“Tutoring?”
“Some local boys, protégés of mine. I told him you were looking for some private tutoring over the summer, and he was very pleased to pass them on to you. Nothing too taxing is involved—just a little help in the more advanced Latin.”
“I should be honored,” said Beatrice. “I tutored the three daughters of a professor at our California university, and it was fascinating to watch how Latin blossomed among such a small and eager group.”
“I’m not sure the boys are such blossoms,” said Agatha, giving her a doubtful look. “Hugh agrees they are bright boys, and one in particular may prove our efforts worthwhile, but they are somewhat rowdy and defiant.”
“Sometimes the hardest challenges are most deserving of our efforts,” said Beatrice. “I am very grateful to you and the school for giving me the opportunity.”
“Yes, well, we must make sure the school governors have no grounds to cause you trouble.” She hesitated, and Beatrice watched her struggle to go on.
“They did not want to employ me,” said Beatrice. She did not ask it as a question.
“Well, not exactly,” said Agatha. “But they will come around as long as you succeed.” She paused. “I am one of only two women on the Board of Governors, you know. I am in a very delicate position, in which I must temper my impatience for reform and choose my battles with care. We have women teachers, of course, to teach appropriate subjects. But in this case, we had some difficulty in finding a suitable replacement for the head Latin master, who left us so abruptly, and your qualifications so exceeded the usual applicant that I—well, I did all within my power to push your consideration.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course, you are not quite what I expected,” she added. She did not elaborate, and Beatrice, under the pressure of the silence, tried to breathe in a slow way that might suppress any flush in her cheeks.
“I assure you my university and teaching certificates are quite in order,” she said finally.
“Your qualifications, and Lady Marbely’s description of your wide travels and experience, suggested someone older,” said Agatha.
“I put away the fripperies of girlhood some years ago,” said Beatrice. “I have served as my father’s secretary and constant companion for many years. But more to the point, I do not have the luxury of waiting around to mature like a cheese.” She smiled to soften the rebuke. “I do not intend to marry, Mrs. Kent, and now that my father is gone I must earn my bread. Surely you would not deny me the work for which I have studied and trained?”
“I would not,” said Agatha. “But let’s not mention any such awkward necessity. I think we should rely on your connection to the Marbelys, and to the suggestion of teaching as service rather than profession, to carry the day.”
“As you wish,” said Beatrice, trying to keep the dryness out of her tone as she wondered how to ask about her wages and accommodations if she was not allowed to appear in need of either.
“Of course, I was older than you when I married my husband,” said Agatha. She did not phrase it as a question, and so Beatrice, who was tired of people feeling free to interrogate her on her determination to live free of a husband, bit her lip and did not answer. Agatha gave a sigh and continued. “The world is changing, Miss Nash, but very slowly. I hope that through the work I do, and the work you will do, we may further the causes of intelligence and merit and move our nation forward.”
“Mrs. Kent, am I to suppose that you support the cause of women?” said Beatrice.
“Good heavens, no!” said Agatha. “Such hysteria in the streets is impossibly damaging. It is only through such sober activities as school boards and good works, done under the guidance of our most respected and educated gentlemen, that we will prove our worth in the eyes of God and our fellow man. Don’t you agree, Miss Nash?”
Beatrice was not at all sure she did agree. She rather thought she might like to vote and to have been admitted to a university degree at Oxford, her father’s alma mater. Even the most educated of gentlemen seemed disinclined to remedy such injustices to women without being confronted. She was not sure that Agatha Kent was in earnest either. The face, under an arched eyebrow, was inscrutable.
“I only know that I want to teach something other than elementary school,” she said. “I want to teach and study and write, as my father did, and to have my efforts treated no less seriously just because I am a woman.”
Agatha sighed. “You are an educated person and can be of use to the country, but women like us need to demonstrate our worth, rather than demonstrating in the streets. Besides,” she added, “we don’t need all the housemaids declaring their independence and running off to join the music hall, do we?”
“Who would boil the tea?” said Beatrice, before she could stop herself.
“You must know, Miss Nash, that you and I will be under severe scrutiny these next few months. I must be blunt in saying that I expect you not only to demonstrate your own superior merit and irreproachable respectability but to protect my reputation too. I have spent many years, in a quiet way, establishing a position from where I can do important work in this town, but I am not without enemies.”
“I see,” said Beatrice.
“I don’t think you do,” said Agatha. “I have never pushed for something as outrageous as hiring a woman to teach Latin, and I am personally responsible for you. Should you and I fail in this task, many other projects may come undone.” Beatrice saw a moment of weariness in the kind face. “I have put all my eggs in your basket, Miss Nash. Do I make myself clear?”
Beatrice was curious to feel a tiny sense of purpose flowering. It was different from the purpose—the stubborn fury—with which she had pursued her escape from the Marbelys. She had not been needed by anyone for many months. Now Agatha Kent appeared to need her, and Beatrice felt an echo of the same feeling of determination that her father’s plans always inspired.
“I will not let you down, Mrs. Kent,” she said.
“See that you don’t,” said Agatha with a warm smile. She rose to her feet and held out both hands. It was gracefully done, but Beatrice recognized that she was being dismissed.
“Good night, Mrs. Kent.”
“And just one more thing, Miss Nash,” said Agatha, as Beatrice moved towards the hall. “I would not be public about any yearnings to write. It would be an absolute disaster for a lady in your position to earn a reputation as a bohemian.”
—
In the billiard room, Daniel busied himself over the selection of a cue as if he had not been familiar with Uncle John’s four old cues since both he and Hugh were in short trousers.
“I do wish Aunt Aggie would stop taking on projects,” he said, sighting along the length of the ebony and rosewood one picked up by Uncle John in Morocco. He began to chalk its India rubber tip, and Hugh, as usual, was left to turn up the lamps and rack the balls.
“I think her interest in education might be considered a cause,” said Hugh, enjoying the smooth, dull click of red ball against yellow as he arranged them in a triangle.
“The school governors, yes,” said Daniel. “But then it was the urchins she foisted on you.”
“Alarmed about the rise of the working man, are you?” said Hugh.
“Not at all,” said Daniel. “It’s absurd to think any of them will even make it to factory clerk. It’s just that she risks making herself look foolish.”
“And those around her…”
“I’m only thinking of Uncle John,” said Daniel. “And now, championing a woman to be Latin master at the grammar school? It’s just outlandish.”
“I believe the other candidates were quite lacking in skill,” said Hugh.
“I imagine one only needs the rudimentaries,” said Daniel. “The profession is mostly about having a good strong arm to wield the cane.”