“Never mind that, I mean, you’re very welcome, miss, but the Du—er, Miss Mallard—wants to see you right away. Before breakfast, she said.”
Emm flung back the bedclothes. “Any idea why?”
“No, miss. Just that it was important. I brung you some hot water to wash in. So hurry.”
“Hot water! Bless you, Milly. May you be swept off your feet by a rich and handsome man who will adore you and indulge your every wish!” Which was Milly’s dream. She’d confided in Emm when she first came to Bath. She was certainly pretty enough.
Emm washed and dressed with all haste. What could Miss Mallard want with her at this hour? It was most unusual.
A thought struck her as she was fastening her garters. Had Miss Mallard or one of her cronies spotted Emm at the event last night? Or walking unchaperoned with Lord Ashendon?
She checked her appearance in a small looking glass. There was a darkening patch on her left cheekbone. Her nose was a bit red and one side was very slightly swollen, but it wasn’t very noticeable. She hoped.
She dusted her face with a little rice powder. It was forbidden for the staff at Miss Mallard’s to use cosmetic products of any sort, but Miss Mallard’s eyesight was fading, and Emm hoped she wouldn’t notice. And if she did, well, she would blame the wardrobe door.
She hurried downstairs. Miss Theale, Miss Mallard’s sour-faced assistant, met her at the foot of the stairs. She jerked her head at Emm. “In the office.”
Emm knocked and was admitted. She sat, preserving an air of calm, and waited.
Miss Mallard was in the process of writing what looked like a letter. She blotted it, set her pen aside, and said,”Good morning, Miss Westwood. I’ll come straight to the point.”
Emm braced herself.
“As you know,” the headmistress continued, “I am planning to retire at the end of the term.”
Emm nodded, her throat suddenly dry. It wasn’t about her outing last night. From the expression on Miss Mallard’s face, it was something much more serious.
Miss Mallard admitted to sixty years on this earth, but most who knew her privately agreed she was closer to seventy. Her desire to retire was no secret. It had all of the staff worried. What if the school closed? Where would they go?
Emm had nothing to fall back on. No home, no family—nothing. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for the axe to fall.
“I have given much thought to the future of this establishment.” Miss Mallard removed herpince-nezand polished them meditatively with a soft cloth. “I’ve given my life to the education of young ladies and I fancy I have achieved a wonderful record—three duchesses, two marchionesses, five countesses, six viscountesses...”
Emm wanted to scream. She’d heard this litany before. All the staff and most of the pupils probably knew it by heart.
Emm always wanted to end it withAnd a partridge in a pear tree.
“—which is a record I think no other establishment for young ladies can better.”
“No indeed,” Emm murmured.
“And so I am reluctant to let the school simply close.”
Emm held her breath.
“And although my nephew, Mr. Edgar Mallard, will inherit the school on my death, he could not, of course, run it. A gentleman running a seminary for young ladies—the very idea!” She gave a girlish giggle.
Emm forced a smile. When would she get to the point? Was she going to sell the school? And if so, to whom? And when?
And what would happen to the staff? New brooms often wanted to sweep clean. They could all be out on the street in a matter of weeks.
Miss Mallard replaced her glasses. “I have given much thought to who would run it. Of the permanent staff, Miss Thwaites and Miss Johnstone are too old—they will no doubt retire themselves shortly. Miss Clegg is too young and flighty and besides”—she leaned forward and said in a lowered voice—“she is hoping to bemarried! Well, we can’t havethatsort of thing, can we?”
“No indeed.”
“So the choice is obvious. You shall become the headmistress after me.”
Emm blinked.“Me?”She’d expected to hear that some outsider was going to be appointed. “You wantmeto become the new headmistress?”
