After the War Is Over: A Novel Read online

  “I’ll introduce you to Nanny Gee, and then take you to your room. I expect she’ll be in the children’s sitting room with Master George.” They stopped at a door, roughly halfway along the corridor, and Mrs. Forster knocked briskly before entering.

  “Good afternoon, Nanny Gee. How are you today?”

  “Very well, Mrs. Forster. Is this Miss Brown with you?”

  “It is, indeed.”

  “Don’t be shy, Miss Brown. Do come in. We’ve been all in a tizzy waiting for you. Miss Lilly’s been that excited. I don’t think she’s slept for days. Come, now, Master George. Say hello to your sister’s new governess.”

  “Hello, Miss Brown. How do you do?”

  Charlotte came forward to shake George’s outstretched hand. He was a handsome boy, about seven or eight years old, and very similar in appearance to his brother. “I’m very well, thank you, and pleased to make your acquaintance. Yours as well, Mrs. Geoffrey.”

  “Oh, none of that, dear. Call me Nanny Gee. Your room’s all ready for you. Used to be Master Edward’s until he left for university. Shall I take you?”

  “No need, Nanny,” Mrs. Forster replied. “We’ll leave you to finish your meal.”

  Charlotte’s room was small and modestly furnished, but made pleasantly bright by a large, west-facing window. Against one wall stood a single walnut bed topped with a plain linen counterpane; her trunk sat at its foot. On the opposite wall were a wardrobe and a chest of drawers. An old armchair, its upholstery somewhat worn, sat before the window, with a desk and chair next to it.

  “There’s fresh water in the ewer, and the necessary is at the end of the hall,” said Mrs. Forster. “If you need anything else, simply let me or Nanny Gee know.”

  “The room is lovely. I’m sure I won’t need a thing.”

  “I’ll send up a footman to escort you down to meet the family. They’re finishing luncheon now, so I expect you’ll have about half an hour. Will that do?”

  “Yes, of course. Thank you for everything.”

  “You are most welcome, my dear. I’ll see you at supper.”

  Charlotte wanted nothing more than to lie down and close her eyes, but time was of the essence. She might be summoned at any instant, and it was imperative that she make a good first impression on Lord Ashford’s family.

  She opened her trunk and drew out her best day gown, a charcoal-gray wool that she had wrapped in tissue paper for just this eventuality, and as she buttoned it up she was relieved to see the paper had protected it from creasing. After washing her face and hands, she unpinned her hair, brushed it carefully, and fixed it back into the same severe, low chignon she always wore. Her spectacles were dusty, she realized belatedly, so she washed and polished them as well.

  At five minutes before the hour, a little less than the thirty minutes Mrs. Forster had promised, there came a knock on the door.

  “Miss Brown? Are you there?”

  She hurried to the door, certain that it couldn’t be—but there he was, standing in the hall, his expression the picture of delight.

  “Lord Ashford? What are you doing . . . ? That is, I mean, ah . . . I wasn’t expecting you . . .”

  “I bumped into Mrs. Forster and she said you’d arrived, so I told her I would fetch you myself. I’m terribly sorry I didn’t greet you. We were still at table, otherwise I’d have been there myself. Are you ready? Lilly is simply beside herself with excitement.”

  “Yes . . . at least I think so. Do you think your parents will find me suitable? That is, am I dressed suitably?” There really wasn’t any reason at all for her to be so nervous. It wasn’t as if she were being taken in front of a magistrate.

  “You look exactly right. And remember that I am your employer, not my parents. I am delighted with you, and Lilly is certain to be as well. That’s really all that matters.”

  “You’re very kind. Is your entire family here at the hall at present?”

  “Only for the week. Normally my parents are in London for the summer—for the Season, that is—but they’ve come north to recover before the last flurry of balls and parties and so forth. We’re going back on Monday, all except Lilly and George, but most of the staff will stay on here. Only Mr. Maxwell and my parents’ personal servants make the journey back and forth.”

  “I see.”

