The Education of Bet Read online

  As myself.

  ***

  It is one thing to decide that one will impersonate a boy and successfully carry out that impersonation for four months and counting. It is one thing to decide that even though one is supposed to be a boy, one will turn around and masquerade as a girl to dance at a ball. But once one has made that second decision, it is quite another thing to figure out how one will actually pull it off.

  What was I going to wear?

  When James asked me to go into town with him that Sunday, I declined, saying I had some studying to do. When he offered to stay behind with me to help me study—perhaps I needed him to quiz me?—I hurried him out of the room, saying that what I was really in dire need of was a buttery scone from Parsons' Tea Room, and could he please bring one back for me? Preferably not too soon, because I really did need to study in silence. Then I locked the door behind him.

  Alone now, I used the key to unlock my wardrobe and then removed my trunk. My wig was still there, as was the dress Will had so presciently urged me to pack when I'd first set out for school. I'd worn both when I'd appeared as Bet at Grangefield Hall that second week of Christmas holiday. But looking at that dress now—the efficient skirt, the unspectacular shade of pale blue—I knew it was nothing I could wear to a ball. And even if I could get an excused leave from school to travel home, it wasn't as though I'd find anything more suitable in my wardrobe there. Everyone at school knew Will Gardener came from a wealthy family. It wouldn't do for his twin sister to appear wearing something dowdy.

  What to do ... what to do...

  After hastily shoving the trunk back into the wardrobe and locking it again, I hurried along to Mrs. Smithers's rooms. True, she might say no to my request. But I had to at least try.

  I hesitated just a moment before raising my fist and knocking boldly. When she answered, I entered the room and shut the door behind me.

  "This is a surprise, Gardener," she said saucily. "Have you suffered another fencing mishap?"

  "I need a dress," I said without preamble.

  She laughed. "Well, that's one thing none of the other boys here have ever asked me for."

  "I can imagine," I agreed. "Still, I need one."

  "I don't think any of mine would fit you," she said, still laughing.

  Mrs. Smithers was both shorter and stouter than I was, not to mention that she was given to wearing dull colors and rough materials that looked like they had had too much starch.

  "No, of course not." I blushed. "What I was hoping was that you could go into town and purchase for me—I would give you the money, of course—some luxurious material, perhaps a satin or a silk, enough so that I could sew myself a gown. I can sew, you see, but I'd need a kit. Do you have one? And I can't go into town myself, for if any of the boys saw me returning with a package and then looked inside and wondered what the bolt of fabric was for..."

  "Yes, I can see where that could present a problem," she said dryly.

  I imagined that she was picturing the same thing I was: Hamish hurling me to the ground, going through my purchases, and then confiscating them; or worse, teasing me about my taste in girlish things; or worst of all, figuring out what was really going on.

  "And why do you need to make yourself a luxurious gown, if I may be so bold as to ask?"

  "Because I want to go to the dance," I said.

  "But why can't you go as a boy? Won't it be risky going as a girl?"

  Of course it would be risky. But everything I'd done for the past four months had been risky.

  I took a deep breath before speaking. "I want to go as a girl, because I want to dance with a particular boy."

  Mrs. Smithers rolled her eyes at this. "There's always a boy, isn't there?"

  ***

  Despite her reservations, Mrs. Smithers did as I'd asked her. She went into town and returned with a bolt of silk fabric the color of jade. My fingers thrilled to the touch of it. Even at Grangefield Hall, where Paul Gardener had made sure I'd wanted for nothing, I'd never had anything so fine.

  And so began my period of secret sewing.

  I told James that I could no longer concentrate in our room in the evenings—too much noise going on in the hall, I claimed—and then each night I sneaked out to Mrs. Smithers's rooms, taking great care not to be seen, and we'd work together on my project. She may have been reluctant in the beginning, but once we were properly into the thing, she was as committed to it as she had been to ensuring that no speck of dust ever stopped for long on a desk or a bedpost. As for James, if he thought it was odd, my sudden and inexplicable inability to tolerate extraneous noise while studying—and where, he would no doubt wonder, would I find a noiseless place at the Betterman Academy?—well, he'd thought me odd from the beginning, so there was nothing new there.

