No Job for a Lady by Carol McCleary

life: she swam, she rowed, she played tennis and hockey, she danced, she spoke in debates; she kept up with modern literature, and told us tales of modern authors, most of whom were her childhood’s friends. Yet all the time she put in seven hours of work, and at the end of two years she won as brilliant a First Class in the School of Modern History as has ever been won at Oxford.
    —J ANET C OURTNEY, “Gertrude Bell, A Personal Study” (Courtney, whose maiden name was Hogarth, attended Oxford with Gertrude in 1886. The article originally appeared in North American Review, 1926, and the passage above is quoted from the The Letters of Gertrude Bell, 1927.)

 
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    Don Antonio rises to greet us in the dining room.
    “Ah, I see you two have met.” He gives me a smile and Gertrude a hug. “I must confess that this is one of the reasons I invited you to dinner, Nellie. I thought it would be nice for Gertrude to meet a young lady like herself, so she doesn’t have to be bored on this trip with me.”
    Dinner is in a private area at the very far end of the dining car. Our table is elegantly set—embroidered linen, silver utensils, fine china. Vibrant pink roses fill a green vase that is the centerpiece.
    I am relieved that Don Antonio has not dressed formally for dinner but has simply changed his business suit for another and that Gertrude has taken off her fancy hat. Her dress is almost as simple and as practical a travel dress as mine, but she has lace around the neck and pearl beading on the bottom of her sleeves that goes a few inches up the outside of each sleeve—these fine touches add a hint of glamour that I wish I could have.
    Also, the curse of wanting to travel light meant bringing very little change of clothing. I’m just happy I don’t look out of place. I don’t want to look like a poor relative having dinner with a rich one. However, both Gertrude and Don Antonio are so warm and friendly, it really doesn’t matter. Neither seems to have any pretense to them.
    “Uncle, I see we have another place setting.”
    “Yes, guilty as charged.”
    “And whom did you invite?”
    “A very nice young gentleman I met in the smoking lounge. He should be here any min—ah, here he is now.”
    Roger enters, and I am unable to hide the surprise and mortification on my face from Gertrude. Fortunately, Don Antonio is preoccupied with rising and shaking hands with Roger.
    She starts to say something and I shake my head.
    As Don Antonio makes introductions, I force myself to put on a cordial, if not pleasant, face—or at least one that doesn’t make it appear I consider Roger akin to an ax murderer.
    “This is my adopted niece, Gertrude Bell, and Nellie Bly, an American news reporter from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. Ladies, Roger Watkins.”
    Roger smiles and utters a platitude about the pleasure of dining with beautiful women. He gives no clue that he knows me.
    After Roger is seated, Don Antonio says, “Roger is studying Mexican history under a professor at Columbia University whom I knew when I was an attaché at our consular office in New York. It appears, Gertrude, that Roger is also taking a leave of absence from book studies to experience history firsthand.”
    “I don’t blame you.” Gertrude gives Roger a smile that is so warm and friendly, he looks ready to drool. I can see now why those men in the parlor car were hanging on her every word. “One can take only so much of burying one’s head in books. Did Don Antonio tell you there is a great deal of Mexico’s history still lying in plain sight?”
    She doesn’t wait for a response. You can’t miss her excitement about the subject, because her voice goes up an octave. “Just think! Most of the meat off the bones of the great civilizations of Greece, Rome, and Egypt have been scraped clean, but Mexico’s ancient and medieval history has barely been touched.”
    She throws up her hands with excitement. “We might discover something astounding at