Adele varens 13

 

Chapter 13

 

I had foolishly sent my chaperone north.

I made my way to Mrs. Bridges’ school, where fortunately, her maid recognised me, and did not make me cool my heels for being a young person without escort.

Mrs. Bridges saw me very quickly.

“My dear Adele!” she said. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

“Oh, Mrs. Bridges!” I said “I find myself in a predicament. I have a house in Yorkshire, and my chaperone has gone on there to await me, but when my grandmother died, her lease ended, and I have no maid. I want to hire a girl from an orphan asylum, and then I can stay in a hotel or something without being looked at askance.”

“You will do no such thing, my dear; you will stay here until you are ready to head to your home, and what’s more, you shall travel with Frances and Ruth. We have lost those silly double names, and they chose which half to use.”

“Oh, that is kind of you,” I said. It was.

Frances hugged me when I was taken to partake of staff tea.

“Adele! How well you look!” she said.

“You too,” I said. “Managing to avoid going back?”

“Yes, and your invitation is timely,” said Frances. “Ruth has stayed here with me through the holidays but our step-father wants her to go home, and we know what that means. She is slight and small for her age, and… well, you know.”

I nodded.

“He will never think to look in Yorkshire,” I said. “Mrs. Bridges will tell him merely that you had a letter, and you both left.”

“Ruth is so relieved,” said Frances. “He… he had started to train her to his ways, when mama insisted she go home. I told her what he would do next, and she has been so frightened.”

“I am given to believe that when such acts are done with someone you love, with deep genuine friendship and more, that it is pleasant for both,” I said. “I don’t yet know from personal experience, but I cannot think that all married women are just putting a brave face on it.”

“Mrs. Bridges says the same; and she was married for a few years before she was widowed,” said Frances. “And I believe her, but I would want to like someone a very great deal before risking it.”

“Of course,” I said. “I met someone I like a very great deal.”

“Oh! I am glad for you, if he treats you well.”

“He listens to my opinion. But he does not let me push him around,” I said. Reader, if you feel that I have been too forceful, let me tell you that once or twice when I have suggested something, Tony looked me in the eyes, and said, “No, I think it is a bad idea.” Such ideas had been those I had come up with in anger, like kidnapping Dalley, and leaving him naked, tied in a compromising position in front of the statue of Sir Xeno. Or breaking into our rival college and inserting sodium in all the faucets when they ran hoses into our windows and gave us a wetting.  We ignored it with dignity, which is what led to them disrupting us with noise, and our… doctoring… of their equestrian statue.

It was water based, so they knew that this covered more than one disruption.

 oOoOo

 

Mrs Bridges agreed to be my chaperone to the orphan asylum to pick myself a maid.  

I caught the eye of a child at the asylum right away; she was gurning at the back of her keeper, who was showing me about.

“I want to see the punishment book,” I said.

“I can tell you the names of the girls who have never had their names in it,” she said.

“Ah? Well, I wish to see the names of the girls who have,” I said.

Naturally, there was one name which popped up regularly; for ‘insubordination’ and ‘answering back,’ as well as sewing up the sleeves of the nightgown of a warder for whom she was doing mending, as a punishment for cheek. She had also painted the chalk board with dripping which the children got on bread rather than butter, to make the chalk squeak and fail to write, and had held a hopping race down the dining table.

Her name was Emmie Harris.

“I’ll have her,” I said.

She stared at me.

“But why?” she said. “You may be some kind of non-conformist, and hope to reform the child, but I assure you that she is incorrigible.”

“Oh, good,” I said. “Life won’t be dull.”

I think she thought me some kind of a mad woman. I did not care.

And Emmie Harris turned out to be – as I suspected – the child who had been gurning. When sent for, her cap was awry, and her ginger hair was pulled so tight into two braids the braids stuck out from her head.

“I had something in my eye,” she said.

“Oh, yes, you were trying to remove it when I arrived,” I agreed with her lie. “I trust the obstruction is gone?”

“Yes’m,” she said. “A fly flew in.”

“It must have come down the flue,” I said. “Or even flew down the flue, and was blinded by soot to blunder into your eye.”

She gave me a sideways, upwards glance and I winked, very quickly.

“It did not have time to flee via the flue, when the fly flew in,” she said. She loved words and wordplay.

“You’re going to be my maid,” I said. “I won’t need much but I have to have a maid now I am to come out.”