  The rest of January passed in a blur of measuring, cutting, stitching. Through it all, Mrs. Smithers kept me entertained with a steady stream of chatter.

  "I wish I'd had the opportunity to go to a school like this when I was your age," she said as I cut out one side of a sleeve.

  "Course, if I had been lucky enough to be at school, as you are, I wouldn't have risked it all just for one dance with some boy, and which boy did you say it was?" she wanted to know as I carefully picked out a hem, trying not to ruin the fabric. Silk was so hard to work with!

  "And even if I was going to risk everything just for one dance with a boy," she said as I labored to get the neckline just right, "I'd certainly keep up with my studying."

  Ah, studying!

  Of course, I had originally come to the Betterman Academy for an education, and I still had every intention of getting one. So after my long evenings with Mrs. Smithers, I'd go back to the room I shared with James and open my books.

  "You haven't studied enough for one night," he'd ask me, "wherever it is you go when you're not here?"

  "Now that it's quiet on the floor," I'd say, "I really should study some more."

  "Have I told you lately how odd you are?" he'd ask.

  "Repeatedly," I'd reply.

  One night, as he patiently waited for me to finish studying so that we could go to sleep, he interrupted my reading with a question.

  "When your sister comes," he asked, "where will she be staying?"

  "Staying?"

  "Yes. You didn't imagine she'd sleep on the floor here with us, did you? Not that I wouldn't be happy to offer up my bed, but I'm fairly certain Dr. Hunter frowns on us having girls in our rooms." I nearly choked at that. "And I don't think all the girls that are coming would fit into Mrs. Smithers's rooms."

  Why had he mentioned Mrs. Smithers? Did he suspect something?

  "Where do the girls stay, then?" I countered.

  "In town," he said, stifling a yawn. "They stay at inns in town."

  "Then," I said with a smile, "that's what Elizabeth will do too."

  ***

  And then it was February.

  And then, finally, it was the day of the winter ball.

  Mrs. Smithers had wondered how I was going to achieve the feat of being two people at once—Will Gardener and his twin, Elizabeth—but I'd already worked that out. As anticipation of the evening grew, I fought back my excitement. I faked many sneezes. And as night drew closer, I took to my bed.

  Then I waited. I waited for James to change into his finery and depart, so that I could spring into action.

  But all my waiting was in vain as I watched my roommate read, read, read, his form stretched out across his bed.

  At last, in exasperation, I said, "Shouldn't you be getting ready?"

  "For what?" he asked absently, not even bothering to look up.

  "Why, for the ball, of course!"

  "Oh. That." He turned a page. "No."

  "No?"

  "No. I never go to these things."

  Never...

  I half rose in my bed, forgetting that I was supposed to be mildly ill. "But why ever not?"

  "Because they are hopelessly dull affairs. Someone
always smuggles in alcohol, someone else always drinks too much and vomits, and two other someones always fight over some girl." He turned another page. "Might as well just stay in with a good book. I'd suggest you do the same, but you have that sister of yours to escort. Your identical twin, wasn't it?"

  I ignored his sarcasm. I was too stunned. This wasn't how things were supposed to go! Then I thought about the fact that, as excited as everyone else was about the dance—it was true, even the slightest change in routine made the others happy in winter—James hadn't really spoken about it, save for that one conversation we'd had the first night Hamish gave us the date, and that time he'd asked me where my sister was staying. And, I thought now, James had said he wasn't inviting anyone. Did James perhaps not even like girls? But I couldn't let myself think that.

  "But you have to go!" I practically shouted at him.

  "No," he said calmly. "I am fairly certain I do not. A dance is not like chapel or compulsory sports. I think they will still graduate me to the next form in the end."

  "But you have to go!" I insisted again.

