10. Women of Work
Chapter 10
Women of Work
T he next day, Jane and I waited for the omnibus, and we rode it to our places of work.
“There is no need to worry over my not coming home today,” she explained. “I have an arrangement where I remain at the Kirkpatricks for four days a week, then I am allowed to go home for the other three.”
“The Kirkpatricks are very understanding, thank goodness,” I extoled, “usually, families want a governess to remain staying at the house eight days a week.”
“Yes,” Jane said, “no matter whatever other circumstances are happening in my life, I have at least been very fortunate in that way. It was Mr. Kirkpatrick’s doing. When I explained my situation, he was very kind about it. And besides, Mrs. Kirkpatrick prefers to have some nights where she tends to her children, so that they feel a stronger connection to her than is usually the case.”
“A mother and father who actually likes spending time with their children?” I asked, with a raised eyebrow, speaking in irony. “How deliciously unorthodox. Then it follows that we shall not see you till Sunday evening?” I asked.
“I know that you will be fine while I am gone,” Jane assured me, “you have a habit of being the quickest of us to recover.”
“You do me too much credit.”
“When I first came here, I cried every night for three weeks. You mastered it in one. You will do well here.”
It came time for her stop, I squeezed her arm affectionately and watched her as she disembarked. Without her for the next four days, it would be just Kitty and myself.
At last, I reached Granger Hall. I called for my stop, disembarked the omnibus and stood in front of the large building. Its steps lay before me, like a majestic bit of ominousness. Every aspect of it had an intimidating factor—then again, education can be an overpowering thing. Necessary. And when taught correctly, it’s even enjoyable. Unfortunately, most instructors that I have seen were quite abysmal at their trade. Their tones were monotonous, their rhetoric redundant, and their behavior tyrannical. It was almost as if they were selfish with their knowledge and did not wish to share it with the very pupils that they were there to enlighten. Perhaps there was a bit of vanity involved in the matter, but who knows?
Suddenly, for reasons that I cannot fathom, Mr. Darcy’s face flashed across my mind. More importantly, his tone and attitude struck me the hardest. From his cold demeanor to the way that he lorded his prestigious education over everyone’s head, exposing all to his superior mind—for, as much as I wished to deny it, his mind was indeed… superior. For a second, I entertained the idea of him standing in front of a classroom, with children staring up at him, expectantly. It was an alarming thing to think about. Children would run away from him in fear.
Unless he was as he was when I last saw him here, in Milton. He had softened under the weight of my history with him. If that is the case, then he could be gentler, when he chose. So, would Mr. Darcy be a horrible professor…or would he have found a better way of being?
Dismissing his image from my mind, I raised up my skirts and climbed the steps. When I entered, it was to find a man pacing back and forth, expectant, and nervous. He was stout, and his cheeks were a little red. With his blonde hair parted to the side, a few strands would escape as he wiped them away from his eyes. As he checked his watch, I made a deduction of who he might be.
“Mr. Hunnicutt?” I asked. The man lowered his watch and turned to me.
“Yes, can I help you, miss?” he asked.
“My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” I said, “I am the new notetaker for the Hall and I believe that I am expected.”
“Yes, yes,” he said, walking up to me merrily. Offering me his hand, I was flustered. When he saw me confused, he removed his hand and felt ashamed. “Oh, you are not accustomed to shaking a man’s hand, are you?”
“No, I confess that I am not,” I admitted, “I have shaken hands before, but still need a little time for it to be the common custom. Forgive me. Did I offend you?”
“No, I should have realized. Forgive my ignorance.”
“I need a little time to learn Northern ways, I acknowledge. Therefore, perhaps we could meet each other halfway in that score.”
“Yes, you are from the South.”
“Yes. I was raised in Hertfordshire. I am prepared to learn fast, I assure you. However, I will need occasional correction. If I do something that is not to the Northern customs, you will not be offending me by informing me of such. Due to present circumstances, I would prefer to do everything in my power to maintain this position.”
“Yes, I was informed of your family’s situation,” he said. “May we?” he asked, waving his hand toward the hall.
“With pleasure,” I replied, and followed him.
“My condolences for the loss of your parents,” Mr. Hunnicutt offered. Ah! There was that word again.
“Thank you. It has been months since they passed, but I do not deny that the loss still affects me. It would be foolish to ignore the reality of it.”
“And too right you should not,” he assured me, “to ignore the pain of a loss is not healthy to the mind, I have often felt. Better to expose your own reflections to the truth, or recovery shall never be obtained.”
