Miss Grimsleys Oxford Career Read Online Free PDF Page A

someday?” she teased, keeping her tone light to discourage the tears that threatened to fall.
    “I do, above all things,” he replied fervently. “And then I will hope for an appointment to All Souls, where I will read literature and eventually become a scholar of renown.”
    Ellen kissed him on both cheeks. “And I will be your secretary?” she teased.
    Ralph shook his head. “No, El; you will be
my
teacher.” He looked across the fields stripped bare by winter. “At least, that is how it should be.”
    “But it is not, my dear,” she said.
    He stood on the front steps, waving good-bye until he was only a small figure. “I will write you often,” she whispered to the glass.
    Horatia had been properly appreciative of the Fortaleza, although she did not change her mind about her bridesmaids. “You are a perfect dear to do this, Ellen, and I am fully aware of what I owe you,” she declared, tears glistening on the ends of her lashes as she clutched the dusty bottles of sherry to her breast. “After the wedding, I will tell you just where to stand so that you may catch my bouquet. Mama will be so thrilled.”
    Papa had turned shades of scarlet, crimson, and a deep magenta that worried them all when Ellen brought the Fortaleza to him and declared that she would spend the winter at Miss Dignam's Select Female Academy in Oxford as her reward. Horatia sat him down and Mama loosened his waistcoat, while Ellen propped his feet on the hassock and Ralph stood close by with a pillow for his neck.
    When he had control of his faculties, the squire fired off a fierce note to his sister in the village, demanding an explanation of Ellen's strange request, and declaring that it was absurd and out of the question. Aunt Shreve sent her reply in the form of her footman, who demanded the return of the Fortaleza. He stood there, his hands outstretched, while Horatia sobbed and Mama scolded. Papa had no choice but to relent and then collapse in his armchair, overcome by the rigors of maintaining domestic tranquility.
    “You are the most unnatural Grimsley!” he declared for the next two weeks, each time he encountered her in a hallway or at meals. He even began to eye his wife askance, as if to accuse that virtuous and boring woman of some misdeed that had landed someone else's child in the Grimsley bassinet some eighteen years previous. The result of his mutterings had been a lively argument between the parents that kept everyone tiptoeing about the manor until a truce was declared and the squire readmitted to his bedroom.
    Ellen bore it all calmly, ignoring Papa's pointed stares and Mama's torrent of advice, larded with admonition and foreboding. “You know, Ellen, that Dr. Spender Chumley over in Larch lectured on the subject of females damaging their brains with overmuch study,” Mama warned. “He claims that the brain enlarges and creates a curiously shaped head that is not attractive in any way.”
    This information sent Horatia rushing to the mirror to examine the shape of her own head.
    Ellen laughed out loud. “Horry, you haven't a fear in the world,” she said. “I don't think two consecutive thoughts have ever encountered each other in that space between your ears.”
    “Thank goodness for that,” Horatia declared. “I would not wish to risk deformity.” She looked at her mother, her eyes filled with anxiety. “Mama, surely dancing lessons do not come under the category of study that Dr. Chumley speaks of?”
    “They wouldn't dare,” Ellen replied.
    Ellen was packed by the end of the week, but the November rains came early that year. She was forced to fidget and pace about the house another week until the roads were passable again.
    She endured one final visit from Thomas Cornwell, who dropped by after a day at the Grain Exchange in Morely, full of news about the price of corn and the effect of war on his bankbook.
    No use in telling Mama to send down the news that she had a headache.
    “Ellen, you never