Chapter 3

The voices of excited students filled the halls outside the classrooms at Wickham’s. The old routine came back, of breakfast, then morning classes, then lunch, followed by a walk around the courtyard or a hike to Wickham pond, followed by quiet time and a few more classes prior to dismissal in the late afternoon. Mrs. Wickham kept a rather unconventional schedule, but it worked for her students and her teachers, and it was a schedule Caroline approved of very much.

In the afternoon she would set up her easel, as would some of her art students, while her composition students would assemble to write the papers that Caroline had assigned in the morning class. As she painted, students would stop by her side to ask questions. They would fill the large drawing room from one end to the other.

She enjoyed the freedom, and so far the students’ papers reflected that their skills were back up to par and even above where they were before the break from school over the summer.

With the return of the students had also come tales of summertime frolicking that had never been a part of Caroline’s life when she was their age.

“I was able to stay in Newport, with my cousin, for an entire week,” exclaimed Eugenia Ware. “Oh, the fun we had at the coast.”

“Much more fun than being here and working on sums and compositions and things like that,” said Celeste Monroe.

The two students were also drawing this afternoon. Caroline tried not to chuckle at the remarks. There were a great many things that were more enjoyable than sums and composition, but she believed a young woman would be served well if she were skilled at both.

Yet another reason she valued being at Wickham’s. The young women who completed their studies were well prepared for whatever came next, whether it be attending college, getting married, or simply returning to their families. Some of those decisions were entirely up to the young women, but some were not.

She glanced over to where four of her other students were either reading or writing, and smiled.

“And then I heard she was locked in her room because she didn’t want to marry the man her parents, or her mother rather, had chosen for her.” Eugenia, the older of the two students painting, was talking about one of the young women who’d been part of her circle that summer.

“Goodness!” Celeste shook her head. “I can’t imagine.”

Neither could Caroline. Her own interest in the life of high society couldn’t be denied. Northampton had some of its own bigwigs, but nothing compared to the Vanderbilts, who divided their time between their home in New York City and their summer “cottage” on the coast.

She continued to sketch a landscape that included Wickham’s pond that was fed by a small spring over which someone had constructed a footbridge. It was a passable piece, something she was creating as she instructed the girls.

“So, Miss Parker? Do you think you’re going to win?” Eugenia asked.

“I would definitely want to be ahead at the end of the first quarter.”

“We will know soon. I can’t wait for the quarter to be over, because then it’s on to the next quarter.” Eugenia nodded emphatically. “I do wish school terms were shorter.”

Sometimes Caroline did too, but she didn’t let on to Eugenia.

“I’m to have my scores averaged and submitted to Mrs. Wickham, so we will know by the end of the week.”

“I hope you win. I could even get a few of my mathematics problems wrong on purpose.”

“Eugenia!” Caroline nearly dropped her charcoal pencil. “That’s cheating, and it is wrong. I would like to win, but not that way. I want to win fair and square, in a way that pleases God. And not by cheating.”

“Yes, Miss Parker.” Eugenia looked crestfallen. Even her curls seemed to droop. “I’m very sorry. I would not really do that to you. I was only making a joke.”

“I appreciate that you want me to win. All I ask of you, any and all of you, is that you do your best, regardless of the subject, and even if you are not on my team. That’s all I ask. You might not have many years here at Wickham’s, not compared to the rest of your life, and I want them to be good ones.”

“What about your years, Miss Parker? Have they been good ones?” Eugenia asked, arching an eyebrow.

“They have, indeed. You young ladies have helped make them good years.” Eugenia and a handful of the older girls would have their studies finished by the spring, and after that, who knew where they would go and what they would do?

“Why do you want to run Wickham’s? Don’t you want to have a family someday?”

“Hush, Eugenia.” Celeste poked her friend in the arm. “Of course spinsters want to have husbands someday. Sorry, Miss Parker. I’m not trying to say you’re old or anything of the sort.”

