden made orderly again.