It was mid-March. Irene was faced with the horrific prospect of not having Mabel as her teacher in the autumn. She was devastated; the little girl had grown so fond of Miss Crowley—all the Hartleys had. In the two years since she’d entered their lives, Mabel had graduated from perfect stranger to indispensable fixture.
Irene complained to both her parents, not expecting them to solve her problem but hoping that they would commiserate and offer their condolences. She asked permission to wear black for the remainder of the year, as she would be in mourning. Her mother tried to reassure her that she would still be able to spend time with her beloved teacher, although not in a classroom environment. As it was, the Hartleys enjoyed Miss Crowley’s company sometimes four or five days out of the week. Dinners, afternoon tea on the week-end, evening excursions to the theatre, week-end trips to the country, quiet nights at home with the girls . . . The quiet evenings were everyone’s favourite. Of course, the outings were pleasant, and Mrs Hartley greatly enjoyed exposing her young friend to the fine privileges of the upper class. But the calm hours in the living room in front of the fire, cuddling with Harriet and playing with Irene—these were the moments worth treasuring. They felt like a family. Yes—Theodore, Alice, Irene, Harriet, and Mabel were all part of the same family. She felt at home in Bath, at Emerson House—more at home than she’d ever felt in Wells.
Mabel was happy, certainly happier than she thought she’d be when she first decided to live in Bath and teach at Kingswood. She’d come to think of Irene and Harriet as her own children, and of Alice as her own sister. Theodore, of course, was a favourite uncle; but whatever relation, the adults still used prefixes in front of their surnames.
Nighttime was Mabel’s only adversary. At night, after the stars had provided the children with a soothing bedtime light and after the sky had pulled a dark, comforting blanket over the moon, Mabel was alone. She thought about Charlie and the life she’d wanted. She thought of the love she still held in the deepest crevices of her heart. She wondered what would happen if she left everything and returned to Bruton, but then she remembered the children. She couldn’t leave Irene and Harriet; she’d love to remain a part of their lives, even if only as a kind spinster teacher. Perhaps she’d move up the ranks at Kingswood and be granted several years of watching over the Hartley girls instead of only the first two years of their instruction.
Whatever time she had left with them, she was determined to enjoy the precious moments to the fullest and not dwell on farewells until absolutely necessary. At the very least, she would only have to wait two more years until she welcomed Harriet into her classroom. Mabel was so very fond of Irene; she hoped her younger sister would display the same angelic demeanour. She had the same parents, the same background and the same upbringing—what possible reason was there for her to turn out any different?
Mabel spent Friday evening at the Hartleys’. She enjoyed a scrumptious dinner with Irene at the dining table and afterwards spoon-fed Harriet until she turned her head away. It was hardly her place to act as nursemaid, but Mabel enjoyed these activities so much that no one thought of taking them away from her. Mr and Mrs Hartley had been into the city for an elegant anniversary dinner, returning home to find a sound-asleep Harriet and a perfectly behaved Irene. She kissed both her parents on the cheek and said, “Have a lovely time?” just as she and Mabel had practiced.
Mrs Hartley chuckled and kissed her perfect angel before trotting upstairs to refresh herself in her powder room.
“Alice, dear,” Mr Hartley called from the base of the stairs. “Do you want me to wait for you?”
Alice shook her head and told her husband to proceed with what they had earlier discussed. Theodore agreed, blew her a kiss, and made a mental reminder to compliment his wife—for the sixth time, mind you—on how striking she looked in her new dress. The skirt hugged her hips as she marched up the stairs and once, at the restaurant, she had crossed her ankles. As her husband, Theodore had the privilege of observing Alice’s ankles any time he wished; still, after nine years of marriage, a mere glimpse of her ankle made his heart pound and the blood rush to his cheeks.
Without a second’s hesitation, Theodore hurried upstairs after his wife. He found her in the bedroom, sitting at her vanity. He knelt down beside her and clasped her hand.
“Alice, darling, I . . .” The devoted husband could speak no more. He kissed her dainty hand tenderly.
Theodore reached down to the ground and wrapped his hands round her ankles. He moved his hands up the smooth stockings and felt the curves of her calves. Alice pulled him up by his wing-tipped collar and kissed him with unwavering passion. Not once in nine years had a touch or a kiss from Theodore failed to quicken her breathing. Theodore wrapped his arm round her stiff, starched waist and continued to kiss her, slowly walking her backwards towards their bed.
