Davy's gone and the fleet's gone and my letter's off and I guess things will settle back to normal, or as normal as things get around me. Sylvie and Henry are forever sneakin' off and moonin' and spoonin', and Annie heaves great sighs heavenward to the gods and goddesses of love.
I'm keeping busy doing miniatures of all the girls to make up for all the times I've said "Cover for me!" on my way out to some mischief. And I'll do a Henry for Sylvie and a Davy for Annie. And an Amy for Ezra. But I won't tell her who it's for, 'cause, as she always says, "I'm not ready for that sort of thing yet."
I take all my miniature paintings to Mr. Peet for his comments and he shows me where I've done right and where I've gone wrong and he gives me hints on how to do better. I keep up with my arithmetic and pass my homework sheet in to Mr. Sackett, who corrects it and hands it back, and I study French with Monsieur Bissell when he and I can find a moment.
It is such a moment when, having finished the morning chores, I find time to talk to Monsieur Bissell about some problems I've been having with the French language and we are both leaning over a desk and he's explainin' to me why the verb "to be" goes through so many twisted versions. "It's just like English, Jacky. In English we say, 'I am, you are, we have been, we are, he is, they are, we will have been, they...'"
There is a rustle of black silk and a coldness in the air, and I turn my head fearfully about. It is Mistress standing there.
"Is this part of your duties?" she demands, knowing very well the answer.
I stand and say, "No, Mistress."
"She is a good and willing student, Mistress," says Monsieur Bissell, gallantly.
"Thank you, Monsieur Bissell," says Mistress. "Faber, go to my office."
Oh Lord, I'm gonna get it now.
I follow her to her office and advance to the white line and put my toes on it and then flop down on the desk and pull up my skirts, feeling very sorry for myself. A tear works its way out of my eye and it goes across the bridge of my nose and falls to the blotter on Mistress's desktop. I breaks the rule about talkin' to her without bein' told to but I don't care, I'm just gonna get beat anyway. "I don't know why you want to hurt me so, Mistress, I really don't. I'm middlin' good. I do my work, I do, you won't find me shirkin' any of it." I sniffs. "I was just trying to learn."
I wait for the sting, but it does not come.
"Oh, do be quiet and stand up, girl," says Mistress. She sits down as I straighten up in confused relief. What?
She looks at me standin' there quiverin' for a while, and finally she says, "You thought, did you not, that I did not know what you were up to?"
What did she find out? The Pig? The singing, the dancing? Oh no...
"I d-don't know what you mean, Mistress," I quavers.
"You see, I know everything about my school. Everything," says Mistress. She has a pen in her hand and is tapping it on the edge of her desk. "For instance, I know that you have continued your studies, when, as a serving girl, you were not expected to do so." Tap ... tap ... tap.
"Yes, Mistress," I admits, hanging my head and looking contrite.
"And, furthermore, I know that you have been tutoring young Rebecca Adams." Tap ... tap. "Yes, Mistress."
She lets me stand there some more, wonderin' what she's gonna do with me. Tap ... tap.
"Actually, I find all that quite commendable," she says at last, and relief floods through me. "You will continue to help Miss Adams. Set aside an hour each day, as she needs it. She is too young to be here, I knew from the start, but it is hard to say no to Mr. Adams. I would send her back home, but her family is overseas on diplomatic duty. Do you think she can catch up on her studies?"
"Oh yes, Mistress," I say. "She is a bright girl. She is coming along nicely. She just needs some help and some kind words."
"Which you shall provide. I cannot have the other teachers give her individual instruction as it is not a profitable use of their time." Still she taps. Tap ... tap ... tap.
"Yes, Mistress, I will be pleased to do it."
Mistress continues to regard me. "So you see, do you not, that I know everything concerning my school?"
I think she is saying this with some satisfaction, almost smiling, in fact. And still ...tap ... tap.
I think, as I stand there waiting to be dismissed, on what she does not know about her school, or about me. I think back on what Ezra told me that last time in his office, about the Preacher closing in on me, and I decide to press my luck.
"Then you know, Mistress, that Preacher Mather has petitioned the Court to gain custody of me and my assets."
The tapping stops.
Although I am staring over the top of her head, eyes cased, as is my usual posture when standin' on the Line, I can see well enough that she did not know that. I go on.
"Please don't let him take me, Mistress. I don't want to go over there. I want to stay here. Please, Mistress."
Saying that, I feel my eyes get all hot and I think I'm going to cry 'cause I really meant what I said.
"Look at me, girl," says Mistress, and I drop my eyes to hers and I see the fury in them. I sense that she is outraged to the very marrow of her bones. "Tell me. Have you learned humility?"
"Yes, Mistress," I manage to say.
"And have you learned that your conduct reflects not only on your own reputation but on that of the school and all in it as well?"
"Yes, Mistress."
"Do you now have a clear notion of what it means to be one of my girls?"
"Yes, Mistress, I do."
She continues her steady gaze into my eyes. I want to look away, but I can't. At last she speaks.
"Very well then, Miss Faber, you may come back upstairs and resume your studies."
It hits me like a club and I am staggered.
"And, Miss Faber, please do your best to make the transition smooth. Without your usual histrionics."
"Yuh—yes, Mistress," I manages to stammer.
"Very good. You are dismissed."
Mistress turns in her chair and faces away from me, and I turn on my heel and go out into the hall, my mind all awhirl. I place my back against the wall and try to collect myself.
My thoughts are spinning wildly about my head, but one thing stands out: She is trying to help me. I don't know if she intended to reinstate me before I told her about the Preacher or not. I don't know if she's thinkin' about my money. I don't know if she just hates the idea of anyone messin' with her school. I don't know nothin'. I just know she is trying to help me and she has bought me some time, and I thank her for it.
I take three deep breaths and then I stand up straight. I put on the Look. I turn and go to my room. I take my school dress from my sea chest and carefully unfold it and lay it upon my bed. I take off my serving gear and put it neatly away. I put on my school dress once again.
I go back down the stairs, and hearing the chimes, I go in to dinner.