Four: The Adventure to Find the Water Closet

London Evening Standard – September 21,1902

Noted archeologist, Jack Smithson, departed this afternoon from the Isle of Dogs to commence his latest expedition in France. The site in question has long been the point of speculation…


Four: Lady Mauldy Welcomes the Returning Students and the Great Adventure to Find the Water Closet

From the journal of Charlotte Penn:

Now that we’re finally back, I’m writing this while Regina and Virginia prepare for bed. I know that in a few minutes they’ll complain about the light on my nightstand and ask me to turn extinguish the flame. Accommodating roommates is something I will have to get use to. I suppose if my light really bothers them, they can close the curtains on the bed. I want to write all of this down before I forget.
Josephine led Virginia and me down to the Great Hall. I don’t think I could have found it without her help. This castle seems to be made of endless corridors and doors and staircases. And it’s dark. Some of the corridors are wired for electricity, the heavy black wires crawl along the walls, but the light bulbs only give off a pale sulfuric glow. I blink and squint but that does not work and nothing comes into focus.
We passed from the modern refurbished wing to distinctly Tudor looking sections to a rougher medieval area. Virginia pointed out the architectural details. I, myself, am ignorant. I suspect Josephine may have been taking the scenic route. “Look at the Norman arch, fantastic detail.”
“How do you know it’s Norman,” Josephine inquired.
“The jagged teeth like design in the stone of that arch, that’s Norman.” Virginia’s tone implied that she was an expert on the subject, having been to so many castles. The jagged designed seemed to transform the arch into a great gaping mouth.
Virginia seemed to marvel at every turn and new passage, pointing out interesting features I did not notice. I don’t know how she could see so much in the dark.
I wish I had a candle. I wish I had brought my silly glasses instead of leaving them on my nightstand.
Down a cold gray stone corridor and a short flight of stairs, past a series of grim tapestries, we entered the Great Hall.
The Great Hall was in the center of the castle. It is a large vaulted stone room with a dozen long tables filling the space. Suites of armor and displays of swords lined the walls. Above was a gallery with a short banister; it ran the length around the hall. At the far end was the Mauldy coat of arms, crossed swords on a field of green. The room glowed warmly with hundreds of flickering lights: gas lights. Not all of the castle was equipped for electricity.
“Minstrel’s gallery,” Virginia said, pointing to where I was looking. I must appear a slack jawed yokel, never having seen a castle before, much less romp through as if I owned the place. We just don’t have castles in the United States and we certainly don’t have old buildings by English standards. An Old Building in America pre-dates the Civil War. A Really Old Building predates the Revolution. I can’t believe I was casually standing in a thousand year old castle, complaining about the lighting.
The hall was filled with a dozen long tables, enough for ten students a piece. At the far end of the hall, under the coat of arms, was a long table designated for teachers. At the center sat an old woman, possibly Lady Mauldy, the headmistress. Her dress was old fashioned, stiff looking with an impossible amount of ruffles and lace, the height of Victorian fashion. Hair was piled on top of her head in a very full coiffeur. Her hair was wider than the rest of her body, which was unfortunate, as she appeared to be very short and round. How could she sit so casually in that rigid gear? Or keep her head from bobbling from side to side, desperately seeking balance? Fashion has relaxed in recent years, much to my comfort and Grandmother’s approval. While she demands modesty, as the older fashions provided, it is a sin to waste so much fabric on embellishments and decorations. Must be her Quaker roots, preferring simplicity.
I prefer simplicity but I don’t think that’s the force of Grandmother’s personality over me. Clothing that is too fussy or too ornate is just not comfortable. No one can be happy if they are wearing itchy clothing.
A small girl with hair coming out of plaits stood on her chair and waved madly. Virginia waved back. “That’s my sister,” she said.
Josephine found space enough for us near the entrance. All the other tables were full. Counting tables and heads, I figure there must be a hundred students. A hundred girls rattling on, voices bouncing off hard stone walls…it was loud.
The food was already on the table: roast beef with pudding, vegetables and a basket of bread. Josephine was barely in her chair before she reached across the table for the pitcher of water. Virginia didn’t waste anytime with niceties before serving herself a generous portion of beef. I could get use to dining without worry about the proper forks or on which side of the plate the water glass goes.
There were a dozen teachers sitting at the head table but only one man, Mr. Fowles. He was frowning, of course. I can’t imagine him smiling. His lecture earlier was enough to frighten the socks of any students, let alone one fresh off the boat. He probably enjoys it, scaring little girls. The other teachers seem pleasant enough. I recognized the tightly drawn hair and face of Miss Radcliffe.
