To Charm a Bluestocking Read online

  Chapter 3

  The lecturer laid down his chalk. Josephine gathered her papers and snuck out the rear exit towards the library. She frowned as she lied to herself. She wasn’t off to revise her notes. Her atypical race to leave the room was pure and simple—to avoid Lord St. George. She had given him much thought—too much—during this lecture, and admonished herself at her distraction from her main task. Her notebook had none of today’s lecture, just a page full of doodles. She paced down the hallway, her head bowed and her fingers twisting the handle on her satchel. There was plenty to contemplate after meeting the man her father had sent in response to her letter. He wasn’t really appropriate, too overwhelming and not at all comfortable. Plus, she’d never had such a physical response to anyone before. She swallowed. The fabric of her dress was scratchy and too tight as she let her mind wander. Prickles of heat tingled down her back as strange new thoughts came to her. Thoughts about what he might look like, feel like, under his clothes. Her hand flew up and covered one of her hot cheeks as she wondered about his body. Would he look like the anatomical drawings in her textbooks? She tried to imagine a healthy naked male, and failed. Her only experience was with the ill and infirm at the hospital. The idea of a man like him, naked for her … Her steps slowed down and she came to a halt, her breath rapid and her heart thumping.

  ‘Hey, move it.’ A voice rudely interrupted her thoughts. ‘Stupid woman, standing in the way. This is no place for you.’

  She glanced up at the voice. A young male student backed up his comment with a strong push, shoving her to the edge of the hallway. Her arms flailed out as she tried to prevent herself from falling. Her satchel dropped to the ground and burst open. Papers slid across the hallway. She stumbled backwards onto the hem of her dress and lost her footing. The words ‘I’m sorry’ sat on her tongue as her knees hit the ground. She bared her teeth at the space left behind by him and let out a growl.

  Men—always taking and getting in the way. Even her fake fiancé. One little moment with him and he dominated her thoughts. He distracted her to the point where she couldn’t protect herself. Grrr. She glared at her scattered notes. Fiancé, be damned. What was Father thinking agreeing to this scheme? What was she thinking? Had she been so desperate that she had started this whole thing? She shoved her belongings back into her satchel. She stood up, brushed down her skirts and stomped down the hallway. Her boots rang out on the tiled floor. This whole scheme was madness. If she ever did want to marry, which right now she didn’t, she would pick someone less forceful, less overwhelming.

  Someone who would provide support and comfort. Someone who liked books and would be happy to let her spend her time reading, writing and doing research. Someone more like her tutors, and less like the dominating men who worked for her father as intelligence agents. Her father knew how much her ambition to become a doctor mattered to her. Yet he had sent one of his biggest and most charming agents for this absurd task of fake fiancé. Why did Father send him?

  She pushed open the doors to the library and stormed through. The scent of old books surrounded her, filling her nostrils. Her rapid breathing started to slow as she neared the friend-filled shelves. She found her usual seat in the library and sat down, opening her notebook with the lecture notes in it. It was largely useless, filled with doodles and a few scribbles about the lecture. Nothing substantial, and nothing like her usual focused notes. Josephine sighed as she realised that she would have to start again with the textbook. She paced over to the shelf, ran her fingers along the spines, the soft leather soothing her abraded senses. She pulled out the text she required and sat again.

  She opened it up at the right page and held her fingers over her temples, rubbing in a small circular pattern. After a while, she realised she’d looked at the same paragraph five times and still had no idea what it said. She frowned, picked up her pencil and tapped it on her notebook. To be distracted like this was dreadful timing. The final major exams were only a couple of weeks away. Yesterday, she only had one problem—how to keep Professor Van Percy at arm’s length until after her examinations. Oh, and to ensure that he didn’t deliberately upset her surgical assessment. Managing one man had seemed insurmountable yesterday. Today, with two men distracting her from her goal, she longed for the problem of the day past.

