After the War Is Over by Jennifer Robson Read Free Book Online Page A

friend they loved, the man who had been returned to them,
     but whose soul, she feared, still walked among the dead, the millions of dead, who
     haunted the battlefields and charnel houses of Flanders and France.

Chapter 6
    Somerville College, Oxford
    May 1907
    A t first, Charlotte didn’t notice the advertisement that had been pinned to the message
     board in the porter’s lodge. The afternoon post had just arrived, and so she was preoccupied
     by the disappointing contents of her pigeonhole.
    “Any good news?” asked her friend Celia, who was engaged to be married and daily expressed
     her relief at having her future settled.
    “Nothing so far,” Charlotte answered, tearing open the last of the four envelopes
     waiting for her. “‘Thank you for your interest, but at present we have no suitable
     vacancies, although we would happily welcome you in a volunteer capacity,’ et cetera,
     et cetera. There’s also a letter from my mother, keen as ever to have me return home.
     So I’ve that to look forward to, I suppose.”
    “Sorry ’bout that. Makes me ever so glad that Rupert and I are getting married in
     July.”
    Charlotte longed to ask Celia why on earth she had spent three years at university
     if her highest aim was to becomesomeone’s wife, though she knew it was unfair. Her friend had done well, had learned
     for learning’s sake, and who was she to criticize Celia’s decision to marry? All the
     same, it wasn’t the path she had chosen, or intended to choose for a number of years
     to come. Marriage meant the end of work, and she had plans. She was going to make
     a difference in the world, and she couldn’t do it by sitting at home and arranging
     her life to suit the ambitions and desires of a man.
    If ever she were to marry, her husband would have to be an exceptional man. Right-minded,
     interested in the sort of things that really mattered, and supportive of her views
     and ambitions. The sort of man who would consider her his equal.
    Charlotte was fairly certain that no such man existed, not anywhere on the face of
     the earth.
    She saw it then. A smallish piece of paper, tacked in the exact middle of the notice
     board, and typewritten in the blackest ink.
    Governess Required
Gentleman requires a governess
for the education of his sister.
Applicant must have or shortly expect
to obtain a diploma in Modern Languages,
English, or History as well as
first- or upper-second-class results
in Final Honors Schools. Liberal salary.
One month paid vacation p.a.
Apply to E. Ashford, Merton College.
    It wasn’t what she wanted; wasn’t even remotely close to what she dreamed of doing
     with her life. And yet it might serve,might do as a stopgap of sorts, if only until she found something else.
    Celia had wandered off, likely in search of a quiet spot where she might read the
     latest letter from her fiancé, who was at St. John’s College only a stone’s throw
     away. Why he wrote to her every day was a mystery Charlotte couldn’t begin to fathom.
     Somerville students were allowed to socialize with male undergraduates, so wouldn’t
     it have been simpler to meet at a tea shop?
    She returned to her room on the top floor of Walton House and, by shifting several
     armfuls of books and papers to her bed, was able to clear a space on her desk. With
     her best pen in hand, she wrote out a reply to Mr. Ashford that outlined her qualifications
     and expectations, and found an envelope.
    She wasn’t likely to meet him, not today, but it wouldn’t do to enter one of the men’s
     colleges looking anything but polished. So she took down her hair, brushed it smooth,
     secured it in the same low chignon she always wore, and pinned her best hat, her Sunday
     hat, to her head. Then she put on her smartest coat, the one she had hoped to wear
     when being interviewed by dozens of prospective employers, and set out for Merton
     College.
    Crossing Woodstock Road, she headed south along St. Giles, veering east at