One: The Smithson Girls

Mauldy Institute for Young Ladies pamphlet (copyright 1905)

The Mauldy Institute for Young Ladies is located in the historic Mauldy Castle, near the village of Maudstone. Placed in the center of an artificial lake for defense reasons, Mauldy Castle provided charming scenery. The castle has been referred to as the "most lovely in all of England."

The grounds of the school encompass twenty acres, varying from wooded, rolling lawn, gardens, including our noted hedge maze, and even pastures used by local farmers.
The Mauldy Institute has the facilities and instructors of unsurpassed quality. Every student will receive a solid foundation of history, Latin and Greek, literature, mathematics, rhetoric, and philosophy. Our highly qualified instructors are trained to encourage the student’s interest and talents. Medicine? The student may take a bettery of biology and sciences that qualifies for placement at university. One in every four students from the Mauldy Institute will go on to university, a fact which gives us great pride.

The Mauldy Institute encourages the development of both body and mind. The students join in with team sports such as football and cricket with enthusiasm. The school offers equestrian training, as well as archery, golf, and track and field pursuit. All sports are offer seen by a trained and competent staff.

The Mauldy Institute offers all the comforts of home. Every student shares a comfortable furnished bedroom with adjoining bath chamber. Commons rooms are located on every floor and offer a quiet place to read, pursue studies, or enjoy the fellowship of the other students. Meals are provided in the Great Hall, which has been converted to a modern and efficient kitchen and dinning room.

Mauldy Institute offers facilities, the instructors, and the activities to allow your daughter to flourish. We believe that your daughters are flowers that need the proper nourishment for body, spirit, and mind. Charged with the task of tending this garden, we strive to see each girl flourish and grow into forthright, intelligent individuals.


One: The Smithson Girls

The stack of books on the floor of the library grew steadily. Virginia browsed her way through the collection, fingers drifting over every spine. She sounded out the words she did not recognize and skipped entirely the characters of languages she did not know. The best books were on the top shelves, the ones Uncle Jack tried to keep her from reading. The scowling bust of Aristotle marked the line of separation. Anything below his self, she was welcome to read. Anything above his erudite head was not suitable for young ladies. What her foresightful uncle and the misogynistic philosopher did not consider was Virginia’s perfect willingness of scale the shelving without regard to life or limb.

The shelves were made of heavy oak and easily supported her thirteen year old body. Toeholds on the ledges were plentiful and she made a quick progress to the upper most shelves, past the bust. Virginia had climbed the rough stones of the Great Pyramid, how difficult could a bookshelf be.

The slender leather volumes where within her grasp, the gold letter sliding tantalizing under her fingers.

"That wouldn’t be a Burton would it?"

"Yes." Virginia tucked the book under her arm and began to descend.

"Those volumes are up there for a reason. Burton is hardly suitable for a young lady." Strong hands grabbed her around the waist and lifted her from the shelf and onto the floor.

"You say everything interesting is not suitable," Virginia formed the word as if it left a vile taste in her mouth. Her arms folded around her chest, clasping the book against her person.

"Burton is not appropriate for a girl your age." His dark brows knitted together, as if trying to formulate an appropiate excuse for Virginia. "He was a bit a scoundrel," was the best Jack could offer.

"I’ve read Arabian Nights."

"That is not the same caliber as that book."

"City of Angles? It’s about America and a religious sect that has made a new city there based on…"

"Their sacrilegious principles and wild ideas, yes. I’ve read it, I’ve familiar with the work." Jack held out his hand, demanding he book.

Virginia shook her head and back away until her back pressed into the shelving.

Jack sighed and dug his hands into his trouser pockets. Virginia could tell that she had won the argument. Jack often seemed perplexed with what to do with his niece now that he was the legal guardian. Too often he simply let her have her way. In most things. She sulked and sighed until he agreed to let her and her younger sister, Vanessa, accompany him to Cairo that spring. He was an archeologist and his work often took him abroad.

When she was very young, Uncle Jack and Aunt Claudia visited every summer between digs. The Smithson family also spent a great deal of time with Claudia’s family, the Jones, notably her brother the Honorable Claude Jones. The Jones had a house in a fashionable neighborhood in London and a son, Cyril, who was a year Virginia’s junior.

Jack and his brother, Randolph, Virginia’s father, had money that came from a textile factory in East London. Claudia came from a family that had the kind of money that magically bred more money and came with a country estate in Kent.

Virginia had only the haziest memories of Claudia, mostly of her hair that was a shade lighter than sunlight. Jack’s laughter filled a room, hers drifted above in harmony. After Claudia died, his Jack seemed incapable of remaining in London for more than a month and his visits were increasingly rare. The Jones’ became distant relation only seen at Christmas.

