Helen dragged herself into her office the next morning. Alternate hours of crying and exhausted slumber had not left her well-rested.
Grace, already at her desk, glanced up, then did a double take as Helen passed.
“Helen? Are you unwell?”
Does a broken heart qualify? I do not think ’tis a medical condition. More of an overall life condition.
Aloud, she answered, “A little under the weather, but I shall recover.”
Perhaps if she said it enough, she’d believe it.
As Grace’s gaze returned to her desk, Helen swore she caught a glimpse of a half-smile, but it was gone in a flash.
“Shall I call for tea, then? When it arrives, I can come in and go through the highest priority items for the day,” Grace asked with her eyes and hands still on her paperwork.
“Yes, please.”
Helen dropped like a stone into her desk chair. She did not want to be here today.
She could not recall the last time she had thought that, if ever. But if not here, then where? The last place she wished to be was back in her lonely, cold bed with nothing to do but remember Regina’s presence there.
I would rather be at the stables learning to muck out a stall if it meant being with Regina.
Tears sprang forth yet again as she reminded herself that was no longer an option. Dabbing at them with a handkerchief, she attempted to compose herself.
Grace shouldered the door farther ajar and set a tea tray on the sideboard.
“Helen? Are you crying? What is amiss?”
Helen was wary about saying too much, even to her most trusted employee. Her views on qualities of a leader were too ingrained—lead by example—to allow her to admit to having broken the school’s rules. “You know Regina and I have grown close, yes? We had a falling out. She does not believe ’tis appropriate for us to spend so much time together.” Or any.
“Hmm,” Grace murmured as she poured and passed Helen’s teacup.
Helen’s gaze cut to hers.
“If I may say so,” Grace said, “it might be for the best. The school needs its leader to give her undivided attention to keep this magnificent institution running smoothly.”
Helen cocked her head. That was a strange statement, with a hidden criticism but no names mentioned. “Do you not think it has been running smoothly?”
“I did not say that.” Grace glanced down at her lap, smoothing her skirt. Putting her tea aside, she picked up her notebook. “Shall we go over what needs to be done? My list is quite lengthy.”
Helen allowed the subject change. Her wounds were too fresh and her brain too sluggish to allow her to follow the nuances of Grace’s behavior.
Perhaps tomorrow.
The mail arrived that afternoon. They sent a messenger into the village once a sennight rather than paying the penny post rates, instead paying for their mail at the village’s post office. But Helen could not face a new pile of paperwork to sift through, even to hand some of them to Grace. Given her assistant’s attitude, she preferred to open them before delegating to search for fraught issues.
So after another restless night, Helen peered at the wax seals and where possible, the return addresses. Most were from sponsors arranging future classes or thanking her for completed ones after spending more time with their family member who had attended. Sometimes they also received notes from alumnae; those were Helen’s favorites. While she could have used the encouragement, none were present in that week’s correspondence. The current stack included a few from board members, likely requesting additional topics for the board meeting in a few days’ time or confirming their attendance.
Beginning with these, Helen smiled when she saw Leah Godwin’s name on a return address. Leah had met Helen’s sister, Teresa, through the charity school in London and in turn helped the founders set up the School of Enlightenment. Not only was Leah a recruiter for the school and member of the board of overseers, she was a friend.
Helen started to read eagerly, hoping Leah might be planning to stay an additional day or two so they could catch up after all the board business had been completed. The letter was not about that, however. She slowed her reading, then began at the top again.
Scarcely able to believe Leah’s words, she sat back, staring at the door in shock. After long moments, she gathered herself, ready to confront her accuser.
“Grace?” she called.
Her assistant poked her head in. “Yes?”
“I need you in here for a minute, please. And close the door.”
The young woman’s brows rose, but she complied, grabbing a pen and notepad before settling in a visitor’s chair.
Helen handed her the letter. “Care to explain this?”
* * * *
Grace read through the letter then set it down and straightened in her chair, her back not touching the wooden slats. “I love this school, and I want the best for it.”
“And you think I am no longer the best.” Helen was furious, not at Grace’s opinion, but at the fact she hadn’t come to her to try to resolve any issues.
“You have been distracted. Even trying to hire another assistant has been delayed, which might have helped.”
“Why not approach me and have a frank discussion?” She was trying to understand, even as her hands clenched in her lap, and her pulse raced.
“I kept asking you about tasks, including hiring, to no avail. If we cannot keep up with the current workload, how could I raise the new ideas I have? I refuse to see my hard work and others’ be wasted because the school fails whilst you engage in a tawdry liaison—one which is against the rules!” Grace’s voice rose with each word until she was almost shouting.
“You could have outlined your suggestions the same way all staff are invited to do about new class topics and other ideas.” Helen’s words came through gritted teeth in an effort not to match Grace’s volume. “We teach independence and responsibility here. And we teach adults, not children who go tattling to others. If you felt I was not fulfilling my duties, you should have come to me. This”—she grabbed the letter and waved it—“is immature and unprofessional.”
“I did try.” Grace’s mouth pulled tight, her tone sullen. She could not meet Helen’s gaze, however, and her focus remained on her lap.