  Now she had two men in competition for her precious time. It would take considerable effort to avoid two men. Josephine took a deep breath, shut her eyes, and leant forward to rest her head in her hands. She tried to shut her fiancé away into a compartment in her brain. Deal with him later. Concentrate. She opened her eyes to start afresh with this damned paragraph.

  ‘There you are.’ Claire burst into the library in a twirl of colour that ensured Josephine’s already disrupted thoughts were blown away like an insignificant leaf in a tornado.

  ‘Shh.’ Josephine couldn’t help herself as her friend’s loud comment resonated through the quiet library.

  ‘Pishh.’ Claire waved her arms and grabbed Josephine’s notebook.

  ‘Time to pack up and come with me. We need to get you a decent dress for the big end of year dinner. It’s only two nights away and I know you’ve been avoiding it. You simply can’t wear brown.’

  ‘Brown is practical,’ she said. Claire rolled her eyes while she thrust Josephine’s papers into her satchel. It was so typical of Claire to arrive in a vivid whirlwind and bundle her out the door. Josephine shook her head minutely as she watched her friend tear off with her satchel, still stuffing papers into it as she moved. She would have to chase her. The seat clattered over as she jumped up. The textbook abandoned.

  Josephine panted after her friend, out of the library and along the corridor. Her breath was ragged with the effort while her brain remained in catastrophe mode. Claire raced along like a late train that needed to catch up to the timetable. All the while she chattered away about fashions and whether silk or chiffon would suit Josephine’s figure best. They reached the stairs and Claire continued on, her skirts flying about her during her rapid descent. Josephine stood at the top. She rubbed away her frown with her middle finger and grinned. What better way to distract herself from her problems than to spend an afternoon with Claire?

  ‘Claire, Claire,’ she yelled down the stairs. ‘Wait.’

  Claire stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Josephine descended the stairs at her regular speed, one hand on the banister, the other on her dress so she didn’t stumble.

  ‘Seriously, just for once, pay attention to your clothing. You take the Rational Dress Movement to the extreme with that bland, brown gown,’ Claire said. Josephine smiled. At least she wasn’t wearing pants. She agreed with the Rational Movement. Pants would be much more practical. She opened her mouth to defend her choice in clothes but Claire was still talking.

  ‘A decent dress might help you get rid of your other problem,’ she shouted up the last few stairs. Claire never seemed to adjust her volume for the space around them. A group of students laughed.

  ‘The problem is that you shouldn’t be here. Go home where you belong,’ yelled one of them. Claire flashed them a rude hand gesture. Josephine bit her lip to prevent a laugh.

  ‘Hush. I don’t need to attract any more men. Two is plenty,’ she whispered frantically as she arrived next to Claire at the bottom of the stairs.

  ‘Two?’

  Blast. When will I learn to keep my thoughts in my head? Josephine sighed as Claire leant in close. She gave a sideways glance to the group of men.

  ‘What is this “two” you refer to? Since when did Van Percy become two?’

  Josephine pulled her bag out of her friend’s hand. She clutched it to her chest. This was the price of friendship.

  ‘It seems I have a fiancé. He arrived this morning.’

  ‘Oh my word. I can’t believe that you actually did it.’ It felt like Claire’s volume increased again. Josephine’s ears magnified those words, so they were shouted enthusiastically down the hallway for the whole university to hea
r. Claire reached out and grabbed her friend’s hands, a huge grin spread across her face. The satchel fell to the ground and papers scattered once more across the hallway.

  ‘Stupid women. You don’t belong here,’ called a voice. The other men in the group jeered, laughing as Josephine scrambled to pick up her papers. The faces of the other students seemed to close in on her, growing in size and volume. Claire bent down and helped her scoop up all her belongings.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Josephine flashed a quick smile at her friend and gave a tiny shrug. She stood up with her satchel and tried to shrink the space that she took up. She’d survived these four years by keeping herself away from the attentions of the students who didn’t want her there.

  Claire placed an arm around her shoulders and spoke loudly. ‘Don’t stress. They are just scared that we will show them up. Idiots!’ They walked away from the group, who increased their jeers. Claire kept her arm firmly around Josephine as they walked.

