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“It is not straight,” Mr. Roberts said. “Miss Waverly, will you please take the end of this string and—” The man happened to look up and noticed Joshua standing there. “I do beg your pardon, my good man. I didn’t see you there. Good day.”
“Good day.”
The girls whipped around, almost as one, staring up at him.
“How may I help you?”
“That’s the Grim Reaper,” said one of Iddesleigh girls.
“Lady Mathilda!” Mr. Roberts said sternly. “Apologize at once.”
Joshua lifted his hand. “It’s quite all right. There was a bit of a misunderstanding at the Iddesleigh house, not of her making. I am Lord Marley of Hollyfield.”
Mr. Roberts’s brows rose with surprise. “Your Grace, welcome. Children, the Duke of Marley has come to call.”
“Oh. You’re to curtsy to a duke,” Lady Mathilda informed them. She and two girls Joshua recognized as her sisters curtsied. They were joined by one or two more, but mostly, the girls continued to stare curiously at him.
And two of the more industrious students began to dig. Not at the row they were trying to make, but just in general. Joshua couldn’t help himself—he pointed at them. “That’s not...that’s not the proper way to dig dirt. Or to hold a shovel.”
“We’re still learning,” Mr. Roberts said, and smoothly took the shovels from the girls and leaned them against the fence.
Joshua’s curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he took a few steps to see the row the girls had dug. If it was indeed intended to be a row. From what he saw, it was a mess of overturned dirt. “What is this?”
“We are creating our own garden,” Mr. Roberts said proudly. “It will require a bit of reconfiguring.”
“It will require being redone. Why not have one of Iddesleigh’s men do it?”
“That would defeat the purpose of the hands-on experience, Your Grace. At the Iddesleigh School for Girls, we believe in using our hands as well as our minds to promote educational growth. If you’d like, I’d be happy to schedule a time we might discuss the curriculum—”
“No, thank you.” He was making an ass of himself, questioning the digging of a gaggle of little girls. And really, why did he care how they dug a row? “I don’t...” He didn’t know what to say, really. “Need to know.”
Mr. Roberts nodded politely. “Is there something else you need, then?”
Yes, he needed to know who Mr. Roberts had shared his letters with. Who he had deemed fit to read letters that Joshua thought were private. “I, ah...there has been some talk of Goosefeather Abbey.”
“There has indeed, Your Grace. The old abbey is the perfect location for our growing school.”
“Yes,” Joshua said. “I wanted to see the school for myself.”
Mr. Roberts did not question why. He was beaming at the mere mention of the abbey. “Then perhaps you might like to observe our botany lesson. Miss Waverly? The string, please.”
Miss Waverly walked as far as the string would allow her.
“Do you have a daughter?” A girl standing nearby directed the question at him.
“No.”
“Then why did you come here?”
“I wanted to see the school.”
“Is your daughter going to come? We haven’t any room,” said another one.
“I don’t have a daughter.”
“But she can come when we move. Mr. Roberts says we’ll have more room, then,” offered another. “What’s her name?”
It was to have been Carla. Carla Parker.
