Dangerous Letters

Chapter Seven

Letter XVII

October 17, 17--

Dear Mother and Father,

I have not written to you, or any of my correspondences, these two weeks – a great piece of self-denial. Only Heaven can tell when I shall have another opportunity of sending another to you; I have been most busy, as of late, as Lette demands most of my attention long after the school hours. I do not mind, however; we have struck up a wonderful companionship which only flourishes and she has become very dear to my heart. To confess the truth, my head is so full of my entertainment yesterday, that 'tis absolutely necessary, for my own repose, to give it some vent. Without farther preface, I will tell you of my day.

Occasionally, I am awoken prematurely – yesterday morning I dreamed of a step creak, a snarling, canine noise, then the whispers of a mocking demon, and anon the voice of carrion-seeking bird of prey. After such frights, no respite would be had – especially since, once awoken in the coldest part of the morning, I could seldom find the warmth that would permit further sleep. It was by this time half-past five, and the sun was on the point of rising; but I found the kitchen still dark and silent. The side-passage door was fastened; I opened it with as little noise as possible: all the yard was quiet; but the gates stood wide open, and there was a post-chaise, with horses ready harnessed. I approached them, looked carefully round and listened, but saw no one. The stillness of early morning slumbered everywhere; the curtains were yet drawn over the servants' chamber windows; little birds were just twittering in the blossom-blanched orchard trees, whose boughs drooped like white garlands over the wall enclosing one side of the yard; the carriage horses stamped from time to time in their closed stables: all else was still.

At length, I espied a footman coming down the path. He is one of the friendlier members of staff, who had introduced himself to me as Jacques D----- some weeks ago. I was cheerfully hailed and, when he inquired as to my wakefulness at this hour, I confessed, with no small embarrassment, as to the odd noises I had been imagining. "Perhaps it is the ghosts," he laughed.

"The ghosts?"

"I see the shadows falling,
The forms of old recalling;
In the Chateau of R----------,
Treads the mighty dead."

He smiled at my confusion. "It's an old poem we locals speak."

"I have never heard such a thing."

"The Master does not like such rumours."

The gentleman in question now appeared, walking with another who Jacques quietly identified as the Master's private surgeon.

The two men clasped hands in farewell. The Master saying, "I depend, as always, upon your discretion in this matter Barre."

"You shall always have it," the other returned. "I do my best; and have done it, and will do it."

"Then I thank you again, friend."

The master assisted in shutting up the chaise door and, with Jacques at the helm, the vehicle drove away.

"Yet would to God there was an end of all this!" added my Master, as he closed and barred the heavy yard-gates.

This done, he moved with slow step and abstracted air towards a door in the wall bordering the orchard. I, supposing he forgotten about me since I lingered to one side, prepared to return to the house; however, I heard him call "Charlotte!" as I turned. He had opened the portal and stood at it, waiting for me.

"A word or two before you go. You are settling in here?"

"Yes sir, everyone has been most amenable."

"And the accommodations are to your liking?"

"Why yes."

Here, however, he caught my hesitation. "Perhaps you have some suggestion for improvement?"

"Why, sir, only an observation that there is no schoolroom. We take our lessons either in above the Great Hall; or in Villette's apartments; or, weather allowing, on the outside lawns. The latter provides fresh air for stimulation, but I would prefer another location conducive to learning."

"And do you have such a location in mind?"

Again, I hesitated. "I have not, of course, ventured to all parts of your home but I would suggest the library, sir, as a room not much in use that already lends itself to such purpose."

"It appears that, under your influence, Villette has taken to her studies anew. Very well, I have been successfully prevailed upon, you may have your schoolroom."

I was most surprised, especially given his stubbornness in our first discussion. "Why - thank you, sir."

This evening I was informed that the necessary alterations had already been made and that the room was now fit for our use. The books that had been locked up behind glass doors had been removed but there was one bookcase left containing a number of elementary works, and several volumes of light literature, poetry, biography, travels, a few romances, &c. These showed significant signs of wear from inadequate storage, but I was greatly touched that the master had evidently remembered our previous conversation. I suppose he had considered that these were all the governess would require for her private perusal; and, indeed, they contented me amply for the present; compared with the scanty pickings of the room before, they offer a veritable abundant harvest of entertainment and information. A cabinet piano had also been added, though this needs tuning; also, an easel for painting and a pair of globes.

Villette was equally pleased. We settled down and she insisted on calling upon Madame L--- for a tray of tea and someone to light the fireplace. The housekeeper, though usually made up of such stuff as whalebone and iron, is always at the young Mademoiselle's beck and call – with never a nary word of refusal. And so, a tray was soon brought. How pretty, to my eyes, did the china cups and bright teapot look, placed on the little round table near the fire! How fragrant was the steam of the beverage, and the scent of the toast and generously portioned seed-cake (which is Villette's favourite).

The refreshing meal, the brilliant fire, the presence and kindness of a familiar companion, or, perhaps, more than all these, something in her own unique mind, seemed to rouse powers within Lette. They woke, they kindled: first, they glowed in the bright tint of her cheek, which till this hour I had rarely seen but pale and bloodless; then they shone in the liquid lustre of her eyes, which had suddenly acquired a certain beauty neither of fine colour nor long eyelash, nor pencilled brow, as becomes an adult, but of meaning, of movement, of radiance. Then her soul sat on her lips, and language flowed, from what source I cannot tell. Has a girl of seven a heart large enough, vigorous enough, to hold the swelling spring of pure, full, fervid eloquence? Such was the characteristic of Villete's discourse on this, to me, memorable evening; her spirit seemed hastening to live within a very brief span as much as many live during a protracted existence.

The Master came by to see how we liked the new arrangement and derived surprise and pleasure from the contemplation of his daughter; her face, her dress, her one or two ornaments, her white forehead, her clustered and shining curls, and beaming bright eyes. Tea over and tray removed, he summoned us closer to the fire; we sat one on each side of him, and a conversation followed between him and Villette, which was indeed a privilege to be admitted to hear.

They conversed of things I had never heard of; for the Master knows a great deal of nations and times past; of countries far away; of secrets of nature discovered or guessed at. What stores of knowledge he possessed! I was most taken aback by the books he spoke of; how much he had read! He seemed so familiar with continental names and authors: but my amazement reached its climax when Villette took a book from a shelf and bade him read and construe a page of the original Homer; and he obeyed, my organ of veneration expanding at every sounding line. At length, thought I dearly wished the evening to never end, Villette and I were pronounced too tired to continue and we reluctantly retired to bed.

It was a pleasurable evening most notably because it reminded me, in some strange parallel, of a scene from home – sitting at the fireside with both of you, well contented in the domiciliary of a warm and safe home.

With much love,

Charlotte