Chapter 19
“ARE YOU GOING to tell me?”
Ella glanced up from the crimson ribbon she was absently winding between her fingers to see Mrs. Chatterly’s reflection in the dressing table mirror. “Tell you what?”
Mrs. Chatterly spun from the dressing table to retrieve a gown. “You’ve got something on your mind. I can always tell. You get this look in your eyes and your brow furrows just so. If you’re not careful, those wrinkles will be permanent.”
Ella could feel the sting of tears burning the backs of her eyes. No doubt Mrs. Chatterly would faint away from shock if she were to display the emotion begging to be released.
But even if she wanted to share her feelings, how could Ella possibly describe them?
Truth and facts were the backbone of everything she did—not emotions and sentiment.
When Ella did not respond, Mrs. Chatterly sighed, put down the gown, pulled a chair closer to her young mistress, and sat. “I can almost see the thoughts running through that head of yours, each one faster and bigger than the last. You’d feel better if you got those thoughts out.”
Ella stared down at her hands in her lap, unsure of what to say until the crushing, expectant silence wrestled the words from her and she could stand it no more.
“Father just told me he will give Mr. Abernathy his blessing to propose to me. He’s determined I should be married.
Posthaste. I don’t even think he cares about the man’s identity so long as the bargain is struck. ”
Mrs. Chatterly’s practical response was immediate. “And what do you think about that?”
Ella scoffed. “You know what I think about it. Mr. Abernathy is a dull, uninspired man. How could my father think it prudent or suitable that I should be shackled to such a person for the rest of my life? I do not think that fate would be worth it—not even for Keatley Hall.”
Mrs. Chatterly waited until Ella’s passionate tone faded before she settled against the chair, as if preparing to divulge a story.
“I’m going to tell you something about your father, Ella.
Your mother first met him at a lecture, very much like this one, and they were both immediately smitten.
She was but seventeen years of age, and your father was a decade her senior, and her father—your grandfather Keatley—strongly opposed the match. ”
Curious, Ella sniffed. “I didn’t know that. What reason did he have to oppose it?”
“Your father was from a good family, as you know, and he was financially stable and very, very intelligent. He was generally liked by all, but at times he was perceived as flighty or even absent-minded. Your grandfather knew that one day his daughter’s husband would become the headmaster of this school. He did not think your father suited.”
“How could that be? He has been such an excellent headmaster for so many years. Everyone thinks so.”
“Mr. Keatley thought your father was too lighthearted and that he laughed too much. Your mother, oh so headstrong and stubborn, followed her heart, and it worked out just fine in the end.” Mrs. Chatterly shifted and leaned forward, refusing to let Ella look away.
“What I’m trying to say is that your father is acting out of fear.
He’s been in this situation for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like to be young and excited about life.
He was once carefree, but he learned how to be a headmaster.
Just because Mr. Abernathy is a good fit practically doesn’t mean he is the only one who can rise to the challenge. ”
Ella frowned as the words struck. “But Mother loved Father. I can barely abide Mr. Abernathy.”
“You have more options than you know.” She stood and moved back to the wardrobe.
“Like your mother said, be curious about those around you and the different options that present themselves. Just because they aren’t obvious doesn’t make them wrong.
” Mrs. Chatterly paused her words to shake the wrinkles from the gown.
“I had my doubts about Mr. Rowe attending the symposium, but I can admit when I’m wrong.
I may be an old spinster, but I recognize the look of attraction between two people. ”
“I don’t think—”
“Your eyes brighten when his name is mentioned,” Mrs. Chatterly interrupted.
“Normally I’d never encourage you to go against your father’s wishes, but he’s not himself at present.
If your mother had one dream for you, it was that you should forge your own path.
And that is exactly what I hope you will do. ”
As Mr. Bauer prepared to take the makeshift stage in the great hall for the evening demonstration, Ella and Phoebe selected two chairs near the front.
Ella thought she’d managed to avoid Mr. Abernathy since their uncomfortable interaction at the morning lecture, but just as the event was getting underway, he sat in the empty seat next to her. “Might I join you?”
She stiffened as he sat down without waiting for her response. Ella could sense Phoebe’s surprise at the sudden interruption, but it would not do to cause a scene.
“I looked for you after the lecture this morning, but you were nowhere to be found,” he said as he leaned uncomfortably close, his high-pitched voice barely above a whisper and the scent of freshly applied cologne overwhelming. “I thought that perhaps I upset you, and I wanted to apologize.”
She inched away from him to the far edge of her chair. “No need to apologize, Mr. Abernathy. It is behind us.”
To her dismay he continued, “I know you’re not pleased that Mr. Bauer is here, but maybe seeing a demonstration will change your mind.”
The more Mr. Abernathy talked, the less Ella heard, for she spied Mr. Rowe entering the great hall with Mr. Templeton.
The memory of her conversation with Mrs. Chatterly leapt to life. Could Mr. Rowe be the answer? He was energetic. Interesting. Confident. Incredibly attractive. Was he the sort of man she could find happiness with?
“Miss Wilde?”
Mr. Abernathy touched her arm to recapture her attention. She recoiled at the bold physical contact, but before she could respond, Mr. Bauer’s voice filled the chamber.
“How pleased I am to have the ladies join us.” Mr. Bauer stretched his arms out wide in a welcoming gesture, a broad smile on his face.
The candlelight scattered around the chamber glistened from the jeweled ring on his finger and the gold pin in his cravat.