Josephine and Virginia did not talk much while they ate. Virginia muttered something about sardine sandwiches between mouthfuls. I had not eaten myself since that morning. Grandmother marched me to the train station an hour and half before the train was scheduled to leave. In a café at the station, she had coffee and a sweet roll and I had tea and a scone with as much jam and cream as the laws of physics would allow.
At nine, Grandmother snagged a porter with the crook of her parasol. He was obliged to help with my baggage. There was a large crowd at the platform, students and parents milling about. Grandmother pushed her way through with her parasol, poking into feet and whacking people liberally. Useful tool that parasol. I know for a fact that she buys them with reinforced steel shafts, the better with which to whack, and probably has the tip sharpened.
Bright red hair caught my attention. Beatrice was sitting next to Regina, in the center of the hall. She glowed softly but intently, like a firefly in a jar. The room seemed too radiant from her point of presence.
“She’s the most popular girl in the school,” Josephine said, pointing a fork in Regina’s direction.
“And you dislike her.” It was obvious from the tone of voice, not to mention the show earlier in our room.
“It’s mutual, I assure you.”
“And Beatrice?”
“Regina’s goon, second in command. Vicious gossip. Spreads the most insidious rumors and lies.”
“Such as?”
“You’ll find out.”
I remember the events on the train in painful detail. Nervous and alone, I climbed on board the train. Sure, I was glad to be away from Grandmother and that enormous thumb and all that went with it, but it’s frightening to be on your own for the first time. What was she thinking, sending a thirteen-year-old girl off on her own in a foreign land? We barely speak the same language! Two countries divided by a common language, thank you, Mark Twain.
I spotted Beatrice entering a car. You really can’t miss that hair. My heart left my throat. Someone I knew. Just knowing someone, a single person, gives you a lifeline that you can hold on to.
I knocked lightly on the door before entering.
Beatrice was sitting opposite a pretty, blonde girl, wearing icy blue. “Can I help you?” she asked in a disdainful tone.
I swallowed before answering. Please don’t let me babble like an idiot. My mouth opened before I could help myself, “Hello, Beatrice. I was wondering if I could sit with you for the journey. I don’t really know anyone else on board. I didn’t even know you were going to Mauldy. When you brother said you were returning to school, I had no idea we would be attending the same school. Talk about a small world…”
“Do you know her?” the blonde asked.
Beatrice looked as if she smelled something foul, her nose crinkled in an unflatteringly manner. “No, I have no idea who she is, Regina.”
“Oh,” I said, groping for words. My cheeks were burning with shame. “I’m sorry, I thought I recognized someone I knew.”
I backed out of the car, knocking into the doorframe on my way out. The glass rattled in protest.
I eventually found a compartment at the back of the train with no other passengers. At I wouldn’t have to embarrass myself for a second time that morning. With knees drawn against my chest, I stared intently out the window, trying not to think of how mortified I felt.
Josephine said Regina was vicious. I’m inclined to believe it.
“Are you feeling okay,” Virginia asked. “You’re staring daggers at someone and hardly eating a thing.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” I replied hastily, shoving a butter roll into my mouth.
The old woman in the center rose. Her head bobbled from side to side for moment, the mass of silver hair finding balance. She was impossibly short. I suspect she might have been standing on a footstool or else her face would barely clear the table.
A hush fell over the crowd.
Lady Mauldy seemed to inspect the crowd before speaking. “Welcome to another year at the Mauldy Institute.”
The crowd clapped.
“That is the end of my prepared speech,” Lady Mauldy said, holding a small piece of paper to demonstrate. “However, there is much I want to say to you. For some this is your final year, for others this is your first. Let me assure you now that this fine institution has no likeness anywhere else on this fair sceptered green isle.
“This is by design. At no other place will you or could you achieve such a comprehensive education. Nowhere in the curriculum will you find embroidery, etiquette, or other ignoble accomplishments. This school does not produce accomplished young ladies. Accomplished is a polite way of saying pretty but useless. No, no accomplishments at Mauldy. We produce extraordinary young ladies.
“As you may have noticed, I am extremely aged. With my advanced years, I am a bit dotty, eccentric, and more stubborn than ever. Fortunately, I am very rich, so no one complains. My main eccentricity is the insistence at founding a school that produced women of merit. Squandered my fortune and sacrificed my ancestral home, such sins in the eyes of the aristocracy. The first years at the young Mauldy Institute were trying and a rough ride. Very exciting times. But I am stubborn, a trait I had even in my youth, and created a fine school of which I am very proud. Very proud indeed.”
Lady Mauldy paused in her speech and took a drink of water.
“We have before us a new school year and the promise of staggering possibility. Every classroom is at your disposal, every book is meant to be read, and every idea you wish to pursue is valid and exciting. We are forging the women of the twentieth century. Everyone one of you girls has the seed of greatness in her. After all, I don’t let just anyone in my school.