“Not enough. Asking about individual tasks is one thing. Intimating to my superiors that I am shirking my responsibilities is quite another. You knew how this would look.” Her tone pensive, she added, “Perhaps you hoped they would put you in my role. An affair against the rules gives you the perfect reason.”
Grace flinched but did not deny it.
“You could have come to me with that, also.” Helen let the silence linger when Grace did not respond. She was sad as well as angry at the lack of trust from her assistant, and those emotions were obscuring her usually clear vision of solving a new problem.
“Now what?” Grace echoed her thought, glancing up then back down.
She shook her head. “I don’t know. I need time to consider this. But know this. If I ever hear you refer to my relationship with Regina as a tawdry liaison again, our working association will be at an end.”
Grace’s head jerked back.
“You have no idea what is between Regina and I. And whilst it is none of your concern, I shall share this: I am in love with her. The biggest slice of my anger is my belief that you hurt her by warning her away from me.”
Grace swallowed. “Helen, I-I had no idea.”
“I’d advise you to make yourself scarce the rest of the day. I will send a note to your suite when I have studied the situation and am ready to move forward.”
“Yes, ma’am. Helen—”
“I don’t want to hear another word right now. Any further conversation I could manage would not be productive or professional.”
Regina alternated stomping and moping when she was alone with the horses. When others came to ride or help, she attempted normalcy. In both situations, she reminded herself this position was her dream, as was Helen’s role, and she’d made the right choice. Opportunities like this were beyond rare. She could find another woman.
But she’d never find another woman like Helen.
Most helpers came and went without noticing anything amiss, but Cecilia had spent more time with her. They were at the water trough filling buckets, and Cecilia kept shooting her side glances.
“Mistress,” came in a near-whisper. “I noticed you haven’t been as happy the past few days.”
“Hmph. If one does not have less joyful days, then how does one appreciate the really great ones?”
“That is very philosophical. Rumor in the main building is that Mrs. Montague has stopped her staff suppers recently. Might that be the reason for your less happy days?”
Regina shot her a look. “What have I told you about gossip?”
“You enjoy hearing it but won’t contribute to it?” Cecilia asked with a grin and a wink.
The stablemistress snorted, sounding much like one of her charges.
“I’ve noticed Mrs. Montague has darker circles under her eyes than normal, too,” Cecilia offered with a small shrug.
Regina’s glance was sidelong. She tried not to encourage, but she was dying for information on Helen.
“And no one knows anything about it, but Grace carried her work down the hall to a meeting room yesterday. Do you think they had a tiff?”
Regina stared at her directly now, alarmed. “Has that ever happened before?”
“Not that I know of, and I asked a few staff members in the main house.”
If only she could check on Helen, even as a friend. But the risks of being seen were too high, even with Grace out of sight.
“You’d best get to class, missy. Enough gossip with the beasties and their mistress.”
Long after Cecilia had left, Regina questioned why Grace would have moved down the hall.
Shaking her head, she got back to work. Helen could fight her own battles if Regina eliminated the risk of a rule-breaking romance. She needed to stay out of the way.
But it felt wrong. And was this really her dream post now? Or would any horses and any situation do if she didn’t have Helen in her life? Given the choice, she’d take Helen and dealing with miserable misogynistic men any day.
She chuckled at her ridiculous alliteration. I’ll have to tell Helen. She’ll get a good laugh from that.
Then her brain caught up to her heart and tears sprang to her eyes as she brushed the last mare. She’d never cried this much in her life. She was glad Cecelia wasn’t still there.
Cecilia. Helen. This role. Regina’s mind raced. She had told Cecilia if someone had information that would help her please them more, she’d want to know it. The same would go for protecting themselves from attack, professional or physical. She’d been so caught up in worrying for her own employment, but knowing Helen was more important than her position made everything suddenly crystal clear.
To hell with her future here. She needed to warn Helen.
Daggers. Classes had finished for the day. If she was seen in the main building, rumors would fly again, and Grace might hear them.
In the morning, after another sleepless night wondering if Helen would believe her or if she’d even see her, Regina dressed with more care than most days and strode up to the headmistress’s office.
To no avail. The outer door to Grace’s office was closed, with a sign pinned to it saying “Board meeting preparation in progress. Please see one of the instructors if you need assistance.”
After a day and a half covering the must-dos of daily management for the school while debating her approach, Helen had a plan.
Grace had worked elsewhere the day before, and while Helen worried the girl was still scheming, she thought it equally likely the assistant was writing to other schools to try to secure a position. Either way, she’d been grateful for the peace and the time to strategize.
That first morning, she’d flipped through the piles of work in front of her, noting with regret some had sat longer than she’d ever allowed before. She considered whether Grace was correct.
Perhaps.
It did not justify Grace’s behavior, and Helen had been attempting to remedy the situation by hiring another assistant. However, they were still falling behind.
So how could she fix the situation?
