Mrs. Bornhalt was as thin as a wooden post. She wore glasses perched at the end of a nose that could have been used as a quill. Her hair should have been streaked with gray rather than its mousy brown, given that she acted far older than her nine and twenty years.
But what annoyed Amy the most about the chaperone was that she had talked incessantly since her arrival at Courtly Manor. The woman had spent the past quarter of an hour going on about her recent visit with her ill sister.
“The problem with Susanna is that she refuses to rest,” the chaperone was saying with a not-so-delicate sniff of disapproval. “Thankfully, with my insistence, she finally agreed to stay in bed while I saw to what needed to be done. And that husband of hers!” Another sniff, this one angry. “He has no consideration for her or her health. Men aren’t accustomed to taking care of themselves, I know, but even they can put on a kettle for their own tea when the need arises.”
Amy was uncertain what to make of the woman’s illness. From what she had heard thus far, this Susanna had written to Mrs. Bornhalt, complaining that her husband was driving her mad. As the story unfolded. Amy learned that the sister lived in a fine house with a host of servants. Her duties included conferring daily with the cook followed by the housekeeper before going shopping or calling on friends. Why the husband would have to put on a kettle at all was beyond her. The wife certainly did not. But Amy was not about to ask. That would just add more fuel to the fire and have Mrs. Bornhalt going off on another tangent.
“That is why you must be careful who you marry, my dear,” Mrs. Bornhalt continued. “Her husband’s insistence that she entertain herself all day with buying dresses and other nonsense was just too much for her to bear.”
Amy was unable to hold her tongue. “But is that not the life most women envy?”
“Life, is it?” the chaperone asked. This sniff was mocking. Who knew a simple sniff could convey so many emotions? “Too much shopping is a cause of excessive exercise. Exercise in itself is important, certainly, but all that walking! What woman wants calves the size of melons? Plus, it creates a great deal of anxiety. All those choices, I tell you. Everything in moderation, you know. Even shopping. A woman should be spending her days doing quiet activities, such as sewing or painting. Perhaps even reading. And, of course, only certain subjects. The sciences may seem interesting, but they are far too complicated for the feminine mind. That is a subject better suited for men.”
Amy stifled a growl. If the chaperone had been a hundred, perhaps Amy could understand her old-fashioned beliefs. But women were becoming more involved in areas once relegated to men. There was Êmilie du Châlet, who had worked with Voltaire. She had translated Isaac Newton’s Principia into French. And that was a hundred years ago!
In the past twenty years, Caroline Herschel had been paid to assist her brother, who was now the King’s personal astronomer. Why, she even discovered a comet herself and still worked there today!
Well, Amy would see that Mrs. Bornhalt was dismissed from her position. Once she informed Mrs. Rutley of the nonsense the woman spouted, there would be no other choice. Mrs. Rutley was far too forward thinking to allow such a woman to influence her students.
When someone knocked on the front door, Mrs. Bornhalt stood, directing Amy to do the same.
“Follow me,” the chaperone said.
Mrs. Shepherd, who had already answered the door, gave Amy a wink.
Mr. Deverell bowed. “Good afternoon, Miss Felton. It’s lovely to see you again.”
Amy could do nothing about the heat that entered her cheeks. “And you as well. May I present Mrs. Bornhalt? She will be chaperoning today.”
Again, Mr. Deverell bowed. “Pleasure, I’m sure.”
“I’m sure.” At least Mrs. Bornhalt did not sniff this time.
Once they were seated inside the carriage and were trundling down the drive, Mr. Deverell said, “I’ve informed Mrs. Hartzel that you would be with me during this call, and she looks forward to meeting you.” He turned his attention to Mrs. Bornhalt. “I thought Miss Felton should see what my work entails.”
“A wonderful idea, Mr. Deverell. Witnessing acts of charity will help all young ladies understand the plight of those in need.”
Amy said a small prayer that the woman would not monopolize the conversation, and, to her relief, she did not.
They rode in silence for a short time before arriving at a two-story manor house. The brick had been painted white and the trim black. Perfectly trimmed hedges lined the drive on both sides, and a fountain bubbled in the grassy area at the front of the house.
A liveried butler in his middle years with silver strands streaking his otherwise dark hair answered the door. “Mrs. Hartzel is waiting for you in the parlor,” he said in nasal tones.
Mrs. Hartzel was in her early fifties with hair the color of walnuts and eyes of the lightest blue. On her plump fingers she wore several gold rings, each displaying various gems.
“Welcome, Mr. Deverell,” she said in a pleased tone. And before Mr. Deverell could make introductions, she turned to Amy. “And you must be Miss Amy Felton. Oh, she is a sight, isn’t she?” She then looked at Mrs. Bornhalt. “And you are?”
“Mrs. Bornhalt, Miss Felton’s chaperone.”
“Ah, yes. It has been so long since I’ve needed a chaperone, I nearly forgot. Well, shall we sit? Trentwood, will you please have a tea tray brought in?”
The butler bowed and left the room.
Amy and Mrs. Bornhalt went to a couch covered in white fabric with red flowers. Mr. Deverell took a seat beside Mrs. Hartzel in one of the two matching red leather chairs.
