the tutors daughter

7/31/2019 The Tutors Daughter

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J u l i eK l a s s e n

5


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2012 by Julie Klassen

Published by Behany House Publishers11400 Hampshire Avenue Souh

Bloomingon, Minnesoa 55438www.behanyhouse.com

Behany House Publishers is a division oBaker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan

Prined in he Unied Saes o America

All righs reserved. No par o his publicaion may be reproduced, sored in a rerieval sysem,or ransmited in any orm or by any meansor example, elecronic, phoocopy, recording

wihou he prior writen permission o he publisher. Te only excepion is brie quoaionsin prined reviews.

Library o Congress Caaloging-in-Publicaion DaaKlassen, Julie.

Te uors daugher / Julie Klassenp. cm.

ISBN 978-0-7642-1069-3 (pbk.)1. Regency cion. 2. Love sories. 3. Chrisian cion. I. ile.

PS3611.L3788 2012

813 .6dc23 2012034244

Scripure quoaions are rom he King James Version o he Bible.

Tis is a work o hisorical reconsrucion; he appearances o cerain hisorical gures are

hereore ineviable. All oher characers, however, are producs o he auhors imaginaion,

and any resemblance o acual persons, living or dead, is coincidenal.

Cover design by Jennier Parker

Cover phoography by Mike Habermann Phoography, LLC

Auhor represened by Books and Such Lierary Agency

12 13 14 15 16 17 18 7 6 5 4 3 2 1


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Wih love o my uncles,

Al, Ed,Hank & John

And in loving memory oUncle Bill


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YOUNG GENTLEMENare boarded and instructed in English,

Writing, and Arithmetic, at Eighteen Guineasper Annum. They are likewise carefullyinstructed in the CLASSICS. Drawing,Geography, and the use of the Globes,taught separately on moderate Terms.

Hampshire Chronicle advertisement, 1797

E. England begs leave to acquaint hisfriends and the public that he receives alimited number of pupils under his care,who are boarded at the rate of fourteen

guineas, and carefully instructed in English

Grammar, Penmanship and a regular courseof Mathematics, together with History,Geography, the use of Globes, and the

method of Drawing in Perspective.

Stamford Mercuryadvertisement, 1808


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Prologue

L o n g s t a p L e, D e v o n s h i r e

1812

Somehing is amiss, Emma hough, immediaely upon eneringher idy bedchamber. Wha is i . . . ?She scanned he nealy made bed, orderly side able, and dressing

ches. . . . Tere. She sepped orward, hear squeezing.In he special eacup she kep as decoraion nesled a cluch o

iny pink roses. Te owers had likely been picked rom her auns

garden nex door, bu hey had been picked or her, and hey hadbeen picked by him, and ha was all ha matered.

She knew insanly who had le hemPhillip Weson. Her a-vorie rom among her ahers many pupils. And likely he only one

who knew i was her birhdayher sixeenh. How much kinderPhillip was han his older broher, Henry, who had boarded wihhem a ew years beore.

Emma careully lied he cup, bringing he owers o her noseand breahing in he ragrance o apple-swee roses and resh green-

ery.Mmm . . . She held he cup away, admiring how he owerspink

peals and green leaves brough ou he colorul paining on is side.


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She ound hersel hinking back o he day her moher had given

her his eacup hree years beore. Te very day Henry Weson hadnearly broken i. . . .

Emma unied he ribbon, peeled back he issue papercare-

ul no o rip iand opened he box. Looking inside, pleasurelled her. She had been righ abou is conens. For she had

noiced he prized eacup missing rom is place in he china

cupboard.I was your grandmohers, her moher said. She purchased i

on her wedding rip. All he way o Ialy. Can you imagine?Yes, Emma breahed, admiring anew he gold-rimmed cup

wih is deailed paining o a Veneian gondola and bridge. Is

beauiul. Ive always admired i.A rare dimple appeared in her mohers pale cheek. I know you

have.Emma smiled. Tank you, Mamma.

Happy birhday, my dear.Emma reurned he cup and saucer gingerly ino he box, plan-

ning o carry i up o her bedchamber. She sepped ou o he siting

room andwhama wooden ball slammed ino he wall opposie,

nearly knocking he box rom her hands. She looked up, inuriaedo see one o her ahers pupils smirking a her.

Henry Weson! Emma cluched he box o her young bosom,

shielding i wih her arms. Do be careul.His green eyes slid rom her ace o her arms, and he sepped

closer. Wha is in he box?A gi.Ah, has righ. I is your birhday. How old are you nowen?

She lied her chin. I am hireen, as you very well know.He reached over, pulled back he paper, and peered ino he box.

His eyes glined, and hen he chuckled, he chuckle soon growingino a laugh.

She glared a he smug sixeen-year-old. I don see wha is sounny.


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J U LI E K L A SSEN

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I is he perec gi or you, Emma Smallwood. A single eacup. A

single soliary eacup. Have I no oen said you will end a spinser?

I will no, she insised.Siting abou and reading all day as you do, your head will coninue

o grow bu your limbs will shrivel, and who would wan o marryha?

Someone ar beter han you.He snored. I someone marries you, Emma Smallwood, I

shall . . . I shall perorm he dance o he swords a your wedding

breakas. He grinned. Naked.She scoed in disgus. Who would wan o see ha? Besides,

who says I would invie you o my wedding?He weaked her chin in a paronizing ashion. Bluesocking.She scowled. Jackanapes!Emma Smallwood . . . Her moher appeared in he doorway,

eyes ashing. Wha word did I hear coming rom your mouh?

I give you a beauiul gi and you repay me wih an ugly word?Sorry, Mamma.

Hello, Mr. Weson. Her moher slaned Henry a dismissivelook. Do excuse us.

Mrs. Smallwood. He bowed and hen urned oward he sairs.

Emma, her moher hissed. Young ladies do no speak o genle-

men in such a manner.Hes no genleman, Emma said, hoping Henry would hear. He

cerainly does no ac like one.

Her mohers lips ighened. Be ha as i may, i isn proper. Iwan you o go o your room and read he chaper on polie man-ners in he book I gave you.

Emma proesed, Mamma . . .Her moher held up her hand. No anoher word. I know I say

you read oo many books, bu I would raher you read one on heeminine graces han hose horrid scholarly omes o your ahers.

Yes, Mamma. Emma sighed and carried her cup upsairs.

Unhappy memory ading, Emma smiled a he swee bouquele or her by Henrys younger broher, Phillip. She wondered wha


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Henry Weson would say i he could see her now and knew who

had given her owers.When Henry Weson le he Smallwood Academy, Emma had

been relieved, bu she would be sad o see Phillip depar. I wasdicul o believe wo brohers could be so very dieren.


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Before, however, Lucy had been an hourin the house she had contrived a place foreverything and put everything in its place.

The Naughty Girl Won, circa 1800

Chapter 1

F i v e y e a r s L a t e r

a p r i L 1817

Tweny-one-year-old Emma Smallwood careully dused he col-lecion o avorie books aop her dressing ches. I was he onebi o housekeeping she insised on doing hersel, despie Mrs. Mal-

loys proesaions. She hen careully wiped her cherished eacupagains any dus paricle daring o lodge here. Te cup and saucer

were a gi rom her moherne porcelain rimmed wih real gold.Emma se he cup and saucer back aop he leaher-bound volume

o SernesA Senimenal Journey Trough France and Ialy. Sheangled

he cup o bes display he image on is sidea lovely paining oa graceul gondola in Venice.

Emma had never sipped rom he gold-rimmed cup. Bu she did

like o look a i. o remember her moher, gone hese wo years.

o remember a young man who had once le roses inside i. Ando imagine visiing Ialy someday hersel.

Morning riual nished, Emma sowed her cleaning supplies and

checked he chaelaine wach hooked o her bodice. She closed he


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cover wih a saisying snap. Precisely as shed hough. ime o godown and send o heir las remaining pupil.

Reaching he botom o he sairs, she saw Edward Sims sanding in

he hall, dgeing wih his valise. He wore a smar rock coa and opha, and looked he picure o a young man ready o ake on he world.

All se, Mr. Sims?He urned. Yes, Miss Smallwood.Tough she was only our years his senior, Emma el a ondness

bordering on he maernal when she looked a he young man whohad lived wih hem or mos o he las hree years. She glanced

around he empy hall. Has my aher bid you arewell?Mr. Sims shied and shook his head. I have no seen him his

morning.Emma orced a smile. Wha a piy. He shall be so sorry o have

missed you. I know he waned o be here o see you o.Her aher ough o have been here. Bu no doub he had gone

o he churchyard o visi her grave. Again.

Mr. Sims gave an awkward smile. ell him good-bye or me, andhank him or everyhing.

I shall.And I hank you especially, Miss Smallwood. I learned a grea

deal rom you.You are very welcome, Mr. Sims. I wish you every success a

universiy.

From he ron window, she wached he young man walk pashe Smallwood Academy sign, and down he cobbled lane, eeling

he wisul ledown she oen el when a pupil le hem. Tis imeall he more, since here were no new sudens o replace him.

Te house seemed suddenly quie and empy. She wished Mr.Sims had a younger broher. Six younger brohers. She sighed. Per-

haps even amiable Mr. Sims would hesiae o recommend Mr.

Smallwood as uor, considering how litle her aher had acuallybeen involved in his educaion. Bu how would hey pay heir cook-

housekeeper and maid, no o menion he languishing pile o bills,

wihou more pupils?


