Ashford’s Version
I notice that the seat on my right at the table is empty again today.
Jemma has remained locked up in the room since the hunt. She can’t move because her sprained knee confines her to bed, but it’s been more than ten days now.
She doesn’t want to see me or talk to me – not that I’m sorry about that – but I would really like to know if she’s ever heard from that crook Willoughby again.
“Is there any news from the duchess?” I ask casually, so nobody thinks I’m anxious. To clarify: I am not anxious about the duchess, and I believe I will never be.
“She’s still in her apartment,” Lance answers promptly.
“How many days since she last came out? Ten?”
“Eleven, Your Grace,” he corrects me.
“Eleven. It seems a bit too much for a sprain. Shall I call someone? A doctor? A gravedigger? An exorcist?”
Just as Lance is about to answer, we hear loud footsteps on the stairs. “It’s here! It’s here! It’s here!” Jemma’s voice, which has now become familiar, interrupts us.
“I had just mentioned an exorcist, right?” I ask, but my question hangs in the air.
I recognise the sound of the heavy front door opening and, just then, a courier van stops in front of the house. After a few seconds, the van leaves and we hear Jemma’s heavy tread again, this time she’s climbing the stairs.
“What a savage,” my mother comments.
It’s clear that her sprain is long gone.
I give Lance a questioning look, and he remains expressionless on the other side of the table. “I assume that the Pride and Prejudice bbc series on dvd has arrived,” he informs us.
“Lance, would you please join me in my study? I would like to talk to you,” I say, putting my napkin down on my left.
“I’ll clear the breakfast table and join you there.”
I stand up resolutely. “I mean now.”
I sit at the desk while Lance closes the door behind him. “It’s annoying that I’m not informed of what is going on in my house. I have the feeling that you know something regarding Her Grace. Whatever it is, if it’s not going to compromise national security, then would you be so kind as to tell me what it is all about?”
“Are you referring to the reason why she is not leaving her apartment?”
“It’s been more than a week of isolation. It was a simple sprain, not the black plague, who are you trying to fool?” I burst out.
“The duchess was, indeed, unwell, although this isn’t the primary reason for her protracted absence.”
“And what is?” I can’t hide my curiosity.
“Lady Jemma asked me to give her lessons in general knowledge and teach her the skills a duchess is expected to master.”
“That’s what my mother was doing, if I understood it correctly.”
“If you allow me, Lady Delphina wasn’t able to find the right way to address the topics with Lady Jemma.”
“And what about Pride and Prejudice?”
“In particular, to answer your question, we have recently talked about the literary knowledge that is necessary for someone in high society. It’s a very rich amount of knowledge if you consider every important period, but we visited the library here at Denby Hall, and it didn’t take us long to realise that she could never read all the books I suggested in a reasonable time. Lady Jemma needs ready-to-use forms that allow for immediate assimilation. Thus, I recommended the cinematic versions of all the literary classics.”
“The bbc series?”
“Lady Jemma was very impressed by a film featuring Keira Knightley and, when she found out about a tv series, she couldn’t help but order the dvd version.”
“Are you saying that Jemma has been watching one film after the other for a week in order to catch up with my library?”
“And she’s making really good progress,” he confirms, satisfied. “Tess of the d’Urbervilles, David Copperfield, Farewell to Arms, The Scarlet Letter, Vanity Fair, Wuthering Heights…”
“Thanks, Lance,” I interrupt him. “That’s incredible,” I comment to myself, but maybe I said that a little louder than I intended, and Lance has heard me.
“It’s an unconventional but very effective method. I adopted the same technique for history and geography, suggesting that she saw films about travel and eminent personalities.”
“… and she listened to you without complaining?”
“She asked for it herself,” Lance replies in her defence.
“That’s a brilliant idea, Lance. You deserve to be praised.”
“I would like to add that Lady Jemma has an extraordinary predisposition for foreign languages.”
“Explain,” I urge him to continue.
“Lady Jemma doesn’t speak German or French, but she learned Italian from her neighbours, the De Marcellos. She may not have impressed Baron von Hofmannsthal, but she will certainly prove outstandingly assured with any Italian diplomat you may invite to your evenings. In the meantime, I recommended some films in German and French. She has a very sensitive ear and I believe that she’s making tangible progress.”
I shake my head to clear my mind. “So you’re saying that she’s voluntarily undergoing an intensive course in literature, history, geography and languages, and she’s even making good progress. Is that correct?”
Lance just nods his head.
I’m shocked. I dismiss him and, a second after he’s left, I collapse against the backrest of my chair.
I feel like a worm. A caterpillar. A larva. Any invertebrate of your choice, as long as it’s far down the food chain.
So far, I’ve never restrained myself when it came to criticising Jemma for her ignorance, her lack of initiative and her inadequacies, and now I find out that she has started studying hard voluntarily.
But it’s even worse than that. As her husband, I should have taken care of her interests and helped her fit into a society that doesn’t belong to her, yet I simply delegated the task to my mother – to whom I wouldn’t entrust my worst enemy – and, by doing so, I forced her to seek help from Lance.
The icing on the cake is that I thought that I could stand my ground as long as Jemma did the same, but now the situation is completely overturned. She took the initiative to meet my needs, so my good manners and education suggest that I take a step towards meeting hers.
This is a total mess. I counted on just two things: her stubbornness and her laziness.
For the first time I look at myself in the mirror and I know I’m wrong.