Seven Minutes in Heaven(24)

That seemed impolite. But Susan’s letter was impolite as well.

“All right,” Eugenia said reluctantly. “I suppose it’s best to respond.”

Susan gave the letter a final shake and closed the sand box. “I am curious to see his reply.”

“What else did you put in that letter?” Eugenia asked suspiciously. “You stopped reading aloud toward the end.”

“I merely said that Snowe’s is always here to provide support for our governesses.”

“Lord knows what he’ll think of me.”

“You are scarcely a good judge, since you’re generally bosky as a goose after a second glass of sherry, and we have had three. It’s a good thing I wrote the letter—since I’m not the one wildly intrigued by a certain Oxford don. Who knows what you might have written!”

Before Eugenia could swat her, Susan escaped, laughing.





Chapter Nine





Fawkes House

Wheatley

April 29, 1801



Dear Mrs. Snowe,

You asked about Otis, and I regret to report that he has disgraced himself. I believe it is normal for eight-year-olds to shed teeth, and indeed, Otis takes great pleasure in pulling down his lip to display bloody gaps in his lower jaw.

When the children first arrived at my house, Lizzie informed me that Otis should be paid for every tooth he shed, after which those teeth should be burnt or Otis would risk hardship in the afterlife. Pretty much every aspect of this scenario struck me as unlikely, but I have decided it is best not to challenge Lizzie’s authority in questions of death and its repercussions.

Otis began to collect payments from my butler, Gumwater, who paid for 14 teeth over the course of a fortnight. Gumwater’s excuse is that he has never looked into the mouth of a small boy and has no wish to begin.

What I have dubbed the Great Tooth Swindle came to an end when Gumwater at last queried an enormous molar whose former owner turned out to be a bull. Miss Midge is justly worried about this lapse in ethics, but I assured her that Otis would eventually learn respectable ways to make money. She didn’t like this answer either, as she has a strong conviction that Otis should concentrate on lordly skills such as using a handkerchief and making a gentlemanly bow. He is exhibiting a marked lack of skill in both areas.

I have no reluctance to speak of my mother, although I know little about her. By the time I reached my majority and might have pursued a relationship, she had disappeared with Lord Darcy.

I expect that your late husband was a model of comportment and sanity in contrast with the speckled, rotten apples on my family tree. What was Mr. Snowe’s profession? His demise must have followed hard on your wedding, so I picture him as an elderly man.

Surely you meant to ask about my first name, which is Theodore. I was called Teddy in my childhood, but at Eton I realized that the diminutive did not convey the kind of bravado that a bastard must exhibit to thrive. My friends call me Ward, by the way.

Your most obedient servant,

Edward Braxton Reeve

P.S. I take your silence to indicate that your given name is neither Georgette nor Rosamund. Wilhelmina? Josephine?



There was no question but that Eugenia should not reply to this appallingly intimate letter. She’d never done anything in her life as scandalous as taking part in this exchange. She managed to stop herself for a whole day before she sat down at her desk.

May 4, 1801

Dear Mr. Reeve,

Snowe’s gives an annual party just before the opening of Parliament every year. In the crowning glory of the evening, each of my employees climbs on a table and presents an argument that her charges deserve the title “Most Misbehaved.” We also award “Most Improved,” but the competition is never as formidable. I am considering calling the whole thing off next year, on the grounds that Miss Midge should win by fiat.

Your letter made me laugh, not only at Otis’s resourcefulness (although I do agree with Miss Midge that gentlemen ought not to engage in chicanery), but at the idea that Mr. Snowe was elderly. My husband was only one year older than I. He drowned in a boating accident, which was a tremendous shock to all who knew him.

I have been thinking that my advice that you not discuss your mother’s loss with Lizzie and Otis may be mistaken. After reading your letter, I realized that no one ever asks me about Andrew. It was such a tragedy that from the day after his funeral, people have tried to avoid uttering his name in my presence.

Please give Miss Midge my best wishes,

Mrs. Snowe





May 13, 1801

Dear Mrs. Snowe,

Once again you have forgotten to reveal your given name. Petunia? Claudette?

We have had an exciting few days, Mrs. Snowe, and if only for the reputation of your agency, I believe that you must pay us a visit. I spent two years in the Americas, and can assure you that ever since what is known as The Incident, Miss Midge has taken on a distinct resemblance to a rabid raccoon I encountered in that country.