Page 90 of Harpy of the Ton
“I have no knowledge of what I may or may not have done in the past,” Bella said. “I only recall being pulled out of the river and subjected to the attention of strangers—until one stranger claimed to be my husband and brought me here. I don’t know whether I committed the sins you accuse me of. But I do know that I’m notsatisfying my husband, as you call it. I know that he spends his time with painted women while I remain at home cleaning up after him. Is it therefore any wonder that I object to Roberta being expected to suffer the same fate? Why should she—or any girl—submit to a man only to be cast aside when he takes a fancy to another? I chose that life by pledging obedience to my husband—but I don’t want my daughter making the same mistake, unless she knows that the man of her choice will appreciate, love, and cherish her.”
The teacher’s eyes widened. Then she shook her head. “A woman’s place is—”
“A woman’s place should be wherever she wants it to be, Mrs. Chantry,” Bella interrupted. “It is not to sit quietly at home while men—and women like you—blame her for the sins of others.”
“If your husband’s carrying on with a doxy, then he’s succumbed toherwiles.”
“So, you blame the doxy rather than the man who breaks his vows.” Bella said. “Doxies would not exist if men didn’t want—”
“That’s enough, you slattern!” Mrs. Chantry snarled. “With such unsavory views, it’s no wonder you can’t keep your husband!”
Before Bella could reply, a deep voice spoke from behind.
“I’ll thank younotto insult my wife.”
Lawrence stood in the doorway.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Lawrence arrived hometo find the cottage empty, the aroma of fresh bread and roast mutton in the air.
Where was Bella? She needed to be the first to hear the good news. Mr. Trelawney had agreed to hire him, provided he could finish the designs to satisfaction. He hadn’t felt this elated since…
Since he’d been hired by Dunton to landscape his garden.
And look howthatended.
“Bella! Children!”
There was no sign of them. Even if the children had been in the garden, he’d have heard their continuous buzz of noise and laughter.
Perhaps they were still at school, though they should be home by now—it was past six.
Thrusting his hands in his pockets, he set off for the village, retracing his steps toward the inn until he reached the fork in the road that led to the school.
He found his children sitting on the wall outside the schoolroom.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Mama’s inside,” Roberta said. “Mrs. Chantry wanted to see her.”
Lawrence sighed. “What have you done?”
“Nothing!” Jonathan cried. “Mrs. Chantry’s a witch, and she smells!”
“You shouldn’t say such things,” Lawrence said. “Is that why your”—he hesitated—“your mama is speaking to her?”
“She’s shouting at Mrs. Chantry!” Jonathan replied. “Younever shout at Mrs. Chantry.”
“That’s because she’s your teacher.”
“Toldyou,” Roberta whispered at her brother, giving him a sharp nudge.
“What’s happened?” Lawrence asked.
Jonathan opened his mouth, then shut it again. “Nothing.”
With a sigh, Lawrence entered the building. There was no need to search for Bella—her sharp voice echoed from one of the schoolrooms, and he cringed at the memory of hearing Lady Arabella admonishing a servant.
