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Jane is astonished by that display of what seemed to be genuine contrition, especially as it seemed to be achieved in such a short amount of time, and in a hallway, no less.
“Thank you, Laura,” Frau Lotte says, breathing a clear sign of relief at what appears to be a resolution to the matter. “Perhaps the two of you might like to continue your evening. It is not yet too late.”
Not too late,a turn of phrase that covers both temporal and other possibilities.
Jane and Laura depart the office, Jane with her cane firmly in hand. Nobody else will be touching that for quite some time, if ever again. Though now she is wondering if Laura might possibly be an adept hand in the art of discipline as well.
“That was… how did you do that?” She asks the question as she allows Laura to lead her out of the chateau and back toward her little home.
“Frau Lotte is right. You’re too soft with Storm. You feel sorry for her. She does not need pity. She needs to know there are boundaries she cannot push past. And you are right about Frau Lotte. She is too harsh, and she expects too much. I am in the middle.”
“So you’re Goldilocks?” Jane cannot help but laugh at that description. “I have never been called soft before.”
“But you are,” Laura smiles, a hint of fondness coming into her eyes. “I have seen your moments of softness many times, even as a fearsome and revered disciplinarian. They are appealing. But there are those who would take advantage of them, even if they do not know they are doing so. What is the phrase? Give an inch, take a mile?”
“Yes, that’s the phrase,” Jane says. “I didn’t think I had given any inches, but perhaps…”
“With that one,” Laura says. “It is more like give a millimeter and she will take the moon.”
Jane laughs. Even Laura allows herself a hint of a smile. She offers her hand, palm up, silently. This is an olive branch, one Jane does not hesitate to accept. She slides her hand in over Laura’s and allows the woman’s longer fingers to wrap warm and strong around hers, holding her hand as they walk together through the calm mountain night.
10EVEN MORE TROUBLE
It is 10.45 am on Monday in the second week of Jane’s first term at Birchbane as the disciplinarian. Her morning has been quiet thus far. One could say, a little too quiet. She wonders how busy she will be here, or if once things settle down with her more challenging charges, life will get somewhat boring.
Perhaps she will have more time to spend with Laura….
No sooner has that thought passed through her mind than the peace of the chateau is shattered by the roar of a throaty engine, a deep growling sound that seems to tear at the fabric of the air itself, matched with a screeching of engineering being pushed to its very limits.
Jane rises to her feet just in time to see a sports car tearing up the drive, wheels relinquishing traction as the shining red body of the vehicle slides sideways before coming to a halt at a haphazard angle in front of the school with a satisfying crunch of brake and metal.
Less than thirty second later, the door to Jane’s office opens after a brief tap, and the headmistress enters.
“Your presence is required, Miss Strict,” Frau Lotte says. “What is likely to be one of your frequent fliers has finally seen fit to arrive.”
“That was a student?” Jane barely contains her surprise. She imagined it was perhaps a visitor of some kind, an eccentric aunt or somebody having gotten lost on a nearby rally stage.
“That is Kiera Marlin. Technically this is her second year, though barely, as she was hardly present for her first. She is a little older than her contemporaries as a result of her parents taking her out of school for months at a time to sojourn around the world. You will find her a challenge, Miss Strict.”
While the headmistress otherwise briefs Jane on her newest charge, Jane accompanies Frau Lotte out the front door, where the driver of the vehicle is stepping out of her car, having parked it at either a jaunty or erratic angle alongside the school, depending on one’s perspective.
Kiera Marlin is a full-figured young woman wearing a curve hugging red dress and leopard print silk scarf over voluminous wavy blonde hair. Her eyes are covered by large dark sunglasses and there is a little clutch in her hand that matches the dress and, of course, the shoes. She moves with the confidence of someone who knows they are young and beautiful and is used to being amply praised for both of those two superficial qualities.
Far from displaying any guilt over her haphazard arrival, she seems positively pleased to be greeted by Jane and Frau Lotte.
“Hello!” she calls out, lifting her hand to give a little finger wave.
“Nice of you to join us, Miss Marlin,” Frau Lotte says in her driest tones.
“Thank you! It is nice. Oh…” She pauses for a moment, as if Frau Lotte’s tone has only just sunk in. “Am I late?”
“That depends,” Frau Lotte says. “If you are referring to the start of classes for the day, you are almost three hours late. If you are referring to the start of term, you are a full week late.”
“Wow,” Kiera says cheerfully. “That has to be a new record. I came as soon as I could. The car literally could not go any faster. Believe me. I tried.”
Everybody present is aware of the mountain roads which lead up to the school. Sheer drops are an ever-present risk, usually ameliorated by careful driving. Kiera shows no evidence of awareness of how reckless or dangerous her behavior has been.
This is a young lady in desperate need of immediate discipline. Jane comes to this conclusion at the precise same time as the headmistress.