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J U LI E K L A SSEN

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Emma walked o he desk in he amily siting room, pulled ouhe bound noebook she kep here, and ipped pas previous liss:

Books read his year.

Books o read nex.

Improvemens needed o boys chambers.

Economizing measures.

Places o visi someday.

New exs and primers o order or nex erm: None.

Diversions o improve Papas moods/Improvemen noed: None.

Pupils by year.

Her pupil liss, which had grown shorer wih each passing

year, included noes on each young mans characer and his plansor he uure.

She urned o he lis rom hree years beore, running her nger

over he ew names, lingering on one in paricular.

Phillip Weson. Kind and amiable. Second son. Plans o ollow his

broher o Oxord and read he law.

Te brie noe hardly did him jusice. Phillip Weson had beenher only rue riend among her ahers pupils over he years.

Seeing his name caused her o urn o anoher page. Anoher lis.

Prospecive pupils or he uure: Rowan and Julian Weson?

Emma hough again o he leter she had sen a ornigh beore.

She knew perecly well Henry and Phillip Weson had wo younger

hal brohers. Phillip had menioned hem oen enough. Julian and

Rowan were a leas een by nowolder han Phillip when hedbeen sen o he academy.

Bu hey had no come.She had broached he subjec wih her aher several imes in he


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pas, suggesing he wrie o he boys aher. Bu he had hemmed,hawed, and sighed, saying he was sure, i Sir Giles mean o send

his younger sons o hem, he would have done so already. No, more

likely, Sir Giles and his second wie had eschewed heir humbleesablishmen in avor o presigious Wincheser, Harrow, or Eon.

Well, i would no hur o ask, Emma had urged.Bu her aher had grimaced and said maybe anoher day.Tereore Emma, who had been acing wih increasing requency

as her ahers secreary, had aken up quill and ink and writen oSir Giles in her ahers sead, o ask i he migh consider sending

his younger sons, as he had his older wo.She sill could hardly believe she had done so. Wha had come

over her? In hindsigh, she knew very well. She had read an accoun

o he daring ravels o he Russian princess Caherine Dashkov.

Reading abou he princesss explois had inspired Emmas rare aco braveryor oolishnesswhichever he leter had been. In heend, her leter apparenly made no dierence. Her asseriveness had

been in vain, or here had been no reply. She hoped i Sir Giles hadbeen oended a heir presumpion ha word o i had no reached

Phillip, who was, she believed, sill away a universiy.urning a page in her noebook, Emma apped a quill in ink and

began a new lis.

Measures o acquire new pupils.

Someone knocked on he doorjamb, and Emma looked up. Tere

sood Aun Jane, who had le hersel in hrough he side door as

usual.Mr. Sims depared on schedule? Jane asked wih one o her

requen smiles, puncuaed by slighly crooked eyeeeh.Yes. You only jus missed him. Emma se her quill back in is

holder.Her aun laid her bonne on he sideboard and smoohed back

her hair. Amids he brown, Emma glimpsed a ew silver hairs hahad escaped her ruhless plucking.


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Jane, her ahers siser, younger by six years, had never married.She lived in he house nex door, which had been heir parens

home. Tere she ran a siser school o he Smallwood Academya

boarding school or young ladies.Jane peeled o her gloves. Dare I ask where your aher is?Emma shook her head. Hes been gone since breakas.

Aun Jane pulled in her lips in a regreul expression, her shaking

head mirroring Emmas.Mrs. Malloy, he Smallwoods cook-housekeeper, brough in he

ea ray and seemed no in he leas surprised o see Jane Smallwood

here. In ac, hree cups already sa upon he ray.You will join me, I hope? Emma asked poliely, knowing ull

well her aun had planned o do so all along.Tank you, my dear.

As i drawn by he warm rail o seam rom he ketle or he smell

o Mrs. Malloys shorbread, he ron door opened and Emmas

aher shufed in, head bowed, hin mouh downurned, looking

older han his ory-eigh years.Mrs. Malloy busled over o ake his ha and mufer, scolding,

Mr. Smallwood . . . yer shoes are a righ mess! And we rouser

ems in he bargain. Did ya swim ome?Do orgive me, Mrs. Malloy, he said dryly. Irony glined in his

round, blue eyes. I did no sep in ha puddle o spie you. He

wiped his shoes and looked across a his daugher and siser. Am

I in ime or ea?Yes, Emma replied. Tough you have missed Mr. Sims.Her aher blinked, clearly surprised and chagrined. Le al-

ready? Good heavens. I waned o be here. I do hope you passed

along my graiude and arewells.O course I did.Her aher sa down, rubbing his hands ogeher. Chilly day.

Damp oo.You ough no o have sayed oudoors so long, John, Jane said.

Youll cach your deah.I should be so lucky, he murmured.


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Aun and niece shared a look o concern.Emma poured ea ino heir plain everyday cups, and conversa-

ion dwindled while hey parook o he simple repas o ho ea,

bread, cheese, and shorbread. Her aher ae a litle o everyhing,she noiced, hough his appeie was no wha i once was.

Emma nibbled bread and cheese bu resised he shorbread,

hough i was her avorie. Her slim gure was one o he ew hings

her moher had praised. Emma allowed hersel swees only a Chris-

mas and her birhday.She sipped her ea, hen se down her cup. Well, Papa, she

began, I have sared a lis.Anoher? Wha is i his ime?She el a icker o annoyance a his condescending one bu

replied evenly, A lis o hings we migh ry o acquire new pupils.Ah. He waved a dismissive hand as hough he opic were rivial.

Her aun said more encouragingly, And wha have you hougho so ar?

Emma looked a her graeully. A new adverisemen in he paper.Perhaps expanding o oher newspapers as well, hough ha would

be expensive. A larger sign migh help. Our old one is showing

signs o wear, I ear. And hardly visible unless one is looking or i.Aun Jane nodded. Yes, a smar, well-mainained sign is very

imporan, I eel.Ours is ne, John Smallwood mutered ino his ea. I is no as

hough parens go wandering hrough he srees in search o a uor.Emma weighed her bes course, hen said, You are exacly righ,

Papa. I is no passersby we need o atrac, bu raher well-o-do

amilies arher aeld.His eyes dulled, and his mouh slackened. I jus don have he

energy or all o ha, Emma. I am no a young man anymore.Oh come, John, his siser said. You have many good years

ahead o you.He sighed. Wha a depressing hough.

Wih a glance a her niece, Jane said, You have Emma o hinko, John, i no yoursel.


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He shrugged, unconvinced. Emma is more han capable o ak-

ing care o hersel. As are you.A ha, Emma and her aun shared anoher long look.

I Emma didn hink o some way o help her aher soon, heywould be in serious rouble, boh nancially and oherwise. Teymigh very well lose heir home and schoolhis only livelihood . . .

and hers.

Emma spen he nex wo days combing her memory and he

newspapers or names o amilies wih sons who were no alreadyenrolled elsewhere, as ar as she knew. She was hunched over hedesk when Mrs. Malloy enered he siting room wih he days

pos. Ere you go, love.Needing o srech, Emma rose and looked idly hrough he sack,

dreading o nd more bills or nal noices. Her hand hesiaed onone o he leters addressed o her aher. Te reurn direcion:

Ebbingon Manor, Ebord, Cornwall.Ebbingon Manor was he primary esae o Sir Giles Weson and

his amily. Exciemen and ear wised hrough her somach andalong her spine. She had all bu given up hope o a reply.

Because her aher le i o her o open his correspondenceespecially he increasingly depressing billsshe el only minor

qualms abou liing he seal and unolding his leter as she had

so many ohers.She glanced oward he door wih a winge o sel-consciousness,

hen read he lines writen in wha appeared o be a somewha

hurried hand:

My dear Mr. Smallwood,

Tank you for your leter and your kind ineres in my younger

sons. You are correc ha hey have reachednay, surpassedhe age when my wo older boys le us o spend a ew years wih

you there in Longstaple. However, Lady Weston eels that our

younges are oo delicae o live apar om heir mamma. While


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I personally hink he experience would be as good or hem as i

was or Henry and Phillip, and would no doub srenghen heir

developing characters in the bargain, I eel I must deer to my

wies wishes in his mater.

I don suppose you would consider coming o Ebbingon Manor

and eaching he boys here a, say, wice he boarding rae? I you

could bu spend one year here preparing hem or universiy, how

ideal ha would be or us. O course I realize ha is a grea deal

to ask, especially considering the loss o your wie, which I was

very sorry to hear o. But i you ever desire a change o scenery,

do no hesiae o le me know. You would be mos welcome. Your

daugher as well.

Yours mos sincerely,

Sir Giles Weson, Bar

Good heavens, wha a hough. Ta her aher would give up

his esablished academy o uor wo pupils. Wha personal serviceha would be! Many young genlemen, resh rom universiy buwihou orune, served as uors in grand houses. Bu o presumeha Mr. John Smallwood would leave his home and academy o

do he same . . . ? Emma el oended on her ahers behal. Hadword goten around ha he Smallwoods were in dire srais? Emma

hued and ossed he leter back ono he pile.

She sood here, sewing. Bu aer vexaion passed, she read heleter again. In realiy, Sir Giless one was perecly polie, nearly

apologeic o even sugges such an idea. He merely waned o seehis sons well educaedall while kowowing o his wies irraional

coddling.Te rs Lady Weson, Phillip and Henrys moher, had died

when he boys were quie young. And Emma knew rom commens

Phillip had made ha his sepmoher, he second Lady Weson,was somewha diculand ha she avored her sons by birh arabove her sons by marriage. Emma recalled eeling sorry or Phil-lip when hed described his enuous relaionship wih he woman.


