Chapter Nineteen #2
Miss Hancock led her to the next window, where she pointed down at nothing in particular in the quadrangle. “I would ask your advice, Mrs. Ellsworth,” she whispered. “No—don’t look like that. It’s nothing…reprehensible.”
“I will be happy to advise you,” answered Maria, swallowing. “If it is within my power. But I must admit, as a youngest daughter, I am unused to being asked for counsel!”
Miss Hancock waved away this little joke. “You know what it is like, in any case—not to have much money. Forgive me, Mrs. Ellsworth, for saying so. It’s just that George speaks so highly of your whole family I feel I can make a confidante of you. You must tell me if I go too far.”
Miss Hancock drew a long breath, but Maria was already recovering. If this was about money, then it could not be about Benjamin, and anything else could not be very bad. Not even if Miss Hancock was about to ask for a loan.
“It is this, then,” Miss Hancock resumed. “My cousin and I are not naturally drawn to each other. That is, she and I are different. She is not an easy person to know, and I have recently begun to think she wishes me gone. But, having no money or other family myself, where could I go?”
“Why do you say she wishes you gone?”
The other girl sighed. “I daresay any reasonably aware person recognizes when his company is unwanted. But, if I must give examples, I would say she sometimes makes excuses to steal away on walks by herself, and, if Mrs. Marlow remonstrates, Verity will say the maid followed at a distance. And then, once or twice, I have entered the room, and she has quickly covered up whatever she was writing.”
“Miss Hancock, I think you are seeing injury where none is intended. It sounds like she has merely sought to be alone at times and to have some privacy. When I was growing up, those two things were always in short supply! My mother or my sisters or my brother or my nephew or all of them together were forever at hand, so I imagine not just I, but everyone in my family was guilty of similar stratagems from time to time. It didn’t mean we didn’t like each other—only that solitude was hard to come by. ”
“Mm,” said her companion again. “That may be, Mrs. Ellsworth, but from what George tells me about you Barstows, you are close to begin with.”
It was Maria’s turn to “mm” because she thought Miss Hancock made a very good point.
Miss Allen reached the end of her piece, which drew eager applause from her court. With stammers and a swipe of his handkerchief to his meaty face, Mr. Butchart begged that she would indulge them with another, and, with a shrug, she did.
Now taking up a book from the pier table, Miss Hancock turned the leaves unseeingly. “I could say more, Mrs. Ellsworth, which might persuade you, but instead I will simply ask you whether you think it would be wrong of me to seek out employment or another living situation.”
“Oh, Miss Hancock! Hadn’t you better ask George’s opinion on that?”
“I did, and he said he would prefer me to remain with the Marlows unless I was miserable because then he would know I was cared for and among younger people.”
“I have to say, I think George is right,” admitted Maria. “Although, could you not simply return to Headington? There may not be other young people, but you might see George every day.”
“Seeing more of him would be lovely, but—well—my grandmother can be irascible, Mrs. Ellsworth, and George often objected to her treatment of me. Nor has she ever offered to have me come for longer periods. But I have a second reason for wanting to change my situation. I have been thinking, if only I could make some money, George and I wouldn’t have to wait quite so long to marry!
” Blushing, she added, “I know you and Mr. Ellsworth might have preferred to wait as well, if that had been possible, but I hope you know I mean no criticism. In fact, George even said to me yesterday, ‘Rebecca, my girl, what if we threw caution to the wind and got married now, just like the Ellsworths? They haven’t any more than we do.’ Oh—but I shouldn’t have repeated that. ”
“I take no offense,” Maria assured her. “How could I, from as old a friend as George, even if it weren’t the truth?”
“I was angry with him for suggesting it, at any rate,” Miss Hancock continued.
“Not that I don’t want to marry him as soon as possible, but why must he force me to be the prudent one?
We ought both to be so! And, unlike you, it’s not as if we have any—benefactors—or other relations we might draw upon. ”
Which almost made Maria laugh. If only benefactors might be transferred, considering how Benjamin felt about them!
Taking her new friend’s hand she said, “Miss Hancock, I had better make some confessions myself. You are right to be prudent, and you may tell George I said so. Because Benjamin and I could certainly use more money! He has his fellowship for another year, but after that we haven’t discussed what we will do.
I—I have been thinking that I might try to find employment myself! ”
Her companion’s eyes widened. “Indeed! What sort, if I may ask?”
“So few sorts are available,” Maria replied. So few, in fact, that she considered keeping her own efforts secret for a moment. After all, wouldn’t Miss Hancock be interested in the very same positions?
Soon Maria was ashamed of her initial response, however.
What sort of friend would she be, if she chose to view Miss Hancock as a competitor?
And would it not be worse, if Miss Hancock also wrote to T.
Cheney at the Golden Cross Inn and discovered that Maria had already done so and not mentioned it?
Still, though she could order herself to be magnanimous and helpful, she could not completely banish her dismay.
Nonetheless, she resolutely took up the thread again after her hesitation. “Companions, governesses, teachers, nursemaids,” she said. “Those are all a genteel lady may do, I warrant. And—there was an advertisement in the Journal which I have applied to.”
Briefly, she told the tale.
Miss Hancock’s immediate rejoinder instantly proved her worth. “How very courageous of you, Mrs. Ellsworth. I commend you, and I imagine they will look no further when they meet you. But if—for whatever reason—you don’t like them in return…”
With an effort (and before she could change her mind), Maria said, “That’s kind of you, but nonsense.
You must write as well. You needn’t wait for them to reply to me.
And I imagine there will be other positions advertised, and we cannot fuss over each one.
Indeed—it might be—amusing—to be able to discuss them with one another. ”
Biting her lower lip, Miss Hancock nodded. “Thank you, my dear. I can only say, thank you.”
With a final strum, Miss Allen acknowledged another burst of applause and then rose abruptly from her instrument, declaring, “I must rest my fingers now.”
Under the swell of compliments and sympathy and bombast which followed, the girls managed one last exchange of information.
“I cannot have replies sent here—is it too much to ask, Mrs. Ellsworth, if I have them sent to Pembroke Street?”
“You cannot! I’m not even having my own sent there. Ask them to reply in care of the Angel Inn. That’s what I’m doing, and I can fetch yours as well.”
A nod and a squeeze, and Maria and Miss Hancock returned to the group.