Chapter 5 #2
It seemed to be a familiar and comprehensible story to both of the ladies listening, and neither inquired further into the topic before proceeding with other questions.
While the black-dressed secretary held the pen, Mrs Bevan herself remained beside the desk.
Once Elizabeth’s name, address, and other particulars were taken, she began to ask a series of questions on particular skills and accomplishments.
Elizabeth could see the doubt in Mrs Bevan’s eyes after learning her age and hearing that she had neither been to school nor had a governess. Then, however, as they talked of classic literature, poetry, and the French language, Mrs Bevan’s interest appeared to increase.
“I must apologise for my accent,” Elizabeth confessed after a short exchange in French. “I learned solely from books and have never had the advantage of conversation with French natives.”
“Never mind,” responded the proprietor kindly. “What about mathematics? Can you solve these kinds of problems, for instance, and explain them to someone else?”
Mrs Bevan pushed across a piece of paper with a relatively simple set of geometric questions. Not finding them too challenging, Elizabeth outlined her answers and received a nod of approbation that she was not sure she deserved.
“My father taught me to solve simple mathematical puzzles for a game when I was a child, but I can do nothing more complex, I’m afraid,” she admitted, not wishing Mrs Bevan to get a false idea of her abilities.
“Very good. It would be unusual to require a higher level of mathematics than this, Miss Bennet. There is no need to be modest on this score. You are very young and clearly untutored, but it seems you have a good mind and a rounded education of some sort.”
“My father has an excellent library,” Elizabeth said with a smile, her eyes glancing briefly at the package of books on the desk beside her.
“That is often the best teacher in the hands of a pupil who wishes to learn, although entirely useless to those who do not,” observed Mrs Bevan, taking off her spectacles and looking thoughtful. “What about music, Miss Bennet? Do you play or sing?”
“I play the pianoforte and sing a little, although I make no great claims for my abilities in either,” Elizabeth replied.
“You play the pianoforte adequately,” the older lady paraphrased. “Hmmm. That is an asset, especially when someone is starting out, like you. Now, what are your expectations as to salary?”
At this stark question, Elizabeth swallowed and pushed back a surge of vague panic. What on earth should she say? Until a few minutes ago, she’d had no idea of seeking work, and now she was being asked to name her price.
Thankfully, some relevant snatches of her conversation with Miss Caruthers came back to her from their conversation at Almack’s.
What had the governess said about the importance of valuing yourself if you wished employers to value you equally?
Hadn’t she also mentioned a minimum remuneration for women beginning in the profession?
“I am seeking thirty pounds per year, as well as my upkeep,” Elizabeth stated calmly, holding Mrs Bevan’s incisive gaze despite the butterflies in her stomach and the knowledge that this could be relatively high for a girl of twenty years without any formal education or high degree of accomplishment.
Mrs Bevan did not quibble with this figure, however, and the black-clad secretary wrote it down unquestioned on what was now Elizabeth’s page in their registration book.
“Well, Miss Bennet, I believe you are currently better qualified as a companion than a governess, and we should begin by looking for roles of that kind. If you aspire to become a governess in the future, you should work as much as you can on languages and learn to draw.”
Elizabeth nodded, this advice seeming sensible to her, although she was not really sure she could say what she aspired to.
This interview seemed to be drawing to its conclusion as the secretary made some final notes, blotted the registration book and closed it.
Mrs Bevan had fallen silent, and Elizabeth made to stand and take her leave.
“Do you have much experience with young people, Miss Bennet?” inquired the older woman before Elizabeth was on her feet.
“My youngest sisters are but fifteen and seventeen, and I often have the supervision of them, together with my elder sister,” answered Elizabeth, smiling a little ruefully at the thought of Lydia and Kitty.
“They have little interest in books, learning or music. My responsibilities are therefore largely around keeping track of them at dances and other social events and reminding them of their manners.”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mrs Bevan smiled broadly at this tale.