Regina’s observation that she preferred the strategic aspects to her role over the tactical had resonated. She’d believed with another assistant she could narrow her duties to strategy and client relations. But ultimate responsibility for this ever-growing school would still sit on her desk as headmistress.
Her first reaction during the argument with Grace kept bouncing around in her head. I do not want to be here today. I would rather be at the stables learning to muck out a stall if it meant being with Regina.
She was still passionate about the success of the school. However, she was more passionately in love with Regina. She needed to do right by them both.
Grace’s passion for the school was still growing. Admittedly, the girl had gone about it the wrong way, but that was because her strength was in tactics, not strategy.
Helen sketched overviews of various solutions. Names and arrows of reporting responsibilities littered several pages. She drew empty boxes where they’d need more staff. Once she had one she believed would work, she was ready to tackle her next conversation with Grace. Then she—or they, depending on how the discussion went—would fill in the responsibilities for each role.
She’d sent a note to Grace to clear her calendar for the day and be at Helen’s office bright and early.
Grace walked in with a tea tray, which Helen took as a tacit apology and a good sign. A silent nod was her greeting, after which she put her notebook and pen to one side and poured and passed Helen’s tea to her, settling in her usual visitor’s chair.
“Good morning, Grace. Thank you for the tea.” Helen was determined to start politely and formally and judge how the meeting would go based on Grace’s reaction.
“You are welcome. How…can I assist you?”
“I spent yesterday preparing a plan for the board meeting.”
“A plan? Had they requested such an item?”
“No, but I ardently believe in this school and its continued success and growth. Therefore, I believe we have reached a point where we need a new plan.”
Grace’s mouth twitched toward a prideful smile.
“I thought long and hard about what you said—your accusations.” Helen frowned and her tone firmed to ensure her assistant recognized the error of her ways.
Grace flinched, her expression flattening. She stared at Helen warily.
“Whatever degree of accuracy you had, you went about change in the wrong way.”
“I know.” Grace nodded, ducking her head for a moment. “I see that now.”
“Good. Because I need your help with the details of this plan.” Helen nudged two roughly drawn organization charts toward her. “My enthusiasm and my willingness to direct all energies into this institution may or may not have dimmed. They may simply not be enough given the school’s growth. You, however, are younger and your passions run high. I believe between the two of us, with appropriate help, we can make this school the best it can be.”
Grace peered at the two pages. “What are these?”
“The first,” Helen tapped it. “Is what I am proposing on a trial basis. Your role would change from being an assistant to the headmistress to becoming an assistant headmistress. We would each have our own assistants, to be hired, but you would remain reporting to me.”
“Oh?” Grace’s gaze flew to hers, and her back straightened from leaning over the document. “Helen—”
“Note I said trial basis.” Helen wasn’t finished. “What you did broke our trust, Grace. You will need to rebuild it over the next few semesters. However, I find I no longer want to work as hard as the breadth of these programs require, so changes must be made. This gives you the chance to prove yourself worthy of being a leader of this school. Which leads me to a potential future state.” Helen tapped the second paper.
It showed a headmistress and a provost. Anywhere else they might be considered the same role, but her intention was different.
Grace tilted her head as she studied it.
“My vision is to have the headmistress be the client-facing leader, dealing with sponsors, recruiters, prospective students. The work you know I love, and I know you don’t. The provost in the meantime would deal with the daily operations of the school. The work you love, and I do not.” She gave a small shudder at the mere thought. “Both would report to the board and interact with them, and they would need to work closely together. Trust would have to be absolute.”
“Helen—” Grace seemed to be grappling for words. She took a moment to press trembling fingers against her lips. “Why would you do this after what I did to you?”
Helen raised her brows.
“I mean, thank you. Thank you! It all sounds heavenly. But…why? I was so sure I deserved this or more when I wrote to the Board, but now, I believe I have so much to learn from you, the first being how to handle difficult conversations.”
Helen snorted, and Grace responded with a wan smile, still waiting for her answer.
“A truly great leader must recognize when they have reached the limits of their time, acumen, or desire. However painful it was to hear, your criticism made me realize I had reached at least one of mine. This school runs in my blood, and I will never abandon it. But I am ready for a new phase of my life. I never expected a second chance at love. Now I’ve found it, I must make time for it. Besides which, an infusion of young blood and new ideas—tempered by partnership with age and wisdom—can only help students.”
Grace was now crying.
“There is one last stipulation, though,” Helen warned.
Her assistant looked up through her tears. “The board must approve?”
Helen waved a hand. “I doubt they’ll have an issue if we request this together.”
“What, then?”
“An apology to Regina. And…”
Grace grimaced.
“She must sign off on the trial period before the role of provost is instated. Words are cheap, and your actions hurt her as well as me.”
The younger woman nodded in acknowledgement. “I know. And truly, I am sorry for all of it.”
“All?” Helen arched a brow.
“Well,” Grace drawled with a small smile. “Perhaps not the result, but how I went about everything.”
Helen nodded at the clarification before outlining the day’s work. They needed to list out responsibilities under each role in both scenarios. Helen could hardly wait for the board meeting to finish so she could share all this with Regina and build the next stage of their lives together.