  ‘Now, tell me all about this “two” you mentioned,’ she said.

  ‘Shhh, later. I don’t want the world to hear,’ whispered Josephine. Her eyes darted around to see who might be listening. This whole situation had rapidly raced out of her control. Somehow in the last week, her life had ceased being quietly organised as she steadily worked towards her goal. Now she was in a penny novel as chaos swirled around her. She couldn’t just ignore all this nonsense for the next few weeks either. The chaos hunted her down, poked her in the chin and forced her to deal with it.

  Claire’s grip relaxed as they walked smartly to the door. A cacophony of jeers and whistles echoed down the hallway as Claire tucked her hand under Josephine’s elbow. Together, they opened the main door and braced themselves for the weather. Josephine wrapped her cloak about her tightly. The wind was cold and bitter as it swirled around the forecourt. It was still better than the crudities in the hallway. Winter was here with a vengeance, so they walked quickly, huddled together towards the tram stop. As the tramline came into sight, Claire rushed ahead. Josephine watched her wave her arms at the horse drawn vehicle that made its way along the line. The horse was well-equipped for the weather with a quarter blanket—embroidered with the city’s logo—across his loins to protect him from the worst of the cold. The tram pulled to a stop and the two friends boarded. Claire paid the driver for their tickets and they found a seat about halfway along.

  ‘Those stupid young men. Probably first year students, still full of bluster. Idiots.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ Josephine shrugged.

  ‘Normally, I don’t. But you were so pale, I thought they had said something dreadful.’

  ‘You!’ Josephine exclaimed. She gave Claire a friendly shove.

  ‘It was you that said something dreadful. Two men,’ she mimicked her friend’s booming voice.

  ‘Oh that! Well, if you hadn’t said it yourself, I wouldn’t believe you were capable of such excitement. I mean, I love you, Josephine, but I’m surprised that you would actually follow through with this fiancé business. You seem so self-contained; it feels out of character to ask for help like this. And to think your father sent someone. How delicious! You must tell me all about him.’

  ‘Hold on a moment. Where is Marie? I don’t want to have to tell the whole story twice,’ said Josephine. She crossed her ankles and pulled her skirts tighter around them. Claire leant towards her, her eyebrows raised.

  ‘Oh. She had to help her parents with the big dinner,’ said Claire. ‘Tell me all about him. Have you met him yet?’

  Josephine sighed and tilted her head towards her friend.

  ‘Yes, I’ve met him. I thought I told you that already.’

  ‘You did—but I want all the details,’ said Claire, as she wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.

  ‘I wish I hadn’t sent that letter to Father. This whole idea has taken on a life of its own. I expected Father would arrive himself to discuss the problem and find a more suitable solution. Instead he has opted to continue your ridiculous idea.’ Josephine poked her finger at her friend. ‘Most likely exploiting it for his own gain, although I can’t figure out what that would be.’

  Claire’s grin was so wide it threatened to reach her ears. The skin around her eyes was crinkled, and her eyes danced. She spread her hands out before her and raised one eyebrow.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ said Claire. Josephine gave her head a slight shake.

  ‘Father has sent one of his employees to pose as my fiancé,’ started Josephine.

  ‘Employee? At what profession? You never talk about your family,’ asked Claire. She leant so close that Josephine could smell her minty breath.

  All three of them were from well-to-do families; a standard requirement if one was to be an educated woman. It was still rare for a woman to have an education beyond the basics of reading, writing, and household accounting. Any further education only occurred if her family could afford private tuition and had the inclination to bother with the effort. Most men still believed that women didn’t have the same capacity for learning as men.

  Marie had the advantage of being part of an academic family and had grown up on the university campus. Claire was the daughter of a wealthy industrial businessman, whose business interests stretched all over the known world. She lived in one of the family’s many townhouses, and had her own carriage at her disposal. Compared to her more exuberant friends, Josephine lived a much quieter life in a small, rented house near the centre of the city with just her companion and a few servants.

  ‘You and Marie never give me a chance,’ said Josephine. She uncrossed her ankles and leant back against the tram seat.