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Emma did no recall Henry speaking o his sepmoher one wayor he oher, hough she and Henry had no been riends and here-

ore had no spoken o such personal maters.

Emma hough o Ebbingon Manor, a place she had never seenbu had oen imagined, high on a cli on he windswep Cornwallcoas. O course she would enjoy seeing Phillip Weson again. Bushe reminded hersel ha he was away a Oxord, likely in his hird

year a Balliol. No siting a home waiing or her o visi.Should she show he leter o her aher? She doubed he would

even consider he noion, no when he spen hours each day visi-

ing his wies grave. And i he did agree, wha would she dopackup her aher and send him o o Cornwall or a year while she

remained behind wih Aun Jane?On one hand, ha scenario appealed o her. How many imes

had her aun suggesed Emma each wih her someday, evenuallybecoming Janes parner in he girls school, i and when she el

comorable leaving her aher on his own?

Bu her aher sill needed her. Emma had been helping himor yearsrs during her mohers long illness and hen even

more so aer shed passed on and her ahers depression o spirisbegan. Emma wasn cerain he was capable o managing on his

own. Alhough, a Ebbingon Manor, he would be responsible oronly he boys educaion, and no he adminisraion o an enireacademyjuggling day scholars, uiion noices, as well as special

sessions wih he dancing maser, drawing insrucor, and Frenchuor. Yes, i migh help her aher i his ocus were narrowed. YeEmma couldn be cerain, and she couldn abide he hough osending him away on his own. Wha i he should ail? Embarrasshimsel and suer he moricaion o being dismissed? Ta would

be oo much or him o bear in his curren sae.Youre eting over nohing, Emma, she chided hersel. He won

wan o go.Bu when she broached he subjec aer dinner, her aher

sunned her by sraighening and becoming aler, looking a her

wih more animaion han shed seen in years.


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Did Sir Giles really invie us o come and live here? he asked.Yes, bu . . .Ineresing noion . . . His eyes brighened as he looked oward

he ceiling in hough.Faher, I assure you I did no hin a any such arrangemen, only

asked i he migh consider sending his younger sons o us here.Her aher nodded, bu he seemed no a all vexed abou he

inviaion, nor her presumpion in wriing.He asked o see he leter, and she produced i.He read i, lowered his specacles, and said, In all honesy, my

dear, I long or a change. Being here in his house, day aer day,nigh aer nigh. Te place where my dear one suered so long . . .Consanly surrounded by hings ha remind meno o he happy

years, as I should like, bu o he las years. Te painul years. Whydo you hink I leave so oen?

I . . . hough i was o visi her in he churchyard, Emma saidquiely.

He shrugged. I go here now and again, o make cerain he plois kep up. o pull weeds or lay a ew owers. Bu no o visi her.She is no here, Emma. She is somewhere ar beter han a drearyLongsaple churchyard.

ears brighened his eyes, and Emma blinked back her own ears. A

he momen she was oo worried abou he uure o mourn he pas.Bu . . . Ebord is . . . such a long way, she sammered. In he

very norh o Cornwall.No so very ar. And i would only be or a year. He sa back,

musing, I remember Phillip describing Ebbingon Manor. Ram-bling old house, high on a cli near he sea. Beauiul pahs alonghe coas. . . .

Bu you would no be here o walk along he coas, Emma

reminded him. You would be here o each.

Yes, I know. Bu cerainly we would have some ime o enjoyhe ou-o-doors. He hesiaed or he rs ime. Tough I shouldno presume you would wish o go wih me, my dear. I realize youare no a litle girl any longer.


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Emma rose and sepped o he window, houghs whirling. Could

she really do iuproo hersel and leave all she knew o live in

Cornwall or a year? Emma el her sense o conrol slipping away

and her panic rising. I . . . I need o hink.O course you do, my dear. Tis is all very sudden. Quie a shock,

hough a pleasan one, a leas or me. Bu you consider wha is bes.

I shall abide by your decision.Such responsibiliy! Should she, could she, accep and hereby

place hersel under he same roo as Henry and Phillip Weson? Aleas she assumed Phillip would be here during school vacaions.

She wasn sure where his older broher was nowadays.In her minds eye, she saw Henry Weson, wavy dark hair wild

abou his sharp-eaured ace. His eerie green eyes narrowing in

menace as he commanded her o say ou o his room or pulled

some nasy rick on her.She shivered.Fire irons clanged belowsairs, and Emma sared. How oolish,

she hough, despising irraional emoion.She rose wih deerminaion. She knew wha o do. She would go

and speak wih levelheaded Aun Jane. Aun Jane who would haeo see hem go. Aun Jane who so oen spoke o a ond someday

when she and Emma migh each ogeher in her school. CauiousAun Jane who had avoided he atenions o men all her days. Yes,Aun Jane would help her decide.

Siting in her auns snug parlor ha evening, Emma handed herhe leter and sa back while Jane read i. While she waied, Emmalooked rom he plain, chipped eacup in her hand o he ne rose-and-whie ea secups, saucers, small plaesdisplayed in he

corner cabine. How oen she had admired he se. She remembered

asking Aun Jane why she never used iinsead using he sameold mismached cups and saucers or years.

Tose are oo good or everyday use, shed said. Im saving

hem.


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Saving hem or wha? young Emma had asked. Your wed-

ding?My wedding? Heavens no. Jane had winked and weaked Em-

mas nose. Maybe yours. Ten her eyes had grown houghul anddisan. I . . . don know really. Someday Ill use i. Bu no oday.

Now, again eyeing he lovely ea se siting on he shel, Emmashear wised. Te sigh saddened her, hough she knew i shouldno. She hough o her own special eacup rom her moher. Emma

polished and admired i bu never used i eiher, so who was she oquesion Aun Jane?

Emma reurned her gaze o Jane Smallwoods angular ace wihpoined nose and chin. Her eyes were large and so green, like

Emmas. I was a ace Emma loved, had always loved. Wih each

passing year, he lines around her auns eyes and across her orehead

became more pronounced. Even so, Emma hough i a beauiulace, hough she imagined no everyone shared her opinion.

Janes brow urrowed as she neared he end o he leter. She said

quiely, He menions his sons, Henry and Phillip. . . . I rememberhem boh.

Yes, her aun had me hem boh on many occasionswhen

slipping over or ea as she did, or walking o church ogeher andsharing a meal aerward, as she so oen had over he years.

She looked a Emma rom beneah her lashes. I believe you

were raher ond o one o hem.

Emma el her cheeks grow warm. Phillip and I were riendsha is all. Bu ha was years ago.

Aun Jane pursed her hin lips. Wha has your aher said?Oddly enough, he seems keen on he idea. Tough he says hell

leave he decision o me. Bu I have no desire o pack up and move.And wha would become o our house? And all o our books?

A enan migh easily be ound, Jane said. And I can look aer

he place or you in your absence.Emma sared in disbelie. Tis wasn he reacion she had ex-

peced. Hoped or. Bu I don wano go. Her voice rose plain-ively, very unlike her normally reserved one.


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Jane said, I know you have read abou Cornwall. Here is youropporuniy o see i or yoursel.

You wan us o leave?

Emma . . . Janes orehead crinkled once more, her eyes largeand expressive. Tis isn abou whaIwan.

Bu . . . Emma pulled a ace. You have never el i necessaryo leave here, o go gallivaning o on some ill-conceived venure.o pu yoursel in he pah o genlemen.

Jane looked o ino he disance. Perhaps I should have.Emma sa speechless. She wondered i her aun was hinking o

Mr. Farley, an admirer she once urned down o coninue eaching.Emma had never me Mr. Farley, bu her aun had described heirmeeing, and allowed her o read his leter.

Jane Smallwood reached over and laid a hand on hers. Don

misundersand me, Emma. I am conen wih my lo. I derive greasaisacion rom eaching. Bu ha does no mean I don someimes

wonder wha I have missed. Wha my lie migh have been like, had

I said yes o a litle advenure o my own.


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Edward Ferrars was privately tutoredin the home of the Reverend Mr. Pratt

at Longstaple, near Plymouth. . . .

Deirdre Le Faye,Jane Austen:The World of Her Novels

Chapter 2

On her ahers behal, Emma wroe o Sir Giles, acceping his

inviaion o uor his younger sons or a year a Ebbingon

Manor a he salary hed oered.Emma sill el nervous abou he prospec, worrying how Phillip

and Henry Weson migh reac o learning heyshewould becoming o heir home. She ervenly hoped neiher o hem hough

i orward o her or suspeced any moive beyond wha i wasagood opporuniy or her aher.

A leas, she hoped i would be good or him. She almos prayed i

would be so. Bu, in ruh, Emma rarely prayed hese days. I seemedclear o her ha God had ceased o answer her prayers, so she hadceased asking. She had learned over he years, especially since hermohers deah, o rely on no one bu hersel. I somehing neededdoing, i would likely be le o her. Had no her recen acsending

an inquiry o Sir Gilesproved ha ruh once again?So, as much as she dreaded i, o resore heir nances and hope-

ully her ahers spiris, she would leave her sae, ordered lie o helpher aher each wo pupils in Cornwall. In he home o Phillip andHenry Weson.

