After singing, the students lined up with their proctors at the head of the queue. Rufina, the head Senior, led the way to the dormitory. Her face wore an expression of tense resignation. The dragging of the Seniors’ feet, the abject silence, and the general aura told me they were all terrified.
Once in the Senior dormitory, I checked on Adèle while the three other young ladies untied their pinafores, hung them up, and washed their faces. I was tucking the blanket up under Adèle’s chin when Miss Miller knocked on the door.
“This is our schedule, and a roster of our students. Here is the German primer we use. There’s a notebook, a sketchbook, and several pencils in the muslin bag. The classrooms have slates and chalk for each student.” She pressed the pile upon me and asked, “Have you considered where and how to begin?”
“My first task will be to assess where the girls are in their learning.”
“Good idea. Fräulein Hertzog wasn’t with us long. Perhaps three months? So I imagine the girls have retained little, if any, real skills.”
She leaned close and whispered, “Remember, I am across the hall from you if you need me. The walls do not muffle noises as much as one might like.”
Setting the book and bag on top of my dresser, I returned to my charges. All had undressed and were climbing into bed. I stepped behind the modesty panel and removed my dress, shivering as I did. After pulling my night rail over my head, I slipped my arms into my white lawn wrapper. Tying the belt caused me to stop and look down. This would never do. Both my night rail and wrapper were trimmed with deep ruffles of lace, an embellishment totally out of keeping with the post of a humble governess.
It is only lace, and nothing more, I thought as I ripped the frothy trim from the garments.
I turned the lace over and over in my hand. Feeling the pattern of holes and stitching, I recognized this torn fabric as a metaphor for my life—I had ripped myself from my husband and son, from the life I loved, a world rich and fine. Now I pretended to be something less than what I was.
I tucked the trim into a pocket of my wrapper. Perhaps no one would have noticed the extravagant embellishment, but I couldn’t take any chances.
No, I had made my choice. I was committed to this course of action. I sighed and prepared myself. I surmised that the girls would watch my every move, the way a frightened dog watches his master for proof that all is well.
My instincts were correct. When I stepped out from behind the screen, three sets of eyes stared at me. Their expressions ranged from curious to cautious. Adèle snored lightly and rolled over.
“That was her bed,” ventured Rufina, pointing to the empty cot beside mine, with covers twisted ’round and ’round like a stork’s nest. The pillow appeared to be missing, but a glance told me it rested awkwardly between the wall and the floor, as if it had fallen there.
“Caje is supposed to come get her mattress at some point,” said Rose. “If she was sick, he’s to burn it. He’s the houseboy and he’s awful strong.”
“He isn’t the houseboy,” corrected Rufina. “He’s the footman. Sort of. Only he doesn’t wear a uniform. And he isn’t that strong. That bed does not weigh much.” To prove her boast, she walked over and hefted the head of the cot, lifting it easily.
“Wonder if we can have our things back,” said Nettie in her babyish lisp. “Miss Eyre, do you suppose we can have them?”
“What do you mean?” I pulled pins from my hair and shook it out.
“Selina took all my sweeties and put them in the top drawer of her dresser. I was just thinking, she will not be eating them, so do you suppose I could have them back?”
“May I have my sash? It is my prettiest one, and it is all satin, and my papa gave it to me,” said Rose.
Rufina scratched at a scab. “I should like my kite. I worked a long time on the tail. It’s rather a good flier.”
“Why does—did—Selina have these items? You say they belong to you?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Rufina said. “They are in her dresser. Top drawer. She showed them to us from time to time.”
“Why does—did—she have possession of them?”
The girls exchanged looks. No one spoke. I sat on the bed, resisting the urge to lie down. Once I moved to a prone position, my eyes might snap shut and I’d be fast asleep.
“Because she took them,” Nettie said finally. “She told us we had to share with her. She said we were like her sisters, and sisters are obliged to share, and then she took them.”
“But if she said you were to share, then you must have her possessions as well.” I folded down my sheet and spread the wool blanket over my bed.
“No, miss. I don’t have anything of hers.” Rufina shook her head emphatically.
“Nor do I,” added Nettie.
“Me, neither, and Adela told all of us that Selina took her hair ribbon,” said Rose as she slipped into her bed and pulled the covers up into a neat horizon under her arms.
“She got so angry.” Rufina sighed and wiped a spot of blood off her elbow with the hem of her gown. Her covers were already halfway off the bed.
“Who got angry?” I fought to concentrate, but the lure of sleep tugged at me.
“Adela did. She and Selina started pulling each other’s hair.” Rose added a dismissive roll of her eyes.
Oh dear. I was reminded that their quarrel had gotten so heated as to become violent. Did Waverly know that? If so, he might suspect Adèle. Perhaps that was why he wanted to talk with her.
