Though the morning was just as grey as the day before, by the afternoon there were short breaks in the thin clouds, allowing for moments of sunshine. Isabella determined that the weather was safe enough to go outside and collect their science project.
For the second time in two days, they walked along the wooden path to their favorite meadow. Only this time, both girls promised not to go chasing any white rabbits.
Isabella brought an old quilt with her and laid it down on the long, soft grass, heavy with the end of summer. She sat contentedly while Jackie went about the meadow recollecting autumn treasures to add to Isabella’s basket.
“I found one,” Jackie called out to Isabella.
Isabella got up from her seated place with the jar in hand and made her way over to Jackie.
“Oh, look at that one,” Isabella exclaimed, leaning down to get a better look at the plump green caterpillar munching away happily on a cloudberry bush.
“Do you think he will spin me some silk?” Jackie asked her teacher.
“I’m afraid not,” Isabella said getting her jar ready for its new inhabitant.
“But he is so fat, he must have extra he can spin for me,” Jackie said with a sad tone.
“I am sorry to tell you that it isn’t the size of the caterpillar that determines if it spins silk but the variety. Only silk worms spin silk cocoons.”
“May we catch one of those too, then?” she asked in innocence.
“Unfortunately, they do not live freely in this part of the world. If you would like, however, I will tell you a story my father told me. It is about the time he sailed on a boat full of silkworms as a lad.”
After scooping her plump new friend into his home, Jackie followed her teacher over to the blanket to hear the tale.
“You remember I told you how silkworms escaped China,” Isabella said in a dramatic tone.
Jackie nodded her head in excitement, “Two monks went to China and hid them in their walking stick to take back to their home.”
“Do you remember where their home was?”
“Byzantine Empire,” she replied smartly.
“Very good, Jackie,” Isabella praised.
“Well, of course, that was hundreds of years ago. So, by the time my father was a lad, the silkworm had traveled all the way to France, and even to a few producers here in England.
“This was the cause of my father’s voyage. He was assigned to a small merchant ship that was to sail to India to acquire the best silkworms possible for an aspiring nobleman.
“He said that when they got to India, he saw colors his eyes had never beheld. Women were draped in silks of bright green and orange, with gold bangles tinkling as they walked. He smelled spices that had never reached his nose before. He was very reluctant to leave when the time came to set sail again. He was just fifteen years old, entranced by the beauty of the exotic land, and felt no holds to return to his homeland.”
“What of his family?” Jackie asked.
“Well, my father’s parents both died when he was a very small boy. He was raised by an older brother. He had to get a job and provide for himself at a very young age which is why he took to the sea.
“So, very reluctantly, he had to go back to his ship because he had contracted with the captain to stay aboard for four more years.
“But as he walked the lower decks of the ship he was amazed to see what lay before him.”
“Were there just little worms crawling everywhere?” Jackie asked with a giggle.
“He expected as much, but it was not so. You see, he told me that silkworms were very particular creatures and liked things just so. The only way one could move them was while they were still in their eggs.”
“So, when he came down to the storage deck of the ship, expecting creepy crawling worms,” she said tickling Jackie with a piece of long grass, “instead he saw boxes and boxes lined with small shelves with little white eggs safely nuzzled in straight little rows.
“Along with the worms were large mulberry bushes. You see, not only are silkworms very particular about the temperature they live in but they only have a taste for one type of plant.”
“They are awfully picky little things,” Jackie proclaimed, scrunching her button nose. “Just like Grandpère.”
“Oh, I know your grandfather can be very severe at times,” Isabella said, comforting the child, “but he does what, in his mind, is best.”
“Also,” Isabella said, as a side thought, “think of His Grace like the silkworms. Yes, they are very particular creatures but, because of it, something beautiful results. His family is the beautiful result of your grandfather’s life work. You are part of that family,” Isabella encouraged. “You are the great beauty that came from one particular silkworm’s life of toil.”
Jacqueline seemed to think over her governess' story. “Nursie said your father was Baron Leinister. How could that be if he was a poor sailor?”
“He inherited the title from his older brother who died very young. He had received it, in his turn, from an uncle that had no children of his own. My father was a much older man by that time and had already started his own business of merchant ships.”
Jacqueline seemed to think this over in her mind. Isabella was sure that the peerage was a hard concept for a young child to grasp, but necessary for her circumstance, none the less.
“Does that make you a lady, then?” she finally asked, thoughtfully.
“No,” Isabella said with a soft laugh. “It did, however, provide me with an exquisite education, for which I am most grateful. Without it, I don’t believe I would have been permitted to be your instructor. That would have been a terrible turn of events.”
“I’m glad to have you, too,” Jackie said, wrapping her short arms around Isabella’s waist.
Isabella happily held the hand of her little pupil as they skipped their way back into the house. They walked the gravel path that led to the main entrance of the house and the most comfortable access that led back to the school room.
Upon entering the house, Isabella was surprised to see that they were not alone in the foyer. Standing before her was the newly arrived Lady Cunningham and her daughter, Lydia.
“Pardon me,” Isabella said, intruding on the greeting.
“Oh please, come in, Miss Watts,” Her Grace called happily. “Please present my granddaughter to my dear friend.”
Isabella walked Jacqueline up to the new guest and she curtsied politely.
“Lady Cunningham, may I present Miss Jacqueline De’belmount and her governess, the honorable Miss Watts,” Lord Bellfourd politely announced.
“And this is Lady Lydia Prescott.”
“We have met before.” Lady Lydia did not return the girls' curtsies.
Lord Bellfourd looked to Isabella with a questioning brow.
“Yes, it’s true,” Isabella answered his unasked question. “Lady Lydia and I attended the same school in our youth.”
“Did you really?” Lady Cunningham said. “What a wonderful happenstance. And you are the child's governess?”
“Yes, Lady Cunningham.”
“Well, you are fortunate, indeed, to have her, then,” Lady Cunningham said turning to Her Grace. “Mrs. Mason’s School for Exceptional Young Ladies is the finest in all of London.”
“Oh my!” Lady Lydia exclaimed suddenly, taking a step back. “I believe something in your basket just moved!”
Jacqueline reached into the basket and pulled out the jar. Holding it up for all to see, she happily declared, “His name is Henry. We were out for our afternoon walk and collected some beautiful autumn leaves to decorate the school room and Henry, for a nature study.”
“My dear Miss Watts,” Lady Lydia said with a demeaning tone, “Did you not learn that nature is meant for outdoors? I fear we may all be crawling in insects soon by the look of that basket,” she added to the rest of the party with a laugh.
“I’m fairly certain that education in the natural world is important for all children,” Lady Abigail retorted, clearly not liking what Lady Lydia had said. “What better way than to bring it in out of the cold and study it?”
“I do have to say,” Her Grace added, attempting to smooth over the conversation, “that little Jacqueline has blossomed with the help of her governess. We have been very fortunate to have her with us.
“In fact, Miss Watts,” she continued coming to an idea, “would you please bring Jacqueline down to the drawing room after dinner. I would love for Lady Cunningham to see her piano accomplishments.”
“I would be happy to, Your Grace,”
As Isabella curtsied and turned to take Jackie upstairs, she could still hear Lady Lydia’s voice as they walked to the drawing room.
“I am certainly glad I am not a governess. I couldn’t imagine spending my days outside, digging around in the dirt, all in the name of education. What a cumbersome life that must be.”