Even hinking hose words caused Emmas palms o perspire.


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As Aun Jane had prediced, enans were easily ound or he

house. Jane had recalled ha he vicar was looking or nearby lodg-ings or his married siser while her husband was away a sea. Shemigh have sayed wih him, bu he small vicarage had only one

spare room, and he clergymans siser had many children.Emmas aher spoke wih he Reverend Mr. Lewis, and ar-

rangemens were quickly made. More quickly han Emma had

wished. She knew he vicar, yes. Bu no his siser or her children.

Wha i hey did no ake care o he urniure and hings she andher aher were leaving behind? Inwardly, Emma checked hersel.Te ruh was, she cared litle how he urnishings ared in heirabsence. Wha she did care abou were her mohers eacup andheir books. She wondered how many volumes hey would be

able o ake along.On he same day her aher agreed o he erms o he lease, hey

received a brie reply rom Sir Giles, saying he was surprised bupleased he Smallwoods were willing o accep his oer, and hahey were welcome o come a heir convenience.

Te nex morning, Emma and her aher wen o see he booking

clerk a he local coaching inn and, wih his imeables and advice,planned heir bes roue or he journey. Emma wroe back againo apprise Sir Giles o heir expeced arrival dae and ime.

Ten hey began packing in earnes.Considering he cos o ranspor luggage, Emma realized ha

she and her aher could reasonably ake only one modes-sized

runk apiece. Tey would no be able o ake all heir books. No by

ar. She would need o selec only her very avories. Wih a heavyhear, Emma began he dicul process o soring and choosing.

She packed up one crae o books she would no ake wih her,

bu ha she could no bear o leave lying abou he house or sickyngers o nd. Tese she delivered o Aun Janes and asked i she

would sore hem or her.Jane ngered hrough he volumes in he crae. Robinson Crusoe,


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Te History o Peter the Great, Gullivers ravels, Te Juvenile Anec-

does, and more.So many childrens books, Emma, Jane observed. I doub you

will ever read hese again. Why no give hem o he church or heparish poor?

Emmas somach wised. Bu I love hese old books. I could

never give hem up. Never.Jane held up an old volume oAesops Fables. You mus know

hese by hear by now.Wih an apologeic shake o her head, Emma genly ook he

book rom her aun and slid i back ino he crae. Jus promiseme you will keep hem sae.

Ta aernoon, her aher paused a he open door o Emmas

bedchamber. He looked rom her, o he open runk, o he gownsspread on he bed.

How goes he packing, my dear?

I am nding i very dicul o everyhing I wan ino onerunk. Biing her lip, she exraced a bandbox and lled he resuling

space wih anoher sack o books. One ha and one bonne wouldhave o suce. Ten she eyed he wo evening gowns.

Waching her, her aher said, Remember i shall no be orever,

my dear. Your books will be here waiing or you when we reurn.Emma se aside one evening gown. How many would she really

need? I was unlikely hey would be asked o join in any ormaldinners or paries. Tey would likely be viewed, aer all, as litle

higher han servans.Yes, her books would be ar more comor on a cold Cornwall

eve han a gown o cool, crisp silk or gauzy muslin.Oher necessiies? Her eacup, o course. A small chess se, o

help her and her aher pass he long evenings. One pair o indoor

shoes and a pair o hal boos or he coasal walks her aher seemeddeermined o pursue. A warm pelisse, cape, shawl, and gloves,

o course. Emma sood here, rying o decide beween he Ann

Radclie novel she held in one hand and he jewelry box she held


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in he oher. Really i migh be saer o leave mos o her jewelry,modes collecion hough i was, wih Aun Jane as well.

Finally, she wavered over a small botle oeau de cologne. Phillip

Weson had given i o her he day he le he Smallwood Academy.He had given i o her wihou anare, wih only a sel-consciousshrug and a mumbled, Tough you migh like o have i.

I seemed almos ungraeul no o ake i wih her now. Makingup her mind, Emma crammed i ino her already-sued reicule

and pulled he drawsrings igh.

On he rs Monday in May, Emma and her aher visied Rachel

Smallwoods grave in he churchyard, sopped o say good-bye o he

vicar, and hen wen nex door o bid Aun Jane arewell. Sandinghere on he pah beween heir houses, Emma received her aunskiss and besowed a brave smile in reurn. While her aher embraced

his siser, Emma urned wih a deermined sni and ollowed he

boy and car ransporing heir runks o he coaching inn.Tey raveled by sage rom Longsaple, Devonshire, o Ebord,

Cornwall, sopping every en o een miles o pay olls or changehorses a one inn or anoher. Oher passengers came and wen a

various sops along he waysome squeezing beside hem insidehe coach, ohers siting on is roo. A leas Emma and her aherhad inside seas or he daylong journey.

From ime o ime, she el her aher sudying her. When heireyes nally me, he raised his brows in unspoken query,Are you allrigh? Emma orced a reassuring smile. She did no share his enhu-

siasm, bu she reminded herseleven remonsraed herselha

his had all been her doing. I was oo lae or second-guessing now.

As he coach josled onward, Emma ried o keep images and

memories o Henry Weson a bay, bu hey reurned o worry her.

She ried o read, bu doing so in he rocking carriage made herqueasy. She cluched her volume oTe Female ravellers o her

ches and old hersel o hink o Phillip Weson insead. She andPhillip pracicing he minue in he schoolroom or looking up a


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he sars ogeher a nigh. Genle Phillip comoring her when hermoher had allen ill. . . . Bu houghs o his oul-empered broher

prevailed and pesered her hroughou he bone-jarring journey.

When Henry Weson had rs come o Longsaple, he had beensullen and resenul, keeping o his room, snapping a her whenever

she dared speak o him, and orbidding her o ouch his belongings.

She had quickly learned o avoid him.Te nex erm, Henry had arrived early, beore he oher pupils.

He seemed less angry and more resigned o being here. When hehad quickly become bored wih no oher boys abou, he had even

asked hero join him in one game hen anoherooball, cricke,shooing, encing. . . . Bu, no being ahleically inclined, Emma

had reused each boiserous aciviy in is urn.Cards? hed asked raher desperaely.I dees cards, Emma had said.Riding?I haven a horse, as you very well know by now.

Frusraed, hed scoed, Is here nohing you are good or?How she had waned o reurn he insul wih one o her own,

bu she bi back he angry reor burning on her lips. Very calmly,shed said hey migh play a game o chess, i he liked.

Henry had relucanly agreed. She quickly realized hey were

raher evenly mached and wisely allowed him o win. Aer ha,chess was he only game hed asked her o play.

When he oher boys arrived, however, Henry began acing surlyagain, and criical in he bargain. When he came upon her reading

a requen occurrencehe would pronounce some ominous pre-dicion like, Boys don like bookish bluesockings, you know. You

shall end an old maid. See i you don.And hen he pranks had sared. . . .No, Emma did no look orward o seeing Henry Weson again.

I only Phillip migh be here insead. She sighed, consoling herselwih he ac ha i was very unlikely sel-imporan Henry Weson

would seek ou he company o a humble uors daugher hed

once despised.


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Tey arrived in he village o Ebord ha evening, and here was

no one o mee hem. Te guard and groom se down heir runksouside he inn, while he hoslers led he weary horses o he backo he esablishmen o be sabled. Apparenly Ebord was he endo he line, a leas or he nigh.

Emma and her aher sepped enaively inside he inn. Te dim,

low-beamed room was lled wih roughly dressed men, pipe andpea smoke, and he odors o ale and sh.

Wai here, he whispered, and Emma sood beside he doorwhile her aher approached he publican.

Around he room, men cas suspicious looks a him. Emma

looked nervously abou bu saw no sign o Sir Giles or anyone

dressed well enough o work or him.Her aher asked he publican i anyone rom Ebbingon Manor

had been in ha evening.

Te gap-oohed man shook his bald head and said, No. Now,do ee wan a pin or don ee?

No, my good man, I am simply inquiring.Te man sared a John Smallwood a momen longer, hen wen

back o wiping he ankard in his hand.Giving up, her aher urned and led her back ouside.Emma looked up one side o he cobbled lane and down he

oher. Te small village curved in a crescen around he harbor. Oneiher side o he inle, clis rose.

Her aher asked, You wroe and old Sir Giles when o expecus, did you no?

Yes. Perhaps he orgo. Or somehing more imporan cameup.

He shook his head in rusraion. Sir Giles is oo considerae

o knowingly neglec us. More likely he leter was misdireced, orhe coachman he sen or us has been delayed.

Emma hoped her aher was righ.Aer waiing anoher quarer hour, hey gave up and hired a


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youh wih a donkey car o ranspor hem and heir runks o

Ebbingon Manor.Goin o he big ouse are hee? he young man asked, his ac-

cen deliciously dieren.Yes, Emma replied. Do you know where i is?Course I do. Eversoul in he parish knaws Ebb-on. He poined

o he cli op on he oher side o he harbor. Tere, a red-gold

manor house loomed in he wiligh.Te brawny youh helped her ino he car. Her aher clambered

up beside her, and he young man urged his donkey ino moion. Tey

le he village, crossed a river bridge, and began slogging up a seeproad, ascending he cli. Te wind increased as hey climbed, and he

emperaure dropped. Emma pulled her pelisse more ighly around

hersel. Te pah urned a a sharp swichback and coninued o climb.

