And so it came to pass that Alias, Olivia, Lemony and I found ourselves in Bruges for a day out – aka a school trip. The young ladies variously misbehaved during the tour; scoldings were plentiful, as were demure blushes in return.
The tone of the day was best summed up by a visit to the Begijnhof, a convent set in beautiful C17th buildings surrounding a lovely tree-lined square. As we walked in, huge signs – by order of the Prioress – asked visitors to remain silent. I pointed them out to the girls, and made it clear that their compliance was expected. Any resulting giggles and quickly subsided as they were given that look.
As we wandered round, there were plentiful frowns as girls were caught whispering in the peaceful, hallowed environment; each time, they fell quickly silent. Frankly, it was a shame that circumstances didn’t allow the three of them to be called into my study that evening before bedtime for the matter to be further discussed with the help of Mr Jenkins’ cane.
As we emerged from the place, I then told the three of them its history: nuns had been admitted, but could leave to get married. I wondered aloud about a girl sent to the convent by her noble father; about a wealthy gentleman appearing in search of a bride; of him inspecting and selecting a suitable young lady; of him enquiring after her behaviour and as to whether she had been well-disciplined. Of him paying for her, and taking her away… I think the girls rather liked their history lesson.