“How have you been faring this week, Mrs. Hartzel?” Mr. Deverell asked.
Mrs. Hartzel smiled weakly. “I can’t seem to acclimate myself to Walter being gone. The children are busy with their own families, of course, so they rarely come to visit anymore. But that is what they do, is it not?” She sighed. “I’m finding life far lonelier than I would’ve ever imagined.”
Amy’s heart ached for this woman. To have the one person who had been a constant companion for the past thirty years die had to be difficult. The fact she was wealthy would not change that fact.
“But your calls always brighten my day, Mr. Deverell.”
Amy smiled. He does make everyone’s day better, she thought. Her admiration for him grew. He was kind and inquisitive, and judging by the smile Mrs. Hartzel wore, he truly made her happy.
Now she understood why Mr. Deverell enjoyed what he did and his reasons for wanting to remain in England. It was as if she had been allowed a glimpse into an area of his heart she had not been allowed to see before.
“Have you left the house at all?” Mr. Deverell asked. “Not just out to the gardens but into the village?”
Mrs. Hartzel dropped her gaze to the handkerchief she had knotted in her fingers. “Not since Walter’s death. What would I do there? I need nothing nor want anything.”
Mr. Deverell touched her arm. “I suggest you do some charity work. Not only will it give you a reason to leave the house, but it will also help others. Charity work can be very rewarding and can lift anyone’s spirits.”
Mrs. Hartzel sat up straighter. “Yes,” she murmured, frowning in thought. “Yes, I believe you’re right. I have been cooped up in this house for far too long. You know, Lady Fairbanks mentioned a group of women who meet up once a week to sew blankets and other items to donate. Perhaps I can join them. I do enjoy embroidery and sewing.”
“I think that is a fine idea,” Mr. Deverell said, beaming at her.
As the conversation continued, Amy found her mind wandering. What Mr. Deverell was doing was all well and fine. And he was building relationships with many people. But there was no reason he could not continue this same work in America.
Once he’s read Unity and Theodosia’s letters, he would agree.
Her thoughts were interrupted when the widow asked, “What will you do once your schooling is complete, Miss Felton?”
Amy smoothed her skirts. “I’d like to travel to America.”
“You’re going away?” Mrs. Hartzel asked, clearly surprised.
Mr. Deverell pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve discussed the possibility, yes, but we’ve yet to come to a final decision.” He paused. “You’re well traveled, Mrs. Hartzel. Is it as great as some claim?”
The widow’s eyes shone. “Walter and I traveled there… oh, I’d say it was seven years ago. We stayed only three weeks, but I could have remained for three years if given the chance.”
This made Mr. Deverell’s eyebrows rise. “And why is that?”
“It’s a fresh, new place,” the widow replied. “New York is a marvelous town and rivals all the great towns of the world. London and even Paris, for example. I had expected to find a savage place but instead encountered a culture haven all its own. We saw a play at the Cherry Lane Theater, had tea at Bosie’s Tea Parlor, and purchased several hats and gloves that were very lovely. I even enjoyed a country dance at the home of Mr. George Clinton, their vice president. It was a shame I never met his wife, but she died several years earlier. I did chance to meet the daughter of the previous vice president, Miss Theodosia Burr. She’s well educated and believes that more women are deserving of learning beyond embroidery and playing the pianoforte.”
Amy could not help but smile. This was not the same Theodosia who had attended the school and who had written her so many letters, but she sounded very much the same. Perhaps she would ask to call on the astute young woman once they were living there.
“The world is a changing place, Mr. Deverell, and England is falling behind the rest of the world. There are many women who own property in America, unlike here, where it is as rare as snow in July. I believe more women will leave this country in search of other lands and a different, more fulfilling, life.”
Mrs. Bornhalt gasped before quickly covering it with a cough. Mr. Deverell made no comment as he stood, his hands clasped behind him. “I must return Miss Felton to the school, but I’ll call on you again next week.”
Mrs. Hartzel walked them to the door. “I’m so happy to have finally made your acquaintance, Miss Felton.” She leaned in closer and whispered, “Don’t let anyone stop you from doing what you want, my dear. Life is too short. Travel if that is what your heart desires.”
“Thank you,” Amy whispered back.
On their journey back to the school, Mr. Deverell sat with a frown on his lips as he stared out the window.
Biting at her lip, Amy considered what to say. “Mrs. Hartzel seems knowledgeable. And she’s met some very important people.”
Mr. Deverell snorted. “She spoke of hats and gloves, of all things.” He turned to the chaperone. “Mrs. Bornhalt, a lady can find such things in Chatsworth—or any shop in England—can they not?”
Mrs. Bornhalt gave one of her sniffs. “Absolutely. And might I add that journeying by ship is long and exhausting. Too many women have fallen ill traveling to America. Then there is the exuberant shopping they’ll experience while in New York. My sister would have been far worse had she been there!”
Amy stifled a groan and turned her attention to the passing landscape as Mr. Deverell and Mrs. Bornhalt continued their degradation of life abroad.
Well, let them think what they will! Amy thought fiercely. The letters that awaited them would change Mr. Deverell’s mind and make him see sense. She was sure of it.