  At last he looked up. "Why?"

  And here I commenced the greatest impersonation of a sick person I could come up with. I faked sneezes. I faked a coughing fit. I doubled over as though my stomach were killing me.

  Originally, I'd planned on James getting ready and leaving the room first. Then, when I showed up to the dance later on as Bet, I'd explain that my brother had been too ill to come. But now I had to alter the plan a bit. After all my careful preparations, it would be awful to go to the dance and not have James there.

  "Are you going to live?" James asked when I'd taken a break from coughing.

  "Just barely," I gasped. "But that's why you have to go. You must be there to keep an eye on Bet for me, since I'm obviously too sick to do so myself."

  I coughed some more, groaned in agony a little bit.

  James eyed me shrewdly. "Is this like that previous illness of yours, where you'll be able to predict for me the exact moment of your full recovery?"

  I ignored that remark. "Imagine if you had a sister. I know that you do not, but imagine if you did. Would you want her going unattended to a dance where there would be the likes of Hamish and Mercy?"

  James swung his legs to the floor and made for his wardrobe.

  "I'll need to hurry," he said. "Which of the inns is she staying at?"

  "Which inn?"

  "Yes, so I can call for her."

  "Oh, you don't need to do that," I hurriedly said. "She and I already arranged that she will make her way here on her own, and we will simply meet at the dance."

  James snorted as he pulled out a fine black tie to go with the suit he'd selected. "You're not exactly a chivalrous brother, are you?"

  I relaxed back into the pillow, smiling widely, since with his back turned, he couldn't see my expression.

  "No, I guess not," I admitted. "That's where you come in."

  Then, for good measure, I coughed again.

  ***

  You think you have planned for everything, but there is always one small detail you haven't accounted for, one small thing that trips you up.

  I had no shoes.

  "I can't wear my boots with this gown!" I was practically hysterical as I stood in my jade dress before Mrs. Smithers, staring down at my feet.

  "No," she observed ruefully, "you can't, nor do I have anything better to lend you. At least your hair looks nice."

  Small comfort, that. Yes, it felt good to have long hair again, even if it was only a wig. That and the dress gave me a rare feeling of being beautiful, although I'd had to take great care to secure the wig with extra pins, worrying that if James did dance with me, it might be a reel, and what if the wig flew off?

  But what good did feeling beautiful in my wig and dress do me now? I was dejected, nearly inconsolable. To have come so far only to have my dream frustrated for want of the proper shoes.

  "I know!" she said, brightening as she snapped her fingers. "You wait here!"

  And she was gone.

  I waited impatiently for her return, wondering where she'd raced off to. There wasn't enough time for her to go into town, buy shoes, and come back before the dance started. And even if there had been, the shops wouldn't be open this late.

  After what seemed an eternity, but which the ticking clock told me was only ten minutes, she returned.

  But she wasn't alone.

  As she stole into the room, I saw with horror that the person accompanying her was Dr. Hunter's wife.

  "Oh no!" I cried at Mrs. Smithers. "What have you done?"

  But she just smiled, and before she could say anything, Mrs. Hunter pulled a pair of pretty gold dancing slippers from behind her back.

  "They may be too big," she said in an elegant voice. Then she added with a laugh, "Dr. Hunter has often commented on my large feet."

  I was stunned. "You're helping me?"

  "Of course," she said, taken aback. "We women need to stick together, don't we?"

  Then, with no care for her own pretty gown, she knelt down before me to place the slippers on my feet. Since I was relatively tall and large of feet myself, the shoes fit perfectly.

  Mrs. Smithers beamed. "It pays to know who to trust in life, don't it?"

  "There," Mrs. Hunter said, straightening up. "You look wonderful, dear."

  "I still don't understand," I said.

  "I believe in education. And I wish I had had a proper one—maybe then Dr. Hunter would talk to me about something other than my feet! And I believe in romance. Now then." She clapped her pretty hands together. "How are we going to get you out of Proctor Hall with no one seeing you?"