“That is just what I think,” I responded. “I think I might like working for you.”
He chuckled at this and then he sighed.
“I regret to inform you that you are not working under my employment. I am merely your contact. The main professor who requested an official notetaker for the hall was a Mr. Virgil Hanley. He organizes the hall and he himself is a professor.”
“What does he teach?” I asked.
“Industrial Evolution and Engineering.”
“An interesting area of education.”
“Oh, yes!”
“When do I report to him?” I asked, removing my gloves.
“Right now,” he informed me, “right now.”
We stopped in front of a door.
The door was of a mahogany oak. For some reason, the image of it cast a great weight upon my mind.
“Nervous?” Mr. Hunnicutt asked me.
I smiled.
“Somewhat. The fear of the unknown, you must understand.”
“Oh, I understand.”
“Also, did Mr. Bell write to you about my situation? He informed me that he had.”
Mr. Hunnicutt looked down at me over his spectacles, knowingly.
“Oh, yes, dear lady.”
“Well, here is where the truth will out!” I remarked. “There is no one here beside me, so I will have to do my best to convince Mr. Hanley that this is the best course. When I first saw you, and you smiled at me, I thought that you were the one that I would have to persuade. I thought that it would be easy to persuade you that I am qualified to remain here, but now, I do not know what is on the other side of this door.”
“In your case, it will take some convincing,” he informed me. “Mr. Hanley is not a harsh man, but his mind does tend toward the traditional . And who doesn’t?”
“Yes. After all, who doesn’t fear the word ‘change’? I confess, that word even unnerved me for a time.”
“I will say this, Miss Bennet. I do wish that I was the one who you had to convince. If it helps, I would not have debated the issue for a minute.”
“Thank you. Oh well, best to get on with it.”
“Yes.”
Mr. Hunnicutt knocked on the door and a thunderous voice said ‘enter.’
“He also has a strong voice,” Mr. Hunnicutt described, “but he is known to change his tone when speaking to ladies.”
“Is that true?” I asked.
“Actually, I have no notion.”
His lie was well-meaning enough, and I was grateful. He opened the door for me, and I followed him inside.
I walked into a traditional office that belonged to a traditional Oxford Academic. But there was one thing added to it: papers and books everywhere and in disarray. There was a rustic beauty to the clutter. But that was the only warmth that was exuded from the room. Almost as if it was succumbing to the intellectual idea of grays, browns, blacks, and greens, being the ONLY colors that adhere to a professional man, the room was devoid of any other vibrancy.
Along the other side of the room was a small library that opened to another smaller compartment. I was able to see as much, because of the windows that disappeared around the corner.
“Mr. Hanley?” Mr. Hunnicutt called, “I have our newest employee here for your review.”
From around the corner of the bookshelves, Mr. Hanley appeared. He was holding a stack of papers over a book, and there was a pen in his hand, with a small container of ink in between his fingers.
When seeing me, he halted.
“Employee?”
“Yes,” I said, “Good day, Mr. Hanley.” Stepping forward, I offered my hand to shake—yes, I would begin to learn already! “My name is Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Mr. Bell wrote to you of me being recommended for the appointment of Notetaker for Granger Hall.”
At first, he merely looked at me. This gave me ample chance to look upon him and note his appearance. He was of a fairly good height, being around five foot nine, he had a lean countenance, medium brown hair and was perhaps in his late forties/fifties. His eyes were sharp and penetrating. He wore dark green trousers and waistcoat, a white shirt, and gray tie-kerchief. His sleeves were rolled up and I could tell that my seeing his bare forearms unnerved him.
“My hand is here, sir,” I said, still letting it hang in the air. At last, he remembered himself. Setting his objects down on his desk, he went to take my hand before I retracted mine. This disconcerted him, but then he realized the culprit.
His hand had ink on the palm.
“My apologies,” he stated. Taking his handkerchief from out of his pocket, he tried to wipe it down.
“There is no need for that,” I urged him, so that we could continue, “we can begin, surely, without the clasping of hands.”
“Yes, we can…well, yes, we can.” Mr. Hanley looked past me and at Mr. Hunnicutt. “I am afraid that I do not understand…”
“She is the new Notetaker, sir,” Mr. Hunnicutt elaborated.
Mr. Hanley turned to me, critical.
“There must be some mistake.”
“Mr. Hunnicutt,” I said, “thank you for escorting me to Mr. Hanley. You do not need to remain to see what happens next.”
