Miss Mallard gave a brisk nod, clearly pleased by Emm’s amazement. “I cannot think of anyone better. You have the finest education any woman can have—a Mallard education—you have the girls under excellent control and as the daughter of a baronet, you have the birth and background that will reassure our aristocratic parents that their daughters are in excellent hands.”
“Miss Mallard, I don’t know what to say.” Excitement filled her. Oh, what she could make of this place.
“You don’t need to say anything. I am writing to my nephew this morning to inform him. He has been pressing me for a decision for some time.” She indicated the writing materials in front of her. “Of course, he will continue to oversee the accounts and so on, but that kind of thing is best left to gentlemen anyway, I find. They have the head for such things, while we ladies have our minds on more elegant matters.”
Emm smiled and nodded, her mind spinning with plans. First on the agenda, once she became headmistress, would be a battle with Edgar Mallard over expenditure. He was the most parsimonious creature and begrudged any expenditure that was not directly related to the needs of the pupils or impressing their parents. For a school that prided itself on its elegance and quality, it paid its staff disgracefully and pinched pennies appallingly. Edgar Mallard’s motto seemed to be, if it wasn’t visible to the parents or pupils, it didn’t matter.
Emm had battled with him before over such things as the servants’ and teachers’ quarters, the quality of the food, the provision of heating, wages and other matters he considered unworthy of his attention—or his money.
When Miss Mallard retired, Emm vowed, things would change.
Andherschool would not be judged by whom her pupils married, but by what they learned. And what they did with their lives—marriage or not. Her girls would have choices.They’d be taught to think, not merely obey and be decorative. Oh, yes, she had plans....
The bell rang for breakfast, and Miss Mallard returned to her papers and waved vaguely toward the door, indicating that the interview was over. Emm rose. “Thank you, Miss Mallard. I’m very honored by your trust in me. I promise you, I will do my very best to ensure that Miss Mallard’s Seminary for the Daughters of Gentlemen will continue to flourish long into the future.”
She stepped into the hallway in a daze—headmistress!—but was brought back to reality by a thundering on the stairs as thirty-five hungry schoolgirls headed for breakfast. “Girls, girls! Walk, don’t run. You arenota herd of elephants, all evidence to the contrary.”
Giggling, they moderated their speed and walked down the stairs as they were supposed to, two by two at a ladylike pace. Emm supervised, smiling. She loved these girls, so young and lively, full of hopes and dreams and with such a zest for life. She wanted to embrace them all.
She had a future to look forward to now.
***
Cal found the breakfast room deserted when he came down next morning. Logan brought his coffee in. “The girls settle in all right last night?”
“Indeed they did, m’lord. We carried out your instructions and the steak helped with Miss Rose’s eye. There, er, there were no leeches available for Miss Lily’s bruises.”
Cal snorted. “In other words, she begged you not to put those nasty slimy creatures on her.”
Logan gave him a rueful smile. “It’s those big gray eyes of hers...”
“I know. We males have no defense against them, do we?” He took a sip of his coffee. “It’s a pity. Leeches might be disgusting, but there’s nothing like them for limiting bruising. Still, too late now. Are the girls up yet?”
Logan shook his head. “Still abed, m’lord. They were very tired.”
Hiding from him, more like, Cal thought.
“I hope we didn’t disturb Aunt Dottie last night, with all the coming and goings.”
“Not at all, m’lord. She slept like a baby the whole night through. Sleeps very well, does Miss Dottie.”
“Now how could you possibly kn—” But Logan had already left the room, leaving Cal to brood over his excellent coffee. The situation with the girls could not go on. Bad enough they kept sneaking out at night, but now they’d been injured. And it could have been much worse.
Logan returned in a few minutes, bearing a covered silver dish, which he placed before Cal.
“Why didn’t you stop them, Logan? I trusted you to keep an eye on them. Dammit, can I not even leave this house for a minute?”
Logan removed the lid, revealing an appetizing-looking plate of ham, fried eggs and mushrooms. “I am aservantin this house, Lord Ashendon,” he said pointedly. “It is my job toobeythe wishes of the inhabitants, not control them—even if I could. That, my lord, isyourjob.” And he sailed from the room.
He was right, damn him. Cal moodily addressed his breakfast. It was excellent, as was the coffee, but it didn’t cheer him up any.
Logan returned a few minutes later bearing a silver salver. “The post, my lord.”
Cal leafed through the letters and spotted one addressed in a sprawling, stylish hand. “Aunt Agatha!” He seized it eagerly and broke the seal.
It was short and pithy.
My dear Ashendon,
