The Seduction of Anne Kelley: Part I, Old Girls, New Channels

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Introduction

The papers gathered here belong to the wider Saint Clare archive and sit alongside the documents already familiar to readers of the Inez de Vries sequence: detention essays, staff memoranda, prefect minutes, household logs, and the private writings that have a habit of surviving precisely because no one quite knows what to do with them.

The Seduction of Anne Kelley draws from the Kelley–de Vries correspondence, preserved in the Blue Prefect Study papers, where material that is neither wholly private nor entirely official has long been kept. You will find letters meant to be burned, copies retained “for reference,” and drafts that should by rights have been torn up but were instead saved, retied, and filed under headings of optimistic vagueness. Some pages are neatly typed, as though the truth might be made more palatable by proper margins. Others arrive in the swift, unsteady cursive of someone writing under pressure, or in a place she very much ought not to be.

The sequence opens, deliberately, near the middle of things. In July 1955, Anne Kelley, a Saint Clare’s English mistress, writes a letter to “Gwennie” with the ease of long practice. Only afterward do we return to the beginning, to see how their correspondence formed, why it was encouraged, and what it made possible.

Readers are invited to take up the archivist’s task, and the investigator’s pleasure, of weighing what people say they intended against what they were, in fact, doing. Much will be implied. Little will be stated outright. Those accustomed to the School’s “special friendships” may notice familiar patterns resurfacing in adult form: the same hierarchies, the same alliances and intimacies, and stakes rather higher than dormitory gossip ever required.

These letters trace the development of that correspondence, from proper parental enquiry to something more deliberate, conducted quietly over time in the familiar idiom of the School. For those who prefer their archives with a guide, a brief introduction to the principal actors has been provided, in the manner of a proper dramatis personae. The archive remembers. And so, of course, does Inez.

Comments are warmly welcomed. While I enjoy seeing them on Bluesky and Twitter, those left here become part of the archive proper, where they may quietly shape what follows. I cannot promise the archive is obedient, but it is, as ever, attentive.

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Foreword

The letters that follow predate the document introduced in Part 0 by some eight years. They belong to the autumn term of 1947, shortly after Inez de Vries arrived at Saint Clare’s, and long before MP Gerald Charrington’s visit rendered Anne Kelley’s correspondence anything but theoretical.

At first glance, there is little here that would trouble a filing clerk. A parent writes to enquire after her daughter. A young schoolmistress replies with due propriety. Both women observe the conventions of their roles, and neither commits anything to paper that might not, under ordinary circumstances, be read aloud in the Headmaster’s study without embarrassment.

And yet, as readers of Miss Kelley’s July 1955 letter will already suspect, this exchange did not remain ordinary.

What follows is not a school report, nor even a sequence of them. It is the beginning of a private correspondence, conducted alongside official channels and sustained with care. The language is measured. The pace unhurried. Nothing improper occurs. But certain permissions are granted, quietly and by degrees.

These letters were found, like their later counterparts, among Lady Gwendolyn de Vries’s papers in the Blue Prefect Study archives, tied and retied, and eventually filed under “Private.” They appear to have been kept not for reference, but for continuity.

The archivist offers them here not as explanation, but as context.

Lady Gwendolyn de Vries

1 October 1947

My dear Miss Kelley,

   You will, I hope, forgive a brief note from a parent so early in the term. I should perhaps say at once that I do not write in any official capacity, nor with any expectation beyond what you may think proper.

   My daughter, Inez de Vries, has only just arrived at Saint Clare’s, and while I am quite aware that the School’s regular reports will tell me all that is necessary in due course, I confess to a small curiosity as to how she bears her first weeks. One remembers, perhaps more clearly than one expects, how revealing those early days can be.

   I understand that your own time at Saint Clare’s followed shortly after my own, though we did not overlap by more than a term or two. Even so, it seems enough to give one a shared sense of the place, and of what is said aloud there, and what is merely observed. If, in the course of your ordinary duties, you should happen to notice anything you think a mother might wish to know, I should be grateful for a word. Please do not feel this as an imposition; I leave it entirely to your judgement.

   I hope the term has begun well for you, and that you are finding your footing among new faces and familiar corridors alike. Saint Clare’s has a way of remaining itself, even as everything else changes.

  With my thanks, and every good wish,

Yours sincerely,

Gwendoline de Vries

Saint Clare’s School for Girls

15 October 1947

My Lady,

  Thank you for your recent letter inquiring after your daughter. I beg you will forgive the presumption of my reply; I am still new to the staff and not yet certain whether this is the greeting you expected.
Miss de Vries has settled quickly by outward measure. She is neat in her person, punctual, and not easily cowed by the novelty of her surroundings. Though she speaks less than some, she observes everything with great care. In English she volunteers answers beyond her years; in History she presses for causes rather than dates.

  Having been educated privately and largely in isolation, her reserve seems to me neither odd nor unpromising. She appears more inclined to watch than to announce herself, and I should think that, given time, this will serve her well. There is a certain coolness in her manner which some of her peers find disconcerting. I suspect it reflects both independence and self-command rather than any difficulty in adapting.

  Please do not take this as criticism, only as a first impression of a girl who will surely make her mark. If you should wish for further such observations as the term progresses, I will gladly provide them, so far as my duties allow.