  “I’ll pop back in a few weeks, just to see how you’re getting on. In the meantime, will you write to me? Let me know how Lilly is faring?”

  “Oh, of course. I should be delighted to do so.”

  “We’re almost there. I took the long way round so we’d have a chance to talk.”

  “I’m afraid I wouldn’t have known the difference.” She smiled up at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness. “I was expecting a large house, but nothing on this scale,” she admitted.

  “It is enormous, isn’t it? Yet it still seems like a friendly sort of place. Perhaps because it’s so old. Bits and pieces date to the Middle Ages—they’re covered up by the Georgian façade, but you can still find them if you look closely.”

  Charlotte had grown up in the shadow of one of the greatest cathedrals in England, a building filled with history and treasure and artworks of the highest order, but she had never lived in it. She couldn’t decide if it were a blessing to have such a heritage, or a curse.

  They came to the end of a long gallery, its walls adorned with a museum’s worth of Old Masters, and approached a set of double doors.

  “This is the main drawing room,” Lord Ashford explained. “My parents usually come here after luncheon. Are you ready?”

  “I think so.”

  Lord Ashford ushered her in, and then led her across the vast space, which was at least as big as the entire main floor of Charlotte’s home in Somerset, until they stood several yards distant from Lady Cumberland. The countess was seated at a table in the center of the room, her skirts arranged in decorative swirls around her, and was pasting photographs in an album. Her gown, Charlotte noted with a frisson of alarm, would not have been out of place in a ballroom. It looked to be constructed of dozens of layers of paper-thin chiffon and lace and tiny silk rosebuds, and though it was beautiful, Charlotte suspected it was also very uncomfortable. Was this how the elite dressed for a typical afternoon en famille?

  Lilly’s elder sisters, Alice and Mary, sat together on a settee not far distant, and were giggling behind their hands. Likely at her, Charlotte acknowledged; she’d gone to school with similar types. Lord Cumberland was in a wing chair, a newspaper covering his face, snoring gustily.

  And then there was her pupil. Lady Elizabeth was perched on one of the window seats, trying and utterly failing to hide her excitement. She was dressed in a dark blue middy dress, a rather juvenile style for a girl of her age, and her hair was pulled back and plaited tightly. She had bright eyes, either hazel or brown, a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, and a shy but sincere smile. Charlotte liked her immediately.

  “Mama, Papa, girls. Allow me to present Miss Charlotte Brown, lately of Somerville College, Oxford.”

  His mother set down the photograph she was trimming and turned her head to look at Charlotte. “How do you do?”

  “Very well, your ladyship. Thank you.” And then, having been briefed by her mother, Charlotte executed a well-intentioned if somewhat creaky curtsy, the first she had attempted since her childhood dancing lessons. This provoked a torrent of giggles from Lady Alice and Lady Mary, and a single raised eyebrow from the countess.

  “What did you study at university?”

  “English literature, your ladyship.”

  This was absorbed without comment. “Where are you from again?”

  “Somerset, your ladyship. My father is a prebendary at Wells Cathedral.”

  Lady Cumberland finished trimming the photograph she was holding and pasted it into her scrapbook. “Very well. Elizabeth? Do come here. And stand still, for heaven’s sake. You may take Miss Brown on a walk through the gardens, and then return with her t
o the nursery.”

  “Yes, Mama.”

  “I’ll accompany them, Mama,” Lord Ashford said. He touched Charlotte’s arm, indicating that they ought to leave, though his mother hadn’t said good-bye. Perhaps she didn’t bother to say farewell to underlings.

  “Shall we walk through the rose garden?” Lord Ashford asked once they were safely back in the gallery.

  “That sounds very nice,” Charlotte agreed. “But I think Lady Elizabeth and I ought to fetch our hats.”

  “Of course. I’ll wait for you both on the terrace.”

  At last Charlotte was alone with her pupil. She would have to proceed carefully, for she didn’t want to overwhelm the girl. At the same time, she could see how desperately the child wished to make a good first impression, and how easy it would be to crush her spirits.