As I struggled with this disturbing line of thought, the girls again gave each other sideways looks. As if reaching a consensus, Nettie said, “Miss Eyre, are there really ghosts?”
Before I could answer, Rose said, “We’re worried that Selina will come haunt us.” Her lower lip trembled.
“Don’t be silly!” Rufina guffawed. “There is no such thing as a ghost! What gooses you two are!”
“Geese,” I corrected her. “The plural of goose is geese. Come here, girls.” I patted my mattress, and with no more urging, they tumbled onto my bed.
Another adult might dismiss their fears out of hand, but I knew better. When I was but ten, I saw a beam of light, complete with dancing motes where no ray should have entered. This came with sound I was confident portended a visitation from my dead uncle. To this day, I remembered the experience of raw terror, a sensation too vivid to allow me to make jest of my young charges or their similar concern.
“Although Christ our Savior rose again, I have heard naught of other people rising from the grave. The creed tells us this will happen when Christ comes again to judge the quick and the dead. Until that time, I am sure we are safe.” I paused and added, “From Selina’s return.”
They huddled together, clinging one to another as if shipwreck victims. Their bleak expressions told me they found my explanation hard to credit.
“Selina would come back. I know she would. It would be just like her to come and scare us,” Rose said.
Nettie’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Thurston says Selina died in her sleep, and I know that it happens to bad girls all the time. But I do not want to die! I am so sorry for all I have done! I am a sinner and I am afraid!” With that, she burst into noisy sobs.
I took her into my arms and patted her back. “There, there. It’s all right,” I half whispered to her.
The other girls stared at me in surprise. Was it possible that Mrs. Thurston forbade affection between teachers and their pupils?
Rufina guessed my concern. “Mrs. Webster was awful kind to us, but Mrs. Thurston, well, she don’t think the teachers should spoil us overmuch.”
“I see,” I said. And I did. Some superintendents believed such attention would ruin children, but the lessons of my childhood remained perfectly clear in my mind. A bit of kindness went a long way with me then, as it did now. I couldn’t see how comforting a frightened child could be wrong.
As Nettie dried her tears, the others girls snuggled closer to me. This past spring, a wild dog gave birth to puppies in our shed. Her babies writhed and wriggled their way, following the comma of her body, until they believed themselves to be safe. So, too, did the girls attach themselves to me.
“There, there,” I whispered, gathering them in my arms. “No ghost can bother you. Neither can any human while I am here. And if you hear anything, come wake me. Now, time to say your prayers. After you do, I shall tuck all of you in.”
Making the rounds of the beds, I plumped pillows for the girls, tucked them in, and gave each a quick peck on her forehead. Rose reached up to grab my collar. Her small fingers gripped me. “Miss Eyre?” She pulled me close. “You will not let Selina hurt me, will you? She was awful mean to me, just awful.”
“No, lamb. I will not let her hurt you. Close your eyes. I’ll be here if you need me.”
“Do you promise? Promise she will not hurt me.” Her moist, hot breath warmed my face.
“I promise,” I said, and I crossed my heart, wondering if I could, indeed, protect these girls. My intentions were good; I could shout for help and warn off an intruder.
But would that be enough?
Worry is no substitute for action, so I made yet another circuit of the beds, tucking in covers for young women now nearly asleep, before concluding my journey by checking on Adèle. I wandered back to my bed but stopped along the way, where the moonlight streamed through the window, illuminating the empty bed that had been Selina’s.
Who was she?
Why had she died?
The branch of the horse chestnut rubbed against the side of the house, making a scratching sound. Cupping my hands around my face, I stared until I could see the outstretched limb. What a fine step stool it made! Broad, rough, and horizontal. Climbing out on it would be easy.
I rested my elbows on the sill, wondering if Mr. Douglas’s watcher lurked in the bushes below.
Who was out there in the shadows?
A killer?
This same lunar light beamed down on Ferndean. I knew from experience that it bathed my husband’s stern features as it slipped past the window dressings. I would often awake to study my husband as he slept. How far away Edward seemed—and yet, strangely, how close to me, as each beat of my heart matched his in a lovers’ duet.
“Sleep tight, my darlings,” I whispered, touching my fingertips to my lips and sending a kiss to my husband and Ned. Then I climbed into my cot, which proved uncomfortable, especially after the luxurious, cloudlike mattress at Lucy Brayton’s home. It seemed there was a lump in this bed. I tried to get comfortable, and mainly I failed. Once, I was nearly asleep, but startled awake to the sound of footsteps outside the dormitory door. Before I could rouse, they went away, leaving me to study the softly snoring forms of my charges. Each snuffle and sigh prickled my senses into high alert. Would an intruder dare visit us? If so, could I scare him or her away? I wouldn’t sleep through an attack…would I?
Gradually, a heaviness weighed down my limbs pleasantly.
At last I slept.