“Coo, will I get to go to grand balls?” she asked.

“Not tremendously grand, I’m afraid,” I said. “But you can keep your eyes and ears open for me, and be a great help.  If you ever sew up my nightclothes, or those of my friends, I’ll sew up yours, and short-sheet you as well. Understood?”

“Yes’m,” said Emmie.

“Miss Varens means she will whip you,” said her keeper.

“Miss Varens means what Miss Varens says; do not tell lies on my behalf,” I said. “I do not believe in whipping children. If I am pranked, I will prank back. What is sauce for the goose is sauce also for the gander.  Emmie would not win a prank war with me, I have a brother who has studied law at university. They know all about pranking there. It’s the only way, he says, to deal with inveterate pranksters; catch them back and hard enough to make wanting to make more trouble into a game not worth the candle.”

“Well, if you sign for her, she’s your problem,” said the keeper.

“Why, yes, so she is,” I said.

I paid for my new charge; which is to say, I made the needful compulsory voluntary donation to the foundation for the release of one of their sprites, and repaired to Mrs. Bridges’ gig. There was room to squeeze the three of us across the seat.

“She can have some of my old clothes if they are not in use,” I said to Mrs. Bridges. The good woman keeps clothes donated by pupils who have grown out of them, in case of pupils less than adequately provided for.

“Yes, the brown poplin and the blue challis will fit her nicely,” said Mrs. Bridges. “And I’ve some of Frances’s gowns too, which Ruth is not tall enough for as yet.”

This perked Emmie up, supposing that she was not to be dressed exclusively in black.

I dislike black. 

Well, now I had a maid, we might take the train to Yorkshire.

 

“Why did you want me?” asked Emmie. “She said the only reason anyone would want me was someone who enjoyed punishing.”

“She’s a limited old besom,” I said. “Nobody ever broke my spirit, and I like it that they haven’t broken yours. I want you to spy for me if I ask you to, which is harder than merely setting pranks. I may want you to search for letters and make copies of them.”

“I don’t hold with blackmail,” she said.

“Good, neither do I,” I said. “But I like to know what’s going on.  I may not need you to do this. But I need someone clever enough to do so if I feel threatened.”

“I see,” she said. “So, you have enemies, and you want an ace up your sleeve.”

“Précisement,” I said. “Precisely so.”

“Here! I won’t work against the Queen,” said Emmie.

“You won’t be,” I said. “I am half French and grew up speaking it; but I have lived here most of my life.”

“Well, that’s not a problem, then,” she said.

“I like your loyalty and your moral scruples in disliking blackmail,” I said. My own little book from the plumber was in the bank, and I had destroyed everything pertaining to Mary Wakefield, of course.

I did have a brief, spiteful urge to invite her brother to my house party and watch her father squirm when he realised who one of my guests was. But it would be bad luck if Mary fell in love with her brother, for not knowing who he was. 

 

Reader, I was absurdly excited about setting off for Phoenix Hall. I had seen it as it took shape again, but now I was coming home to the first place I had been happy, when I thought that Jane would persuade my father to be a father, and where I had fond hopes that we should be a family, having no understanding of poor mad Bertha and laws about bigamy. Me, I had no expectations of feeling sad there, for what might have been; because I had walked away from it. And I wanted Edward Fairfax Rochester to know that I was happy, carefree, and rich. Of course, he would assume I had gained wealth like my mother as a prostitute, and then I should produce my half brother’s dead grandmother, mother of some poor woman Rochester did not even remember [and how could he, when she did not exist?] but for whom I had documentation and paperwork, and who had an existence de jure if not de facto. A legal training is a fine thing for establishing a trail of paper which proves spurious facts. And had I not been at school, with Mrs. Bridges? The only difficult time was when I was at university; but of course I had been nursing my adoptive grandmother whilst my brother was earning his degree; for who else would do so?  All innocent, innocuous, and a lovely law-suit against my father if he tried to call me a whore. It was a beautiful example of the law of tort. I was not sure if I wanted him to do it, or not; could he rise above himself for his own daughter? Somehow I suspected not.  But if he did not, I would be kindly to him; and therefore it was upon his own actions and words that his fate rested, whether I would treat him the way he should have treated me, or whether I would hound him.