  “I do so hope you will be happy here, Miss Brown. When Edward explained you would be coming to teach me, I thought I would die on the spot. In all my life, my whole, entire life, I have never been so happy!”

  “What a lovely thing to say.” Charlotte fixed her warmest and most encouraging smile on the girl.

  “But it’s true. Edward knew I was in danger of expiring from boredom, and so he found you. Miss Shreve means well, but my sisters have worn her down. We haven’t done anything worthwhile in ages.”

  Charlotte would not be drawn into discussions of Miss Shreve’s teaching abilities, but she did wish to learn more about the sort of subjects her pupil considered worthwhile.

  “Tell me: what are you best at?”

  “Literature and history,” the girl replied instantly. “And I love composition, too, even though I’m not very good at it. I’m forever writing about things that make no sense. At least that’s what Miss Shreve says.”

  “Is there anything you’d say you can’t do? That you’re hopeless at?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. Maths and grammar. And I’ve never learned biology or chemistry or geography. For all I know, I’m terrible at those subjects, too.”

  “I doubt that very much. In fact, I rather suspect you are good at everything. It’s simply a matter of my finding the correct way to impart the information to you. I can tell you are a very intelligent girl, so that helps immeasurably.”

  Lilly’s face flushed with pride at having been so complimented. Perhaps it was the first time anyone, apart from her brother, had told her how bright she was. Charlotte decided to press forward a little more.

  “I wonder if you would mind if I set you some exams. Nothing too punishing, I promise. I only wish to see where you are. Once I have an idea of what you do know, we can turn to studying what you don’t yet know. Does that seem agreeable to you?”

  “Oh, yes, Miss Brown. That sounds—well, I know Edward would tease me if he were listening, but that sounds wonderful. Having the chance to sit exams, I mean, just as if I were at school.”

  “Well, you are at school now. But you must let me know if ever you find your lessons boring, or think them too easy or too difficult. I’ve never been a teacher before, so I expect I shall have a great deal to learn as well.”

  They reached the top floor again and were through the door to the nursery. “Do you have a sketchbook? Yes? Why don’t you bring it along, together with some pencils and charcoal. I’d like to see how well you can draw.”

  As they went to leave the nursery and join Lord Ashford, Lilly took Charlotte’s arm and gently stopped her before they returned via the main staircase. “Let me show you the other way. If you’re not with Edward or me you’ll want to go this way,” she said, leading them to the stairs Charlotte had used when Mrs. Forster had first brought her upstairs.

  “Mama has a fit if anyone uses the great stairs when they aren’t with a member of the family,” Lilly explained softly, and not a little anxiously. Intelligent child that she was, she likely realized that Charlotte had never been a servant before, and would have unknowingly taken the great stairs as if she had every right to do so.

  Edward was waiting for them on the terrace, and together they went down its wide, sweeping steps into the formal gardens below. In the main they consisted of low, precisely trimmed boxwood parterres, their central areas filled with brightly blooming annuals. As they moved to the main beds, the flowers gave way to roses, their blooms fading, though one old rambler, its boughs almost hiding the frame of a white-painted pergola, was still heavy with blossoms.

  “Shall I draw something for you, Miss Brown?”

  “Yes, please. Perhaps the dovecote I spy over there?”

  As soon as Lilly had hurried off to make her sketch, Lord Ashford led Charlotte to a nearby bench. It was at the very edge of an herb garden, and without thinking she snapped off a few rosemary leaves and crushed them between her fingers. If Lord Ashford noticed, or minded, he betrayed no sign of it.

  “She’s every bit as bright and eager to learn as you said, Lord Ashford.” Charlotte lowered her voice, not wishing Lilly to overhear.

  “She is, isn’t she? Where do you propose to begin?”

  “I need to find a starting point. Not only in terms of her general abilities, but also as far as her command of individual subjects is concerned. At a guess I would say she is a strong writer, with a good grasp of history and literature, a less good understanding of geography, and very little knowledge of mathematics, biology, and the like.”

