Page 4

Skimming her gaze over two dozen bent heads, she curved her mouth into a half-smile at the tableau before her. Four-and-twenty girls ranging in age from twelve to seventeen met her perusal within the four tidy rows of desks. This was her life, or at least it had been for the past two months and would be until she retired several decades from now.

A pang of regret twinged near the region of her heart, but she stoically dismissed the nostalgia. So her destiny didn’t include marriage and children. There were many, many worse things. Chasity was one of the lucky ones. She held a reliable position and needn’t fret about her future.

At five-and-twenty, Chasity had become assistant headmistress at one of Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies private seminaries. Before that, she’d been the etiquette, French, and writing instructor at another branch of Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies. When she’d been asked to consider the promotion to assistant headmistress at the school’s new location, she’d leaped at the opportunity.

What woman in her position wouldn’t have?

Lady Jane Balderbrook—the seminary’s namesake and chief patron—had put forth the suggestion to Chasity’s former headmistress.

Rarely did one so young get offered such a prestigious position. Chasity could only credit her diligence and dedication in performing her duties in her previous post, and Lady Balderbrook’s personal recommendation, of course, for the advancement.

And my total lack of interest in finding a beau and marrying.

Marriage was not Chasity’s ultimate goal, unlike the girls seated before her. She was expected to mold them into the epitome of refinement so they might marry and efficiently manage their own households one day.

As assistant headmistress, she had her own rooms, a larger salary, and most importantly, security. Security and stability. Those mattered most to her. Instructors came and went, but headmistresses and their assistants could anticipate a lengthy career if they so chose. And if they minded themselves most diligently.

Glancing at the miniature brass table clock angled on one corner of her practical desk, she cleared her throat.

“Girls, it’s nearly time for dance lessons.”

A chorus of muted giggles erupted behind hands clasped over mouths. Half of the students were smitten with the dance master. The other half were tongue-tied and awestruck in his presence.

In Chasity’s opinion, Aston Terramier was too young and attractive to be a suitable dance master or music teacher. His form and features proved most distracting to the impressionable students. They were forever forgetting their steps and asking him to personally instruct them.

A hunch-backed, arthritic, doddering soul nearing his eighth decade and hard of hearing would serve quite well instead. Just such a gentleman had taught the proper dance steps to the students at Haven House and Academy for the Enrichment of Young Women.

To his credit, Mr. Terramier skillfully deflected the girls’ attempts for private lessons and demonstrated the movements with one of the teachers. Usually, Pomposa Wetherwax, Stella Ramsbottom, or Geraldine Belcher. All of whom were long in the tooth, longer on the shelf, portly, and as awkward on the dance floor as blindfolded hippopotamuses in high heels.

“Ahem.”

Chasity cleared her throat again, and at once, the schoolroom settled into an energetic quiet. The students fairly vibrated with anticipation. She supposed she couldn’t blame them. Mrs. Crenshaw didn’t employ any footmen for obvious reasons. It wouldn’t do to have young men in such close proximity to so many impressionable girls.

The only males present at the school were two middling-aged grooms, who also acted as coachmen and stable hands, and an aged, arthritic gardener.

The men who delivered the firewood, milk, and various other supplies from time to time were rarely seen by residents at Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Ladies except for Mrs. Pottkotter—the cook—or the four maids. Or Chasity, who typically rose at five for a constitutional before her lengthy day as assistant headmistress began.

“Return your books to your chambers, collect your gloves, and then make your way to the ballroom in an orderly fashion.” Chasity stood and shook out her navy-blue muslin gown before patting her tidy chignon. Removing her plain white gloves from a desk drawer, she said, “Remember to keep your backs straight and walk with the grace and decorum you’ve been practicing.”

A stickler for convention, Mrs. Crenshaw threatened to make any girl with less than perfect posture wear a backboard. Those devices were unnatural and cruel, and thus far, Chasity had been able to dissuade the headmistress from actually carrying out her threat.

“I shouldn’t think Mr. Terramier expects to instruct hoydens today,” she said as she slipped her gloves on.

“Yes, Miss Noble,” came the expected subdued chorus. Nonetheless, undisguised eagerness shimmered in the girls’ eyes.

Chasity suppressed a sigh and resisted rolling her eyes ceilingward.

They’d take hours to settle down this afternoon. Perhaps a nature walk and foliage sketching were in order. If she could convince the headmistress and other instructors. A glance at the windows lining the room’s far side confirmed the weather was pleasant enough. In truth, the afternoon might prove too warm to venture outdoors.

The students filed from the schoolroom, but once they made the corridor, more giggles erupted. There was also the unmistakable echo of running footsteps and loud whispering.

Harnessing a swarm of bees was easier than subduing healthy, spirited girls. It always pained Chasity to stifle their natural liveliness and exuberance, but her duty was to mold them into young ladies—not indulge or encourage madcap behavior.

Perhaps she would excuse herself from overseeing the dance lessons today. Six other instructors were surely sufficient for the forty-and-seven girls. The seminary boasted beds for seventy students, but the facility wasn’t yet fully staffed and adding additional students wasn’t prudent.

Besides, she hadn’t yet updated the financial records. Mrs. Crenshaw was competent and organized, but Chasity’s mathematical abilities surpassed the headmistress’s. Once Rafaela Crenshaw had learned of Chasity’s skill with numbers, she’d gladly transferred the bookkeeping obligations.

With a final glance around her classroom, Chasity made a mental note to water the fern in the corner this afternoon. The plant was her only concession to personalizing the room. As she made her way along the well-scrubbed and stark dark-paneled, rather gloomy corridor to the headmistress’s office, she mulled over the two open positions at this branch of Balderbrook’s Institution for Genteel Young Ladies.