However, I put that behind me to laugh and chatter with my friends on the train; Mary was between jobs, having failed to ‘take’ in her one season, and being considered too young and pretty to be a housekeeper by most people. Celia, on the other hand, had got married, and wrote that she was contented, and expecting her first child. And Nelly? Nelly had not ‘taken’ but her aunt and uncle were happy to let her go and stay in Yorkshire, with proper chaperonage, I did not think that there was much love lost in that family.

I could keep them as my friends and pensioners for life, if need be. Frances and Ruth would be safe, and Mary and Nelly would not have to earn their way.

I had invested wisely in the railways, with my winnings; and my bank account boasted a sum six figures long.

We chattered and laughed as though we were still schoolgirls, all the way on the train, and played foolish card games, which I was careful not to win, and partook of the lunch hamper I had had prepared by Fortnum and Mason. Emmie was a bit overawed by five ladies, but dug into the food with the aplomb of the hungry young person.  She even volunteered some remarks once she had settled down.

None of us were so high in the instep as to discourage her.

We were able to go directly to York, now; and here I hired a chaise and driver to take us up to Phoenix Hall. 

Because of the new railway lines, we should pass close to Ferndean Manor on the way to Phoenix Hall; and I hoped that his curiosity would be aroused.

 

We arrived at last, and Miss Thwaite was there to greet me, and my guests. I embraced her warmly.

“Oh, Adele! How happy I am to see you looking so well and happy!  And what a gracious place this is; all the romance of a Gothic house, but with every modern convenience as well! And Mr. Budge, the solicitor, so kind; I have been placed in a most gracious suite, with a sitting-room, bathroom, and bedroom all for my own use; is this what you intended?” she asked, anxiously.

“Indeed it is, my dear Miss Thwaite!” I said. “I made sure to have a pleasant suite for you; and my friends will also have similar accommodation. Let me make you known to them.” I introduced my schoolfriends, and sent Emmie to the kitchen with orders that she be provided with tea according to the custom of the servants, and that tea and cakes should be brought for us in what I called the Sunshine Salon. It was all tricked out in primrose yellow, misty grey, and touches of gold, and had wide windows looking onto the terrace.

I would love exploring my own domain and making it mine for being lived in, and having convivial souls with me was even better.

 

Adele Varens 12

 

Chapter 12

 

“Adele?” said Tony.

“I bought Thornfield Hall, and I have been having it rebuilt,” I told him. “As much in the manner of how it was as I can manage. My dear father was very glad to sell the land to an anonymous party; money is tight. And now I understand why money is tight,” I sneered. “We moved, as I told you, to Ferndean Manor, an overgrown farmhouse, or small feudal hall, I’m not sure which. A grander house than some, but a hovel compared to Thornfield. It’s on one of the farms belonging to Thornfield, and it was empty and the farm not farmed, and I doubt it is even now. Rochester has let all his holdings go to rack and ruin. He wasted his time, first in the Caribbean with his mad wife, and then in dissipated ruinous fecklessness across Europe, trying to forget the mistake he had made, but with nary a thought for his dependents, and on the maintenance of his lands and mistakes. My little half-brother will inherit nothing but debts when his fool of a father dies. He failed as a son, inheriting land, as a husband in not making sure his wife would have security, and as a father, in providing for his son.”

“And do you plan to buy them from him and put them back in good heart?”

“It crossed my mind,” I said. “Tony, if I did so, would you stand by me and help me? I doubt that as the woman I must become again I would have the respect of other men who will need browbeating.”

“I’ll manage it,” said Tony.

Oh, reader, he had grown in the three years of our degree. He had been a naïve, boyish youth, well-meaning, thoughtful, sweet-natured. And he had not lost his sweet nature, only his puppy-fat, and had grown into a serious and studious man, with a taste for occasional mischief, and the ability to take decisions.

“I must arrange a chaperone for myself,” I said. “And then, I will write to you, and you shall call upon me, with a ring; and I will hold a house-party as a disguise for your sudden particular attentions.”

“And will that fellow Rochester be there? I want to knock him down, though if he is blind, even partly, I should not do so.”

“I will not invite him,” I said. “I learned that when it became known that I had run away, he turned on Jane, and she fled with her children. But he has apparently regained his sight.” I hesitated. “Tony! You do not even know what Adele looks like; can you be sure that you find me attractive?”

“I see your sweet face every day; I may not be as clever a fellow as some, but I can imagine it in a woman’s gown. Point of fact, I’ve seen you in a woman’s gown, though with extra oranges bouncing in the bodice, disguised as a char woman to creep around and let us in to do things to that horse.”