When Jack would visit, the entire household was turned upside down in a frenzy. He’d arrive in the dead of night from an exotic locale, doors banged loudly and the murmur of pleased voices drifted up the stairs. The air around his person breathed of foreign spice. He always had the best present, the best stories, and a new scar to illustrate an exciting tale. He’d leave as quickly as he’d arrive. Jack said he did not like the crowd of London. The air was bad for his lungs. The household would hold its breath, waiting for Jack’s return.

Letters came in the post bearing exotic stamps and weathered from the journey. They told of Jack’s last dig, what discoveries he was making, or was not making. Usually it seemed Jack sifted through a great pile of never ending sand and only occasionally came up with a reward. Virginia could think of nothing finer than to be an archeologist.

Her first and only trip out of England and to Cairo thoroughly enchanted her with Egypt, pharaohs, pyramids, and Jack’s profession.

That summer had been spent quietly in London. Jack prepared Virginia and Vanessa with the inevitability of attending school in the autumn. He was off to a dig in France. It was unavoidable at this point. Tickets were purchased and permits gathered.

Virginia did her best to delay the inevitable. After being sent to bed, she sneaked down the hall in her nightshirt. The entire day had been a long sulk: refusing lunch, playing in the garden, and even dinner at the Jones’ London townhouse. Vanessa was a willingly accomplice. Virginia suspected Vanessa’s loyalty to the resistance was only to provide an amusement for a dreary afternoon as she loudly announced she had a touch of the "Pharaoh’s Curse" and would be too ill to go to boarding school in the morning.

"You’re suppose to be preparing for bed," Jack said.

"I wanted to rather some reading material for my exile."

"There are books in the school’s library, you know."

