woman’s voice, one that sounded accustomed to giving commands, coming from inside the office after Helen finally worked up the nerve to knock. This afternoon in the reverend’s rooms Lady Juliana Brennan awaited her. The wife of a pensioned lieutenant from William Hobson’s staff, she was formerly a founding member of the Anglican parish in Christchurch and more recently a patron of the London congregation once again. Lady Brennan had answered Helen’s letter and arranged this meeting in the parish rectory. She was eager to see in person the “decent women, well-versed in housekeeping and child rearing” whohad answered her advertisement before she introduced them to the “highly esteemed, well-situated members” of the Christchurch community. Fortunately she was flexible and able to meet them at their convenience. Helen had only one afternoon free every two weeks, and she was loath to ask Lucinda Greenwood for additional time off. Lady Brennan had agreed immediately to Helen’s suggestion that they meet that Friday afternoon.
When she called the young woman into the room, she observed with pleasure that Helen curtsied respectfully upon entering.
“Leave that, girl, I’m not the queen,” she remarked coolly, causing Helen to blush.
She was struck by the similarities between the austere Queen Victoria and the equally round and darkly clad Lady Brennan. Both smiled rarely and seemed to view life above all as a God-given burden that one was to suffer through as publicly as possible. Helen made an effort to look just as austere and expressionless. She had checked in the mirror to make sure that not a single hair had fallen from her tightly wound bun in the London streets. The better part of her prim hairstyle was covered by her plain dark blue hat anyway, which Helen had worn as necessary protection from the rain and which was now completely soaked through. She had at least been able to deposit her equally wet coat in the antechamber. She wore a blue skirt and a carefully starched, light-colored quilled shirt. Helen wanted more than anything to make as good and distinguished an impression as possible. Lady Brennan could under no circumstances take her for a flighty thrill-seeker.
“So you want to emigrate?” Lady Brennan asked straightaway. “A pastor’s daughter, moreover with a good job, I see. What calls you overseas?”
Helen considered her answer carefully. “It’s not adventure that calls me, my lady,” she stated. “I’m happy with my job, and my employers treat me well. But every day I see their family’s happiness, and my heart burns with longing to someday stand in the center of such a loving body.”
Hopefully Lady Brennan didn’t think that overstated. Helen herself had almost laughed as she put that sentence together. After all, the Greenwoods weren’t exactly the model of harmony—and the absolute last thing Helen wanted was progeny like William.
Lady Brennan, however, did not seem put off by Helen’s response. “And you don’t see any possibility of that here at home?” she inquired. “You don’t think you will find a husband here who will meet your expectations?”
Helen wanted to ask a few questions about the “highly esteemed, well-situated members” of the Christchurch community, but that would clearly have to wait. “I don’t know if my expectations are too high,” she said carefully, “but my dowry isn’t large. I can save very little, my lady. I’ve been supporting my brothers during their studies, so there’s nothing left over. And I’m twenty-seven. There’s just not much time left for me to find a husband.”
“And your brothers no longer need your support?” Lady Brennan wanted to know. Clearly she was implying that Helen wanted to escape her familial obligations by emigrating. She wasn’t entirely wrong either. Helen had had more than enough of financing her brothers.
“My brothers have almost finished their studies,” she said. That wasn’t even
When she called the young woman into the room, she observed with pleasure that Helen curtsied respectfully upon entering.
“Leave that, girl, I’m not the queen,” she remarked coolly, causing Helen to blush.
She was struck by the similarities between the austere Queen Victoria and the equally round and darkly clad Lady Brennan. Both smiled rarely and seemed to view life above all as a God-given burden that one was to suffer through as publicly as possible. Helen made an effort to look just as austere and expressionless. She had checked in the mirror to make sure that not a single hair had fallen from her tightly wound bun in the London streets. The better part of her prim hairstyle was covered by her plain dark blue hat anyway, which Helen had worn as necessary protection from the rain and which was now completely soaked through. She had at least been able to deposit her equally wet coat in the antechamber. She wore a blue skirt and a carefully starched, light-colored quilled shirt. Helen wanted more than anything to make as good and distinguished an impression as possible. Lady Brennan could under no circumstances take her for a flighty thrill-seeker.
“So you want to emigrate?” Lady Brennan asked straightaway. “A pastor’s daughter, moreover with a good job, I see. What calls you overseas?”
Helen considered her answer carefully. “It’s not adventure that calls me, my lady,” she stated. “I’m happy with my job, and my employers treat me well. But every day I see their family’s happiness, and my heart burns with longing to someday stand in the center of such a loving body.”
Hopefully Lady Brennan didn’t think that overstated. Helen herself had almost laughed as she put that sentence together. After all, the Greenwoods weren’t exactly the model of harmony—and the absolute last thing Helen wanted was progeny like William.
Lady Brennan, however, did not seem put off by Helen’s response. “And you don’t see any possibility of that here at home?” she inquired. “You don’t think you will find a husband here who will meet your expectations?”
Helen wanted to ask a few questions about the “highly esteemed, well-situated members” of the Christchurch community, but that would clearly have to wait. “I don’t know if my expectations are too high,” she said carefully, “but my dowry isn’t large. I can save very little, my lady. I’ve been supporting my brothers during their studies, so there’s nothing left over. And I’m twenty-seven. There’s just not much time left for me to find a husband.”
“And your brothers no longer need your support?” Lady Brennan wanted to know. Clearly she was implying that Helen wanted to escape her familial obligations by emigrating. She wasn’t entirely wrong either. Helen had had more than enough of financing her brothers.
“My brothers have almost finished their studies,” she said. That wasn’t even
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