“Miss Crowley,” Alice muttered, eyes still closed. Her husband lightly reminded her that his name was Theodore, not that which she had just mentioned. She smiled despite the lack of humour in her mood. “No, darling. I meant she’s downstairs with Irene. Don’t you remember?”
Theodore seemed to pay little attention to the indecency of his behaviour. He removed Alice’s sapphire earrings, kissing each earlobe as he placed the jewellery on the night table. As he unclasped her necklace, his lips brushed her bare skin. He traced her collarbone with his fingers and slid the material of her exquisite gown off her bony shoulders, down her slender arms, and past her hips until it lay in a billowing heap on the ground.
Theodore led his blushing bride to the bedroom door.
“Ted, what are you doing?” Alice half shrieked. She wrapped her arms around herself in a useless attempt to cover her stripped condition.
Theodore had an unmistakable twinkle in his eye as he put his finger to his lips. “Miss Crowley?” he called. Alice instinctively took a step back, but Theodore reached out and stopped her, holding onto her corset.
“Yes, sir?” Miss Crowley called from downstairs.
Theodore turned his wife round in a circle, using his left arm to hold her body close to his. He undid the knot at the base of the corset.
“Sir?” Miss Crowley was still downstairs.
“Mrs Hartley isn’t feeling well.” Theodore pulled the strings through the bottom few grommet holes. “She needs my attention.” He kissed the curve of her neck then turned his head towards the open door again. “You’ll watch Irene, won’t you?”
“Of course, sir. Would you like me to call a doctor?”
Alice’s corset was half-unlaced; Theodore’s fingers were working as quickly as they could. “No, no. I’ll see to it she gets what she needs.”
“Ted, we can’t,” Alice whispered.
In a moment, Theodore dropped the strings and corset to the ground. He shut the bedroom door, and his hand was met by Alice’s. Together, they hurriedly locked the door. Alice stepped out of her petticoat and threw herself at her husband, limp once supported in his arms.
“Hello, my dearest darling!”
Mabel looked up and saw Mrs Hartley standing at the entrance of the sitting room. Mabel had been reading to Irene for the past hour and was beginning to worry about the decline in Mrs Hartley’s health. However, one look at Alice made it obvious that there was no serious problem. She was dressed in a silk kimono: azure with gold flowers and long flowing sleeves. Her face was flushed and she seemed incapable of reducing her broad smile. Mrs Hartley waltzed across the room and extended her arms to Mabel.
“Mrs Hartley, are you feeling better?”
She was indeed. Mabel complimented her on her stunning robe; she had never seen her so casually dressed and assumed it was an indication of their growing familiarity.
“Please excuse me. I was just about to retire, but I wanted to say goodnight to my girls!” Mrs Hartley kissed Irene atop her head, and in a loving impulse, kissed Mabel atop her head as well.
Mab
el was glad that she could finally make her departure. She had stifled a yawn more than twice and was certain she’d collapse on her bed once she entered her flat. She thanked her hostess for another enjoyable evening, but was cut short before she could begin her farewell.
“You can’t leave yet! Ted— Mr Hartley wishes to speak with you.” Mrs Hartley had draped herself across the settee and wrapped her arms round her daughter.
“Mrs Hartley, I don’t wish to offend, but could it be postponed? I’m beginning to feel the lateness of the hour.”
“No, darling! He simply must talk to you tonight! It’s terribly important.” Mrs Hartley was such a delightful woman; how could anyone ever refuse her? Perfectly prompted, Mr Hartley appeared in the sitting room from the hallway.
“Miss Crowley? Won’t you step in my study a moment?”
Mrs Hartley nodded enthusiastically at Mabel, as if her husband had provided the final clue to a mystery she’d spent months trying to solve. See! she seemed to say. I told you! I was right!
“Yes, of course.” Mabel excused herself, promising Irene she would return shortly to say goodnight, and cautiously followed Mr Hartley to his private office. Mrs Hartley and Irene blew kisses to Mabel, surrendering to a fit of giggles once she’d left their sight.
“I’m relieved Mrs Hartley has recovered,” Mabel said.
“Recovered?” Mr Hartley raised an eyebrow.
“I’m glad she’s feeling better, sir.” Mabel raised her voice, thinking added volume would contribute to his comprehension of her statement. “Did something disagree with her?”
“No, no. She found everything quite agreeable.” For a moment, Mabel saw the same grin creep across Mr Hartley’s face as was worn on his wife. To suppress it, he kept talking. “Yes, she’s feeling like herself again.” Again, the smile. “Yes, she’s recovered.”