I remain, my Lady, your obedient servant,
Anne Kelley
English Mistress, Saint Clare’s

Lady Gwendolyn de Vries

22 October 1947

My dear Miss Kelley,

     Thank you for your thoughtful letter. I read it with real interest, and I am grateful for the care with which you have considered not only what may be seen, but what may reasonably be inferred.
     Your description of Inez accords with what I know of her, and I was particularly struck by your remark that she is inclined to watch rather than to announce herself. Saint Clare’s does not always reward that habit immediately, but it is one the School understands, perhaps better than it admits.
    You are quite right that a girl educated privately and largely in isolation may appear cool at first glance. I remember several such girls in my own time, myself among them, and I should not think the worse of any child who takes a little time to measure her ground. Reserve, in the right hands, can be a form of discipline.
   It is a pleasure to hear from someone who observes with precision. Official reports have their place, but they tend to smooth away the very distinctions that matter most. An old girl knows how much lies between the lines, and how often the true character of a pupil reveals itself in patterns rather than incidents.

     If you are willing, I should be glad to hear from you again as the term progresses, in whatever manner seems proper to you. I do not wish to impose, but I value clear eyes and careful judgement, and I recognise both in your letter. I would welcome your using my given name should you prefer.

   With kind regards, & every good wish for the term,
Yours sincerely,

Gwendoline de Vries

Saint Clare’s School for Girls

30 October 1947

My Lady,

   Thank you for your kind letter. I was glad to know that my observations were of interest to you, and I am grateful for the generosity with which you received them.

   I am relieved to hear that my sense of your daughter accords with your own. She continues to be attentive and composed, and I think her habit of watching before she speaks will serve her well, once she has had time to measure the School and those around her. Saint Clare’s does, as you say, understand such girls, though it is not always quick to reward them.

   In a recent English lesson I corrected a passage in her work where she had pressed an argument rather too far. She accepted the correction without visible irritation, but returned the following day with the same point reworked more carefully, the excess stripped away. She did not defend herself, nor did she retreat. I take that as a promising sign.
   I have noticed, too, a change since her first weeks, particularly in matters of correction. Where she was at first inclined to withdraw when checked, she now seems steadier, even relieved, once a boundary is made plain. She accepts direction without protest and does not revisit it afterwards. I would not say she enjoys discipline, but she appears to find it clarifying.¹Archivist’s note: Readers with long memories may wish to compare Miss Kelley’s observation here with Inez de Vries’s diary entry from June of her first year, and with Matron’s log for the same period. The language differs. The effect does not.

  Your remarks about reserve and discipline gave me particular pleasure. It is not often that one finds such qualities spoken of without apology, and I recognise much of what you say from my own school days. The distinction between incident and pattern is one that seems to me especially important, and I am glad to be reminded of it.

   If you should wish me to write again as the term progresses, I will do so, so far as my duties allow, and with the same care. I am grateful for the confidence you place in my judgement, and I will endeavour not to abuse it.

I remain, my Lady, your obedient servant,
Anne Kelley
English Mistress, Saint Clare’s

Lady Gwendolyn de Vries

12 November 1947

My dear Anne,

   Thank you for your last letter, which I read with particular interest. I am grateful to you for the care with which you attend not only to what is done, but to what follows from it. That is a habit more easily named than practiced.

   Your account of Inez’s response to correction was especially reassuring. There are girls for whom firmness is a cruelty, and others for whom it is a kindness. It has long seemed to me that the latter are the more difficult to recognise, precisely because they do not ask to be indulged. I am glad to know she has found her footing in that regard.
   You write very much as one who understands the School from the inside. I recognise the turn of thought, and the way you weigh incident against tendency. Saint Clare’s teaches many things, but among the most useful is the discipline of attention, and it is pleasant to hear from someone who still practices it.

   You were kind enough, in your last letter, to sign yourself simply. In the same spirit, I hope you will not think me forward if I do the same. I have been “Gwennie” for so long within the walls of Saint Clare’s that it would seem affectation to be anything else in our correspondence.

   I should like to continue our exchange, if you are willing, in the same measured way. There is no urgency. Patterns, as you so rightly note, reveal themselves over time.

With every good wish,
Yours sincerely,
Gwennie

Saint Clare’s School for Girls

18 November 1947

My dear Gwennie,
  I hope you will forgive my adopting the name you offered. It felt discourteous not to do so, having accepted your confidence in every other respect.
  I was glad to know that my last letter was of use to you. Inez continues as before: attentive, contained, and increasingly sure of herself in small matters. She has settled into the rhythm of the School more fully now, and seems less inclined to hold herself apart. I do not mean that she has grown demonstrative, only that she appears more at ease in her own place.
   Your remarks about firmness as kindness stayed with me. I see more clearly now how often a girl’s response to correction tells one more than the correction itself. It is a lesson Saint Clare’s teaches quietly, and one I am still learning to articulate.
  I will write again, as you suggest, when there is something worth setting down. I value the measured way in which you read these small particulars, and I am grateful for the seriousness with which you take them.

Yours sincerely,

Anne

P.S. At Saint Clare I was always “Nancy.”

Afterword
Anne Kelley’s final letter in this sequence is notable less for what it says than for how it begins. Forms of address are never accidental at Saint Clare’s. They are taught, corrected, and remembered long after other lessons have faded.

From this point, their correspondence proceeds on different terms.

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  Archivist’s note: Readers with long memories may wish to compare Miss Kelley’s observation here with Inez de Vries’s diary entry from June of her first year, and with Matron’s log for the same period. The language differs. The effect does not.