Chapter 62

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Translator: Harry Potta
Chapter: 62
Chapter Title: Miss Sheldon, the Governess (1)
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Laura gazed at the sign and swallowed hard. There had been many anxious moments in her life, but this was a new kind of challenge, the likes of which she had never faced before. Even her debut into society hadn't felt this nerve-wracking.

She smoothed her hair, straightened the collar of her dress, and stepped inside.

The entrance opened into a waiting room. It was brightly lit, with plenty of natural light, yet the state of the furniture and wallpaper gave it a rather gloomy atmosphere. Long benches lined the walls, where several modestly dressed young ladies sat waiting for their turn.

Laura approached a woman seated at a desk on one side of the room and explained that she was new and looking for a position. The woman gave her face and attire a swift, thorough appraisal before telling her to take a seat on one of the benches.

Laura sat down on an empty bench. Her heart was pounding. Her hands were sweating so much she feared her brown gloves would be soaked through. Soon, a few names were called, and the ladies who had been waiting disappeared into the office beyond the desk.

She waited patiently for her turn. When she was the last one remaining in the waiting room, her name was finally called.

“Miss Laura Sheldon.”

Laura rose at once and entered the office.

The office was far more respectably furnished than the waiting room. The wallpaper and cabinets were clean and new, and the sturdy beechwood desk, bearing a nameplate that read ‘Annie Stopper,’ even lent an air of elegance.

The office’s proprietor, a middle-aged Miss Stopper, greeted her politely.

“Welcome, Miss Sheldon. I understand you’re seeking a position as a governess?”

Laura managed a stiff smile.

“Yes.”

“Have you done this kind of work before?”

“No.”

“Oh dear. Then you have no letters of recommendation, I presume. Those are essential for securing a good position. Well, let us begin. What subjects are you able to teach?”

“I can teach anything one might learn in a standard school.”

“You mean arithmetic, geography, literature, history, French, and German? With a bit of drawing and music, perhaps?”

“And also Latin and Greek.”

Miss Stopper stared at her for a moment, dumbfounded.

“Latin and Greek?”

“Yes.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, to what extent?”

Laura opened her bag and took out a few notebooks she had brought with her. Miss Stopper scanned the densely packed Latin lines and the corresponding translation of the New Testament beneath them. With a look of surprise, she flipped rapidly through the pages before turning to another notebook. It contained a full English translation of the famous Greek epic, the Odyssey.

“Where did you learn all this?”

“During my seven years of study at Grant Girls’ School.”

“Grant Girls’ School. You attended a prestigious institution!”

Miss Stopper studied Laura for a moment, tugging at her earlobe.

“You’re in mourning. Have you lost a family member?”

“Yes. My grandmother.”

“Is that, by any chance, related to your decision to become a governess? Even in the slightest?”

“I cannot say it is entirely unrelated.”

“Hmm…”

She crossed her arms, deep in thought.

“You attended a prestigious school, yet you have no experience as a governess at the age of twenty-nine… Could it be that you are a young lady of noble birth who has fallen on hard times and must now earn a living?”

Laura shook her head, her expression impassive. The woman studied her face intently, then nodded.

“Whether that’s true or not, stick with that answer. No matter who asks. No one wants to hire a maiden from a noble house who has been forced into service as a governess. Now then, let’s find a position for the very capable Miss Laura Sheldon.”

She began to rifle through a file of papers.

“Well, you would certainly be welcomed in a household with both sons and daughters. However… to be frank, there is a preference for a male tutor for the education of sons. For some reason, the same Latin grammar, when taught by a female governess, seems somewhat less credible. But tutors are expensive. A household on a tight budget would welcome you with open arms if they could have their children learn Latin and Greek for the price of a governess. Hmm, there’s a position here with a Mr. Raisin, who needs a governess for seven children. It pays fifty pounds a year. What do you think?”

Miss Pendleton shook her head. Fifty pounds was the standard salary for a governess. To be responsible for seven children for that amount was out of the question.

Seeing her evident lack of interest, Miss Stopper continued to sift through the file.

“Ah, here’s a letter from a Mr. Denise, seeking a governess for his two children. Both are boys. He’s looking for someone to help them with preparatory studies before they enter public school, and he states he would be happy to hire a governess who knows Latin and Greek. He’s offering a salary of sixty pounds.”

“That’s ten pounds above the going rate.”

“Indeed. But one must be careful with this family. Mr. Denise is quite the miser. After working you to the bone for a year, when you ask for your wages, he’s liable to foist an old carpet or a strange urn on you, insisting it’s a family heirloom. A few years ago, a governess fell for it and threatened to sue, crying her eyes out, but in the end, she never got her money. Ho ho, can you imagine such a man!”

