The House Of Secrets. Elizabeth Blackwell
Evelyn watched as the family members took their places along two parallel sofas in the center of the room: the Prestons on one side, Mrs. Brewster and Charles on the other. After a moment’s hesitation, Evelyn settled on a narrow wooden chair.
Mrs. Brewster began by quizzing Evelyn about her education and her qualifications, nodding approvingly when she mentioned the Baltimore families she had worked for. Beatrice sulked, Winslow looked bored and Lavinia watched silently. But it was Charles who unnerved Evelyn the most. For someone who had tried to avoid the interview, he appeared surprisingly interested in Evelyn’s answers.
“I’m curious,” he interrupted. “What is your philosophy on education for women?”
Evelyn smiled. “I believe women should receive as much education as possible.”
“But if every respectable woman’s goal is marriage,” Charles continued, “why the need for any education? Beyond the simple requirements of literacy and perhaps familiarity with household finances.”
“I believe a successful marriage is one between intellectual equals,” Evelyn responded, echoing a sentiment that had often been debated at college. “A husband will grow bored with a silly wife, but an educated woman is a worthy companion for life.”
“Hmph,” Mrs. Brewster snorted. “Do you think all young ladies should renounce marriage and family to attend college?”
Her face flushed, Evelyn rose to the bait. “Of course not,” she said quickly. “However—and with no offense intended—women used to be considered educated if they had a few years of French and could play a waltz on the piano. We have now entered a new century. Times have changed.”
“Indeed they have,” Charles agreed. To Evelyn’s surprise, he looked pleased.
“I certainly wish Beatrice to have every opportunity,” Mrs. Brewster said. “College is not necessary for someone in her position, but I can see how it would be advantageous for a woman like you, who has to make her own way in the world.”
Evelyn nodded, fairly certain she’d been insulted.
“Now, do you have any questions?” Mrs. Brewster asked.
Evelyn remembered Mrs. Brewster’s offhand comment about her becoming part of the household. “Is this a live-in position?” she asked. If so, she wouldn’t hesitate to decline. Being surrounded by these people every day would be intolerable.
“Given that you live in town, a daily schedule could be arranged,” Mrs. Brewster said. “I see no need to deprive your mother of your company. I know all too well what it is to be a widow alone in this world.”
Hardly alone, thought Evelyn, with three children and a household full of staff.
“I assume lessons would be held at Mr. and Mrs. Preston’s home?”
Mrs. Brewster shook her head. “We have a proper schoolroom here,” she said. “My own children took their lessons there. It’s fully supplied, but there will be funds set aside for books and any other necessities that may be required. Well then,” Mrs. Brewster continued, rising to her feet. “That will be all. We have a few other candidates expected today, but we hope to make a speedy decision. It’s high time Beatrice’s wild ways were tamed.”
“Yes, of course. Thank you for considering me.” Evelyn said her goodbyes quickly and almost raced out of the room. How foolish she had been, thinking that she would reject the Brewsters! Of course they would interview other governesses, all of them more experienced and more sophisticated than her. This meeting was simply a gesture of goodwill toward her mother, a gracious signal to the town that the Brewsters weren’t above hiring locals on occasion.
In her hurry to leave the house, Evelyn dashed toward the front door, barely giving Hayes the chance to open it for her. As she made her way swiftly down the drive, she heard her name being shouted behind her. “Miss O’Keefe!”
She stopped and turned, stunned to see Charles Brewster taking the front steps two at a time.
“Your hat, Miss O’Keefe!”
He held up Evelyn’s best hat, made of dark blue straw and decorated with a ring of woven white ribbons. Against the backdrop of the Brewster mansion, it now appeared worn and faded.
“Oh, thank you,” Evelyn muttered as she gingerly took the hat from his hands, careful that their fingers didn’t touch.
“Hayes is far too corpulent to catch you, so I thought I’d try,” he said.
“Yes.” Evelyn was rarely at a loss for words, but she couldn’t think of a thing to say. Especially since Charles, rather than turning back to the house, continued to stand in front of her, apparently waiting for something.
“Miss O’Keefe,” he began, then coughed in an uncharacteristic display of nerves. “I hope I didn’t offend you with my questioning. I’m afraid I may have been somewhat overbearing.”
“Oh, not at all,” Evelyn lied. “An educated woman—especially one who intends to teach children—should be able to defend her opinions.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He smiled reassuringly, and his voice softened. “Mother can be chilly, but she only wants what’s best for the family. You acquitted yourself quite well.”
“Thank you, Mr. Brewster.” Once again, an awkward silence settled between them.
“It was a pleasure to meet you,” Charles said finally, clasping her hand briefly with both of his. His touch sent a thrill of sensation up Evelyn’s arm, and her heart began to pound. Then he was gone, back to his sprawling home, while Evelyn wondered if she had only imagined the question in his eyes.
WHEN MRS. BREWSTER OFFERED Evelyn the governess position, at double the salary she would have received in Philadelphia, Evelyn felt she had no choice but to accept. She began her duties warily, keeping to the schoolroom and avoiding her employer except when summoned to provide reports on Beatrice’s progress. Yet most days, seemingly by chance, Evelyn found herself crossing paths with Charles. Gradually, she realized these encounters were no accident. Charles’s tone moved from respectful to flirtatious, and Evelyn was flattered by his attention. There were moments stolen in the hallway of the Brewster mansion, his hand brushing hers as if by accident. Visits to the schoolroom as she tried unsuccessfully to concentrate on Beatrice. His whispered confession that she intrigued him as no other woman ever had. From then on, she was at his mercy.
At the time, she thought it was love. Why else would she weaken at the thought of his hand resting around her waist? It wasn’t the grand romance she had once imagined—there were no intimate conversations or tender declarations of affection. Yet Charles had a hold over her that she had no wish to escape.
When Evelyn first confided the new developments to her mother, Katherine almost fainted with delight. She insisted on making new dresses for Evelyn and admonished her to be on her best behavior. When Charles finally appeared at the house one evening and asked for Evelyn’s hand in marriage, Katherine could only nod and stammer before dissolving into tears of happiness.
The reaction at the Brewster home was considerably less joyful. When Charles brought Evelyn into the drawing room later that evening, announcing that she had accepted his proposal, Alma fixed her future daughter-in-law with an expression of such horror that Evelyn had to turn away.
“Nonsense,” Alma declared after an agonizing silence.
Charles took a step toward his mother, his body stiff with self-righteous anger. “If you won’t welcome my future wife, Mother, we are prepared to settle in Baltimore.”
Alma eyed Evelyn up and down. “That won’t be necessary. Charles, will you give us a moment alone, please?”
It took all of Evelyn’s self-control to keep from clutching Charles’s hand. Charles glanced at her, then back at his mother.
“Whatever you say to Evelyn, you