“Very good, dear lady,” he said, “if you do need any more assistance, I shall be in the next office, to the right.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Mr. Hunnicutt left us. Mr. Hanley still looked at me in disbelief, but I was prepared for this.
“If you do not mind,” I voiced, “I shall sit.”
“Oh, yes…of course.”
I sat down in the seat opposite him, unbuttoning my coat. While I did so, Mr. Hanley’s eyes never left me. This did not intimidate me one jot! After all, I had been prepared for this the entire time. Therefore, my courage needed to not let me down.
Looking up at Mr. Hanley, I saw his eyes still looking on me with a cold criticalness.
“I suspect that you are surprised by who I am.”
“Yes, I am,” he replied. Walking to the other side of his desk, he sat down slowly in his chair. “I suspect that I ought to offer you some refreshment, but I have nothing on hand, I am afraid.”
“I understand. I’ve come to gather all the information for my duties. From knowing when is the first day that I begin, what are the hours that I ought to come, the names of the professors that I am to assist, and what hours I am to keep per week. Also, I was informed that you would supply all the paper and ink for my services.”
“Miss…”
“Bennet.”
“Yes. I am sorry, there must be some kind of mistake during all the proceedings.”
“I understand your confusion over the matter.”
He leaned forward.
“Do you?”
“Yes. Mr. Bell informed me that I would go into this interview with you never being informed that I am a woman.”
“Correct.”
And the moment of confrontation arrived.
“Well,” I gathered, “I suppose that the subject would be inevitable, therefore, yes, you may discuss it.”
“Miss Bennet, I have been denied critical information.”
“Critical?”
“Yes. I have been quite deceived.”
“How so, sir? After all, Mr. Bell wrote that you would receive an experienced Notetaker by the name of E. Bennet. He has seen, firsthand, my diligence to my work and my improvement over the years.”
“Improvement?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“I do not deny that I was terrible when I first started. Or mediocre, if you will. However, I applied myself and have proven myself to be as reliable and dependable as anyone else in the amanuensis profession.”
“I was not told that you were?—”
“A woman.”
“Precisely.”
“Does this mean that you will not employ me? Despite my references, recommendations and the fact that I uprooted myself from London to Milton?”
“Well, you must understand…”
“That there is no room for consideration of my qualifications because of incorrect preferences.”
“Incorrect preferences? I was misinformed that you were a woman.”
“And what does that have to do with anything?”
“There is no such thing as female Notetakers.”
“Correction. There is no such thing as female Notetakers here in Milton.”
He raised an eyebrow again; he seemed to do that a lot.
“Are you about to inform me that there are other areas in London that are employing a female amanuensis in schools such as these?”
“Perhaps not in Cambridge or Oxford, but the idea of having a female Notetaker is beginning to come into fashion. And even if it doesn’t, that is superfluous in my situation.”
“And why so?”
“Because… Mr. Hanley, I was told that you have a fair-minded way about you. Or at the very least, that you have the ability to give someone a chance and allow them to prove themselves. Mr. Bell did not include my sex, because he did not think it mattered. Or at the very least, he would find our predicament amusing. Either way, he knew that when I presented myself, I would be given a chance.”
He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his lip. There was no more reason to give, so I just waited for him to respond.
At last, he leaned forward in his chair.
“I will have to test you,” he informed me.
“Provide me with a pen, paper and ink,” I said, placing my reticule on the floor. “And a desk to begin, then we can start.”
He flinched.
“You are a very determined young lady.”
“I am a lady who has lost her parents and must make her own way in the world. I find that I prefer to earn my keep and holding up a pretense of delicacy gets nothing done. Therefore, we can begin this test whenever you are ready.”
Not wasting any time, he produced the paper, pen and ink and let me sit at a small desk in the room. I placed a line down the page, so that I could write the information in columns.
“Ready?” he asked.
“Aye.”
He began to give a lecture and I began to take the notes as he spoke.
After fifteen minutes of this, he stopped and requested to see how I had fared.
“I wrote in shorthand, if you don’t mind,” I said, “I did so for the sake of accuracy, and have no qualms on re-writing things in full-phrasing. Would you like me to do that first?”
“A true Oxford Academic learns shorthand,” he said, putting on his spectacles. Walking over to me, he grabbed the papers greedily and began to read it. Calmly, I sat there and waited. Whether he liked my notation or not, was entirely up to him. I had learned the trade to the best of my ability and my self-assurance would not be shaken over whatever he determined.
At last, he finished reading. Lowering the pages, he removed his spectacles, sat down at his desk, and cast his eyes upon me.
