Mrs. McGrath had been with the household of Henry Wallace’s father, Alexander Wallace, when he had moved his family from Scotland to England. Cleo’s father had been but a wee baby back then. Alexander had taken a position as a tutor for a wealthy English family near Oxfordshire, and it had been there that Henry had fallen in love with academia. Alexander’s employer had taken a liking to Henry and had acted as a patron to the young man’s education. Now, all of these years later, Henry was a professor, his parents had long since passed, and Mrs. McGrath was still very much a fixture in their lives, irreplaceable in every way.
Cleo opened the letter and found the expected greeting. Her Aunt Caroline had been widowed for many years and had never remarried. She and her husband had not been blessed with children of their own and had viewed Cleo, their only niece, as the child that they had never had. They had doted on her over the years, and this birthday was no exception. When Cleo unfolded the paper, a British pound fell out into her lap. “Most generous,” Mrs. McGrath remarked with approval.
Cleo smiled at the light of pride in the old cook’s eyes. “Yes, most generous,” she agreed. “Shall we go to the shops later?”
“Aye, I see nae reason why nae,” Mrs. McGrath nodded in agreement. “Once ye have finished with receiving yer callers, we will nip down tae the shops, and ye can put yer auntie’s gift tae good use.”
Usually, callers would not arrive so early in the morning as proper decorum was to wait until the afternoon, but in the world of academia, things operated a bit differently. All of Cleo’s friends were the daughters of other university professors and, as such, adhered to their fathers’ schedules when ordering their days.
One of their favorite pastimes was to sit in the windows of their drawing rooms and watch the comings and goings of the students. They would play games in an attempt to guess what each student studied and what their personalities might be based on whatever clues they could glean from each student’s person. If one of the friends actually knew the student in question, they were not allowed to guess so as not throw the game. Cleo was actually quite good at the exercise, as she loved all things mysterious.
When Cleo’s friends arrived, Mrs. McGrath showed them into the drawing room. Cleo arose and moved to greet them. “Elizabeth, Sarah, how are you this fine morn?” she asked, taking their hands in hers and kissing them each on the cheek.
“Never mind how we are,” Elizabeth waved away the courtesy. “Do we ever have news for you,” she gushed, taking Cleo’s hand and leading her over to the window seat. Sarah followed close behind. “Wait until you hear about Gwendolyn.”
“What about her? Is she not coming?” Cleo asked in confusion. “She is not ill, is she?” she asked even though she thought perhaps Gwendolyn was not, considering the smiles on the girls’ faces.
“Nay,” Elizabeth shook her head, exchanging an excited look with Sarah.
“Then out with it,” Cleo instructed, as her patience waned. “What has happened?”
“Gwendolyn has eloped to Gretna Green,” the girls announced as one.
“She has done what?!” Cleo could not believe her ears. She could not imagine that sweet, quiet, retiring Gwendolyn could have ever done something so scandalous. “I was unaware that she even had a suitor of note.”
“Nor were we, but it appears that she did. She has gone and eloped with one of her father’s students, a Mr. Devon Houser, formerly of Kirkby-Stephen in the north of the country. He is not a man of means or note, an orphan raised by his elderly grandfather, who supported his academic endeavors. Apparently, he was one of her father’s best students who had been invited to dine with the family on several occasions with a group of other students, and it was then that Gwendolyn and the young man fell in love.”
“How do you know all of this if Gwendolyn did not tell you herself?”
“Her younger sister, Olivia, saw it all,” Sarah joined the conversation at this point, “and did not tell their father and mother until the morning after the couple was already gone. It has caused a great scandal for the family, but since they are by now good and truly wed, there is naught that can be done about it.”
“It is not ideal for her reputation and that of her family, but at the very least, they are wed in the eyes of God and man,” Cleo pointed out. It would have been far worse had they not wed. “However, I am certain that her father wished for a different outcome.”
“Indeed, he did. I believe there was an older gentleman, a colleague of our fathers’ that had set his heart upon Gwendolyn and had requested permission to call upon her. She declined in spite of her father’s urgings,” Sarah confirmed, nodding her head, her eyes wide with an owl-like awareness.
“Perhaps that is what spurred her to such rash behavior. Did this Mr. Devon Houser speak with Gwendolyn’s father before running off with her?”
“I know not. Her father is being rather closed-lipped about the entire ordeal,” Elizabeth answered, shaking her head sorrowfully. She had always been one for a good bit of gossip, an admirable trait to some within society, but not to Cleo, who felt it was always best to allow others the discretion of privacy. To her mind, there was nothing good to be gained from crowing over the miseries of others. Her father was often fond of saying that such idle talk showed a significant lack of intelligence.
“I cannot say that I blame him for that,” Cleo answered as Mrs. McGrath entered the room with a tea tray.
“What is that, dearie?” Mrs. McGrath asked as she set the tray down on the table in front of them.
“Gwendolyn Summers has eloped to Gretna Green with a Mr. Devon Houser, one of her father’s students. It has caused quite the stir,” Cleo informed her quietly so as not to start her friends in again.
Mrs. McGrath frowned in concern. “Is he a good lad, do ye ken?”
“Nay, I do not know anything about the young man, but I cannot imagine our Gwendolyn choosing anyone who was not. What I do not understand is her decision to elope. Surely she could have gotten her father’s permission with enough time and patience.”
“Ye dinnae think that she has found herself in the family way?”
“Nay,” Cleo shook her head firmly. “She would never.”
“Such things do happen, ye ken.”
“Yes, I am aware, but…” Cleo’s words faded away as she stopped herself from saying that her friend would have told her such a secret. It was now clear that she would not have done so as Gwendolyn had not informed Cleo of her attachment to the young Mr. Houser, to say nothing of her plans to run off with the fellow.
Mrs. McGrath reached out to pat her hand in understanding. “I will keep her in my prayers.”
