“About your changing body?” Georgia grinned at her in the mirror. “About not kissing boys under the apple tree? About what makes a gentleman suitor suitable or not?”
Ashley chuckled. “Lakeside folly for me. No apple trees close by.”
“Well, no awkward conversations tonight.” Georgia separated Ashley’s hair into three sections and began plaiting into one long braid down her back.
“I’ve only recently become used to having a maid again to dress my hair. It feels different when someone else does it.” And it felt different again being done by someone who was not a servant. She almost felt like purring.
Georgia’s brows rose in surprise. “What did you do before?”
“Dressed it myself, of course. All of the staff at the academy did their own hair. Madame Zavrina considered it very important that we set a good example for our students, and not put on airs.” Ashley couldn’t recall anyone helping her with her hair when she was there as a student. She didn’t have siblings, and had only caught snatches of conversations with students discussing what went on between sisters.
Georgia indicated her own hair with a glance upward. “I am very thankful I’ve always had a maid or sister to help me tame this riot.” She tied Ashley’s plait with a ribbon, and they switched places on the stool.
“Why did you decide to become a teacher?” Georgia closed her eyes as Ashley removed the pins and her hair tumbled down.
“I did not choose it.” She reached for Georgia’s hairbrush.
Georgia’s eyes popped open. “Then how…?”
“We were barely a month into the Season when my parents perished in a carriage accident.” She began drawing the brush through Georgia’s hair, trying to focus on the red-gold waves rather than painful memories. “My cousin Niles was disappointed in how little he inherited beyond the barony. His wife suggested they could dismiss their governess as a way to economize, since I was there to help take care of the children.” Ashley quickly discovered the curls in Georgia’s hair owed nothing to curling tongs. “At first my friends came to visit, but no one seemed to know what to say beyond offering condolences. Soon they stopped coming.”
Georgia reached over her shoulder to give Ashley’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Madame Zavrina, the headmistress of the school I had attended for four years, read about the accident in the newspapers and sent a note of condolence. I wrote back, and in a complete loss of decorum, poured out my grief and frustration upon the pages of my letter. Within a fortnight she came in her carriage and made a place for me at the academy as part of her staff.”
“But what about your uncle and aunt? Wouldn’t they take you in?”
Ashley divided the hair into three sections. “Just a few weeks before the accident, they had set sail to Jamaica to take possession of a sugar plantation Uncle Edward unexpectedly inherited. By the time a letter could reach them, I was already settled at the academy.” Her braid was not nearly as neat as the one Georgia had created. Fortunately noone else would see it.
“But you left the academy this year.”
“Because it closed. Madame Zavrina died in an accident, and her brother … made changes.”
“Horrible changes?”
“He turned the school into a brothel.”
Georgia giggled, then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. That’s not an appropriate source of amusement.”
Ashley shrugged. “I am fortunate that fate provided for me once again. My uncle got his plantation operating the way he liked it and came back to England for a visit this spring. His timely arrival meant I did not have to rely on my cousin’s hospitality again.”
Uncle Edward had appeared like a fairy godfather, waving his bank account balance instead of a magic wand, providing a dowry and all the essentials to enjoy a London Season so she could find a husband. And like Cinderella’s coach turning back into a pumpkin at midnight, he was returning to Jamaica in May so that he and Eunice would not be at sea during hurricane season. Ashley had until they left to find a husband or employment, or have to go live with her cousin Niles, his wife, and their many children.
She tied off the braid and steered the conversation to lighter topics. She tried not to be envious of Georgia and Clarissa’s bond if they did this sort of thing regularly. Chatting about their day. Laughing about the music challenges after dinner. Ashley’s first attempt at playing a lyre. Trying not to screech like a cat being stepped on when she bowed a few notes on the violin.
“I do love it when I can beat my father and uncles to the pianoforte,” Georgia confessed with an impish grin.
They had just settled on pillows on the floor near the hearth, with slices of bread and cheese from the covered plates, plus toasting sticks that were leaning against the fireplace bricks, when they heard a soft tap and Clarissa poked her head around the door. “I’m hiding from Mother.”
Grinning, Georgia waved her in.
Before Clarissa shut the door, a fluffy grey cat ran between her feet and into the room. The cat skidded to a stop and put one paw on Georgia’s bent leg, then paused to stare suspiciously at Ashley through its left eye. The right eye was gone, the tip of its right ear a jagged half-circle instead of a sharp point, and halfway down its tail bent sideways.
Clarissa joined them before the fireplace. “I can’t bear to review the guest list or the seating chart for the breakfast, again.” She settled on a cushion. “She’s said ‘just one more time’ at least twice already.”
Ashley and Georgia made sympathetic noises. Georgia snuggled the cat to her chest. “Smokey, dear sir,” Georgia said to the cat, “this is my friend, Ashley.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Smokey,” Ashley said, glancing at the cat and then away. She broke off a morsel of cheese and offered it on her open palm. She and Clarissa exchanged greetings, studiously looking at each other and not the cat, other than quick glances. Clarissa was similarly dressed in a night rail, wrapper, and slippers, with her red hair in a long braid down her back.
