Am willing to accept suggestion for a better chapter title

A History of Mauldy Castle

Mauldy Castle predates the conquest of 1066 and is included in the Doomsday Book. However, finding the beginning of the castle is more than a dig through the past. In some sections inside the castle, the old bones show through with clarity. In others, the years and endless successions of remodeling have quite effectively obfuscated the original structure. The original structure was a Roman garrison built on a large island in a lake. An Anglo-Saxon fortress followed but archeological records indicated it was an earthen structure with a collection of wood huts inside the earthen walls. It was then rebuilt as a mott and bailey fortress by William the Conquer that was practically a collection of wood huts inside earthen walls. Henry II turned it into a proper stone castle. Henry VIII turned it into a stunning example of Tudor architecture and a castle justly referred as the "most charming castle in England."

Three: Welcome to the Revolution (God, how I hate this title!)

September 20, 1902


The train pulled into the single platform Mauldstone Station a quarter to noon. The gray stale air of London gave way to the crisp air of the countryside. Backs of houses slowly transformed into green spaces. The journey was of modest length, dashing through the oat and hop fields of Kent for two hours after departing Victoria Station. Girls of all ages departed the train. Dozens, all shouting and waving at friends not seen for a summer, giggling and smiling at the reunion. A blonde haired girl seemed to be in the eye of this activity. All the girls waved to her. A girl with long red curls followed behind. Virginia recognized the shuffling movement as a servant following its master. The platform swelled with energy and excitement. Perhaps this was not going to be an entirely unpleasant experience. Porters scrambled to carry baggage and steamer trunks. Clearly this was a scheduled train, depositing students back to Mauldstone for a fresh year of school.

"What’s that smell?" Virginia asked, covering her nose with a handkerchief. She carefully stepped down from the train.

"I believe that’s the healthy country air," Nessa replied, clattering down beside her sister.

"Smells like sheep."

"They say the London air will turn your lungs black. I imagine you miss the pollution."

"I think I prefer coal dust over sheep."

"Mauldy students, this way," a tall man shouted in an American accent. He was thin with dark clothes and a preposterous red and white striped woolen scarf bundled about his neck. The day was not chilled at all. A light layer of perspiration clung the white blouse to Virginia’s back. "Leave your baggage," the scarf man said, "they’ll find they way to you."

The older girls, who had been through the process before, followed the man, leaving trunks and baggage on the platform. The Porters seemed to be loading the trunks into a wagon.
Virginia followed, pulling Nessa behind her.

The crowd moved outside the station and formed a single line alongside an omnibus.

"A motorcar," Nessa breathed in wonder. "Do we really get to ride in that?"

"Beats walking," Virginia replied. She had ridden an omnibus once in London. Even though she had the fare for an handsome cab, she craved the novelty of the omnibus.

The students sat calmly down on the cushioned seats inside the bus. It was a tight fit, some girls having to stand in the aisle. The thin American climbed into the driver’s seat. "Hang on now. Next stop Mauldy Castle!"

The omnibus lurched forward and the engine seemed to sputter before finally taking off with substantial acceleration. The bus passed through the village of Mauldstone quickly. There was a pub, a handful of shops, a sweet shop, and an open-air market. The village was charming but very small. The houses of villagers were overcome with fields of oats and the odd pasture with sheep. The narrow gravel road wound its way through the fields, cresting hills and snaking in-between valleys. After some minutes, the road plunged into the forest primeval. The trees blocked the sun. The warm, pleasant day disappeared into a dark chill. Virginia could hear no birds over the rattle of the motor. The narrow gravel road swung dangerously between trees, the bus squeezing through passages and over a stone bridge that was clearly not designed for the wide berth of the omnibus.

The omnibus broke free of the forest as it crested the hill. In the valley below was Mauldy Castle smack in the middle of a lake, as the brochure promised. The sunlight turned the stone into a fair shade of blushing pink. Square in design, each corner had a small tower. The roof of the building inside the walls rose higher than the turrets. Pale green flags with the Mauldy crest of crossed swords snapped in the wind. The stonewalls seemed to plunge straight into the glass surface of the water. The waters were deep blue. Virginia knew it was built on an island, one side of the castle butting against the water, the other side leaving a wide space of green. The manicured lawns of the castle were the deepest green Virginia had ever seen. Mauldy Castle certainly earned it reputation for charm.

Beyond the lake was a wide space of even green fields at the floor of the valley. From the window of the omnibus, she could see the orchards, the stables, the horses lazily flicking tails, the gardens, the famed hedge maze, and the empty green spaces used as football pitches and playing fields. It was beautiful.

