Page 3 of Lady Audacious
‘At once, Mr Sandwell.’
Mr Sandwell sat opposite Odile, studying her face so avidly that she briefly wondered if she had a smudge on her chin. Before she could enquire, he broke the silence.
‘This must seem a little odd to you.’
Odile smiled. ‘Miss Mackenzie, the headmistress at the school where I am engaged as a teacher, warned me against coming here today. She said it was likely some sort of cruel hoax.’
‘Oh, I rather think she knows differently.’
Odile blinked. ‘She does?’
Before she could press Mr Sandwell for a more fulsome response, Cowper reappeared with the tea. Mr Sandwell dismissed him with a flip of his wrist and poured for them both. Odile sipped at hers and looked at Mr Sandwell over the brim of her cup, waiting for him to speak again.
‘Have you enjoyed your tenure at Miss Mackenzie’s academy?’ he asked.
‘Enjoyed is a relative term,’ Odile replied, feeling the need to express herself candidly for reasons that were not yet apparent to her. ‘I enjoyed learning when I was a pupil, but I fear I was in the minority. That is why instilling knowledge into the heads of girls who would frankly prefer to exchange views about fashion, the latest gossip or their matrimonial ambitions is sometimes—in fact all too often—rather discouraging. Having said that, I am naturally grateful to have a purpose, to say nothing of a roof over my head.’
‘You would enjoy dancing and mixing more in society, I take it?’
Since Odile hadn’t ever mixed in society at all and barely knew how to dance, she remained silent on the point.
‘You reach your majority today.’ It wasn’t a question and so Odile merely nodded. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Thank you.’
‘You have no one to celebrate with. That grieves me.’
‘Pray do not feel sorry for me, sir. I have been orphaned these last eleven years, and have become accustomed to my own company.’
‘What do you remember about your parents?’ he asked in a sympathetic tone.
‘Frustratingly, nothing at all.’ Odile swallowed down her emotions, wondering whether her curiosity in that regard was about to be satisfied at last. She had taught herself never to think about her lost family, but images of faces that seemed familiar often slipped past her subconscious at the most inconvenient of times. ‘I am told I was in their carriage when it overturned and killed them outright.’ She fingered the scars on her right thigh, a souvenir from the accident that had almost killed her too. ‘I was knocked unconscious and remained so for several days, I have subsequently been told. I was not expected to survive, but being of a contrary persuasion I did so, albeit at the cost of my memory.’ She frowned. ‘I am told that such a thing is not unusual when one suffers such a traumatic loss, and that memories of my earlier years may eventually return. Thus far, this has not happened.’
Mr Sandwell tutted, not with impatience but with sympathy. ‘Not even fragments?’
‘Perhaps a few. Certain phrases or actions can sometimes trigger memories that are frustratingly just beyond my reach. Nothing that makes any sense though. A passage in a book that I have never read before will sound familiar. I remember a house and gardens with beautiful flowers in full bloom. I am walking in them with a lady who tells me the names of those flowers. I think she must be my mother but I cannot conjure up an image of her face.’ Odile looked up at Mr Sandwell, her frustration no doubt reflected in her expression. ‘It’s a bit like having parts of a puzzle that won’t fit together until all the pieces are available.’
‘Do you remember where you recovered from your injuries?’
‘A sanitorium of some sort, I think.’ Odile shook her head. ‘The moment my physical wounds were healed I found myself a pupil at Miss Mackenzie’s, where I have been ever since.’ She spread her hands. ‘She kindly offered me a teaching position, and since I had nowhere else to go…’
‘You must have wondered who paid the fees for your schooling.’
‘I did, as a matter of fact. I asked Miss Mackenzie but she told me a trust had been set up, and since the fees were paid regularly and on time she didn’t ask any questions.’ Odile smiled. ‘I suspect that she did—ask that is—but didn’t discover anything that satisfied her, which she would have found infuriating. Miss Mackenzie does not like being rebuffed. But then again, all the time the fees were coming in she would not have rocked the boat. Miss Mackenzie puts great stock by prompt payment. I dare say she was sorry when my education came to an end and she had to then start paying me, if you can call the pittance she gives me a salary. Apparently, being offered board and lodging and the opportunity to instil education into a procession of young girls ought to be reward enough.’
‘The fees did not stop,’ Mr Sandwell told her.
‘I beg your pardon.’ She sent him a curious look. ‘Did you just say that…’
‘I did. I have the honour of administering the trust that looks after your affairs.’
‘My affairs?’ Odile shook her head, thinking yet again that she must have misheard him. ‘I’m sure I do not have any affairs that would require administration. I am quite without property.’
‘No, my dear, I am happy to say that is not the case. I find myself in a most peculiar situation, and one that I have never encountered before in all my years in the legal profession. And believe me, I have administered some very strange bequests in my time.’ He paused to rub his bristly chin, reflecting no doubt upon the idiosyncrasies of his clients, a subject that he deemed worthy of more tea. He filled both of their cups for a second time. ‘I asked Miss Mackenzie to offer you a teaching position, in return for which your fees would continue to be paid, along with a stipend for your keep and your remuneration.’
‘Why?’ Odile asked in bemusement.
‘Because I thought it was the safest place for you to be. Safe and familiar. There are an awful lot of dangers out there. People…men…who would exploit you if you lived alone and unprotected, and I simply couldn’t take the risk. But today you have reached your majority, and I am obliged to inform you of the terms of your legacy.’