“You don’t know the size of my, uh, natural bodice….”

“Hush! Whatever it is, it’s not scarily outsize, and so will fit snugly in my hands, which is what a man looks for. Because it’s you, it will be just the right size.”

“Oh, Tony, you are a very special man.”

“I love you. I will still love you when we are both wrinkled like prunes, and have no figure at all,” said Tony. “I just marvel that you can have any feelings for such a very ordinary fellow like me, who is as blind as a bat without his gig-lamps.”

“Tony, you are not the most handsome man I know, but you are the one with the nicest face. And when we get your gig-lamps off, you have the most beautiful eyes,” I said. “And I will love your face, and the smile in your eyes, when you have crumpled into well-worn wrinkles, which will form around the shape of a smile.”

“I want to kiss you, but I’m afraid of being interrupted, and the can of worms that will cause.”

“It would be too heady and we might get carried away.”

We parted with a handshake, and reader! My hand was on fire.

 

 

I had not been idle during my holiday periods. As well as making sure to continue my earnings at White’s, I had gone north to overlook Thornfield. I had been heartbroken to see it burned to the ground like that; it had been a home to me in a time when I believed I should have been a loved and happy child. I had learned to make my own happiness, but I could not but see it as something stolen from me. I had asked questions, and made notes, all as an agent to ‘Somebody.’  I had the air of a lawyer, and played it to the full.

I had arranged to have the hall rebuilt as far as was possible along the lines of is original appearance, purchasing old stones where possible from old ruins which others were planning to clear for modern houses. I wanted my house modern,  but with the feel of the gracious ancient building it had been. This was before John Ruskin published ‘The Seven Lamps of Architecture,’ you understand, and founded the Gothic Revival; so my nostalgia was ahead of my time, as others tore down their own Gothic inheritances to make room for soulless buildings of cold classical perfection. I was able to benefit, and as a consequence made great savings on my materials.  And it paid off, with a building not identical, but still with a flavour of Thornfield. I called it ‘Phoenix Place,’ and commissioned a phoenix carving to go above the front porch.

Reader, I sank a lot of money into it; but I also planned to see a tenant in the home farm, and make it work again. It was an investment, as well as a home, and as well as a statement. The recent invention of coal oil meant that I might have good lamps in the house powered by kerosene, which would help a great deal to make sure that the dark corners which are the inconvenient side of the Gothic were well lit, and cheerful. There might not be the piped gas of town buildings, but at least the lamps would burn almost as brightly. I made a brief visit to ensure that the work was largely completed, and advertised for servants, before going back to London.

 

In town, I made use of my contacts in White’s.

“I’ve connections with a young lady who needs a chaperone,” I said. “She has a betrothal practically arranged, but she wants to meet some people in the house in which she will be living. It’s in the wilds of Yorkshire, though of course, she might come to London. She needs a sensible older woman, not too strait-laced, but of impeccable credentials.”

I hired an office to see those who were sent by my contacts.

I had three in mind; none ideal but all possibilities.

Then she came in.

I knew her at once; Miss Thwaite, from Mrs. Fielding’s school. I had not seen her for seven years, or more, but I knew her; hesitant, fluttery, learned, Miss Thwaite, whose classes of history I had skived in so assiduously, who knew so much and could not convey it to a class of restless little girls.

She was still fluttering.

I read the letters she thrust at me; one was her own history of employment, the other a letter from Mrs. Fielding, forthright, direct, explaining that Miss Thwaite was too old to handle a school class any more – I confess, it crossed my mind, she had never handled  a school class in her life, but relied on our natural good manners to heed her, more or less.

Mrs. Fielding went on that Miss Thwaite might suit a single quiet girl in the capacity of a governess, or a quiet, studious girl who liked reading as a companion.

“I see you have taught at Mrs. Fielding’s school – the one south of York?” I asked.

“Oh! Yes, indeed; I taught history, but girls these days are so boisterous and I get such megrims, well, I always have, that leave me flat on my back in the dark, with rose water on my forehead to ease it, you know… but I am hoping that life as a companion might be less trying.”

“I believe you may know my client,” I said. “She attended Mrs. Fielding’s school for a few years; Adele Varens.”