The road widen and leveled, no longer tossing students haphazardly about in the omnibus. Virginia rubbed the top of her head. Nessa pointed out the window. "Look at that cottage! Look at that duck! Oh, a deer!"

The omnibus rattled to a stop at the edge of the lake. "Right, over the bridges," the driver said, scarf still firmly fixed at his neck. Virginia felt it was rude to stare as she passed so she fixed her gaze on her feet, stealing side-glances.

Nessa tugged at her hand. "I dropped my mouse!"

"You didn’t bring that thing with you?"

"I have to go back." She pulled free of Virginia’s hand and fought her way upstream the rose of girls disembarking.

Virginia could not take her eyes off the scarf. What was it the man felt he needed to hide? A disfiguring scar slicing across his throat? The mangled remains of his voice box?

"Tips of his ears sliced off in a vendetta," a voice said beside Virginia.

Virginia smiled. The girl speaking had dirty blonde hair and warm brown eyes. "I was thinking a hideous scar across his throat." Virginia said. "Would account for the croaking voice."

"It’s a good theory. Obviously the man has something to hide. I’m melting out here in the sun. I’m Charlotte Penn."

"How do you do, Virginia Smithson."

Nessa emerged triumphant at the door of the omnibus, holding her mummified mouse high in delight. The girl behind her drew back in shock and curled her lips in a little scream. Nessa did not notice and bounded happily towards her sister. "Found him. He fell under the seat."