“No offense taken, Celeste. Maybe someday, but not now.” Even if a gentleman caller showed up at the academy, she couldn’t just court someone. It was forbidden by the terms of her employment agreement with Wickham’s. She could not marry during the school year. It had never come up in eight years. But yes, she was a spinster, for lack of a better term.

“What about Mr. Mason?” Eugenia asked.

“What about him?” Caroline decided it would be best to let Eugenia ask her question and then they’d be done with it.

“He’s not married and he’s not very old, and he teaches too.”

Caroline laughed. “Please, Eugenia. That is absolutely out of the question. I’ve known him less than two months, and besides, I am not giving up my position for any man.”

As she spoke the words, she felt herself hesitate. If she lost out on the director position for the academy, what could she do? Stay on, despite the loss? Or find somewhere else to go? As much as she enjoyed Wickham’s, it was all she knew in the realm of education. Maybe she could teach somewhere else, or direct another academy. She didn’t want to think about that just yet. Right now, she needed to make sure the literature students completed their reports on The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and that her other students practiced their penmanship and learned new drawing techniques.

Stephen heard the girlish chatter and giggles inside the space that Miss Parker used as a study and workroom. It was a stark contrast to the way his classes functioned. Inside his classroom, the students were quiet as they sat at desks, lined up row by row. The assignment of the day was already on the chalkboard when they entered the room. After a brief explanation of the present subject, whether it be addition or subtraction or higher level mathematics, he would expect them to sit and practice the equations. If there were questions, he would answer them. As students completed their work, they would bring it to his desk for checking and assistance.

Those who mastered their work could go ahead with the next assignment, and those who needed help received a little extra assistance. It seemed to work for him, and them.

But there was none of the relaxed chatter and giggles he heard now. He cautiously peeked into the room. At one end were some older upholstered items, upon which three girls sat, reading. A fourth sat at a desk, a book open before her as she wrote on a tablet.

Miss Parker stood at an easel, as did a pair of older students. He could just make out a line of trees framing a small lake on the canvas. It was quite a good painting. He knew he’d never be able to sketch something of the same quality.

“Miss Parker, Mr. Mason is here to see you,” a soft female voice said.

At that, all of the ladies in the room turned to stare at him.

“Ah, good afternoon,” Stephen said as he stepped into the room. “I was merely passing by.”

“Please, come in.” Miss Parker wore a quizzical expression. “Where are your students?”

“They will be in class in about ten minutes. We have a test today,” he explained. As if he needed to, and why he was explaining himself, he didn’t know.

“Oh, I see.”

“What are you working on here? Is this a class?”

“Yes and no,” Miss Parker explained. “The composition and literature students will test in the morning, tomorrow. Today they are finishing their review and practice, or finishing their themes.”

“So different from what I’m accustomed to seeing in my classroom.” He could tell the atmosphere was far more relaxed than in his classroom, yet learning was still taking place.

She nodded. “This is what I’ve found works for my students.”

“We like how Miss Parker runs our classes.” One of the older girls, with brown hair and light blue eyes, spoke up.

Miss Eugenia Ware, if he recalled correctly. She was one of his upper-level students, and she struggled with mathematics more than the other students did. Enrolled at Wickham’s since she was ten years old, Miss Ware would be completing her studies in the spring.

He wanted to talk with Miss Parker about Eugenia, to see how he might best help her. She had not improved beyond the fall term, and middle-term exams were around the corner along with her next section test.

“Miss Parker, may I have a word with you outside the room?” He really needed to head to his own classroom, but decided he ought to seize the chance to speak with her now, even if briefly.

“Of course.” Miss Parker set down her brush and headed in his direction. He couldn’t keep from staring at the smudge on her right cheek as they exited the room, and he lifted his finger and brushed his cheek, raising his eyebrows at her.

She reached up and wiped her cheek, but the smudge, in fact, deepened. “Oh, there’s something on my face. Is it gone?”

