fork to use, how low to bow, and most especially in the subtleties of conversation, they founder. It seems odd that the subjects which I have so seldom taught — mathematics, the sciences, language, geography —I now teach easily, but the one subject for which I am famous I continue to fail.
But I digress. I explained to the children that while they lolled on the floor facing the ceiling, they could not see the map or the long strip of paper with its carefully drawn letters or the slateboard where I conjugate French and Latin verbs. Robbie agreed they couldn’t see with their feet, so now the children sit correctly in their chairs. Yes, my dears, I am challenged, but pleasurably so.
Much to my relief, since my arrival, their father has spent most of his time in London with Lady Ruskin. Ah, but you didn’t know the father was alive, did you? Or perhaps I made an assumption which you did not. He is very much in existence. I report to him once a week and he is most thorough in his examination of me. He is also most fond of Robbie and Leila, eating breakfast with them whenever he is here. While I am pleased to have a parent who so embraces his children’s development, I am at the same time frustrated with their behavior after they dine with him. Lord Ruskin, you see, is a consummate barbarian…
CHAPTER 6
Charlotte finished the latest story in The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, shut the book, and leaned back in her chair. ”Did you enjoy that one as much as the others?“
She already knew the answer. Wynter’s children sat at her feet, seeing the world as a place of excitement and anticipation, where anything was possible, even flying carpets and magic caves filled with treasure.
Although Charlotte knew she was making a mistake, she occasionally allowed herself to share their excitement.
Rising, she tucked her book into her carpetbag. ”It’s a beautiful day, and it would be good for you to encounter the experience of outdoor dining.“ She straightened the plain starched white collar and cuffs that decorated her blue serge gown, and as she hoped, they imitated her, standing and straightening their clothing. Robbie looked neat and clean in his black trousers and small jacket, but Leila… Charlotte suppressed a sigh. When Leila wore an outfit, she wore an outfit. Her skirt of pink dimity was wrinkled beyond repair, and she frowned at the ink smudge that decorated her right sleeve. But she brushed at her skirt and poked stands of her hair back into her braid.
When Leila had finished, Charlotte held out a hand to each of them. ”After we’ve eaten, we shall go for our constitutional while you tell me about El Bahar.“
That had become a routine. Everyday they walked. Robbie practiced with his knife. Leila chased butterflies and tumbled in the grass. And the children shared tales of their desert home. They enjoyed reminiscing about the place they had left almost as much as they enjoyed teaching their teacher. Charlotte found herself fascinated by the visions of undulating sand, of camels that spit and smelled of dung, of bones bleached by the sun, by the sudden vision of an oasis and the realization it was only a mirage.
”The outdoor meal can be part of celebrations in midsummer,“ she instructed as they walked down the stairs and traversed the corridor. ”When dining outdoors, one must be aware that the rules of civility remain the same.“
Leila heaved a sigh. ”I don’t want to talk about manners. They’re stupid.“
”Manners are what separate the cultured from the provincial,“ Charlotte chided.
”I thought culture was,“ Robbie said.
A deep chuckle sounded behind them. ”He has you there, Lady Miss Charlotte.“ Wynter stood in the doorway of the long gallery.
”Papa!“ Leila launched herself at him.
He caught her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, then swept an arm around Robbie and drew him into his embrace. He smiled broadly, but Charlotte saw previously unnoticed frown
But I digress. I explained to the children that while they lolled on the floor facing the ceiling, they could not see the map or the long strip of paper with its carefully drawn letters or the slateboard where I conjugate French and Latin verbs. Robbie agreed they couldn’t see with their feet, so now the children sit correctly in their chairs. Yes, my dears, I am challenged, but pleasurably so.
Much to my relief, since my arrival, their father has spent most of his time in London with Lady Ruskin. Ah, but you didn’t know the father was alive, did you? Or perhaps I made an assumption which you did not. He is very much in existence. I report to him once a week and he is most thorough in his examination of me. He is also most fond of Robbie and Leila, eating breakfast with them whenever he is here. While I am pleased to have a parent who so embraces his children’s development, I am at the same time frustrated with their behavior after they dine with him. Lord Ruskin, you see, is a consummate barbarian…
CHAPTER 6
Charlotte finished the latest story in The Arabian Nights’ Entertainments, shut the book, and leaned back in her chair. ”Did you enjoy that one as much as the others?“
She already knew the answer. Wynter’s children sat at her feet, seeing the world as a place of excitement and anticipation, where anything was possible, even flying carpets and magic caves filled with treasure.
Although Charlotte knew she was making a mistake, she occasionally allowed herself to share their excitement.
Rising, she tucked her book into her carpetbag. ”It’s a beautiful day, and it would be good for you to encounter the experience of outdoor dining.“ She straightened the plain starched white collar and cuffs that decorated her blue serge gown, and as she hoped, they imitated her, standing and straightening their clothing. Robbie looked neat and clean in his black trousers and small jacket, but Leila… Charlotte suppressed a sigh. When Leila wore an outfit, she wore an outfit. Her skirt of pink dimity was wrinkled beyond repair, and she frowned at the ink smudge that decorated her right sleeve. But she brushed at her skirt and poked stands of her hair back into her braid.
When Leila had finished, Charlotte held out a hand to each of them. ”After we’ve eaten, we shall go for our constitutional while you tell me about El Bahar.“
That had become a routine. Everyday they walked. Robbie practiced with his knife. Leila chased butterflies and tumbled in the grass. And the children shared tales of their desert home. They enjoyed reminiscing about the place they had left almost as much as they enjoyed teaching their teacher. Charlotte found herself fascinated by the visions of undulating sand, of camels that spit and smelled of dung, of bones bleached by the sun, by the sudden vision of an oasis and the realization it was only a mirage.
”The outdoor meal can be part of celebrations in midsummer,“ she instructed as they walked down the stairs and traversed the corridor. ”When dining outdoors, one must be aware that the rules of civility remain the same.“
Leila heaved a sigh. ”I don’t want to talk about manners. They’re stupid.“
”Manners are what separate the cultured from the provincial,“ Charlotte chided.
”I thought culture was,“ Robbie said.
A deep chuckle sounded behind them. ”He has you there, Lady Miss Charlotte.“ Wynter stood in the doorway of the long gallery.
”Papa!“ Leila launched herself at him.
He caught her in his arms and kissed the top of her head, then swept an arm around Robbie and drew him into his embrace. He smiled broadly, but Charlotte saw previously unnoticed frown
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