"What an…unusual stuffed animal," Charlotte said.
"It’s the best one yet. This one should last a few months." Nessa lovingly tucked in a stray bandage.
"Before?"
"She loves the stuffing out of it," Virginia said. "This is our first year here."
"Mine as well. Also my first time in another country. Grandmother took me on holiday and decided I was stay here for school."
The mass of students went over a series of connecting bridges, each planted firmly on a small island. The first was an old mill, the giant wooden wheel motionless in the water.
"Are you from America?"
"Philadelphia," Charlotte said.
"Do you have cowboys and Indians and outlaws and gun fights in Philadelphia?" Nessa asked.
"No, we’re a little more civilized that that."
The second bridge brought the student to a guardhouse, shaped like a tower. The heavy iron gate was drawn up but Virginia warily eyes the polished spikes at the bottom of the gate.
"My sister and I are from London," Nessa said, "but we were in Cairo this spring."
"Very exciting," Charlotte said. "Did you see the pyramids? Did you go inside? Is it really filled with bats?"
"Yes, no, and I don’t know," Virginia answered. "We really weren’t given the chance to go exploring. Seems a shame to go all that way and to be told to stay in the hotel all day."
"I haven’t seen a thing," Charlotte said with a sigh. "Grandmother drags me from museum to museum to tea with other old women who only complain that the food is not like what they serve at home."
"In Cairo, we only ate British food," Virginia said. "Our uncle would not let us touch, let alone eat, anything that was not properly sanitized."
"What’s the point of traveling if you sequester yourself with people just like yourself and complain about how nothing is like home?"
"Exactly."
The guardhouse had a tunnel that ran straight through the small tower. On the other side was a drawbridge in the lowered the position. Every student passed of the bridge, the wood thundering with a thousand footsteps.
They were in the courtyard of the castle. The stones were a warm golden tone in the afternoon sunlight. Teachers were waiting, directing students to form lines.
"First years!"
Nessa squeezed Virginia’s hand. "That’s me," and took off at a run.
"She’s fearless," Charlotte observed.
"Gets us into more trouble than anything," Virginia said. "I’m a third year."
"I believe I am as well."
Virginia and Charlotte stood in line beside a glowering teacher. Approximately 8 over girls waited with them, including the girl with the vivid red curls and the blonde girl. The other girls chattered and seemed to vie for the blonde’s attention.
The instructor’s eyebrows seemed too large and bushy to be lifted higher than anything but a glowering position. He wore a white flannel suit, which was far too festive and casual for a man of his disposition.
"I am Mr. Fowles, the mathematics instructor," he said in a booming voice. When he spoke, everyone listened. "Welcome back to another at Mauldy. I’m sure each and every one of you had exciting adventures over the summer that you’re bursting at the seams to share with you friends, but I do not care to hear them. You may waste your time in idle prattle if you wish but you will not waste my time.
"Now, you’re rooms are the same. Any new students? Yes, you two, see me afterwards. Baggage will be delivered by this evening. There will be a banquet this evening at six in the Great Hall. Lady Mauldy will wish to welcome you back and make her customary little speech. Class schedules are posted by the library. Now please calmly take yourselves back to your rooms."
The crowd of girls rushed off, leaving Virginia and Charlotte behind, looking lost.
"Are you girls new this year?"
Charlotte opened her mouth but only moved it like a fish.
"Yes, sir," Virginia replied.
Fowles turned sharply on his heel and called over his shoulder, "Follow me."
"I’m Virginia Smithson," Virginia said, running behind Fowles. "And this is Charlotte Penn, from Philadelphia."
Fowles walked quickly with hands clasped behind his back.
"I don’t care where you come from, only where you go. There are rules to the Mauldy Institute. Learn then. Know them. Ignorance is not an excuse in my book; you are as accountable for your actions as any first year. Students suites are arranged by floor, each floor has a common room and well as a teacher who lives on that floor. This teacher can discipline or reward you as he or she chooses, including suspension of dinning privileges and inordinately early curfews. All students are to be confined to their floor by eight p.m., in bed by ten. Never break curfew and never let me catch you breaking curfew."
Fowles stopped abruptly at the foot of a spiraling staircase. Virginia could not stop fast enough and ran into his back. He turned and his lip quivered in the hint of a snarl or the threat of a smile.
"Sorry," she replied meekly.
"You are on the fourth floor. Jane Radcliffe is the warden of this floor. She is very strict, even by my standards, but a very good French teacher."
Virginia cast a sly look at Charlotte, who looked as if she was going to cry with fright.
"Good day." Fowles turned sharply and left down the hall at a fierce pace.
"Hate to have him as my warden," Charlotte said, regaining her voice.
"He has more rules than Uncle Jack."
The stairs pivoted around a giant oak timber. The timber was from a single piece, a massive tree, looking as if it had been barely carved or finished before the staircase rotated around it. A rope functioned as a hand rail.
Virginia and Charlotte climbed the stairs, a narrow and steep journey. The stones were slippery and Virginia could well imagine why the students were discouraged from wandering the castle at night: it was easier to fall and break a bone in the dark. The stairs were plenty dangerous in the light.
"Are all the stairs going to be so tiny?" Charlotte asked.
"It’s a function of a medieval castle. The stairs are narrow and steep because it is very hard to run an army up narrow and steep stairs. A single man at the top of the stairs can keep an army at bay, just knocking them backwards. It’s a bottleneck."
At the fourth floor, the very top, the stairs spilled into a large common room. There was no guard in armor waiting to push them back down the stairs. The common room was filled with comfortable looking furniture occupied with girls laughing and talking. A fire burned in the fireplace. Despite the warm autumn day outside, it was chilly inside the castle. A marmalade cat slept on the carpet in front of the fire.
There appeared to be six suites with one at the far end and one immediately by the stairs, the warden’s room. No sneaking past in the night.
Virginia knocked on the door.
"Come in," a cheery voice replied.
Inside the room was like stepping into a spring. At a desk, sat a small woman, her dark hair pulled back severely. She smiled and the severity vanished. The book closed with the slightest motion of her hand.
"You must be my new wards. What a delightful pleasure. Please, sit. Now, who is who."
"I’m Charlotte Penn," Charlotte said.
"My American, wonderful. And you must be Virginia, the explorer and archeologist. You uncle has written to warn my of your antics."
Virginia felt herself blush. "My uncle surely exaggerates. He only has my best intentions…"
"Nonsense, a scholar such as your uncle has no reason to exaggerate. He probably has every reason to warn my of your reckless behavior and so on." She waved her hand in a vague manner. "But I encourage willful and reckless behavior, that is my weakness."
From the top desk drawer, Miss Radcliffe produced two slips of paper. "These are your class schedules. If you disagree, please see me so we can come to an arrangement. You are encouraged to study whatever you like but we do have core classes every student is required to take."
Virginia read her slip: mathematics, Latin, biology, sport, and world history. She liked her classes.
"Now, let me show you to your room."
Miss Radcliffe escorted the girls through the common room and down at the hall. "Because you are both new, I thought it best that you share a room. All the students must share a room. Builds camaraderie and friendship. However, you both will be in the largest room the floor has to offer. It is so large that we put three girls together."
Miss Radcliffe stopped in front of the last door in the hall. She knocked lightly. "I’m sure you’ll find it spacious even with three."
The door opened to a round room with three beds, each with a dark green canopy. In the middle bed was a dark hair girl with glasses, flat on her stomach reading.