Laura couldn’t understand what she found so amusing. After a brief laugh, Miss Stopper glanced at Laura’s expression and went back to her files.

A series of positions followed, offering sixty, fifty-five, and forty-five pounds. But they all involved too many children or came with employers of exceedingly poor reputation.

Laura stood in dismay, watching the dark clouds gather over her employment prospects.

The last position she was offered was with a Mr. Roland, teaching eight children for sixty-five pounds. Amusingly, they were looking for a governess who was also skilled in cooking, cleaning, and caring for a newborn. It was clearly a position for a governess, cook, nanny, and maid all in one.

Looking rather sheepish at the meager offerings, Mrs. Stopper continued to tug at her earlobe, shuffling through the already exhausted file. Laura said she would visit again next week and left the employment agency.

In a somber mood, Laura hired a cab on a West End thoroughfare and headed toward Waterloo Station. She disembarked as they reached New Cut Street, which was bustling with street vendors.

After squeezing through the crowds of dozens of peddlers and shoppers, she turned a corner into an alley. It was lined with seven jewelers’ shops. She went into each one in turn, showing them the contents of the pouch of valuables she had brought.

Though these were ornaments that had never drawn a word of criticism at any ball or tea party, not one of the jewelers was willing to offer more than eighty pounds for them. After hours of pleading and persuasion with the proprietor who seemed the most good-natured, she sold all her jewelry for eighty-three pounds.

She did not hire a cab, instead walking slowly to the bank. There, she deposited the entire sum she had received for her jewelry.

Her total assets now stood at five hundred and eighty-three pounds, not counting the single one-pound note and a few coins in her purse. And it didn’t seem likely that her savings would grow substantially anytime soon. Her labor was valued at between fifty and sixty-five pounds a year. That was her current worth.

The reality of the new life she had to adapt to hit her with full force. This was not a world where one spent dozens of pounds on a single dress or spared hundreds to hire a good cook. It was a labor market where one had to mortgage a year of one’s life for something between fifty and sixty-five pounds.

And in that labor market, she was hardly a remarkable commodity. The education she had so diligently acquired amounted to little more than being offered a slightly wider array of mediocre choices.

She walked slowly back to the inn where she was staying. The journey was over an hour, but after learning her market value, she found herself reluctant to hire a cab, which would have cost only a few pence.

She made her way slowly, resting her legs whenever she came across a bench or the empty steps of a townhouse.

By the time she reached the inn, she was exhausted. She had never walked for so long in her life. It was still early afternoon, and she hadn’t even eaten lunch, but she felt utterly drained.

She took off her clothes, hung them up neatly, and lay down on the bed. Her eyes fixed on the cracks in the whitewashed ceiling, which spread like shattered glass. She blinked, her mind racing. A market rate of fifty pounds. In ten years, that would be five hundred pounds. In twenty years, a thousand.

If she continued to work at the going rate, it would be impossible to save three thousand pounds by the time she was fifty.
Laura let out a dry laugh. Her uncle must have known just how much she would need the five thousand pounds her grandmother had left her. That must be why he had taken it, even at a great personal loss.

‘He would be quite satisfied to know I am now agonizing over money.’

She recalled how consumed with rage he had been just before she left the Pendleton estate. Mr. Price’s withdrawal of his investment, her grandmother’s will… he had directed all his fury at her.

It seemed he was unwilling to admit that all of it was the result of his own poor judgment and heartlessness.

Miss Pendleton shook her head. The five-thousand-pound inheritance and her uncle were no longer her concern. They were things of the past. She had wiped them from her mind and resolved not to dwell on them. Ruminating on what was gone and done was of no use, after all.

But she didn't have amnesia; she couldn’t simply forget her entire life as Miss Pendleton. Among the things she had left behind, many were precious, and some were important.

The one that weighed most heavily on her mind was her grandmother’s funeral. She closed her eyes. The image of her grandmother lying in her coffin. The mourners dressed in black. Her uncle, standing with a cold expression. Charles, looking bored.

‘By now, people must be gathered for the service, led by the reverend. No, perhaps the interment at the cemetery is already finished.’

Miss Pendleton imagined the lid being closed on her grandmother’s coffin. The coffin being lowered into a deep pit. The soil being shoveled on top of it.

‘I never once imagined I wouldn’t be there to see my grandmother to her final rest.’

Her heart clenched. She quickly sat up again and moved to the desk.

She had not attended the funeral, a fact that would surely arouse keen curiosity among the people of society.