Someone to Love (Westcott #1)(92)
“She must learn to adjust,” Camille said, getting restlessly to her feet and crossing to the window, from which she looked across to sloping parkland and the view below, “just as you advised her to do, Abby. I wonder if she—the duchess, I mean—will take Avery to see the orphanage. Do you think they will find out if she does?”
“That I have been there?” her grandmother asked. “That I have agreed to fund a large bookcase for the classroom and books to fill it? It is the sort of thing a number of citizens of Bath do out of a spirit of charity. I see no reason why the Duchess of Netherby would be informed or why she would find it remarkable if she were.”
“That I have been there, Grandmama,” Camille said, turning from the window.
“You?” Her grandmother was all astonishment. “You have been to the orphanage, Camille? When, pray? To my knowledge you have left the house only twice since you came here, both times to take a walk with Abigail, and both times with a heavy veil over your bonnet to cover your face just as though you were in some sort of disgrace and were afraid of being recognized.”
“The first time we walked past,” Camille told her. “The second time I went inside and asked to speak to the manager. Abby would not come with me. She walked up and down the street until I came out.”
“I did not have your courage, Cam,” Abigail said.
“And?” their grandmother asked, frowning.
“Miss Ford, the matron, was gracious enough to show me some of the rooms,” Camille said, “after I had explained who I was. She still misses . . . Anna Snow. So does everyone else, apparently. She was quiet and unassuming, but—how exactly did Miss Ford phrase it?—her real value to them all loomed far larger when it was no longer there. The replacement teacher has not worked out well. She has threatened several times to leave, and I understood that Miss Ford hopes she will before she is dismissed.”
“Cam,” Abigail said, her face unhappy, “I still think you—”
But Camille held up one hand to stop her. “I have offered to take the teacher’s place if there should be a vacancy, Grandmama,” she said, “even if only for a short while until someone better qualified and more experienced can be found.”
“What?” Her grandmother’s hand crept up to the pearls at her neck. “Camille? There is really no need of this.”
“There is,” Camille said. “I must somehow put myself in her place—Anna Snow’s, that is—even if only for a short while and even though I can never know what it feels like to be a child there. I must stop hating her. Perhaps I can do it if I take her place.”
Abigail spread her hands over her face.
“It would seem to me,” Mrs. Kingsley said, “that hating—or loving—are a matter of willpower, Camille. You do not need to put yourself through this humiliation.”
“Willpower does not appear to work,” her granddaughter said. “It works on the mind but not on the heart.”
“Well,” her grandmother said briskly, “perhaps the schoolteacher will not leave her post and perhaps the matron will not have the courage to sack her or will have someone else in mind before she does. And perhaps one day you will come to the Pump Room with me for the morning promenade and meet some gentleman to take your mind off Viscount Uxbury. Abigail has accompanied me twice and has drawn interest both times. Not many people here will refine too much upon your change of status. You are, after all, my granddaughters and I am held in the highest esteem in Bath society.”
“We will see,” Camille said, returning to her chair. “But it was civil of them to come. And to ask about Harry.”
“Harry is her brother, Cam,” Abigail said, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief before putting it away. “And we are her sisters.”
*
Miss Ford did not mention Camille’s visit to the orphanage. She did, however, mention the fact that Mrs. Kingsley, a prominent citizen of Bath, had shown a welcome interest in the home recently and was to fund the purchase of a large bookcase for the schoolroom and books of all kinds to fill it. The matron mentioned it only because the Duke and Duchess of Netherby made the identical offer. Anna did not believe she had made the connection between Mrs. Kingsley and herself. It had long been Anna’s dream when she taught there of having books for all the children to read regardless of age or interest or reading ability. However, when she had sent a large draft of money to the home soon after inheriting her fortune, she had not specified on what it ought to be spent, and Miss Ford, with the approval of the board, had purchased some much-needed new beds and other furniture for the dormitories and new windows for the dining room.
The kitchen was old, from the ovens to the fireplace to the larder to the worktables and the uneven floor, and the laundry equipment was even older. Everything had been repaired and fixed so many times, the cook explained to the duke after she had recovered a little from her speechless awe, that by now there were repairs and patches upon repairs and patches. It would delight him and his duchess, Avery assured her and Miss Ford, to renew everything if they could stand the inconvenience of having workmen belowstairs for as many days as it would take for the work to be done.
He looked as he had during their stay at the vicarage. All his chains and rings and fobs had been left at the Royal York Hotel, where they were staying, along with his quizzing glass and snuffbox. His neckcloth was neatly tied but without any of its accustomed artistry. His eyes were wide-open, his manner that of a refined, kindly gentleman. It amused Anna how he could change at will. It touched her too that he had not come here with an air of affected boredom or condescension. When Winifred Hamlin plucked up her courage to step up to him and inform him that she had prayed for Miss Snow when she left for London and her prayers had been answered, he looked at her with a smile that crinkled his eyes at the corners.