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Thanks to Lord Tavistoke, the previous builder had been found guilty of fraud and forced to return his fee as well as compensate the school for the repairs needed to correct his poor workmanship. She sent a silent prayer of thanks to heaven that she’d discovered the fault in the mortar before the blackguard had finished, or the walls might have come tumbling down atop her girls in the first hard rain. The new workers were to pull down the defective walls and rebuild them correctly.
“Good morning, Monsieur MacCallum.” She suppressed a momentary urge to panic as he entered her office. The Scot was an intimidating mountain of a man, but Tavistoke had vouched for him. “Have you made a decision?”
MacCallum stroked his flaming red beard. “Aye. I’ll take the job. Mah boys will rebuild it proper, but I’ll nae use tha’ other fellow’s brick. If the mortar was poor, the brick is likely second rate as weel.”
He had a point. “Agreed. What will be done with the old brick?”
A shrug lifted one massive shoulder. “Use it tae border the garden. I wouldnae recommend it for aught else.”
His answer pleased her. The contract was signed, and MacCallum agreed his men would come on the first clear morning to begin work.
Jaqueline breathed a sigh of relief after he was gone, not only because he made her nervous, but because the expansion would mean housing for another forty girls. The prospect of almost doubling the school’s attendance was daunting, but it needed to be done. The dining hall and classrooms were spacious enough to accommodate the increase, and the teachers were willing to take on the extra work.
All save one, and she was certain he wouldn’t complain. Not at the wage he was being paid.
On her way back to her classroom, which was currently being supervised by Suzette, she decided to check on Mr. Woodson. She heard him from down the hall, his baritone a sharp contrast to the overwhelmingly feminine voices drifting on the air. He sounded better than before, less stuffy. Peeking in, she smiled at the students who spied her there but held a finger to her lips.
The fire had been stoked, and the room was quite cozy. A teakettle sat warming on the hearth, and beside the grate had been placed a chair over which were draped the gentleman’s scarf, hat, and gloves. Not wishing to disturb the class further, Jacqueline moved on.
A thunderous sneeze issued from the room just after she passed, to which the class replied in chorus, “God bless you, sir.”
She suppressed a grin as he muttered thanks in a clogged voice before blowing his nose and resuming instruction.
At lunch, she watched Agnes present him with a large, steaming bowl of chicken soup. The way her cook’s face colored at his profuse thanks told Jacqueline he’d made a devotee.
By the third sneeze, she could stand it no longer. “Monsieur, if it’s still raining this evening, I must insist on having our carriage convey you home.”
“That would be most appreciated,” he said, taking off his spectacles to clean them. His deep blue eyes were even more striking without their obstruction. “I was rather hoping it might clear, but the sky looks to be set on rain. Tomorrow I shall endeavor to dress more appropriately. It was sprinkling when I left home, but by the time I arrived here, I half expected to see Noah’s ark floating down the street.”
The jest elicited several chuckles from around the table.
“Perhaps it might be prudent to leave a pair of dry shoes and stockings here. Thus, should the weather catch you unawares again, you will not suffer from the damp,” she suggested.
“I shall certainly take it under consideration,” he replied with a grimace. “There is much to be said for having dry footwear.”
“I rather hope the rains ease soon,” she said, addressing the others. “The new builder has accepted the terms and will begin work as soon as it does.”
The announcement was met with mixed reactions. Most of the ladies showed grim acceptance, but Moira’s face turned ashen.
“The man I’ve hired is a Scot by the name of MacCallum,” Jacqueline added quickly to allay her fears. “He came very highly recommended.”
“Doubtless he’ll do a better job than that Feeny fellow,” interjected Agnes as she plunked down a plate of fresh, hot rolls in the center of the table. She shook her fist. “If I ever see his rat face again, I’ll put this through it, the little cheat!”
Woodson frowned. “Begging your pardon, but might I inquire as to what you are planning to build?”
Shooting Agnes a quelling look, Jacqueline told him of their plans for growth. His brows shot up as she spoke.
“Impressive,” he said at last. Glancing around, he nodded. “It will be tighter, to be sure, but there is adequate capacity. May I assume you’ll need more books?”
She bit back a sigh. “Indeed.” It wasn’t a task she looked forward to addressing. Fortunately, the need was not immediate.
“I’d be delighted to oversee their purchase on the school’s behalf, if you like.”
His offer was so unexpected that she caught herself smiling before she could help it. “Your assistance would indeed be most welcome, monsieur.”
His face colored a little. “It’s the least I can do. After you told me of your trouble attaining the copies currently in possession, I’d like to help in any way possible.”
She could see he meant it. And she knew why. But it wasn’t enough to convince her he was worthy of her confidence. From the corner of her eye, she saw Mrs. Sloane approaching. “Please excuse me,” she told her tablemates, rising.