Below, he village and moored boas in he harbor appeared

smaller and smaller. Te donkey srained and he young man urged

unil nally hey cresed he rise and he pah leveled ou ono a

grassy headland.Again he sprawling sone manor came ino view, is rooines o

varying heighs, crowned by orress-like chimney sacks buil, nodoub, o wihsand he ravages o he weserly gales.

Te pah beore he manor widened ino a drive ha orked

ino wo.Te ron er he back o he ouse? heir driver asked.

Oh . . . Emma hesiaed, recalling her earlier supposiion haheir saus a Ebbingon Manor would be litle higher han servans.

Bu how much higher?Te ron, o course, her aher replied, chin lied high. I am

an old riend o Sir Giles and he Weson amily.Te young man shrugged, unimpressed, bu direced he donkey

oward he ron o he house.

Emma winced a he picure hey mus have made. Presuming ocome o he ron door, no in a ne carriage bu in a donkey car.She wondered wha snide commen Henry Weson migh have osay abou ha.


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Perhaps we ough o have gone o he back, Papa, she whis-

pered. Wih our runks and all.Nonsense.

Closer now, Emma could see more deail o he house. Te soneexerior shone a mellow, pinkish gray by wiligh, wih newer Geor-

gian sash windows in one secion, and older mullioned windowsin anoher. Te ron door was massive and medievaldark oak

wih black iron scrollwork and tings.No servan hurried ou o mee hem, so while he young man

helped her down, her aher alighed, srode up o he door, and

gave hree raps wih his walking sick.A minue laer, he door was opened a ew inches by a manservan

in his lae ies.Yes? he asked, squining rom her aher o he donkey car

and runks behind him.I am Mr. Smallwood, and his is my daugher, Miss Smallwood.

Te servan blinked. Are you expeced?

Yes. I am here o uor he younger Weson sons.Face puckered, he man regarded her aher, chewing his lip in

worry.Who is i, Davies? a woman asked rom behind he door, her

voice polished and geneel.Te servan urned his head o reply. Says his name is Small-

wood, my lady. Says hes he new uor.

uor? Wha uor?A he increduliy in he womans one, Emmas somach churned.

She opened her reicule o exrac Sir Giless leter as proo o heirinviaion. She had no hough she would need i.

Te manservan backed rom he door, and his ace was soon

replaced by ha o a handsome genlewoman in evening dress,

hough Emma noiced her hair was somewha disheveled and she

held he door parially closed.She said, Mr. Smallwood, is i?Her aher removed his ha and bowed. John Smallwood. And

you are Lady Weson, I presume. We have no me in person, bu


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I have had he pleasure o hosing your sons Henry and Phillip amy academy in Longsaple.

My sepsons. Yes. I recall hearing your name. Her counenance

rippled wih several emoions, here and gone oo quickly or Emmao caalog. Ten he woman orced an apologeic smile. I am sorry.

We were no expecing you.Emma el her cheeks hea. She could no disinguish her ahers

counenance in he dim ligh bu did hear his one grow mildly de-ensive. Were you no? Bu Sir Giles requesed ha my daugher and

I uor your younger sons here in he comor o your own home.

One arched brow rose. Did he indeed?Yes. We wroe back o accep more han a ornigh ago.Emma added, And sen word o our ravel plans.Lady Weson icked a look a her bu addressed her aher. He

mus have orgoten o menion i. She glanced over her shoulder,hen said, Unorunaely, you have come upon us a an inopporune

ime. She glanced o he waiing runks. Bu I canno in good

conscience, I suppose, ask you o reurn anoher ime, consideringhe hour. . . .

Her aher siened. We are very sorry o inconvenience you,my lady. Perhaps his young man will no mind aking us back down

o he village. . . .Anoher voice rose rom behind he door. A low male voice.

Wha? Who? . . . Good heavens. I quie orgo ha was onigh. . . .

I know, bu i canno be helped.Te door opened arher, and here sood y-somehing Sir

Giles in evening atire, hough his crava was missing, exposing heloose skin o his aging neck as i draped ino his shir collar.

Mr. Smallwood. Please orgive he rude recepion. My aul

enirely. I am araid communicaion is no one o my srong poins,

as dear Lady Weson is orever reminding me, and wih good cause,

I ear. He ducked his head apologeically and looked up rom be-neah bushy eyebrows. Please do come in.

Her aher urned o her. You remember my daugher, Emma?

Te barones eyes widened. Tis is litle Emma? Why, las I


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saw her she was no bigger han his. He sreched orh a hand,

ches high.Yes, well, children do grow up. As no doub Henry and Phillip

have as well.Behind hem heir driver cleared his hroa, and her aher urned,

digging ino his purse. Bu Sir Giles pulled a crown rom his pocke

and said, Allow me. He ossed he silver coin o he driver. Tank

you, ommy. Good nigh.Te youh caugh i handily. Tank ee, sir.Her aher ben o pick up his smaller valise, bu Sir Giles sayed

him.No, no. Leave hem. Our seward shall have hem delivered up

o your . . . uh, rooms . . . direcly. Well, no direcly, bu do come

in. He held he door open.Her aher gesured or Emma o precede him.Emma enered he vas wo-sory hall, rying no o gape. Te

hall was clearly quie ancien, unlike he modern windows o he

side wings she had seen rom ouside. Te halls darkly paneledwalls were hung wih crossed swords and shields.

Sir Giles led he way over he agsone oor o an open door

across he hall. Do come ino he drawing room here. He urnedo his wie. My dear, would you mind erribly calling or ea andsomehing o ea? I am cerain Mr. and Miss Smallwood mus behungry aer heir long journey.

Lady Wesons smile was britle. Very well, my dear. She urnedback. Any preerence as o which rooms I have made up?

Sir Giles appeared embarrassed, no doub wishing he migh

have spared his guess he realizaion ha no rooms had ye beenprepared or hem. He escored he Smallwoods ino he drawingroom, gave hem anoher apologeic look, and asked hem o excuse

him or jus a momen.

Even hough Sir Giles closed he doors behind him, Emma hearda ew words o he ense conversaion beyond.

. . . norh wing.No way o oresee . . .


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. . . nohing abou a young woman . . .For now.A momen laer, Sir Giles sepped back ino he room. Emma

preended o sudy a ramed map o Cornwall on he wall.Sir Giles smiled and rubbed his hands ogeher. ea and reresh-

mens shall be arriving soon. Migh I oer eiher o you a glass osomehing while we wai?

I wouldn say no o a cheerul glass, her aher said.Emma added, I shall wai or ea, hank you.Sir Giles unsopped a crysal decaner and poured wo glasses o

brandy. I imagine i has been quie a axing day or you. Firs hejourney, hen a slapdash recepion. I do hope o make i up o you.

John Smallwood said, Tink nohing o i. We only hope we

did no presume in coming.No a all. No a all. I am only surprised and delighed you

would come.Bu . . . did you no receive our leters in reply?

Oh . . . uh . . . yes. Bu, well, hey reached me a a busy ime, andIm araid I was no able o give hem my ull atenion. Bu all shall

be aken care o now ha youre here.Sir Giles carried a glass o her aher, hen said, You will be glad

o know we have no negleced he boys educaion enirely. Te

local vicar has been uoring hem in Lain and Greek, so hey areno complee savages. He chuckled awkwardly.

Her aher smiled. I am glad o hear i.Sir Giles carried his own glass o an armchair, where he setled

himsel comorably agains he cushions. You menioned Henryand Phillip.

How are hey? her aher asked. Will we be seeing hem while

we are here?Yes. Phillip is away in Oxord, bu he will reurn home a erm

end. Henry has jus le or a ew days on . . . em, amily business,bu he shall be reurning soon.

Her aher beamed. Excellen.Emma orced a smile, even as her somach knoted a he hough.


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Such a trip as we had into Cornwall. . . . Ifyou could have followed us into the earthy old

churches . . . and into the strange caverns onthe gloomy seashore, and down into the depthsof mines, and up to the tops of giddy heights,

where the unspeakably green water was roaring.Charles Dickens

Chapter 3

Emma and her aher were le alone o ea a ligh supper. Tenhe housekeeper appeared o lead hem o heir rooms, candlelamp in hand o ligh he way.

You are o have rooms in he souh wing, Mrs. Prowse said ashey crossed he hall o a simple Georgian saircase, anoher addi-ion o he ar older main hall.

When hey reached he hal landing, her aher paused, look-ing up. Emma ollowed his gaze as he surveyed he soaring ceilingsriped by ancien roo imbers, massive and black as pich.

He asked he housekeeper, How old is he manor?Mrs. Prowse urned and swep her arm in a wide arc. Te hall

isel daes back hree hundred years. Originally i was all here

was o he house, save or side wings or kichens and sables. Bu

over he cenuries addiional wings and oors have been buil on.Ah, Emma hough. Ta explained he uneasy marriage o

Medieval, udor, and Georgian archiecure she had noiced, bohin he exerior and now inerior as well.


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Te middle-aged housekeeper led hem up wo ighs o creaking

sairs, pausing o ligh he candle lamps a each landing. Te norh

wing lies in ha direcion, she said, wih a jerk o her chin. You

are no o venure here. She urned in he opposie direcion andguided hem down a long corridor, is oor slaning aer years o

warping and shiing.She haled beore a door midway along is lengh. You are o have

his room, Mr. Smallwood. And Miss Smallwood shall be aroundhe corner a he end o he nex passage.

Her aher rowned. May we no be closer?

