Page 64 of A Game of Scandal

Martha sighed. “It’s difficult when our critics point out that it’s hardly worth the expense and effort of training young women for a profession, only for them to leave that profession upon their marriage.”

“But such a statement is based on the assumption that a young woman will marry,” I said. “Many women don’t. After all, it’s been half a century since the census revealed that there are now far more women than men in the country – what are all these spare women expected to do? Is each man now to have three wives?” The frustration that I felt erupted to the surface in an instant. “And what about those of us who would use our brains, who want to learn and train? Why should we choose marriage if it means giving that up? I could never marry a man who would ask such a thing of me.”

Louise looked at me with something like amusement, but she nodded. “You’re perfectly right to be angry, Lady Felicity. You won’t find a woman here who disagrees with your position.”

“In fact” – Laetitia came back into the room, neatly picking up the thread of the conversation – “I remember reading an interesting article in the Nineteenth-Century Review a couple of years back, which followed the lives and careers of university-educated women.”

“Oh, yes!” Caroline exclaimed. “I read it too. The author said that only about ten per cent of the women who had taken honours chose to marry.”

“And,” Laetitia carried on, “she drew the conclusion that one valuable result of education was that it makes women more fastidious and less likely to hurry into improvident marriages, perhaps because they would have the ability in many cases to support themselves financially.”

“The report said seven hundred of the women were teachers and two hundred were married, so if a mother sends her daughter to university, it seems she is more likely to become a teacher than a wife,” Caroline put in with a laugh. “Well, it was perfectly true in my case.”

The other women joined in her laughter, but I felt as if someone had pressed a live wire to my skin. Never had I heard women talk like this, as though such arguments were simply common sense rather than something that shattered the model of what it had meant to be a woman for so long. It was invigorating, to say the least.

“You must come over to the college, Lady Felicity,” Caroline said. “Perhaps I can give you a tour?”

“I’d like that,” I managed, trying to rein in an almost delirious spike of excitement.

I found myself swept up in conversation then, enjoying myself enormously – not having to temper or moderate my opinions, not needing to worry over whether I sounded too angry or sad or outraged. These women moved easily between such emotions, mixing amusement and indignation into everything they said.

When Smythe next appeared in the doorway, I thought it was to announce dinner, but instead he addressed me in frigid tones.

“A delivery has arrived for Lady Felicity. And a telegram.”

“Thank you, Smythe,” Laetitia said, easing herself up from her seat to follow me into the hallway, where a small trunk waited. “I suppose Ash has sent on your luggage,” she said, not knowing that I didn’t even own the clothes on my back.

“I suppose he must have done,” I agreed, unsure what else I could say. I accepted the telegram, which was brief and to the point.

MESSAGE RECEIVED. AWAIT FURTHER

INSTRUCTION. MF

Despite giving no detail, and the fact the message didn’t mention Izzy or my mother at all, I felt a strange sense of calm, that everything would be handled. I wondered what it must be like to be a woman as competent as Mrs Finch – that the people around her had such absolute faith in her ability to resolve any problem.

“I’ll help you up to your room,” Laetitia said, gesturing to the trunk.

“I can do that, madam,” Smythe said stiffly, and I was relieved when Laetitia gave him a sharp look of reprimand. I thought getting the trunk upstairs might be the death of the man.

“I would rather you see to our other guests, Smythe. They are important women, you know, and I’m neglecting them. I believe Mary’s drink was perilously low.”

Smythe straightened as much as his stooped form would allow. “Of course.” He hurried off.

“Man refuses to retire,” Laetitia explained to me as we carried the trunk between us up the narrow stairway. “He’s been with my family since before I was born. I think the fact that I never married means he can’t bear to desert me.”

She pushed open the door to a room on the second floor, which was elegantly furnished: a floral paper on the walls, and a window looking down on to the leafy street below.

We dropped the trunk on the bed.

“It’s nice that he’s so attached to you,” I said, thinking that I could see Wheeler doing much the same thing.

“Hmmm.” Laetitia made a nondescript noise and then glanced around the room. “If there’s anything else you need, then please do let me know.”

“It’s kind of you,” I said, curiosity burning. “May I ask … how you and Ash are acquainted?”

Laetitia gave that thin-lipped smile. “Our families are distantly connected,” she said. “When he was a boy, I was his tutor for a brief period. Unfortunately, Freddie was far more interested in catching frogs and releasing them in the schoolroom than in mathematics.” I might almost have missed the reluctant affection in her voice had I not seen the two of them together. I knew enough about Ash’s childhood to imagine that affection meant a great deal to him.

“But never mind all that,” she said, brisk once more. “I’ll leave you to freshen up before dinner. It should only be ten minutes or so, and we’re not terribly formal.” I saw her gaze come to linger on my face, where I was sure the cut on my temple must be visible.