Thankfully, the conversation was brought to a premature close. They’d reached the study, and once Mabel entered the room, she forgot entirely about Mrs Hartley’s health.
It was a terribly intimidating room, every bit as magnificent as Mabel would have imagined, given the calibre of the other rooms in the mansion. A marble fireplace lined one wall; hand-carved end tables and burgundy couches and high-backed chairs invited guests to sit and enjoy the fire over a stiff drink. As Mabel looked around, she noticed cigar boxes and alcohol decanters, all strategically placed, but all noticeably untouched. Perhaps after every guest made their departure from the daunting study, one of the servants replaced the absent cigars and alcohol to give future visitors the feeling that they were the first and only to receive such preferential treatment from their host.
Mr Hartley gestured to a chair in front of the massive mahogany desk, and he took his authoritative place behind it.
“Miss Crowley, may I offer you a drink of water?” Clearly, he did not offer spirits to ladies. She declined, so he continued his agenda. “Mrs Hartley and I are very pleased you’ve taken such interest in Irene. She’s a lovely girl, and she gives you nothing but the highest praise.” Mabel blushed and wondered what possible reason could have necessitated a private meeting in Mr Hartley’s office. “I’ll get straight to the point: I’m prepared to offer you a permanent position as Irene’s governess. Naturally, you will be expected to help with Harriet when the time comes. Should you choose to accept, you will be housed here, given private quarters: bedroom, study, bathroom, and water closet. I’ll be happy to show you the guest wing this evening if you’d like. If ever you need transportation, George will drive you anywhere you wish, or if you prefer, he will escort you in the carriage. Naturally, if in time you require your own transportation, I won’t hesitate to purchase another automobile and hire a driver to accommodate your needs.”
Mabel’s jaw had dropped to the floor after the word “governess”. Her wide eyes grew wider after each feature of the position was explained. Mr Hartley continued detailing her duties. Since the Hartleys employed dozens of housekeepers, maids, cooks, butlers, and footmen, Mabel would not be expected to take on any household chores. Her focus would be on the children.
“And, of course, you’ll receive a salary. We’ll start you at two hundred pounds annually, and if you find it is not sufficient, at the end of one year’s time we’ll renegotiate.”
Mabel exhaled loudly and made a conscious effort to close her gaping mouth, but it was no use. Mr Hartley had to help her out of her chair once she was dismissed from the room, and her foggy head barely heard his offer of time to think it over.
The instant Mabel wrote to her parents about the Hartley’s generous offer, Rose convinced her husband of the necessity to telegram their response. Their advice—no need to tell you, really, for I’m sure you’ve guessed—was to accept the position as quickly as she could. Opportunities like this did not present themselves for an extended period of time; one never could tell when or if a charitable benefactor would change his mind.
Of course, Henry and Rose realized that if their daughter took the position as permanent governess, she would not—in all certain likeliness—marry or have children of her own. The possibility of a son-in-law and grandchildren did little to sway their position. Their child was Mabel, and it was on Mabel’s happiness and well-being that Mr and Mrs Crowley were so dutifully focused. Henry was satisfied that his daughter was happy with the Hartleys, and his wife was overjoyed that a wealthy and respectable family would be forever “taking care” of Mabel. As Mabel had managed to escape the terrible fate of ending up as Mrs Charles Archer, the Crowleys were in no hurry to wish a gentleman suitor upon their daughter in the selfish aim of extending the Crowley family name.
After Mabel informed the Hartleys that she intended to accept the offered position, her new employers wired an invitation to the Crowleys. It was imperative that they come to Emerson House the instant they had the chance; too much time had passed without the two families meeting, and Mabel’s new employment presented the perfect opportunity.
Henry and Rose Crowley packed the rest of their daughter’s belongings and took the train to Bath to meet the family to whom they would permanently be entrusting their daughter. They fell in love with the Hartleys just as quickly as Mabel had, and they were more than pleased that she would be well looked after in the enormous estate. Naturally, the devoted parents were proud that Mabel would be forever more associated with Theodore Hartley, a higher class than the Crowleys could have ever risen to on their own.
Henry continuously bent Mr Hartley’s ear with “business talk”, trying to prove his worth to his daughter’s new employer. Rose’s attempts to belong in the same league as Mrs Hartley were equally as transparent. She ordered the servants with a stern tone, even treating her daughter as a subservient on occasion. Often complaining, she took every opportunity, and created new ones, to brag about her own wealthy lifestyle and travels around England. Mrs Hartley was as polite as her breeding had trained her and listened to Rose’s anecdotes without finding flaws or outshining her with tales of her own.