Knowing how much rouble he housekeeper and her maids hadlikely already been pu o, Emma hurried o say, Is all righ, Papa.

We shall nd each oher easily enough.Mrs. Prowse nodded her approval, hen coninued ociously,

You haven your own man, I ake i, Mr. Smallwood?No, Im araid no. Bu I shan require much help.Our ooman, Jory, will vale or you. And you, miss. raveling

wihou a maid, I undersand?Tas righ. A home, Mrs. Malloy or heir maid, Nancy, had

helped her dress. And Emma had aken care o her own hair.Ten I shall send up he second housemaid o assis you.Emma el a winge o unease, as she always did when acknowl-

edging she needed anyones help. Bu she did. Says laced up he

back, as did mos o her rocks. Tank you, she murmured.

Mrs. Prowse sared o urn away bu hen lied a nger. Oh,and beore I orge. You are boh o ake your meals in he sew-ards ofce rom his poin orward. Mr. Davies shall be expecing

you.I see. Tank you. Emma realized she had been correc o oresee

heir saus a Ebbingon Manor as litle higher han he servans.Bu she el no pleasure a being righ.

Emma bid her aher good nigh and ollowed he housekeeperaround he corner and down a narrower passage. Glancing up,

Emma noiced old porrais high on he walls, heir many pairs oeyes glaring down a her in he ickering candleligh. A shiver crep


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up her neck, and Emma suddenly shared her ahers wish ha heir

rooms were closer ogeher.When Mrs. Prowse opened a door near he end o he passage,

Emma sepped inside he room and was pleased o see a candleglowing on he bedside able and a modes re burning in he hearh.

Do le me know i you need anyhing, he woman said, a hino kindness in her voice.

Tank you, Emma said once more, eeling like a parro who

knew only one phrase by roe. She added a smile o warm her words.

Assuring Emma he maid would be up soon o atend her, he

housekeeper ook her leave, closing he door behind her.Emma sepped arher inside and surveyed he room. Her runk

sa near he wardrobe, bu she hadn he energy o begin unpacking.

Shed had he oresigh o pack a nighdress, comb, and ooh powder

in her hand luggage and would make do wih hose or he nigh.She had only jus se hese hings ou on he washsand when a

quie knock sounded. Emma urned. Yes?

Te door creaked open and a girls head appeared. May I comein?

Emma was surprised he maid would boher o ask. O course.

Te young woman grinned impishly, bouncy dark ringles ram-

ing her charming, reckled ace. She wore no apron, and her ivorygown seemed oo ne or her saion.

Emma said blunly, You don look like a housemaid.

Te girl cursied. I hank you, miss. For I am no a housemaid.Emmas ace heaed. Forgive me. I is only ha he housekeeper

said she would send up he housemaid direcly.Did she? Good. I was araid he old hing wouldn hink o do

so and youd be le o end or yoursel. So I hough I would popup and see i you needed any help. I haven a ladys maid eiher.

Te housemaid atends me as well.

I see. Emma waied or he young woman o inroduce hersel,bu she merely sood here, smiling sweely. A prety girl, Emma

hough. Probably seveneen or so. Several years younger han her-sel.


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Emma ook he mater in hand, saying, Allow me o inroducemysel. I am Miss Emma Smallwood. She raised her brows ex-

pecanly.

Oh! he girl exclaimed. Do orgive me. How silly I am. I amLizzie. Lizzie Henshaw.

Emma waied or her o explain her connecion o he amily.

When she said nohing, Emma prodded, And you are . . . ?Te girl gaped. Youve never heard o me? She hued. Tose

boys. I shouldn wonder. I am Lady Wesons ward. I hough youd

know. Ive lived here or more han hree years now. Phillip never

menioned me?No ha I recall.Seeing he girls cresallen expression, Emma hasened o add,

I have no seen Phillip or nearly hree years, so he very well mayhave menioned you and I simply orgo.

Lizzie shrugged in easy accepance. Tas all righ. I he did

menion me, i was probably ull o easing and jokes. Always likes

o ease me. Bu has how young men are, I suppose.Lizzie cocked her head o one side, dark eyes glining. Ta

reminds me. Have you me he wins ye?No.Your aher will have his hands ull wih hose wo, i I don

miss my guess.Oh? How so?

Teyre no accusomed o siting in he schoolroom all day.A leas no since heir governess ran o wih he drawing maser.And ha was years ago now.

I hough Sir Giles menioned a Lain and Greek uor?Mr. McShane? Te girl nodded. Te vicar comes a ew hours

each week. And handsome he is oo. Tough a bi . . . well ed.Bu is he a good eacher?

Lizzie wrinkled a reckled nose. I wouldn have any idea abouha, would I? I walk by he library now and again o ake an eyeul,I coness. Bu mos o wha he says is so much gibberish o me.

How sad, Emma hough. Tough she knew hings like Lain


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were so much gibberish o mos emales. And ha menand

he majoriy o women preerred i ha way.Lizzie coninued. Bu oherwise, he boys have been allowed

o run wild or he mos par. Worse han heir elder brohers, heyare. She shrugged. Bu as I said, has how boys are.

Well. I suppose we shall mee hem omorrow.Anoher knock sounded, and a diminuive housemaid enered in

mobcap and apron. She dropped a cursy, hen hesiaed a seeingLizzie in he room.

Were you looking or me, Morva? Lizzie asked.

Ess, miss. I be in yer room, waiin or hee. Her ladyship oldme o see o hee rs.

Well, never mind ha, Lizzie said. Atend Miss Smallwood

rs. I am in no hurry, whereas she mus be exhaused.Te young housemaid bi her lip.Go on. Lizzie gesured oward Emma. And i Lady W. usses,

jus ell her I commanded you mos imperiously.

Te maids brow puckered. Mos wha?Lizzie paraphrased, Blame me. She opened he door, hen urned

back o wink a Emma. I shall see you in he morning, I rus?Yes. I should hink so.I hope we see a grea deal o each oher. Lizzie smiled. I or

one am very glad youre here.Emma smiled sify, he girls innocen words jabbing her

hroaIor one am glad youre here.Wihin minues he housemaid had helped Emma undress and

le o assis Lizzie. Tough ired, Emma decided o wrie in her

journal, as she usually did beore blowing ou her bedside candlea nigh. She hough i migh setle her. She sa in bed, smoohedhe bedclohes over her legs, and siuaed her small, porable wri-ing desk on her lap. Uncorking he inkpo, she dipped her quill

and wroe.

How very disconcering o arrive a Ebbingon Manor aer care-

ul planning only to fnd ourselves unexpected and, apparently,


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unwaned guess. Had we no already le our house, I would have

been emped o urn righ around and reurn home. Bu i is no

longer our home, a leas no or he nex welvemonh.

Hopefully, Lady Weson will come around o our being here. Ifonly he younger Wesons migh ake a liking o Papa as Phillip

and even Henry Weson did as boys. I do hope Papa will rise o

he occasion aer his monhs o gloomy apahy. For i he Weson

sons speak highly o heir new eacher, ha, I hink, would go a

long way in warming Lady Weson o he idea o an in-residence

uor. No o menion he uors daugher. omorrow will be an

imporan day. I mus do wha I can o help Papa make a goodfrs impression.

Our cool reception has been salved somewhat by two unex-

peced consolaions. One, Henry Weson is no presen a he mo-

men. And wo, an unexpeced young woman is. Her name is Miss

Lizzie Henshaw. Lady Wesons ward, she said. I suppose she is

he daugher o some relaion o Lady Wesons, likely orphaned

o have come o live here, apparenly permanenly. I don believePhillip menioned her arrival. I wonder why.

A all evens, Lizzie seems he mos pleasan o he lo, or a

leas he only one ruly glad o see us. She is several years younger

han I. Sill, I hope we migh be iends. I would enjoy having a

emale iend, I hink. I is no my habi o make quick judgmens

o anyones characer. Bu early indicaions seem quie

A srange howl reverberaed hrough he door and up Emmasspine. She roze, quill in hand, hear pounding. Tere i came again,

a high-piched wail like an ailing child, or a righened woman, or . . .

a ghos. She old hersel no o be silly. Tere was undoubedly a

simple, earhly explanaion or he unearhly sound.Emma squeezed her eyes shu, lisening. She heard no answer-

ing cry o alarm, bu disan ooseps padded rapidly down hecorridor. A servan, she guessed. Bu why would he . . . or she . . .

be running unless somehing was wrong?Emma reminded hersel ha she was no longer in heir modes


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household wih only Mrs. Malloy and Nancy o look aer hem.

Here a Ebbingon Manor, here would be a whole army o servans

busy abou he place a all hours, lighing res, bringing waer, and

who knew wha all. I didn necessarily mean ha anyhing wasamiss.

Did i . . . ?Plop. A drip o ink landed on her journal page, barely missing

her whie nighdress. I was enough o shake Emma rom her ear-induced supor. She quickly bloted he ink and sowed her wriing

hings nealy away. Ten she orced hersel o blow ou her candle

and close her eyes.Bu i was quie some ime beore she calmed down enough o

all asleep.

In he morning, Emma rose and washed wih cold waer le inhe picher rom he previous nigh. She hen dressed hersel as bes

she could, checking her wach and hoping he housemaid wouldarrive so she could nish dressing and ge an early sar on he day.

Morva nally busled in, mutering apologies. Sorry, miss. Noused o having wo ladies o atend, along wih my oher duies.