  ‘You should just barge in more often,’ Claire responded. ‘Come on, tell me.’

  ‘It’s basically boring. Father works for the English government. He sent one of his lackeys to you know, pose as, well, you know.’ Josephine threw her arms up in the air. ‘I suppose it’s fine in theory, but he sent someone completely unsuitable.’

  ‘How?’ Claire twisted in her seat and spread her hands out wide in front of her. ‘Is he horrendous? Fat? Does he smell? Surely your father wouldn’t have sent someone cruel. He must be old, then.’

  Josephine clasped her hand across her mouth. Laughter spilled out the side between her fingers. Her shoulders shook.

  ‘What? Why is that funny? Come on, you can’t keep me guessing here.’

  ‘He’s … he’s not fat or old,’ Josephine stuttered out as she held her arms tight around her stomach to try and control the laughter. She took a big shuddering breath, her nostrils flaring, before the hilarity could go south and turn into hysterics.

  ‘No, he’s not old.’ She paused and pinched her lips together. ‘I’m not sure of his age, perhaps twenty-eight or thirty? And he’s not horrendous! The opposite. He’s almost perfect in that he’s bigger and taller than Van Percy. He’s just, well, too much of everything for me.’ She rushed through the rest of her words. As she spoke, her words poured out like an unstoppable freight train.

  ‘I only met him this morning. Already he shows dictatorial tendencies. I fear I won’t be able to manage him. I just don’t need another distraction.’ Josephine hugged herself and rubbed one arm as the memory of their meeting sent flashes of hot and cold sparks through her body.

  Claire raised one eyebrow and winked at her friend.

  ‘So he’s big and strong. He’s the right age for you. Handsome too?’ She paused for a second. ‘Oh, definitely handsome. Look at you blush! Well, if you ask me, he sounds perfectly, ahhh, adequate for the situation. We’d better get you a lovely outfit for the dinner. I will make you look amazing and you can set him in his place. Here is our stop. Come now, let’s go.’

  Claire raced down the main street, Josephine once again left to play catch up. Together, they paced towards Damrak and the main shopping district. As they passed the Flying Pig, the scents of lunches being eaten filled the air. Josephine’s stomach rumbled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast a
nd now it was almost two. Was that roast beef she could smell? Josephine tugged on her friend’s arm.

  ‘Come on, we have to eat first. You can’t drag me through shops when I’m hungry.’

  ‘Eating would be so tiresome if it wasn’t so pleasurable,’ laughed Claire.

  ‘Only you could misquote Voltaire and make it sound just right,’ said Josephine. She grinned as she pulled the door open.

  Chapter 4

  As her eyes adjusted to the dark, gloomy interior of the pub, Josephine realised her mistake. Her blood rushed away from her face, and she wobbled on her feet. Seated at a table to her right was Professor Van Percy with two other professors. Josephine saw Claire flinch, but in a typically brazen move, Josephine found herself carted inside.

  ‘We can’t let him chase us away again. You have a fiancé now. It’ll be alright. Watch me,’ Claire whispered.

  Claire marched to the other side of the pub and gestured for Josephine to take a seat at a table. Josephine sat, slightly too fast, landing awkwardly on the chair. She straightened herself only to look up, straight into a mirror. Her clever friend had placed her out of direct sight from Van Percy, yet the mirror allowed her to see Van Percy’s reflection. She sagged slightly in her chair. He couldn’t approach their table without being seen. She would have some warning. Time to ready herself for a confrontation.

  A waitress approached and they ordered the pub’s specialty beef pie. Claire ordered a coffee. Josephine declined. Extra agitation was definitely not what she needed just now. The food arrived quickly and Josephine ate with small hesitant bites.

  ‘Stop frowning,’ said Claire. ‘Enjoy your meal and stop fretting about the future.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ said Josephine, as she cut her piece of pie into tiny pieces.

  Claire waved her fork in the air.

  ‘The future will come whether you stress about it or not. All that thinking will only make your frown permanent.’