After a week, the Crowleys started their return trip to Wells. Mabel promised to write to them often, and Mrs Hartley offered her hospitality anytime. Mabel was excited to start her new position; she was so fond of Irene and the other Hartleys. Of course, Mabel had once wished for children of her own to raise and love, but as long as she was going to grow up to be a spinster, she might as well raise and love someone else’s children. She was determined to put her mothering instincts to good use with the Hartley daughters.
It had been over a year since Charlie had first made his intentions known to Bessie Martin. Of course, her intentions had been exposed long before their romance began, but Charlie needed additional time to sort out his thoughts on the matter. Charlie’s true intentions were unknown to his girlfriend; according to Bessie, he was falling in love with her and would soon propose marriage. In reality, Charlie had no desire to marry Bessie, and although he had grown to like her more than he thought he
could, he mainly enjoyed her company because she filled the lonely void in his heart.
When he was with Bessie, how could he help but compare her against his true love? Naturally, every contest proved Mabel the winner and Bessie the consolation prize. However, Charlie knew exactly what he was getting into when he chose to start a courtship with Bessie. There were no sudden surprises that made him regret his decision; in fact, there were very little surprises at all. With Bessie, Charlie enjoyed a sense of security and stability.
She was pleasant enough. She agreed with everything he said, and once he resigned himself to the fact that she hardly listened and rarely understood the compliments she so freely bestowed upon him, he actually began to appreciate her. After all, it did his heart good to listen to the praise and vows of devotion from a young woman. He was no longer lonely, and he was grateful for her companionship. After six months, he considered Bessie a friend, and by the time a year had passed, he had indeed grown fond of her.
Once Bessie noticed the change in her beau’s temperament, she fell more in love with him than ever before. She was finally reaping the fruits of her dedicated perseverance. It wouldn’t be long before he would fall desperately in love and find himself unable to live without her! With such a goal in mind, Bessie could be a very patient woman. She could wait years, as long as she was guaranteed her prize in the end.
Bessie tried to pinpoint the obstacle that was preventing Charlie from seeing her as the perfect wifely candidate. She was always agreeable, and he could be in no doubt of her deep and long-standing affection for him. Perhaps he had trouble envisioning every detail of their marriage together. There was but one difference between the relations of an unmarried couple and one who enjoyed the bonds of matrimony, and after a year’s commitment, Bessie felt Charlie had more than earned the privileges of the latter.
Bessie had no way of knowing that her added physicality, although highly appreciated, would not oblige Charlie to propose marriage. She would have to wait for years yet before their relationship progressed further. However, remaining Charlie Archer’s lover for years was a prospect that Bessie found far from unpleasant.
Mabel spent the remainder of the summer settling in to Emerson House and preparing for her upcoming year as a governess. Headmistress Racine had been very supportive of her decision to leave Kingswood, and even provided her with teaching materials that would prove useful throughout the years.
Once the weather cooled and the leaves parted easily from the trees with a slight wind, Mabel began the young Hartley’s lessons. Irene and Mabel got along splendidly, as usual, and she was an excellent pupil. Young Harriet was not yet three, and Mabel kept her occupied with little games and toys while she taught Irene. When Irene practiced piano in the afternoon, Mabel cuddled up with Harriet and read her stories. It was a perfect routine, and for five weeks, it was performed without fail.
It was on the sixth week that a new development was discovered. Mabel’s employers summoned her into the sitting room for an announcement. The children had been put to bed, so it was clear that the important talk was for adults only.
Mr Hartley stood and offered his cosy chair by the fire. “Miss Crowley?”
“Yes, Mr Hartley?”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound right, does it? Now that you’re living here, we’ll graduate to Christian names, hmm? Mabel . . .” He tested the word, swirling it round his mouth as if it were brandy. “Yes, Mabel. Much better.”
“And you’ll call us Theodore and Alice, I hope,” Mrs Hartley added.
“Yes, Mrs Hartley.” Mabel bowed her head then apologized.
“Mabel,” Theodore started again, stressing the name so he would be sure to remember it in the future. “My wife has something important to tell. Rather, it’s so important, even I haven’t the faintest clue!”
Alice saw Mabel and Theodore’s matching actions: they both turned and smiled at her, sitting at the edge of their seats and clenching then unclenching their hands in their laps. She giggled, then took a breath to speak.