Morva helped asen her long says and he back o her pin-ucked

lavender rock. Tere ee be. Anyhing else?Fresh waer migh be nice, when you have a chance.

Oh. Righ. And I shall see o he slops. Bu jus now Im oo . . . Emma didn hear he res o he small womans senence,

or she was already ou he door.Emma looked a hersel in he mirror above he washsand. Her

green eyes appeared large in her long oval ace. Her cheeks pale.

She had pinned her hair in a coil a he back o her head, bu awnydark blond ringe ell in wisps over her orehead, and a srand curled

over each ear. She reached up o pinch her cheeks, hen soppedhersel. She should appear well-groomed and compeen o makea good impression on heir pupils. Bu beyond ha, here was noneed o ry o look prety.


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Inwardly, she scolded hersel or her ense counenance and

rapid pulse.She reminded hersel ha neiher Phillip nor Henry

Weson were here o see her ha morning.No ha she harbored

any romanic noions abou eiher man. . . . Sill, one did wish oappear improved wih age.

Her aher was no in his room when Emma passed, so she wendown alone. When Emma descended he sairs, here sood LizzieHenshaw waiing or her, arms spread wide.

Look a me, up early. I is no my cusom, I assure you. TrewMorva ino a spin his morningmy ringing or her so early and

hen having o atend you as well. Is good or her, I say. Cheekyhing.

Lizzie winked and propped a s on her hip. Why am I up wihhe birds his morning, you ask? Because I guessed you didn evenknow where o ake your breakas. Am I righ?

Te housekeeper menioned he sewards oce, I believe.And do you know where ha is?

Emma shook her head. No idea.Tas wha I hough. Lizzie cheerully ook her arm and led

Emma across he hall. Tis way.Bu my aherHas already eaen, gone or a walk, and is no doub potering

abou in he schoolroom by now. Early riser, your papa.Yes, Emma agreed, disconcered o nd hersel geting such a

lae sar on heir rs day. She had no slep well.Lizzie, did you hear anyhing las nigh?Like wha?A srange wailing?Lizzie shook her head. Probably he wind. I makes srange

sounds someimes. Julian says is a ghos, bu Lady Weson assures

me is only he wind.

She added, I don know why Lady W. insised on puting youin ha dray room, so ar rom he res o he amily. . . . She haled

midsride, jerking Emma o a sop beside her. Tas no rue. I

do know why. Shes unhappy o nd Mr. Smallwoods daugher


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43

so grown. Doesn wan any unatached emales near her precioussons, I imagine. She said o me las nigh, A leas Miss Smallwoodis plain. Lizzie looked a Emma closely and shook her head. Bu

I don hink youre plain. I hink youre quie lovely, acually. In aquie sor o way.

T-hank you, Emma murmured, aken aback by he young

womans orhrigh speech and uncomorable revelaions. Lady

Weson was an unkind woman, Emma hough, beore remindinghersel no o judge anyone oo quickly.

I had hoped you would be dining wih us, Lizzie said. Bu

Lady W. is a sickler abou saion. Piy. Meals are an absolue bore,especially wih boh Phillip and Henry away. She sighed. Ah, well.

Mr. Davies is a decen chap, hough a bi long in he ooh and grey in

he side-whiskers or you. Bu perhaps Mr. McShane migh sui you.

Emma rowned. Miss Henshaw, ILizzie, please, he girl insised.Very well. Lizzie. Emma did no oer he use o her own Chris-

ian name. No ye. I hope you aren under he misapprehensionha I have come here looking or romance.

Again Lizzie haled. Have you no? Well, Lady W. shall be re-lieved o hear i.

Why would she hink ha is why Ive come? Emma asked,

incredulous.Lizzie sudied Emma shrewdly. Ten, why are you here?

o help my aher. As I have done or years. We . . . ha is, myaher eaches a grea many subjecs, and I assis him. Besides . . . my

moher is no longer living. I should no wan o be apar rom him.

Lizzie ook his in. I see.Emma noiced he girl did no oer any empaheic inorma-

ion abou he ae o her own parens, bu did no eel she ougho pry. Insead she asked, Is here a paricular reason our arrival

came a a bad ime?Lizzie shrugged. I don know. Everyone was in a renzy yeser-

day. I was sen o my room o say ou rom underoo. Somehingabou Henry.


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44

Sir Giles menioned he le on some sor o amily business.Did he? I wouldn know abou ha. No one ells me anyhing.

Tey hink I can keep a secre. She leaned nearer and winked.

And beween you and me . . . heyre mosly righ.Emma made a menal noe o remember ha.Lizzie ugged on Emmas arm once more and led her down a

side passage. Mr. Davies has his ofce back here by he radesmens

enrance. Te girl paused a an open doorway. Here we are. Shegave Emma a wry glance. Now, don ge used o a personal escor.

I plan o reurn o my lazy lay-abed ways omorrow. She smirked,

and Emma could no help grinning in reply.Lizzie le her, and Emma enered he room alone. Inside, she

observed a modes able se wih everyday linen and culery, and asideboard bearing a spigo urn, eapo, and rays o assored breads,

cold meas, boiled eggs, and baked goods. A scatering o crumbsand used eacups on he ablecloh old her a leas wo people hadeaen here beore her. She helped hersel o a cup o epid ea and

a cold egg and sa down o a soliary meal.

Hal an hour laer, Emma made her way up hree ighs o sairs ohe schoolroom. Tere she ound her aher siting a he desk, paging

hrough a book. wo youhs slumped a a able acing him. Te room

was long and narrow, is ceiling piched seeply along one wall, wihdormer windows overlooking he roo and a pach o coasline beyond.

Her aher glanced up when she enered. Ah, Emma. Tere youare. He gesured her orward.

Emma crossed he room and sood beside his desk. How many

imes had she endured hese awkward inroducions back in Long-saple whenever new pupils arrived? Somehow she el even more sel-

conscious in he Weson schoolroom han she ever had in heir own.

Boys, his is Miss Smallwood, my daugher, who will be assis-

ing me rom ime o ime. He lied a hand o each een-year-oldas he made he inroducions. Emma, may I presen Julian and

Rowan Weson.Im Rowan. Hes Julian, one o hem correced.


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Oh. Forgive me.Emma looked a he boys. Young men, really. Tey were no

idenical, she insanly saw, bu she could undersand how her a-

her migh conuse hem. Boh had dark hair, worn shor. Boh hadblue eyes. Bu Julian had a rounder ace and a smatering o reckles

across he bridge o his nose, which made him look younger. Hiseyes were a pale icy blue.

Rowans ace was longer and more angular, his complexion

slighly darker and clear o reckles. His eyes were a deeper blue

han Julians, his nose wider and his upper lip more pronounced.

Boh were handsome, bu Julian appeared o be perched on hecusp o manhood, whereas Rowan had already arrivedhe couldhave easily passed or seveneen. A all evens, boh looked older

han she had imagined hem.I am araid we have ye o begin, her aher said. When I arrived

up here his morning, I was surprised o nd he room in disuse

and he runk sill packed.

Her aher had lled his runk wih he maps, schoolbooks, andoher exs hed used in his academy or years.

He coninued, I had o call or he housekeeper and ask or io be dused and swep. I am sill no organized.

I shall pu he room o righs, Emma said. You go on wih

your lesson.Her aher nodded. Tank you, my dear. Apparenly, he vicar

has been eaching he boys in heir ahers library.Mr. McShane said he schoolroom is or children, he larger

Rowan said, his pronounced upper lip curled. And we are nearlysixeen.

Mr. Smallwood gave him a paronizing smile. I suppose ha

is rueyou are young men now. And perhaps his is a oruiousarrangemen. For I migh have my own domain and Mr. McShane

his. He looked a Emma and explained, I spoke wih Sir Giles hismorning, and we have decided he vicar shall coninue eaching

Lain and Greek or nownish ou he week a leas. Ta will

allow us a bi more ime o setle in here a Ebbingon.


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Emma nodded her undersanding, and her aher reurned hisatenion o he book hed been paging hrough.

Emma, I am rying o nd ha passage abou he imporance

o he classics in educaion. Do you recall where i is?Chaper wo, I believe. Abou midway hrough.

Aer ipping a ew more pages, his eyes li. Ah yes. Here i is.Boys, please urn o page een in your exs.

Te boys opened heir booksJulian eagerly, Rowan lehargically.

Her aher looked a Julian. I you will read he rs paragraph,Rowan?

Julian, he smaller youh grited ou, his one no maching hisswee, boyish ace.

Righ. I beg your pardon.Oh dear, Emma hough.Not a good start. She would have o

help her aher learn o diereniae he boys and remember whichwas which.

And perhaps insis he wear his specacles.

Leaving he males o heir rs lesson, Emma moved o he runkin he corner and began o quiely and she hoped unobrusively

unpack her ahers books and supplies. She decided o organize aseparae shel o heir own books, o make i easier o exrac heir

volumes when i was ime o leave.She barely noiced when her aher released he boys or a respie.

And when he announced he was going o ake a urn abou he

grounds o srech his limbs, she mumbled somehing and wen onsoring. Tere were many good books on he schoolroom shelves.Books ha had likely sa here or years, unread. Tere was no logic

o heir order, bu Emma began o remedy ha. She decided o cre-

ae an index by subjec and auhor o aid in uure reerence. Sheloved o caalog, organize, and make order o chaos.

