Jason put his hand over hers.
‘What if I was the miner?’
She laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Then it would have been bearable, at least.’
‘You might not have wanted the brood of kids, but getting them in the first place might have been all right.’
She tried to picture it – living in a dark terrace in a cobbled street, washing down her front doorstep in a shawl while children screamed and laughed up and down the pavement. Jason arriving home from the pit, showered but still grimy, with dirt-blackened fingernails. A stew made of cheap scrag end with rough bread and a pot of beer from the corner house. A tin bath in front of the fire.
It sounded cosy in her imagination but she had no doubt it would have been hard, repetitive and possibly soul-destroying, especially if you weren’t one of nature’s matriarchs.
‘Getting the first one, maybe,’ she said. ‘The other times, the bed would probably have been full of babies and toddlers. Not conducive to a romantic atmosphere.’
He chuckled and kissed her head.
‘Good old twenty-first century, eh?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘Just as many people living grim lives but at least they can have sex without being watched.’
‘Unless they want to be,’ said Jason after a beat.
She slapped his wrist and a playful struggle ensued, during which the diary slipped off Jenna’s lap and fell in a dusty heap on the floor.
‘Shit,’ she said, sobering. ‘I must be more careful with this. It could crumble to dust if I don’t look after it.’
She found the page they had been looking at.
‘I wonder if Miss Frances Manning will be having any sex any time soon,’ she said.
‘They didn’t go in for it much, did they, the Victorians?’
‘Well, we’re here, so presumably . . .’
‘I thought they were meant to be all weird about it.’
‘I’m willing to bet the Harvilles were weird about everything.’
‘Good point,’ said Jason with a laugh. ‘Go on, then. Let’s read on a bit.’
January 22nd
Such a trying day with the girls that I was obliged to leave the school room and gather myself on the landing before I lost my temper.
They can be charming, but today they have been demons, deliberately obtuse and sly. I want very much to like and befriend them, but they make it so terribly difficult for me.
I called for Bertha to watch over them while I collected myself. It occurred to me that perhaps an aggravating factor had been the dreary weather. It has rained for quite five days together, and not one of us has set foot out of doors in all that time.
The wet weather having finally abated, I decided to take the girls outside for a nature study lesson, in hopes that all our spirits might be lifted by some fresh air.
Alas, the lesson did not run as I intended it to. The girls were quite ungovernable, escaping to the far corners of the garden, where they remained concealed in the woodland for more than an hour.
In despair, after much hunting and calling, I sat myself at the garden table and hid my face in my hands. I entertained serious thoughts of resigning my post and going home to Nottingham, even more so when Lord Harville appeared on the terrace.
I tried to dry my eyes and compose myself as quickly as I could, but it was too late. He had taken the measure of my distress and came swiftly towards me.
‘Miss Manning, whatever is the matter? Where are the children?’
‘A game of hide and seek,’ I said, and may God forgive me for the lie. ‘It has been so rainy lately, and they needed the air.’