“I had the immense pleasure of discussing the merits and hallmarks of phrenology with the men this morning, but now I’ll demonstrate firsthand the power and accuracy of phrenology when it is practiced properly.
What you are about to witness is not magic nor witchcraft but a calculated approach, tested and true.
We’ve already had a volunteer for our first demonstration, and Mr. Norton will be our first guest.”
A round of applause circled the room as Mr. Norton left his seat next to his wife and stepped up to Mr. Bauer.
“Now, Mr. Norton,” Mr. Bauer continued as the older man sat in the chair next to him. “We’ve spoken about you being assessed today, but we have never met before, have we?”
“No, sir.”
“I have never touched your head, and I know nothing about you.”
“Correct.”
“And you’re aware I might ascertain character traits that might be considered unfavorable. Correct?”
“I am.”
Mr. Bauer turned once again toward the audience.
“It is far easier, even after all these years, to assess someone I’ve never encountered before.
I can’t begin to describe how many times I’ve assessed an individual whom I think I know well, only to find that they are nothing like I thought they were.
Once I am armed with the phrenological truth of their character, the wool is removed from my eyes and I see them for who they truly are—with all their faults and virtues.
Isn’t that the reality of human existence?
A blend of the positive and negative, the advantageous and the disadvantageous? ”
A hush fell over the room as the man began to touch the volunteer’s head.
He measured Mr. Norton’s great head from every angle.
The circumference. The distance from the base of his ears to his crown.
The distance from his eyes to the top of his head.
The distance from his neck to his chin. And on and on.
After completing his measurements, Mr. Bauer placed his hands on Norton’s head and moved them over it, methodically and symmetrically.
Every so often he would pause his action and whisper to Mr. Gutt, who would then write something down.
After about a quarter of an hour, Mr. Bauer turned to the crowd once again.
Perspiration gathered on his brow as if he was under a great deal of duress, and he made a show of withdrawing his handkerchief and dragging it across his brow.
“Mr. Norton,” boomed Mr. Bauer as he addressed his subject.
“I’ve completed the assessment, and my findings, in my opinion, are quite conclusive.
Your acquisitiveness organ is quite developed and prominent, which tells me that you are a frugal gentleman and very aware of where your money goes and how it is used.
Not to the point of being miserly, for you do appreciate a luxurious life, but you recognize your limits.
Your concentrative organ is also prominent, which tells me you are stubborn in your beliefs and are not easily swayed.
You’ll debate a topic and defend it until you have been decidedly disproven. ”
A chuckle sounded from the crowd.
“By examining your form organ, I can deduce that you have a definite gift for drawing or sculpting, meaning that you can replicate what you see before you. While you may forget a name, you will never forget a face. Once you have been to a location, you remember the details of the things around you. But, as with everyone, no head is completely balanced. I’ve yet to see a head with perfect dimensions.
I can see that based on the indentation of the head at your time organ, you struggle with remembering dates and you often lose track of time.
I daresay that your watch fob is not for fashion but rather a necessity, for your ability to estimate the passing of time is lacking. ”
Ella joined in with the ensuing applause, but doubts surfaced. Anyone who was around Mr. Norton for any length of time might know those things.
“Mrs. Norton, I will call upon you now,” Mr. Bauer continued. “Have I said anything about your husband that rings true?”
She clasped her hands together as if amazed. “Remarkable. You have described him accurately. Not many people are aware of his painting skills, and yet you noticed it right away!”
Ella couldn’t resist looking back toward Mr. Rowe. Surely he had the same feelings she did.
But he wasn’t there.
She looked over her other shoulder. He was nowhere to be found.
Mr. Norton descended from the stage, and Mr. Bauer’s booming voice echoed once again.
“It’s important to note that the assessment of a woman is different than a man’s.
Men, by nature, have larger heads, and the general shape and dimensions also differ.
Women generally tend to have larger organs in areas of domestic importance.
But I digress. If possible, is there a lady present who would like to join me so I may demonstrate this difference? ”
Phoebe’s hand flew into the air.
Alarmed, Ella grabbed her other hand.
Phoebe shook it off.
Mr. Bauer smiled. “Ah, Miss Hawthorne! A charming subject. Please, please, join me.”
He turned to the guests. “I do have the honor of being acquainted with the Hawthorne family, and I have had the pleasure of spending time in Miss Hawthorne’s company.
I mentioned that I prefer performing assessments on subjects I’m not familiar with, but I think in this case I’ll happily make an exception. ”
Beaming, Phoebe sat in the chair, and when asked to do so, she removed the pins from her hair. Her light brown hair fell over her shoulders, and he began.
Mr. Bauer’s assessment process was similar to that with Mr. Norton. He measured her head, and then he placed his hands atop her head. He whispered to Mr. Gutt. When he was done, he addressed Phoebe directly.
“Aw, Miss Hawthorne, a delight. When I see an assessment like this, I have hope in the future and the good in the world. As with many women, your philoprogenitiveness organ is prominent. You are fond of children and animals, almost to the point of indulgence. Your conscientiousness organ is also one to note. You are honest and faithful, nearly to a fault. Yet I also do try to share some of the areas that I note are lacking. When studying your head, I found a deficiency in your locality organ. Do not be alarmed, it is a common deficiency among the fairer sex, but it tells me you have very little navigational sense. That your ability to remember directions and locations is not great.”
A chill traversed Ella’s spine. She was watching a deception play out right in front of her. Her friend was being played for a fool. Anger burned in her chest. She determined to appear calm, but in her heart fresh determination flared: She would expose the truth about phrenology no matter the cost.