Tose books she was unamiliar wih, she ipped hrough, read-

ing enough o caalog is subjec. Many she ound ascinaing. Whaa shame no one read hem. I such reasures had been le here inhe schoolroom, wha mus Sir Giless library hold? She wonderedi he would invie her o peruse i while she was here.


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Alhough, i he was anyhing like his son Henry, perhaps no.When Phillip had come o Longsaple, he had happily shared

he ew books he had brough wih him. His older broher, on he

oher hand, had no. Ta was wha she remembered mos abouHenry Wesons arrival all hose years ago. . . .

She had been a girl o eleven when hed rs arrivedoureen,sullen, and resenul. She had only asked i he migh like some helpputing away his hings, her eyes drawn o he sack o books in hisrunk. Bu he had slammed he lid closed.

Ill hank you o leave my hings alone. Tere are no dolls here.She poined o wo cases o in soldiers lying on his bed. Ten

wha are hose?His green eyes narrowed, hardened. Miniaure miliary gures.

And i I hear hem reerred o by any oher name, or i I nd youhave so much as ouched hem, I shall make you very sorry.

She gasped, hen snapped, I can cerainly see why your amily

sen you away.Emma could hardly believe hose words had come rom her

mouh. Never had she said anyhing so meanspiried in her lie.

And cerainly no o a new pupil. W ha had come over her? His

cold, superior atiude and rudeness were vexing, yes. Bu no excuse.

She had always conrolled her ongue, regardless o provocaion.For a second, he iny layer o glass ell rom his eyes, and she

glimpsed an unexpeced vulnerabiliy. Bu a momen laer, his eyeshardened once more, and his mouh cinched igh. He shu he door

in her aceleaving her ou in he passage alone.

A girls voice inerruped Emmas reminiscing. Are you never

going o come away?Emma urned o see Lizzie sanding in he schoolroom doorway,

dimples in her cheeks.How dedicaed you are, Lizzie coninued. Sill working away

aer all he males have gone. I gaher your aher decided o sarwih only hal a day oday.


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Emma looked around and rowned. Wha ime is i?Aer our. Youve missed ea and will be lae or dinner i you

don go and change now.

Emma rose rom knees shed jus realized were si and aching.Change?

Yes, we dress or dinner here, even in uncivilized Cornwall,

Lizzie eased. And so shall you. For youve dus on your hems andon your cheek.

Sel-conscious, Emmas hand wen o her ace.Lizzie wihdrew a handkerchie rom her sleeve and handed i o

her, poining o he mirror spo on her own cheek as guide.Emma wiped he spo. Gone?Beter. Lizzie ugged her hand. Come on, I shall help you

change your rock. Who knows where Morva is his ime o day.Bu don you need o change as well?Oh, I have pleny o ime, Lizzie explained. Te amily eas

a bi laer.

Ah. Was Lizzie amily, hen?On heir way down o Emmas room, Emma heard Lady Weson

greeing her sons on he landing below.Lizzie grasped her arm and pu a nger o her lips. Shh . . .So how wen your rs day wih he new uor? Lady Weson

asked.A dead bore, Mamma, Rowan replied in his low voice.

Oh, i wasn so bad, boyish Julian amended. And Miss Small-wood seems amiable.

Rowan added, More so han her crusy old aher, a any rae.Sir Giles spoke up. Rowan, mind your ongue. Mr. Smallwood

is a well-repued and learned genleman. He deserves your respec.

Wha has ha o say o anyhing? Lady Weson objeced. Really,

my dear. You musn chasise Rowan or merely saing his opinion.

Emma was glad her aher wasn sanding here wih her, over-hearing heir words. Increasingly uncomorable o be eavesdrop-ping, Emma gesured or Lizzie o come away. Giving in, Lizzie

ollowed her quiely down he corridor.


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When heyd urned he corner, Lizzie whispered, Don akei o hear. I old you he wins weren accusomed o siting in

he schoolroomexcep or he ew hours Mr. McShane is here,

making hem recie Lain verbs or some such.Bu hey have never been o school?Oh yes. Tey did go away o school once. A good old-ashioned

Wes Counry school, Lady Weson called i.Emma was asonished. No one had menioned a school. Oh?

Which one?Lizzie puckered up her ace. I don know. Anyway, hey didn

like i. I gaher he schoolmaser was a hard man. And he ohersudens a mean lo. So Lady W. eched hem home.

Emma recalled somehing Sir Giles had said in his leter abouLady Weson eeling heir younges sons were oo delicae o liveapar rom heir mamma. She wondered why hey had sen he boys

o some unknown school, when surely Phillip mus have spoken

highly o his years a he Smallwood Academy. She didn hink

even Henry Weson would disparage her aher, regardless o hisopinion o her.

Inside Emmas room, Lizzie ung open he wardrobe and ipped

hrough he ew gowns hanging here, as eagerly as Emma migh

ip hrough a book. Surely hese are no all you brough?Yes, acually.Lizzie sked. Are uors really so poor? She asked i mater-o-

acly, wihou apparen criicism.I have a ew more a home, Emma said. Bu I could only bring

one runk.Lizzie looked a all he bookspiled on he oor and sacked on

he side able, where Morva had displaced hem o unearh he cloh-

ingand said wih a wry grin, And you mus have your books.Exacly.

Lizzie idly picked up he op book on he sack. I have nevercared much or reading.

Emma jesed, And here Id hoped we were going o be riends.Lizzie looked up a her sharply.


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50

Emma hurried o say, I was only joking. I realize mos womenare no as keen on books as I am.

A real bluesocking, Lizzie said. Tas how Henry described

you once when he and Phillip were speaking o your academy.Emma lied her mouh in a humorless smile. Yes, ha sounds

like somehing he would say.Lizzie picked up anoher volume rom he bedside able, and

Emmas hear lurched.Oh, has only my journal, she said, hurrying over. You don

wan ha. Emma held ou her palm, barely resising he urge o

snach he journal rom he girls hand.Was i her imaginaion, or did Lizzie hesiae? Bu a momen

laer, Lizzie handed i over wih her usual dimpled grin.Ooh la la! A real gohic romance, I don doub. Wha secres

and scandals i mus conain. She wagged her eyebrows comically.Nowhas a book ha migh very well hold my atenion.

Cradling her journal, Emma made a menal noe o add nosy o

her lis o Lizzie Henshaws qualiies.Lizzie helped her change ino her avorie gown o ivory muslin

wih pink owers embroidered a bodice and hem. Ten Emma

slipped her arms ino an open robe o dusy rose, which butonedunder her bosom and was rimmed wih lace a he neckline andcus. Lizzie commened ha she hough he old-ashioned over-dress quie charming and had no seen one in an age. Emma orced a

smile and hanked her, and hen he wo walked downsairs ogeher.Conversaionally, Emma asked, Phillip was home or Easer,

I rus?Yes. For nearly a ornigh beore he had o reurn or he nex

erm.And how did he seem o you?Homesick.

Emma gave he girl a sidelong glance. He is no enjoying uni-versiy?

Who could enjoy school? No oense, Miss Smallwood.Tey arrived a he sewards oce, sparing Emma he need o


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reply. Her aher sood jus inside, waiing as Mr. Davies poured

wo glasses o somehing.Tis is my aher, Mr. Smallwood, Emma began. May I presen

Miss Lizzie Henshaw.How do you do, Miss Henshaw.A her ahers inquisiive look, Emma added, Miss Henshaw

is Lady Wesons ward.Ah. I see. Well, a pleasure o make your acquainance.Te seward urned and made a sharp bow. Good evening, Miss

Smallwood. LizMiss Henshaw.

Mr. Davies, Emma greeed he man, whom she had mebriey when hey arrived. He wore he clohes o a genleman,

in bleak black. His slicked-down hair was sill dark, hough his

side-whiskers brisled silver. His ace sagged in a weary, hound-dog

ashion, and his voice carried an accen srange o her ear. FadedScos, perhaps?

Her aher acceped a glass o sherry. I was abou o ask Mr.

Davies when we migh be seeing Henry. He addressed Lizzie, Buperhaps you know?

Lizzie reared her head back. I don know. Ive no idea where

hes even gone. Do you know, Davies?Te sewards ace wrinkled ino a grimace. I . . . Ta is . . . He

cleared his hroa. I don know when Maser Henry shall be re-

urning; don hink anyone knows exacly.

Lizzie sho Emma an exasperaed look. old you no one russme. She narrowed her eyes a he seward. Apparenly, no evenour Mr. Davies here. Well. She drew hersel up. I shall leave youo your dinner. Don alk abou me now. She utered a wave,

grinned a Emma, hen whirled rom he room.Aer she had gone, Emma sa a he small able while a servan

by appearance even younger han Julianserved heir meal. As hey

ae, Mr. Davies old hem a litle abou himsel. He had been wihLady Wesons amily as heir buler when she was a girl. Upon hermarriage o Sir Giles, Davies had come wih Viole Heale-Wesono Ebbingon Manor as sewardoverseeing he esae accouns,


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he uors Daughe r

enans, and servans. He had been married, bu his wie had diedseveral years ago.

Emmas aher menioned he loss o his own wie, and he wo

widowers spoke in quie empahy or some ime, allowing Emmaweary rom all he upheaval o recen weekshe luxury o lapsing

ino silence.She excused hersel as soon as eiquete allowed, rereaed o her

room, and rang or Morva o help her undress. Aer he maid leher, Emma sank graeully ino bed wih her journal bu ell asleep

beore wriing a single word.

the tutors daughter

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