“A few general announcements. We have a new groundskeeper, Jonas Broadfoot. Please make him welcome when you do see him. And a sad announcement: due to a family emergency, Miss Hill relinquished her post as history teacher. Due to the short notice, this position will be filled as soon as possible…”
Virginia leaned in and whispered, “I bet this place is crawling with secret passages.”
I scanned the room, looking for obvious signs of a secret passage. Of course, if it were obvious it wouldn’t be secret. “How do you know that?”
“Because all castle are built with escape routes, handy things like that to slip out during a siege or invasion.”
“I though you said all castles were designed to keep invaders at bay, to bottleneck soldiers in a staircase, and to let a single man hold back an army.”
“That…and with an way to escape while the one solder is holding back the army.” Virginia’s tone of voice implied that it was obvious.
“That makes sense,” I agreed meekly. I recalled the steep narrow staircase to the dormitory and how easy it would be to simply push a person down as soon as they reach the top. And if they had a sword and were wearing, twenty pounds of armor…Yeah, made sense.
“So we’re agreed.” Virginia pushed her chair away from the table. “We’ll go looking for secret passages.”
“I didn’t say that!”
Josephine laid a warning hand on my shoulder. “Not so loud. We should leave one at a time to avoid unwanted attention.”
“But I don’t want to go looking for secret passages,” I protested weakly. I might as well have been speaking French for all the attention Virginia and Josephine were paying me. Great, roommates who ignored me as if I didn’t exist.
“You complain an awful lot,” Virginia said sourly.
“I’m not complaining,” I said, “I just don’t want us to get into trouble.”
“We won’t get into any trouble.”
“Yes we will. There are rules, Mr. Fowles told us so, and he said that ignorance was no excuse and we would be held accountable for any rule breaking, he said so, and I really don’t want to break any rules on my first day.” It all came out so fast I could barely breathe.
“If we get caught,” Virginia said, “we’ll just say we were looking for the water closet.” It really is amazing the way she can completely ignore what was just said. She continued, “I assume there are water closets.”
“Of course, but all of us?” Josephine inquired.
“Safety in numbers.” Virginia left the table and walked boldly up the main stairs, as if she had nothing to hide and in no way was about to sneak about the castle exploring. An admirable quality, this fearlessness.
“She’s trouble,” I mused out loud. Josephine looked surprised and then laughed.
When the back of Virginia disappeared around the door, Josephine stood from the table and said, “Follow me.” So I followed.
Virginia was waiting in the hall, inspecting the tapestry. This particular one illustrated the demise of a king with an arrow through the eye. There were letters on the tapestry but they were difficult to read, probably in Latin, the official language of the past.
“So what clues denote a secret passage,” Josephine asked.
“Drafts, inexplicable currents of air, walls that are too thick, portraits with eyes that follow you, that sort of thing.”
“What about rotating bookcases or wall sconces that are really triggers?” Josephine asked with a smile on her face.
“Bah,” Virginia said dismissively, “those sort of things only happen in books.”
“And why are you such an expert?” I asked.
“My uncle is an archeologist. He tells me all the time about finding secret passages and lost tombs and so on.”
Down the hall, we found an opened door. We entered a long room that ran parallel to the corridor we had just left. The walls were covered with portraits, presumably illustrious Mauldy ancestors. The other wall was dotted with large windows. In-between the windows were more painting. It was hard to see anything beyond the gleam of moonlight on the varnish of the paintings. “Can we do something about the lights?” I asked nervously.
“Parts of the castle have not yet been wired for electricity,” Josephine explained. “Some areas are plunged into complete darkness.”
“Can’t really explore in the dark,” I said like a Nervous Nelly, afraid of the dark in a large and ominous castle.
“That’s were you’re wrong,” Virginia said. She looked intently into the eyes of each portrait.
“The eyes never move when you’re looking at them,” Josephine said.
Virginia seemed to blush. “You never know.”
The only light available spilled in from the outside, pooling at the base of the window. Darkness makes me nervous. I edged as close to the window as I could.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Virginia said, peering at a painting. I joined her, leaning in close. I recognized the style of the painting. It depicted a large room filled with paintings. In the center was a man standing and a child dressed in vivid blue sitting on a settee.
“It’s a catalogue painting,” I said. “Art collectors had paintings made of their collections, so insurance reasons mostly, but also ego.”
I returned to the window, to the small pool of moonlight. For being an older section of the castle, the glass was clear and not hazy with age. The round panels did not sag towards the bottom, tiny particles of glass moving south slowly but steadily over the years. These were modern windows.
The window offered a view of the ground beyond the lake. The waters of the lake were still, dark shapes of swans gliding silently across the surface. The moonlight illuminated the tops of the trees and the silvery expanses of the lawn.
“And when did you become such an art expert?”