“Well,” she started. Her audience nodded their heads eagerly. “Oh, this is too much!” She covered her face, now pink, with her hands and giggled abundantly. “Mabel, I’m going to have to ask you to extend your stay with us even after Irene and Harriet have completed their educations. You see, your duties as a governess will still be required. I’m going to have another baby!”
Mabel squealed, “Mrs Hartley!” and ran up to her blushing mistress.
Congratulations and hugs and kisses were exchanged by the women, while Theodore sat still in his chair, absorbing the information hurled upon him by his wife. His face was solemn, and when he finally rose from his chair, he passed by his wife and made straight for the cabinet that held the usually purely decorative bottles of alcohol.
“Darling, aren’t you going to kiss me congratulations?” Alice knew her husband wouldn’t be overjoyed, which is precisely why she included Mabel in attendance of her announcement. Hopefully, in front of another, Theodore wouldn’t embarrass her by displaying his full displeasure at her news.
Theodore did not answer her. He poured himself a whisky and drank the spirit quickly, wincing.
“Darling, you know you shouldn’t—”
Theodore whipped his head round and looked sharply at his wife. The room was silent. Mabel wished she could disappear, and thankfully, her master provided the opportunity. Without breaking eye contact with Alice, Theodore requested Mabel vacate the room so he might have a private word with his wife.
Once they were alone, and Mabel’s quick footsteps down the hall were no longer audible, Theodore refilled his tumbler.
“Ted, have you gone mad?” Alice rushed up to him. “You know what the doctor said!”
“Yes, the doctor!” Theodore snapped. “The doctor! Has he seen to you? Are you absolutely sure you’re in this condition? The last two times Stewardson told me himself. Why aren’t I hearing this from him?”
“Of course I’ve seen Dr Stewardson. He was here last month to be sure, but I wanted to tell you myself. I knew you wouldn’t be pleased, and I thought it wouldn’t be fair for you to take it out on Stewardson. I’m much more equipped to handle your moods, darling, even in my . . . condition.” Alice raised an eyebrow and pried the glass from her husband’s fingers.
“Alice?”
Alice looked up at her husband. “Yes, Theodore?”
“When did this happen?” He hesitated in asking, sure that the answer would put him at fault.
“It’s awfully hard to tell,” Alice said, kissing the top of his hand. “But Dr Stewardson told me—well, now it’s almost three months.”
Theodore exhaled, closed his eyes, and reciprocated the pressure to her hand. “Why didn’t you tell me? The doctor said—you’re nearly three months along—how could you keep this from me for so long?”
Alice waited and tried to clear the cry from her throat. She couldn’t speak, but instead whispered her long-awaited response. “I thought maybe—good Lord, what a horrible thing to say aloud—I thought if I waited long enough and something happened, there might not be anything to tell.”
“Oh darling.” Theodore scooped his fragile wife into his arms. He knew what a good and pure heart she had. She would never want any harm to come to her unborn child; she was merely trying to protect him. “Forgive me,” he begged, knowing that she already had.
Alice and Theodore sat together in front of the fire, holding hands. Theodore’s mind was full of concerns for his wife, and Alice worried about her husband; both were under the impression that the other was thinking of the baby. They stared at the flames for nearly an hour, in silence, wondering what the future would bring.
Mabel awoke in the middle of the night and was unable to return to sleep. She wrapped herself in an extra wool shawl, as it was colder through the progression of winter, and padded to the kitchen for a warm glass of milk. There was no need to wake one of the coo
ks; Mabel was quite capable. After she’d poured the warm liquid into a glass, she sauntered down the hallway en route to her bedroom. A light beneath the door to Theodore’s study caught her eye and drew her to it. Theodore was still awake in his office. She knocked on the door and asked if everything was alright. Was there anything she could do?
“Mabel, what are you doing up at this hour?” Mabel held up her glass of milk and asked him the same question. “There’s so much to do,” he sighed as he rubbed his wrinkled brow.
“Surely your work can wait until the morning?”
“No, it isn’t work. It’s . . . the baby.”
Mabel chuckled and reminded him that six months still remained before the stork would make his delivery. “You can’t be nervous, Mr Hartley. You’ve fathered two already.”
“Yes, of course,” Theodore whispered. If he found his voice, he was sure it would break. “Goodnight, Mabel.” He kept his eyes on the papers on his desk, only looking up at the closed door after Mabel had left the room.
1914