  “I suspected as much.” Lord Ashford rubbed at his temples, as if his sister’s poor education actually pained him.

  “What of languages?” Charlotte asked. “French, German, Italian?”

  “I’m not sure. The girls had a French governess for several years, and I believe Lilly made good progress. But she hasn’t learned any other languages, as far as I know.”

  “Has she been exposed to the classics at all? Does she have any Latin or Greek?”

  “None whatsoever, I’m afraid.”

  “Then she and I have a great deal of work ahead of us.”

  “You must let me know how you are getting on, both of you. And you absolutely must let me know if my parents, or my other sisters, are unkind in any way, or if they interfere with your teaching. And you’ve only to ask if you need anything at all for the schoolroom.”

  “I will, Lord Ashford. Thank you.”

  They sat quietly in the sunshine for a while, content to watch Lilly as she worked on her drawing of the dovecote, and Charlotte wondered yet again why this man, so much a product of his class and yet so different from his peers, had taken on the task of ensuring his youngest sister received a decent education. His being fond of her wasn’t explanation enough; plenty of brothers loved their sisters but didn’t care a jot if they were learned or witless.

  “Why are you doing this for her?”

  He turned to face her, his expression unusually serious. “Alice and Mary are awful now. I mean, I love them—they’re my sisters—but they’re awful. They remind me of nothing more than Punch caricatures of brainless debutantes. But the thing is, Miss Brown, I remember when they were little, just ordinary little girls, and they weren’t like that. They used to be like . . . well, like Lilly, filled with wonder and delight at the world around them, just bursting with questions. I ought to have done something, found a way to get through to them, but I was away at school, and overnight, it seemed, they changed.”

  “But not Lilly.”

  “Not yet. You represent my chance to save Lilly. With what she learns from you, she might be able to escape all this, or at least acquire enough of an education to make an interesting wife for a thoughtful man.”

  “I can think of many people who would be happy to live as your sisters do,” Charlotte ventured.

  “I know, and I don’t mean to grumble. But it weighs on me, you know. This knowledge that only one possible future awaits, that only one path can be taken. I can’t escape it, but perhaps Lilly can. I’m counting on you.”

  “I will do my very best not to disappoint.”

  “I can’t imagine that you will. After all, yo
u are exactly the sort of person I’d like Lilly to become. Who better than you to teach her?” He accompanied this startling compliment with a smile that managed to extract every molecule of oxygen from her lungs.

  She tried to think of an intelligible reply—how on earth was one meant to answer such a remark?—but was saved by Lilly, who was approaching with her finished drawing for Charlotte’s inspection.

  “I hope you like it, Miss Brown.”

  “I do,” she said, and it was the truth. “You need to work on your grasp of perspective a little, but your eye for detail is excellent.”

  Edward stood and then, stooping, dropped a kiss on his sister’s head. “If you don’t mind, ladies, I must leave you now. Lilly will need to change for dinner, but Nanny Gee will take care of that. I do hope to see you again before I leave, Miss Brown.”

  “Thank you for everything, Lord Ashford.”

  He shook her hand, and as he walked away she was struck yet again by how attractive he was. It ought not to signify; he was her employer, not a friend or potential beau, but it was difficult not to notice. His hair was impossibly fair, the sort of color one usually saw only on babies or Swedes, and at close quarters she had seen that his eyes were dark blue, so dark she had at first thought them gray. His long, straight nose and high cheekbones further underscored her realization that he was very likely the handsomest man she had ever met. So much for her assumption, only bolstered by her experiences at Oxford, that most aristocrats were inbred dolts.

  “What shall we do now, Miss Brown?”

  Charlotte looked to her wristwatch, a twenty-first birthday present from her parents, and saw that it was only just three o’clock. “We’ve hours before you need to be upstairs again. Shall we go on a walk? It seems a shame to spend a day such as this indoors.”

  “Yes, please. Would you like me to show you the yew walk?”