It was an uncomfortable meal. The housekeeper insisted that Clara sit in Bennet's place at the head of the table, and after what seemed like a little argument, Clara finally conceded. Yet, the older women kept regarding her with watchful eyes.
A little pissed, Clara picked at her food while Beatrice made small academic talks that proved rather exhausting. It was obvious that the woman was doubling up as Isabella's nanny, tutor and also the head of domestic staff. She decided to inquire from Bennet if she was at least paid handsomely for such amount if multitasking.
As the dinner progressed, only once did the child volunteer a statement, and that was when Clara mentioned that Bethany Maloney had called.
"Why didn't you ask her to stay for lunch?" Isabella had demanded.
"I did ask her, but she had to get back, she was expected home for lunch." Clara replied.
"And she didn't ask to see me, or you didn't allow her?"
"She did not suggest it." Clara said again, as calm as she could.
"Of course she wanted to! Don't think," said Isabella, brandishing her knife and fork, "that because you've come here you can keep Bethany out. My father won't stand for that."
"You seem very fond of Miss Maloney," said Clara, with a sweet smile.
"I love her, I love her, I love her! And wipe that silly sme off your face." Isabella screamed, stamping her feet. Then she burst into tears.
"Isabella, go up to your playroom like a good child. I'll come to you later," Beatrice said, and to Clara's surprise, the child obeyed her at once.
"Goodness!" exclaimed Clara. "What's going on, she was never this way while I spent time with her. Is something wrong?"
Beatrice went on eating as if nothing had happened. "She's just being hard headed," she replied unemotionally."
"Is she really so devoted to Miss Maloney?" Clara asked curiously.
Beatrice lowered her eyes. "She's fond of her, yes. But Isabella's affections tend to change with her circumstances," she said.
It was an ambiguous remark and Clara was not sure if it was intended as a warning or it was simply a harmless statement.
"Perhaps," she said, recalling how happy Isabella was on the day she met them at the park, "she needs other children to play with, and a different environment."
Beatrice looked at her, with a straight face. She knew her employer met Clara at the park. Isabella have filled her in on the whole detail. "There are very few children of the right age around here," she said tonelessly, "and Isabella is not a good mixer."
"Well, I've seen her play at the park and she seem quite fun and a very good mixer to me." Clara said before she could stop herself. The last thing she needed was to be in Beatrice's bad books. She was still struggling to find her feet. "I meant to say that she may not be a good mixer if she never meet anyone."
"You had better talk to Mr. Lewin about these matters," Beatrice said, her pale eyes veiled once again in reserve, and Clara felt herself politely dismissed.
They finished their lunch in silence, Beatrice declined coffee, and left for Isabella's room.
"If you will excuse me, I will go and settle Isabella for her hour's rest," she said. "After that I will be at your disposal, should you want me for anything."
"I do not think so." Clara told her. "Except for one thing though." She said causing Beatrice to pause in her steps. "Would it be possible for one of the maids to air out the drawing room?"
Beatrice stiffened. "The drawing room?" she repeated with raised eyebrows. "That's a room we never use since the incident."
"Well, it's different now, isn't it?" Clara said pleasantly. "I can use it myself if no one else wants to."
"Mrs. Lewin....." the housekeeper spoke repressively "The servants have instructions not to meddle with that room."
"Whose instructions?" asked Clara coolly.
"The late Mrs. Lewin's," Beatrice replied, equally coolly. "No one entered that room then except by her express invitation."
"But," Clara protested incredulously, "She is late."
"Yes, she is," said Beatrice, colorlessly. "Now, if you would please excuse me."
Left alone, Clara experienced a swift wave of rebellion. Did Beatrice think she could treat her by the same controlled methods she used with the child? She had a sudden impression of
Bethany Maloney's deep voice saying with gentle reproof, 'Bennet felt his wife's death very deeply. Anything that helped to remind him...' And the mood passed. 'She was,' she told herself, 'only a guest in her husband's house, and she could not complain of matters that she did not understand.'
She went back to the drawing room, meaning to have another look inside, but the door was locked and someone had removed the key.