  "That one's easy," Mrs. Smithers said. "We've already worked it out." She disappeared from the room, then returned with two sheets that had been securely knotted together. Mrs. Smithers's rooms were at the back side of Proctor Hall; the windows opened on a walkway that hardly anyone used.

  "I see," Mrs. Hunter said, looking impressed. "Well then..."

  I swung my legs over the window ledge, grabbed on tight to the end of the sheet, and they lowered me down.

  "Whoever he is," Mrs. Smithers called after me softly, "I hope he's worth it."

  ***

  As I hurried through the commons area, making my way toward Marchand Hall, I thought about what Mrs. Smithers had said. I'd wanted an education, and now here I was, risking it all for a boy. Was James worth it? But then I wondered, Why did I have to choose? Why, if I wanted, could I not have both? At least for one night.

  I lifted my skirts slightly so I wouldn't trip over them in the unfamiliar shoes—boots were really so much more comfortable to walk in!—and hurried on.

  ***

  Marchand Hall didn't look at all like it usually did. For one thing, there were not five hundred boys chattering loudly as they threw dinner rolls at one another's heads. For another, the tables we usually dined at had been removed, leaving the space wide open for dancing, which was already going on to the accompaniment of the waltzes provided by musicians in one corner. Along the far wall, where Dr. Hunter usually sat, a table had been set up for refreshments. And there was one other big difference: there were a lot of young ladies in the room.

  And yes, not one but two of those young ladies were meaty and bore a striking resemblance to Hamish! It was amazing to think that something I had imagined had some resemblance to reality.

  After all my planning, now that I was here I was suddenly nervous. Yes, I was here as Will Gardener's sister. But I wasn't supposed to have met anyone before. So I couldn't very well approach Little, who was standing nervously by the refreshments table. And I certainly didn't want to approach Hamish and Mercy, who appeared to be making nuisances of themselves around one girl while Hamish's sisters hovered nearby. And I certainly, absolutely could not approach James, who looked heartachingly handsome and who was alone in another corner, scanning the room for something. All I could do was stand in my own corner, nervously tapping my
foot to the music, a gay smile plastered on my face as though I were having the time of my life, trying to act as though I had a companion who had merely been called away for a moment but who would soon return.

  "Miss Gardener?"

  I almost jumped at the sound of James's voice. Up close, I saw, he was even more handsome than he'd been from across the room.

  "Yes?" I forced my tone to sound as though I had no clue as to who he might be. With horror, I realized I'd used my Will voice and prayed James hadn't noticed it in that one syllable.

  "I am James Tyler," he said, "your brother's roommate. He asked me if I would look out for you this evening since he has fallen ill."

  "I know," I said, making sure to sound like a girl this time. "He had a message sent to the inn."

  Before we could speak any further, we were interrupted by Hamish, who had apparently shaken off his sisters for the time being. "You must be Gardener's twin!" he said. "I'd know that face anywhere."

  "The resemblance is remarkable," James observed.

  "I must say, though," Hamish said, "the face looks a lot better on you than it does on your brother." He held out his arms. "Care for a dance?"

  I couldn't think of anything I would care to do less.

  "She doesn't want to dance with you," Mercy said, joining us, arms outstretched. "I'm sure she'd rather dance with me."

  And now I could think of something I'd care to do less. Really, the idea of being waltzed around the room by either of them was too unbearable.

  "I am afraid I will have to decline both invitations," I forced myself to say sweetly. "For with two of you to choose from, how can I possibly decide?"

  "You should have waited till after I'd had my turn." Hamish clouted his friend on the shoulder.

  Mercy's hand moved to rub the spot where he'd been hit. "How was I supposed to know?"

  As they argued their way over to another girl, James turned to me.

  "You handled that very well, Miss Gardener. In fact, I don't think your own brother could have managed any better."

  "Oh, really?" I laughed. "You mean Will regularly has to fend off unwelcome dancing partners too?"