“Well?” I questioned. “What is to be my fate? After all, you’re the one who determines it.”
“You have a sharp tongue,” he said, “you will have to correct that, if you are to work here.”
“Why?”
“Because it is not professional.”
“Have I used my words incorrectly?” I asked, sitting still and very much unintimidated.
“If you are to work here, I would require you to be civil.”
“What is uncivil about my speech?”
“It is?—”
“Free?”
When I uttered the word, he blinked.
“Mr. Hanley,” I continued, keeping my voice even, “you must excuse me, but I’ve rarely met a proper man, or a poor man, who feared speaking to me. And for the few who did, and those are VERY few, they seemed to suffer under the weight of a deep insecurity. Most of the men that I’ve met were too secure to fear the depths that a voice like mine could raise. It was for this reason that Mr. Bell recommended me to you.”
“Was it?”
“Yes. He believed that I could thrive here…because he knew that I could hold a conversation. And look anyone in the eye. Wouldn’t you want someone like that for your notetaker? After all, these professors will need someone who makes them comfortable. Polite silence does not always conjure natural coexistence. Sir, please, tell me your reflections of my writing sample.”
He leaned back in his chair again and looked at the paper.
“You captured all the main points of the argument, all the keywords, and there was perfect clarity to your sentences. Also, your penmanship is clear and easy to read, which is the main thing. But there is the other dilemma. Or rather, the last impediment.”
“Impediment?”
“Yes. It was the main apprehension that first occurred to me when I saw you. Your gender’s chief issue, for my part, is in the distracting element of it.”
“Distracting?”
“You are a young woman. And, if you don’t mind my saying so, but you are extremely handsome. To see a lady writing away while in the class might be distracting to the gentlemen pupils.”
“I am not often described as being handsome.”
“Then the standards of beauty must be very extreme in the South. Here in the North, a pretty face is all the same to any man.” He stood up, went over to the window, and stared out of it. Easily, I began to understand that he was the sort of a man of such deep reflection, that any decision he made rose and fell after episodes of quiet deliberation.
“Miss Bennet, I am a practical man, and so I do this, as no sign of disrespect to you.”
I breathed inwardly, feeling the apprehension of rejection rise up and prepare to engulf me. Here came the bad news, and all my prospects would come crashing down before my feet. If I did not secure this position, where was I to turn? I would not be able to sustain myself and would be but a lump of baggage that Kitty and Jane would feel obliged to support.
“Would you be willing to have your desk placed at the back of the lecture hall, so that whenever the students sit down for their lessons, they won’t see you so very well? If they do not see you very often, then it won’t distract them from listening to the professors. My apologies, but sometimes beauty can be a curse.”
He was not discarding me! He merely wanted to place me in a spot where I would be the least amount of a distraction. And if that were merely a smokescreen for the truth, which was that he did not wish for the students to view a female amanuensis too often, then I would set aside my pride. After all, no matter Mr. Hanley’s motive, I obtained what I wanted.
“As long as I am placed at a location where I can hear the professor’s voice clearly enough to transcribe his words, then it will suffice,” I assented.
“Very good. As I understand it, you have just moved to Milton.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can give you three more days to settle your affairs of moving in. But you start work next Monday. Welcome to our staff.”
I smiled.
“Thank you, sir. I promise, due to past circumstances, I will strive to be a worthy scribe.”
“Past circumstances?”
“There was a time that I was not the best notetaker. So, I’ve spent the last few years trying to make up for that.”
“You are honest.”
“I don’t want you to feel as if you are hiring a liar.”
His eyes suddenly turned gentler.
“Well said, Miss Bennet. Be sure to arrive on Monday. Ten o’clock is your first lesson. It will be in the main hall.”
“Who is the professor that I shall be the notetaker for, during that class?”
“Professor Hunnicutt.”
When I left Mr. Hanley’s office, I noticed that I was all alone in the hall. Since there was no one to spy on me, I skipped down the hall, did a little jig and then I began to leave. As I did so, I came across Mr. Hunnicutt.
“Well?” he asked, with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you a professor, Mr. Hunnicutt?” I asked amusingly, despite already knowing the answer.
“Yes. I teach architecture.”
“Then I am your notetaker.”
He cheered for me, and I laughed.
“Are you always this kind?” I asked.
“Yes, I am. A byproduct of being born plain.”
“Well, I request that you continue to be nice to me. I need all the allies that I can get.”
“Welcome to Granger Hall.”
“Thank you. Now the trick is to last.”