“No. In fact, I think you just made it worse.”

She rubbed her cheek a bit harder. “Better?”

“Yes.” It was a little better, but the smudge still remained. He wasn’t about to wipe it off himself, not with inquiring eyes within the room that could likely see around doorframes.

“So what did you need to speak with me about?”

Somehow, he sensed the young ladies inside the room were listening, waiting to hear the discussion. “Come with me, please.”

They stepped along the hall to the entrance of the building. He stopped a careful distance from the room.

“It’s Miss Ware. I’m a bit concerned about her mathematics grades and how she applies her knowledge. I’m puzzled, because when I present the information, she acts as if she understands. But when we get to the review and application of what she’s been taught, it’s as if she is seeing it all for the first time.”

Miss Parker frowned. “That’s not good. She hasn’t mentioned anything to me about it.”

And, he mused, scores would be calculated before the end of the week and posted. Of course he wanted to get to the top of the scoreboard and stay there. He didn’t think she’d mind knowing about her student not doing so well in another subject, even if it was a subject she didn’t teach and a subject that didn’t win her points in the competition.

“Yes. I’m not sure exactly where the problem lies. I’ve tested her on basic, primary mathematics operations, and those she understands and has mastered very well.” He raised his hands. “But I’m stumped.”

“If she needs more assistance, I would rather her attend a class with you than spend time here, drawing, if she needs the help.”

“I’m not trying to overstep. This isn’t about the contest.”

“No, it’s not, and I understand what you mean,” she said. “The first set of averages hasn’t been posted yet.”

Stephen released a deep breath. “Good. Tomorrow, before testing, we could meet with her together.”

“How about right after breakfast?”

He nodded. “That is agreeable to me.”

“We’ll see you then.”

He hurried away from her, back toward his own classroom.

The following morning, both Miss Parker and Miss Ware came to his classroom. Miss Ware looked nervous, and Miss Parker looked concerned.

“Am I in trouble, Mr. Mason?”

“Not at all, Miss Ware.” He sat at his desk, and the two of them sat at student desks. “I have your grades from yesterday’s test, and, I’m sorry to say, you barely passed.”

“Eugenia, Mr. Mason is concerned that you’re struggling with mathematics, when in the past it has not been a problem for you.” Miss Parker gazed at Miss Ware with an intense expression on her face. “Please tell me it’s not anything like we discussed yesterday.”

The young woman’s face paled. “No, not at all, Miss Parker. I believe that I might, ah, need more help.”

Miss Parker shook her head. “Well, I will make sure you have the help you need. I’m sure Mr. Mason will do the same.”

He nodded. “Instead of drawing in the afternoon, please come to my primary class in the afternoon and I will give you some additional assistance. And maybe you might be able to help the younger students too.”

“A–all right, I will.” The young lady’s cheeks bloomed crimson.

Stephen and Miss Parker exchanged glances across the desk.

Miss Parker spoke first. “Very well, Eugenia. You will report to Mr. Mason’s classroom until your scores are at least ten points above passing.”

Miss Ware rose to her feet, nodded, then zipped from the room.

After the sound of her footsteps in the hallway disappeared, Stephen spoke again. “I thank you again for permitting her to have some additional help for mathematics. I’m not sure, even if I sent work for her to complete in the afternoons, that she would be successful.”

“Whatever do you mean by that? If you sent some additional assignments, I would ensure she completes them.”

“I’m afraid the more casual format would not help her, in this case.”

At that remark, Miss Parker’s lips sealed into a thin line, unlike the easy smile he had grown accustomed to seeing.

“Mr. Mason,” she said at last. “I have had many successes over the past years, with many students, due to the format of my classes, especially in the afternoons. I’ll thank you kindly to keep your opinion to yourself as you provide help for Eugenia. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

She rose from where she’d tucked herself behind the desk and marched from the room.

Well, he might not have bungled the directorship position, but he’d certainly just bungled things with Miss Parker.