“Grandmother drags me to museums for my edification,” I said absently. “I must have inadvertently learned something when I wasn’t paying attention.”
“But that still doesn’t explain…” Virginia started.
A figure moved in the darkness beneath the trees.
“What is that?” I gasped. Virginia and Josephine were by my side faster than imaginable. I pointed to where I saw the movement.
“Where?” Virginia pushed me out of the way.
“In the trees.”
We were still for a moment, waiting. Just as I began to think I had imagined it, a figure moved from the dark of woods, briefly illuminated in the moonlight, and disappeared again into the trees.
“What are you girls doing here!” A shrill voice shocked me to the bone.
We three turned simultaneously, our backs to the window.
A tall, thin woman stood in front of us. She was dressed in back, thin bird like hands clasped in front of her. Her nose was large; glasses perched on the every tip of her nose. Thin lips were pressed together in disdain.
“Mrs. Flood,” Josephine started, “my friends and I were…were…” Josephine’s voice trailed off, unable to continue the rehearsed excuse.
“Water closet,” Virginia said and looked quickly at her feet.
“I needed the water closet,” I said, surprised at the level control of my voice. “Josephine offered to show me the way but we got turned around. The halls are very dark.”
“Yes, dark,” Josephine added, as if that clenched the argument.
Mrs. Flood’s eyes narrowed. Her index finger pushed the glasses up the bridge of her nose. She didn’t believe us but we were doing nothing more wrong than looking out a window.
“I hoped we had seen the last of your rebellious behavior, Miss Bailey-Smythe,” she said, hands still folded calmly.
The lecture continued, “You know you are not to wander the castle hall at night. It is very dark and it is also very dangerous,” Mrs. Flood said. “You will follow me.” Tone of voice indicated that we had no choice. We would follow.
Mrs. Flood turned and walked swiftly down the hall, the black of her garments fading into the dark of the hall.
Students were pouring out of the Great Hall as we approached. Mrs. Flood cut a path through the students like Moses parting the Red Sea, I would imagine, and walked directly to the headmistress, Lady Mauldy, who was enjoying a glass of wine with the other teachers.
“What is it now, Constance?” Lady Mauldy’s cheeks were flush with the wine.
“I found these students wandering the halls. They were in the Gallery.”
“Oh, I see.” Lady Mauldy set down her glass and considered our trespasses with a serious look on her face.
“They must be punished!” Flood said with a snap in her voice. “Girls who would wander and get up to no good must be made an example of, or else the others girls will take it to their wee heads that wandering the castle at night is good sport.” The more impassioned Flood became, the more a brogue crept into her voice.
“In the Gallery?”
“The Gallery,” Mrs. Flood confirmed.
“Was any property damaged?”
“No.”
“Irreplaceable treasures lost for all time?”
“Err, no.”
“In that case, thank you, Mrs. Flood for bringing this to my attention. These girls will join you tomorrow afternoon for whatever activity you deem an appropriate punishment. Scrubbing pots, I should imagine. Thank you, I no longer require your prescience at this moment.”
Mrs. Flood stood quite for a moment, taking in what Lady Mauldy said. When she did speak, it was calm, controlled, and icy in formality. “Very good, Madame.”
When Mrs. Flood had left the room, Lady Mauldy spoke. “Constance likes to make a sacrificial lamb of a few students every year. Puts the proper sense of fear in the rest of the student. What were you doing in the Gallery?”
“Water closet,” Virginia answered intelligently.
Lady Mauldy’s eyes twinkled. “There is no water closet in the Gallery, and if you did indeed find one I will either be amazed or vastly horrified. Now, what where you doing?”
Josephine spoke, regaining the voice she lost in Mrs. Flood’s presence. “I wanted to give a little tour of the castle, Lady Mauldy, for my new roommates. I am sorry. It is my fault.”
“Josephine, you know that wandering the castle at night is forbidden.”
“Yes.”
“It is a very old building and can be dangerous.”
“I am sorry,” Josephine repeated.
“This is exactly the type of behavior than landed you in so much trouble last year, Miss Bailey-Smythe. A repeat of certain events will not be tolerated.”
“Certainly.”
“And to included you newest roommates with your escapades…I can certainly see why you go through them so quickly. No one can stand up your will. You are either destined to be a great political leader or a criminal mastermind.”
Josephine seemed to be trying to make herself look very repentant but kept smiling in spite of her best efforts.
“One night with Mrs. Flood should set you right. Cheer up, girls, it’s not the end of the world. Now off you go.”
The Great Hall was nearly emptied. We turned to leave; our pride handed to us curtly.
“And girls,” Lady Mauldy said. “You are welcome to visit the Gallery in the day light. My father amassed a rather nice collection. And see Miss Felding if you are truly interested in the fine arts.”