Then, instead of presenting him with the calm, serene scene he patently expected to see, he had been confronted with anarchy. It hadn’t been that bad, of course, because he had only seen the last, damning few minutes of her efforts. But to someone like him—someone who wore two pocket watches and was so neat and fastidious he had likely never experienced so much as a hair out of place on his own head—it must have looked like the whole world had gone to hell in a handcart.
She really should have handled that better. And she shouldn’t have left him with that flippant jibe aboutswabbing the deckbecause that meant he had been left steaming. Was probablystillsteaming because she had avoided eating a slice of humble pie and had quoted Confucius rather than apologized for making such a mess of his morning room.
But it was done now; she couldn’t change yesterday. Today, however, she was adamant he would find no fault. Today, she was going to take heed of Miss P’s wise words and do whatever it took to convince the captain that her classroom was running precisely as the stickler envisioned it. Even if that meant meekly standing by and biting her tongue while he lectured her or patronized her like the colonel had daily.
Or badly quoted military leaders at her.
Somewhat ironically and with a twinkle in his eye, as if he were getting the quotes wrong on purpose.
But still. The similarities to the unyielding and pompous colonel were close enough to make her wary of trying the captain’s patience with the relentless enthusiasm with which she had tried her awful stepfather’s. The colonel had been stuck with her and the captain wasn’t, so she really had to do a better job of doing the job he thought she should be doing.
All she had to do was earn the stickler’s trust.
From the back foot.
Fast.
While suppressing the rebellious St. Joan of Arc within who was positively fighting to get out and tell him how wrong he was about everything.
Heaven help her!
For the umpteenth time, she checked the equipment and books neatly lined up on her desk and compared them to her notes. Today, she had planned a packed schedule, which would serve as categoric proof that she hadn’t wasted a single second of the children’s valuable lesson time if he decided to check on her again.
Which, of course, he would.
Men like that, who were convinced that they always knew best, that all their orders should be followed to the letter without question, would be too arrogant and pompous to think that they would not have been obeyed if she pandered a little to their ego. It certainly would have worked on the colonel if she’d been able to suppress her own outrage at him long enough to try it. His revolving succession of temporary servants were adept at keeping up the right appearances whenever he was around, and because keeping up appearances allowed them to blend into the woodwork, the fool never noticed when they weren’t following his orders to the letter. Ergo, she would do the same now.
She would pander to the captain’s obsession with time and use it so productively that even he would have no cause to find any fault! The navy, according to Mrs. Rigsby, was the captain’s life. Therefore, it stood to reason that if she could make the problem of the children disappear, her employer’s disapproving focus would return to Admiralty matters, where it belonged.
“Good morning, Miss Rowe.” Even though she was expecting her new pupils to arrive, her nerves were pulled too tight not to clench at Felix’s greeting. Once again, Norbert was trailing on his heels, and that wouldn’t do at all when the dog had played a significant part in creating yesterday’s chaos. The boy scanned the desks warily, taking in the paper, quills, and abacuses gracing each one with undisguised disappointment. “What’s all that for?”
“Our first mathematics lesson. I always prefer to tackle that first thing while the mind is at its freshest.” They were going to cram a lot into that first hour. Papers would be filled aplenty with sums the stickler could scrutinize at leisure. Then there would be an hour of geography, which she knew the aspiring explorer Felix would adore. Then the final hour before lunch would be something the girls would enjoy—she had planned their English lesson around one of the stories inGrimms’ Fairy Tales. A story about a princess called Rapunzel who was locked in a high tower.
This afternoon, they would start with science, and this time they would go outside to collect a few specimens to study in class. History would follow, and they would begin learning about all the kings and queens of England, starting with Alfred the Great. The day would purposefully end with handwriting practice, so that when the captainarrived at five to five on the dot to inspect the troops, the children would have pens in their hands.
If Georgie said so herself, that final lesson was a stroke of genius. Today, Captain Kincaid would not only see the physical manifestation of what he thought good learning looked like, he would return to a tidy oasis of disciplined quiet.
Felix ran his fingertip over the nearest abacus before he flicked a bead to one side, as if dismissing it. “What will I be learning while the girls do maths?”
“Mathematics as well. There is always more to learn.”
As that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, he pouted. “But I already told you that Mama and Papa have taught me everything I need to know and I’m hardly going to need anything more complex when I am going to be an entomologist.” The nonchalance returned as he made his way to the globe and set it spinning. “I’ve been studying more important things, like surviving alone in the wild. I’ve even built my own treehouse, which Norbert and I camp in overnight all the time and which I doubt many other boys of ten are clever enough to do. I can light a fire without a tinderbox and cook a meal on it. I bet Uncle Harry cannot even do that.” His skinny chest puffed with pride. “Those are the sorts of skills an exploring entomologist needs all alone in a strange land. You do remember that I am going to sail around the world and record every insect on the planet, don’t you?”
“Of course, I remember.” Georgie nodded, ensuring her smile was encouraging and not in any way patronizing. “And after seeing how well you drew them yesterday, I have no doubt thatInsectum Munduswill be Professor Felix Pendleton’s magnum opus. One that academics will refer to for centuries to come.” The boy’s chest puffed some more at her compliment. “But it is going to be a jolly difficult thing to write if you cannot sail the seven seas single-handed, as youplan to, because you will never be able to do that without understanding complex mathematics.” She gestured for him to sit, ignoring the outraged confusion that skittered across his features as he did so with reluctance.
“Navigation, for example, requires some very complex calculations.” She really didn’t have a clue what navigating required, so she guessed in as convincing a manner as she could with all the bravado of an expert on the subject. “If you get the angles and the sums wrong, you could end up anywhere. Get the wind speed wrong and you could crash your vessel into the rocks because you did not leave enough time to slow it down. Not to mention, as I am sure your uncle will concur if we ask his expert naval opinion, the dangers of not calculating your provisions correctly, or worse, distributing the weight of them incorrectly belowdecks. The consequences for the good ship, Felix, could be catastrophic. There will be no seven volumes on insects if you starve to death or die of thirst on your voyage. Nor will the world ever get to read your life’s work if your vessel has sunk to the bottom of the sea with you still in it.”
“But…”
Fortunately, the timely arrival of Marianne and Grace with Polly, the young scullery maid who had been commandeered to act as the children’s nanny in the mornings and at bedtime, prevented further argument.
“Good morning, girls. Please take your seats.” Georgie ushered them into the room while the maid hovered in the doorway. She didn’t appear to be much older than Felix herself. Fourteen, perhaps. Fifteen at a push. Too young to cope with the three boisterous Pendletons, that was for certain. The poor thing already looked as though she had been run ragged by the effort it had taken to shepherd them all into their clothes and down to the dining room.
“The children have had their breakfast and the captain told me to remind you that their luncheon will be served promptly at one and their supper on the dot of five.” To her credit, Polly looked as uncomfortable issuing that reminder as Georgie was galled to hear it, and wrung her hands, pained. “If there’s nothing else you need me to do, Miss Rowe, Mrs. Rigsby needs me in the kitchen.”
“If you would just take Norbert to the kitchen with you, Mr. Simpkins will know where to put him until the children finish their lessons.” At least she hoped Simpkins did. She hadn’t asked him. Had barely conversed with him at all, truth be told, because he regarded her with almost as much bewilderment and disapproval as the captain did.
“Norbert won’t have that.” Felix jumped out of his seat to plead the dog’s case while stroking his floppy ears. “Hehasto stay with me. I saved his life, nursed him back from starvation, and gave him a home, so we have an unbreakable bond. Norbert needs to be by my side else he’ll misbehave again.”
