"I can't
believe that people are so hostile to technological innovation!" Helen
threw herself down in the chair with a huff of indignation.
"People
don't like change."
"They treat
strangers with suspicion."
Her father
laughed quite loudly. "People don't like strangers."
Helen shot an
angry look at her father. "I am always interested in strangers unless they
appear to be obviously shifty."
"So, they
thought you looked shifty."
She snorted with
contempt. "They accused me of being a pirate or a gypsy."
Her father
leaned back in his chair with a wide grin. "Both admirable groups of
people, far more trustworthy than inn keepers or coach drivers on the
whole."
Helen stared at
her father. "What?"
His face grew
more serious. "If you're going to get cheated in this life, my girl, you
will find it is most often the people who look quite respectable and entirely
normal. Like bankers. They're the worst."
Helen sighed.
"It shakes my faith in human nature."
"Good."
"Papa!"
He laughed
again, but his face remained serious. "My dearest child, you have had a
singular upbringing amongst good people, educated beyond the means of most
young ladies—"
"For which
I am very grateful, Papa." Helen laid her hand upon his and squeezed it.
"Yes, but
you must realise that you have a rather different position in the world than
most girls of your age."
"Woman,
father," Helen corrected him. "I am a woman. Not a girl."
Her father
looked at her with narrowed eyes. "Nevertheless, you have a distinct
advantage over other females of your years and
over many people in this country in general."
"And what is
that?"
He threw his
hands wide. "You have been further than the next village. You have read of
great cities and philosophers and thinkers. You read the newspapers."
"Yes, but
don't most people?"
"No, they
do not." He shook his head. "Especially young ladies who are still
taught to be nice and be useful and keep their pretty little heads out of
important matters like science and technology."
Helen laughed.
"Oh, Papa! You are a bluestocking."
Much to her
surprise, her father looked somewhat abashed at this pronouncement. "It
was your mother's doing." His face softened as it always did when he spoke
of his wife. "She has always been abominably curious about all manner of
strange things, and you know it is not in my power to deny her anything."
Helen smiled.
"I am grateful to you both that you gave me the same advantages you gave
to Fairfax and Edmund. To be able to pursue my dreams! It is quite
exhilarating, Papa."
Her father
looked grumpy but she could tell he was pleased. "If only your brothers
had done as much with their advantages."
"Oh,
Fairfax has done well," Helen said grudgingly.
"I suppose
well enough for that sort of thing. But it would have been better if he had a
little more gumption!"
"Edmund has
gumption." Helen said with a snort of laughter.
Her father's
expression darkened immediately. "Gumption is not what I'd call it.
Devil-may-care rakehell confounded damnable cheek!"
"Papa!"
"Well, it's
no less than the truth."
Helen shrugged.
"At least he hasn't turned to piracy."
"So
far," her father muttered.
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