"Very odd, Miss Moore. If it's to be regular like, I'll be raisin' me fee for the rooms. Nice rooms, they is. Plen'y o' people lookin' to let them."
"Yes, of course," Miss Moore says.
Mrs. Porter turns to us, chest puffed up. "I likes to be informed as to wha' goes on in me'ouse. A woman alone can't be too careful these days. I run a respec'able 'ouse. You ask anybody and they'll tell you, Missus Por'er's a respec'able toiype."
I fear we shall stand out here all day in the cold. But Miss Moore gives us a wink as she steers us in. "Quite right, Mrs. Porter. I shall keep you apprised in the future. How very nice to see you all again. What a lovely surprise.''
"How do you do, Miss Moore?" Felicity gives our former teacher a quick handshake, as does Ann. They both have the decency to look shamed by how shabbily they once treated her. For her part, Miss Moore does not lose her smile.
"Mrs. Porter, allow me to present Miss Ann Bradshaw, Miss Gemma Doyle, and Miss Felicity Worthington. Miss Worthington, of course, is the daughter of our own Sir George Phineas Worthington, the admiral."
Mrs. Porter gasps and straightens. "You don't mean it? 'Ow do you like that? The admiral's daugh'er in me own 'ouse?" Mistaking me for Felicity, the nearsighted Mrs. Porter clasps my hands in hers, shaking the life out of them."Oh, miss, wha' an honor this is, I can tell you. The late Mr. Por'er were a seagoing man 'imself. That's 'im on the wall."
She points to a very bad painting of a terrier dressed in an Elizabethan ruff. The dog's pained expression seems to implore me to look away and allow him to bear his humiliation alone.
"Oh, this calls for port! Don't you agree, Miss Moore?" Mrs. Porter exclaims.
"Perhaps another time, Mrs. Porter. I must get to our lesson or the admiral shall be very put out with me indeed," Miss Moore says, spinning a smooth lie.
"Mum's the word, then." Mrs. Porter smiles conspiratorially, revealing large teeth as chipped and yellow as old piano keys. "Missus Por'er can keep a secret. Don't you douw' it."
"I never would, Mrs. Porter. Thank you for your trouble."
Miss Moore ushers us up the stairs to the third floor and into her modest rooms. The velvet settee, flowery rugs, and heavy draperies must reflect Mrs. Porter's taste in furnishings. But the overstuffed bookshelves and the desk awash in drawings are pure Miss Moore. In one corner stands an old globe nestled in its wooden cradle. Paintings, mostly landscapes, crowd one wall. On another is a collection of exotic masks, gruesome in their fierce beauty.
"Oh, my," Ann says, peering at them.
"Those are from the East," Miss Moore says. "Do you like my masks, Miss Bradshaw?"
Ann shivers."They look as if they could eat us up."
Miss Moore leans close. "Not today, I think. They've been fed." It takes Ann a moment to realize that Miss Moore is making a joke. There is an awkward silence, and I fear I've made a terrible mistake in bringing my friends here. I should have come alone.
"This looks like Aberdeen," Felicity says at last, taking in a painting of hills and purplish pink heather.
"Yes, it is. You've been to Scotland, Miss Worthington?" Miss Moore asks.
"On holiday once. Just before my mother went to France."
"Lovely country," Miss Moore says.
"Is your family in Scotland?" Felicity asks coyly.
"No. I'm afraid both my parents are long dead. I have no family left to me now, save for some distant cousins in Scotland who are so dull as to make one wish to be an orphan."
We laugh at this. It is so grand not to have to play at piety all the time.
"Have you traveled very much, Miss Moore?" Ann asks.
"Mmmm," Miss Moore says, nodding. "And these are my mementos of those lovely visits." She gestures to her many drawings and paintings that line the walls--a desolate beach, an angry sea, a pastoral English field."Travel opens your mind as few other things do.
It is its own form of hypnotism, and I am forever under its spell."
I recognize one of the places in the paintings."Are these the caves behind Spence?"
"Indeed," Miss Moore says. The awkwardness is back, for we all know that our visit to those caves was one of the reasons for Miss Moore's dismissal.
Miss Moore brings tea, crumpets, bread, and a slab of butter."Be it ever so humble, here is tea," she says, placing the tray on a small table. The clock ticks off nervous seconds as we peck at our food. Felicity clears her throat repeatedly. She's waiting for me to ask about the Order, as I'd promised. Now I'm not sure it's a good idea.