"Not good ones. Only boring texts on needlepoint or cookery or whatever is deemed suitable for a young lady. Silly romances where the heroine is always a good girl and the world is so cruel to her. Fluffy nonsense."
"And you’d rather read…"
"Adventure! Mysteries and daring adventures, ancient lost civilizations in the heart of darkest Africa…" These were much more suitable for young ladies.
"How many books are you raiding from my library?" Jack asked.
"Less than two dozen."
"Ten."
"Fifteen," she said.
"Never carry more books than you can carry."
"Are you challenging me, sir?"
"All I’m saying is if you can carry fifteen books, you are more than welcome to carry them off to school in Kent."
Virginia said nothing. She squatted by the stack, balancing six books in the crook of her arm, a few more teetered on the top of those, and the remaining where tucked under her chin. Calmly, she raised slowly to her feet, not a book spilling.
"Excellent! Now, carrying them to your room."
"My room!"
"How many books can you carry, my girl, not how many can you stand in one place and hold."
Jack followed Virginia down the hall, helpfully opening doors and giving advice on how to reposition the weight of her burden so her chest did not collapse from the weight of the books.
In her bedroom, a steamer trunk was already packed and a smaller trunk was at the foot of her bed for miscellaneous items. A traveling outfit was already laid on top the trunk, shoes positioned on the floor. Placed neatly beside the outfit was a small bundle wrapped in a white handkerchief with a distinctive CJ monogram.
"Cyril Jones!" The books fell to the floor.
"Be mindful of my books!"
In rage she pointed to the small bundle. "Your nephew is disgusting. How can you allow him to bring such disgusting…creatures into your house!"
Jack picked up the bundle and peaked under a fold. He smiled before placing the item inside his coat pocket. "It’s a present for you. He’s fond of you, you know, just has a clumsy way of showing affection."
"It’s a horrid thing and I don’t think it’s a present. I think he’s tormenting me." Cyril was owl-eyed, terrible pale, and had the peculiar sunshine shade of blonde hair that ran in his family. His pockets always seemed to be filled with bugs or dead rodents he was in the process of mummifying. He’d follow Virginia around the grounds, showing her what he found under a rock.
"What you don’t realize, my girl, is that while girls are becoming young ladies, boys are quite happy to remain disgusting, dirty little barbarians in perpetuity. Affection is shown primarily by offering gifts, mostly what they consider to be neat and spiffy but mostly what other civilized people consider disgusting. Boys will be boys. It’s a phase."
"How long of a phase is it?" Cyril had always been disgusting as far as she was concerned.
"Perpetuity is quite a long time, I understand."
"You’re mocking me."
"You rather too serious for a girl your age. Shouldn’t you be thinking of fashion and dashing gentlemen and other romantic tripe."
"No, it’s romantic tripe. I’ve decided I’m to become an archeologist like you."
"I see." Jack went to the door, stood in the frame with his hand on the knob. "Well, have a good sleep. Long journey in the morning."
"Just like that? How can you leave me distraught and overworked. I could have an episode." Virginia sat on the bed and leaned back, as if she were in a swoon.
"Virginia Smithson," Jack said, "I know good and well that you do not swoon. You are far too sensible a woman for that. And I also know that you have sulked and pouted and cried insincere tears all in an attempt to bully me into not sending you to school. It will not work. My will is as resolved as your own, which makes us equals. However, I am older, have a foot of height on you, and can physically shove your person on that train tomorrow if I have to. And I will. You and your sister will go to school in the morning, touch of the Pharaoh’s Curse not withstanding."
"Yes, Uncle."
"Now good night, my girl." The door closed.
Virginia smiled. Jack called her his equal.
A small knock came at the side door connecting Virginia and Vanessa’s room. The door opened and a quite voice asked, "Are you done yelling now?"
"For the moment."
Vanessa was not ready for bed either. She still wore her pinafore. Her dark hair had come undone from its plait in a knotted mess. She held out a hairbrush like a peace offering.
"All right, then," Virginia said. She sat cross-legged on the bed. Vanessa climbed up to join her.
Virginia undid the plait and slowly began to brush, careful not to yank her sister’s head too hard. "How does you hair get like this?"
"I was playing at shooting cowboys and Indians in the garden. A twig stuck me in the head and I couldn’t get it out, it just poked and twisted."
"Perhaps you shouldn’t play such rough games."
"No, my games are good. Guess what I have." Vanessa withdrew from the pocket of her pinafore a small bundle wrapped in a white handkerchief.
Virginia recognized the monogram with dread in her stomach. "That’s not," she said.
"Cyril made it for me," Nessa said proudly, displaying the mummified mouse in her hand.
"Its surprisingly lifelike," Virginia admitted. The bandages torn from bed sheets only partially covered the mummified rodent.
"The eyes are quite good. He used jet beads, see."
Virginia recoiled from Cyril’s handiwork. "Wouldn’t you rather play with a doll and have a tea party?"
"No, this is good." Nessa quietly folded the handkerchief and gingerly placed the mouse back into the front pocket of her pinafore. "Tea parties are boring," she announced. Virginia was inclined to agree.
"I asked Uncle not to send you away. I told him I was too young to be left without the influence and disposition of my family, just like you said, but he told me to tell you to fight you own battles."
Nessa was Virginia’s last attempt. She hoped her uncle, who seemed impervious to her tears and pleading, would not be immune to Nessa’s, who was five years younger and presented a compelling façade of innocence. The man seemed hardened against the wiles of young girls.
"It won’t be so bad," Nessa said. "I liked school before and Cyril said he would send me more mummies."
Virginia’s feelings towards her cousin were less than warm but the mummifying barbarian did have his heart in the right place.
"And school won’t be horrid. They hardly ever beat girls anymore," Nessa said with a knowledgeable nod. "I brought you this," she said, slipping from the other pocket on her pinafore a slender leather volume.
The brush fell out of Virginia’s hand. "Does Uncle know you have this?"
Nessa shook her head. "He was too busy making sure you didn’t run away to watch me. It was on the shelves with the Burtons."
Virginia did not recognize the title. "It’s marvelous, thank you." Virginia hugged her sister.
The carriage left in the morning, just as Jack said it would, with both girls and their luggage. At the Victoria Train Station Virginia and Vanessa boarded the train bound for the Mauldy Institute for Young Ladies. The platform swarmed with other school age girls, their parents, porters, and large steamer trunks. With a loud farewell and a hug to squeeze the breathe out of her, Jack put the girls on the train.
Virginia waved and smiled brightly for her uncle despite not feeling bright or particularly enthusiastic. A kernel of dread planted itself in her stomach, taking root deep inside. The train moved forward slowly and eventually his waving visage on the platform disappeared into the crowd.
"It won’t be so bad," Nessa said, settling into her seat. The front pocket of her pinafore had a suspicious bulge. Virginia did not comment upon it. "We’ve been to school before, it’s can’t be so different."
"That school was in Middlesex."
"We’ll be fine," Nessa said confidently.
Virginia shook her head. "We’ll be fine. I’m worried about Uncle Jack." Virginia couldn’t help but remember her own parents seeing the two girls off at the train station for boarding school last year. It had been a hot summer and an equally sultry autumn. Two months later both were died of typhoid. The school tried to telegraph Jack but reaching him proved to be difficult. It was spring before he finally came to collect his wards.
Jack couldn’t keep himself out of trouble. He needed to them to take care of him.