"You roommate, Miss Josephine Bailey-Smythe," Miss Radcliffe said. "Baggage should be arriving any moment now. I’ll be in my room if you need me."

The round room appeared to be in one of the turrets of the castle. The room was furnished with three beds, three identical desks, and three identical wardrobes. The walls were bare stone, whitewashed but unmistakably stone, draped with colored cloth. There was one window, leaded glass hazy with age, opened to let in a breeze.

The girl with the glasses sat crossed legged on the bed and inspected the new roommates. "Are you in this room?"

"Yes, I believe so," Virginia said.

"Good, you look interesting."

Virginia’s hand instinctively flew to her hair, smoothing down her plait.

"Interesting, not messy," the girl said. She climbed out of the bed and extended a hand. "I’m Jo. Actually, Josephine Bailey Smyth, but that’s pretentious and a relic from a system designed to cowl the average man. Call me Jo."

"Virginia Smithson. This is Charlotte Penn."

"I’m dead tired of constantly introducing myself," Charlotte said. Her hand flew to her mouth, as if she were surprised she spoke.

"You’re only with me because I’m difficult to live with," Jo said in a matter of fact manner. "Drove away last year’s roommate. Had her begging and crying to Warden Radcliffe, pleading to be with anyone else but me."

"So you’re that bad?" Virginia asked.

"No, just though you might want to know why you’re bunking with the most unpopular girl in the school."

A figure shadowed the door. The blonde girl wearing the iciest blue dress walked in, her eyes wide and one hand on chest. The red head followed at a servile two paces behind.

"Oh! Josephine!" the blonde exclaimed. "What a surprise it is to find you here. And I thought I detected l’aire de nouveau riche."

The red head giggled. The blonde girl smirked. "And you must be the new roommates. Charming."

"Don’t hang around too long," Jo cautioned, "you won’t want to get that smell on your clothes."

The blonde gave weak little laugh and left, red head following at two paces.
"Regina Pomepanz," Jo said. "And her goon Beatrice Fox."


"Charming," Virginia said.

"Another product of England’s social structure: the rich snob."

"I’ve met them already," Charlotte said.

"So you know that she looks like a dumb bunny, head full of fluff and fashion, but she’s vicious. Clever and cunning."

"We just met on the train," Charlotte said meekly.

Jo looked at Charlotte as if she knew the hurt inflicted by Regina and Beatrice merely from the tone of Charlotte’s voice. "She’s my enemy and now she will treat you as her enemy because of my proximity. That’s the kind of person she is."

"I think I can judge what kind of person she and her friend are."

"Which bed do you want, Charlotte?" Virginia asked, changing the subject.

Charlotte looked about the room, considering. "The one nearest the window. I’m always warm."
"Excellent." Virginia tossed herself on the bed nearest the door. The mattress was thick and comfortable, firm but not too firm.

On the cover of Jo’s bed Virginia could plainly see that the book she had been reading was the Communist Manifesto.

Jo saw where Virginia was looking and smiled as she picked up the book and clutched it to her chest. "My mother does not like me reading political tracks at home. I have to hide books every time she enters a room and pretend I was working on my needlepoint. I despise needlepoint. I always get more blood on the canvas than anything."

"I have to sneak books out of my uncle’s library."

"I spend all my allowance at the bookshop every week. Tell me, do you believe in women’s suffrage?" Jo asked earnestly.

"I suppose," Virginia said, turning over a concept in her mind that she had never considered. "Women should be allowed to make their own decisions, to vote as a man would, and legally own property."

"I knew we’d get on. So when can we protest at Parliament?"

"What?"

"How else will we achieve women’s suffrage if we do not raise the consciousness of society as whole? How can you not protest while the flame of indignation at the plight of our fellow sisters burns in your bosom?"

"You’re a bit of a radical, aren’t you?" Virginia asked.

"I have to hide my books from my Grandmother, too," Charlotte said. "But they’re only gothic romances or adventures. Nothing about over throwing society."

Jo sank onto her bed with a sign. "My mother seems horrified that she’s harboring a political minded women in her house. She’s too well breed to think that women might be equals to men and want to be more than be an angel in the house, look pretty and raise children. She looks at me as if I’m a changeling, left in the cradle in place of her real daughter, the meek one who does as she is told."

A knock came at the door. A footman carried in three large steamer trunks. All three girls began the process of unpacking. Books on desks. Clothes in wardrobes. Trunks stored neatly at the foot of the bed.

A bell rang, signifying that dinner was ready in the great hall.