“Oh, beauty very much can be a curse when a woman is seeking employment,” Kitty said as I was doing my best to make us a nice dinner. In our kitchen, I was undertaking to fry chicken and boil potatoes. Despite my efforts, I was still not used to the oven and stove, so I was doing my best to adapt.
I had told her about my day, and when I had reached the part in the story where Mr. Hanley had objected to my appearance more than my gender, Kitty was not surprised by this. Rather, it was evident that she had some experience in the matter.
“When I first arrived in Milton,” she said, unpinning her hair as she sat down in a chair, “getting work was difficult. The only quality that I had to my name was my demeanor. However, from working in taverns, to even being an assistant, many labelled me as too attractive for the post, and I was dismissed.”
“They really view beauty as a distraction?”
“Not just a distraction, but a dangerous hindrance.”
“What way do we impede the progress of their work?”
“Beauty draws admirers.”
I stopped preparing the butter for the potatoes, and I was able to deduce what she meant.
“And admirers bring potential conflict or scenes. Having admirers brings…complications. And they aren’t wrong. Beauty can bring out rash desire on men’s parts and potential jealousy on women’s parts.”
“Yes,” Kitty confirmed, unbuttoning the sleeves to her dress.
“Welcome to the world, where if you are plain, no one notices you, but if you are handsome, the wrong sort notices you.”
“ Welcome to the world of employment. Sometimes, I miss when Jane was regarded as the handsome one, and we were nothing compared to her.”
“Yes. It was all so much simpler back then.”
Kitty came up to me.
“You’re frying the chicken?” she asked.
“I learned,” I said.
She looked skeptical.
“Believe me,” I assured her. “It will taste good.”
When we sat down to eat, Kitty was wearing her nightdress, with her robe on top of it. Her hair was wet from it being washed as she sat down to eat.
“Elizabeth,” she advised me, “believe me. You will learn that there is no delight like bathing before you eat. It feels better that way. We have to cling to our happy moments where we may.”
She bit into my chicken, and she groaned.
“You don’t like it?” I asked, biting into it.
“I love it!” She said, between bites. “It is delightful.”
I smiled.
“Boiling is easy and accomplishes much,” I said, “but sometimes, other cultures do have a better idea.”
“I’ve never tasted anything like this.”
“And soon, you will never want it any differently. My apologies when there will be days that I will have to bake the meat.”
We continued to eat.
“Kitty?” I said, looking at her.
“Yes?”
“When you and Jane first moved out here, were you scared?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course, I was scared. I told you so.”
“But you seem so natural.”
“I’m natural because I have to be. Sometimes, I look into the fire, get lost in my thoughts and then wonder what it would have been like if mama and papa had never gotten into that carriage. We would still be the ladies of Longbourn, father would be there to protect us, and Mr. Collins would still be giving tedious sermons in Kent. Then I choose to believe it, only for a second. Then the second comes to an end, and I wake up to realize that we are here.” Her eyes suddenly looked wistful. “And you wonder how you got here and what life has in store for you? You even wonder if this is a bitter old joke, but you know that it’s not.”
“It’s reality,” I said, “it’s the cold light of reality.”
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry,” I urged. “I am being a bore.”
“It’s fine, Lizzy. You haven’t said anything that I haven’t already thought of.”
We continued to eat.
I boiled water to take my bath in our washbasin, washed my hair, got dressed and went to my bedroom. When I entered, the place was done up in the best possible way, but it felt so empty without Jane there.
Sitting down, I lit another candle at my desk, for maximum light, and I began to write to Charlotte Lucas.
Seeing Kitty sitting there, eating my best attempt at a dinner, and having the faraway look in her eye—well, it made me forlorn. How often I secretly and publicly ridiculed her and Lydia for their rambunctious and flirtatious demeanors. And now, to see Kitty so desolate, so broken—even if it was but a moment—it made me feel the inevitable thing: regret.
Perhaps, I had been too hard on her before. Perhaps I stomped on her youthful energy and did not try to understand her. Either way, I would give anything for her bloom to be returned to her. But try as we might, we cannot go back. I can change nothing.
And as for you, dear Charlotte, once more, I am most beholden to you. I know that I have thanked you so often, already, for not marrying Mr. Collins, out of devotion to our friendship. More and more, I am being shown the despair that can come from having no prospects. Only now am I aware of your sacrifice.
Charlotte, I miss you terribly, and wonder how I shall fare in this strange land.
Your friend of a profession,
Elizabeth Bennet
I sealed the letter and had it sent the next day.