“Fifteen and seventeen – just the right age. I wonder…”
The right age for what? Mrs Bevan must have seen the confusion on Elizabeth’s face because she smiled again, more reassuringly this time.
“We have a particularly fastidious client on our books at the moment, seeking a temporary companion for his ward, who is around the same age as your younger sisters. He has presented his own list of written questions for potential candidates, if you would care to take the time to answer them.”
Unsure how to answer this, Elizabeth delayed her response while she looked over the rather long list of questions handed to her by the secretary.
“He has already turned down some of the best qualified ladies on my books, so I cannot offer you any great hopes,” added Mrs Bevan.
“Still, since you play the pianoforte, your father is a gentleman, and you seem to be of a sensible and amiable temperament, it is worth putting your name forward for consideration.”
“Those are his main requirements, are they?” asked Elizabeth with some amusement at this client’s nature and the peculiar details of his questions. “A little music, gentle birth and common sense with a smile?”
Mrs Bevan laughed at this précis.
“That is what he says. Sometimes clients themselves are not entirely sure what they want until they find the right fit. My own assessment is that this gentleman ultimately wishes his ward to be happy and exposed to good influences.”
So, this was to be a temporary companion role with a fussy but caring guardian in the background.
The fact that he had already turned down so many well-qualified candidates made Elizabeth feel quite safe from the possibility that she might be selected for the job.
Some impish part of her character was also itching to address the pernickety list of questions.
“If you would like me to answer these questions, then I shall,” she told Mrs Bevan, receiving an approving smile.
“Very good. Miss Greene will give you a pen and ink, and you may write where you are. She will take the paper when you are finished. I suggest you come back in a week to see what other opportunities are on hand. Most of our present roles are for more experienced governesses.”
Putting her glasses back on, the agency’s proprietor looked over towards the waiting women on the sofas and armchairs.
“Of course, I quite understand,” Elizabeth acknowledged, gathering that there was presently nothing else on the books that would fit her limited talents, and feeling somewhat relieved by this.
“Now, if you will excuse me, Miss Bennet, I have my next meeting scheduled in five minutes.”
Taking her leave and collecting one of the women from the sofa, Mrs Bevan disappeared back into her private rooms. Picking up the pen and paper from the writing tray Miss Greene had already prepared for her, Elizabeth set to work.
This client did indeed come across as a rather fussy man. In her head, Elizabeth soon pictured him as an elderly gentleman, unfamiliar with the education of young ladies but keen to do his very best for this ward, perhaps the granddaughter of an old friend.
The list of “required reading” particularly diverted her.
This gentleman seemed to think that ladies ought to have familiarity with both ancient and modern classics, as well as poetry and a variety of other subjects.
While Elizabeth did possess at least a superficial grasp of most, thanks to her father and his library, the inclusion of certain subjects and books was both baffling and amusing.
Political economy? Why on earth should ladies spend their time reading political economy when all political and economic decisions were taken by men?
Nor, in Elizabeth’s experience, were female views and interventions in such subjects welcomed when ventured in mixed company.
Perhaps a lady born or married into a political family might have use for such learning, but for the vast majority, it was irrelevant at best.
Thinking along such lines, and drawing on her wide reading and quick wit, Elizabeth had no problem answering most of the client’s questions and posing some of her own in return. Feeling pleased with herself, she laughed as she set down her pen and blotted the paper a quarter of an hour later.
“Thank you for your help, Miss Greene,” she said pleasantly, handing over her work.
“I hope we will see you again soon, Miss Bennet,” returned the secretary politely, filing the paper away with what looked to be a pile of similar sheets in a tray to her left.
Doubtful that she would ever again visit or hear from “Mrs Bevan’s Employment Bureau for Ladies of Quality,” Elizabeth merely smiled and bid the secretary farewell.
The morning had been a private adventure into another world, and Elizabeth returned to Gracechurch Street with her father’s books under her arm and a spring in her step.