“Oh! That poor child! She does still live, does she? I am so glad. I did wonder if that dreadful man, her father, had done away with her, for he denied being her father, though her features were quite plainly similar to his; indeed, sir, you have the look….” She tailed off.

“I chose to use part of my father’s name; I am Edward Fairfax,” I told her. “Indeed, it is true, it is my half-sister for whom I act. I have been able to take care of her.”

“Oh! Thank God! Thank God!” she cried, her hands clasped in fervent prayer. “Poor Adele, she went out of her way to try to be unlikeable, but oh! I could not dislike her, knowing what her father was like, and that stepmother of hers pandering always to his will… it may be nature that God has placed woman to be the helpmate of man, to cleave to him, and obey him, but you must admit that there are limits beyond which even the sweetest-natured woman should put her foot down and refuse to be browbeaten. Poor Adele, if she had had any interest in history, I might have tried to draw her out; she was never as well dressed as the others, and her allowance was quite mean, while she was still rebelling, I confess to paying some of her fines, so she would have some left. Then she ran away, and when I saw the letter her stepmother was supposed to have written, I knew right away that Adele, who is a very clever girl, had altered it. I did not tell Mrs. Fielding, and I hope I did right, but there was such a fuss at the end of that term. And she found you?”

“Yes, and my dear grandmother, may she rest in peace,” I said, having decided to let Sara Deleven die. I even held a funeral for her; I found a street beggar who had died to put in the coffin, and Sara Deleven’s will was all in order. Trust a lawyer to forge a will properly. I used a solicitor who had recently died as her executor, and myself, as Ned Fairfax, and Mr. Budge of Leeds, leaving all to her granddaughter-by-adoption, Adele Varens.

This was by no means all I had earned; I had my own bank account, which I had opened with the five thousand from Earl Halliwell, and into which went most of my winnings.

I might need to access a bank account as a man.

Naturally, Edward Fairfax and Adele Varens had left wills leaving what they owned mutually to each other.

Even so, and even after spending so much on Phoenix Hall, both of us were very well off indeed.

Whist at the best clubs, since once introduced to one I was soon introduced to others, was very profitable.

“Well, I would love to see Adele again, and do what I might… if she would have me,” said Miss Thwaite, wistfully.

“Why, I am sure she would be delighted,” I said. “She learned a love and appreciation of history as she grew older, in the school wherein my grandmother placed her.”

“Oh, I am so pleased!” Miss Thwaite positively glowed.

It would make life easier if my companion was to be someone who knew my history and, moreover, entered into my feelings about my father; I have seen plenty who thought Jane’s devotion to be romantic, rather than, as I saw it, merely cringeworthy and disturbing. Miss Thwaite was plainly more astute than I had realised.

I wrote suitable ‘Thank you but the position is filled’ letters to the other candidates, and sent Mis Thwaite north, with first class railway tickets, enough for a first class hotel and to hire a carriage out to Phoenix Hall, and leaving her quite giddy with the anticipation of a salary of one hundred and fifty pounds a year, plus her keep, which would ensure her ability to save for her old age, and the assurance that she would be considered a pensioner of the family even when Adele was wed. 

I had asked Mr. Budge to interview and hire suitable servants who replied to my advertisement, so she would not be troubled with that task, and would only have to settle in whilst waiting to be joined by Adele.

Her salary had not been large, despite Mrs. Fielding’s exorbitant fees for schooling, and I appreciated her paying my fines. Which may have stopped me from feeling the wrath of my father, wanting to know where six pounds seven shillings went, and blowing open my rebellion in keeping most of what I had been given.

Then I wrote, in Adele’s handwriting, to Mary, Frances-Ann, Celia, and Nelly, asking if they would care to be my guests now that I was settled, and able to have them to stay.

I wrote to Mrs. Bridges as well, asking her to permit Frances-Ann to come, and to bring her little sister, whose name I fondly hoped I recalled to be Esther-Ruth.

Mrs. Bridges wrote back, correcting me that the girl’s name was Ellen-Ruth, who was leaving school and would doubtless be grateful of a haven; and that she would be delighted for Frances-Ann to spend some time with an old friend in a social situation, and would receive her back when or if she wished to return to teaching. Then she warned me against being too heavy handed in matchmaking, if I was considering it.

Well, naturally, I hoped for them to establish themselves with someone convivial, but I was not going to force the issue.

It remained only for me to hire a maid, and travel north myself.