Chapter 5

The days after Thanksgiving became a blur of studying and testing, whispers and secrets, and planning for a gift exchange at a Christmas tree to be set up in the entryway hall. Caroline’s finger healed nicely and they’d enjoyed her pies—with new piecrusts—at Thanksgiving and for the days after.

Caroline still couldn’t believe that Mrs. Wickham had considered her and Stephen to be a good match. She never would have imagined such a thing. Was the woman playing matchmaker by hiring her nephew at the academy?

True, Mrs. Wickham seemed more relaxed now that she no longer had to teach mathematics classes. But having her nephew come here and work, to meet Caroline? The idea of courting, right now, seemed like a far-fetched one. And what an idea! What if Caroline and Stephen hadn’t gotten along? To be sure, they had differing ideas on education, but he had settled into the routine here and had become a part of the staff.

On a Sunday afternoon before Christmas break, Elizabeth mentioned that perhaps Caroline ought to meet her brother’s friend, an attorney moving to Northampton, where he planned to open an office.

“I know you are a dedicated teacher, but if—and when—you become director of the academy, surely the courting rule doesn’t apply to you anymore.”

Elizabeth and Caroline, covered in lap blankets and wearing their winter coats, rode along in the carriage that would drop Elizabeth off at her home and Caroline back at the academy. The first real snowfall had come to the area, and Caroline was happy for the chance to be relatively warm and snug instead of walking six blocks in the cold.

She pondered Elizabeth’s words. “I don’t know. Quite frankly, it hasn’t been a priority for me. I hadn’t thought to ask Mrs. Wickham if a possible new position for me would have an effect on that rule.” What was in the air? First Mrs. Wickham, and now Elizabeth wanting to play matchmaker. She had never heard such talk of matchmaking and introductions during her years at the academy.

“So you’ll consent to meeting Mr. Thomas?”

“No, I will not. Not now, anyway. What if he doesn’t want to meet a teacher?”

“Future director of an academy, you should say.”

“There’s no guarantee I’ll have that position.”

“No, but it’s a real possibility.”

They came to Elizabeth’s home and stopped at the curb. “Well, I’ll see you soon.”

“Yes, see you soon!” Elizabeth popped out of the carriage and Caroline continued along the way to the academy. After a last-day-of-school celebration before the break, which would include an updated score for the second two months of the school year, Caroline would head home to Holyoke.

She looked forward to the holiday and seeing her mother, but seeing her sister and possibly her father, not so much. She had their gifts ready to bring with her, along with a quantity of money that should help their situation for a while.

Why would a man consider courting a woman who supported her family who somehow scraped by barely above the edge of poverty?

Certainly not a man like Stephen Mason, and definitely not an attorney.

The carriage brought her into the academy’s courtyard, and Caroline climbed out carefully. There would be a warm meal of stew and bread, and possibly a dessert, the cook had said. Caroline’s stomach growled as she headed toward the main building, where her room was. At one o’clock, they would sit down to a meal at the Wickhams’ dining table. Typically, she did not dine with Mrs. Wickham, but ever since Thanksgiving, Mrs. Wickham had made it a point to include Caroline in her weekly Sunday supper invitation.

She well knew the reason why, especially after the conversation she and Stephen had overheard on Thanksgiving Day. Caroline quickened her steps as a gust of wind blew through the courtyard.

“Oh Caroline, there you are!” Mrs. Wickham called out into the courtyard. “Please, come inside. This chill is piercing to the bones.”

Caroline complied, changing her direction to head toward Mrs. Wickham’s home. She tried not to slip on the cobblestones, which still had a light covering of snowflakes that had fallen since the morning.

“I’ve had sixty-two winters, and each of them has been colder than the last.” Mrs. Wickham led her from the entryway into the sitting room, which had a glowing fire that lit up the piano in the corner of the room. “I’ll take your coat.”

Caroline unbuttoned her coat and slipped out of it, giving an involuntary shiver as she did so. “Thank you.”

“Please, sit down. We will dine a little earlier today. Stephen is out running an errand for me. There is a feeling of ice in the air today. I suspect we will have to salt the sidewalks and paths for walking.”

They sat in the sitting room, which looked out onto the courtyard. Silvery-gray clouds hung low in the sky, the bare trees swaying from gusts of wind. In spite of her warm surroundings, Caroline shivered again.

“Salting the walks is just one of the tasks one must think of and attend to, as director of the school. Many things must happen behind the scenes so things in the forefront appear to run smoothly, without incident.” Mrs. Wickham rose from her chair and strolled to the window. “My Mr. Wickham was good at that. He knew what had to happen on the grounds, and more. There is the matter of food and lodging, and upkeep of the buildings. Without him, I could not have done this, and without him, I learned to do this.”

Caroline nodded. “I hadn’t thought of it like that before, but it’s true. From making sure the walkways are swept to providing enough food for the students who live and eat here at the academy.”

“Then there are the matters of recordkeeping, tallying tuition payments, accepting prospective student applications, meeting new families, and conducting interviews. Not to mention ensuring the classroom supplies are purchased. It never ends,” Mrs. Wickham said. “Goodness, I am wearing myself out simply thinking and talking about it. For me, it is my life. It is every day of the week, of the month, of the year. There are no holidays, for even when the students are not in class, there are other matters at the academy that must be attended to.”

“I understand.”

Mrs. Wickham laughed softly. “My nephew said the same thing. But you are both young and up to the challenge, I believe. If you execute the procedures and plans I have already developed, you should do well in the position. Either of you.”

Caroline smiled at the older woman’s words. “Thank you for your confidence in us, in me.” Today she found herself wanting the position very much. But Mrs. Wickham was right—it would be a lot of work, far more than teaching one class and overseeing a team of teachers. Far more than a few would depend on her, if she won the job.

Stephen hurried back to the academy as fast as the horse could pull the cart safely. He was running late for their meal, but it was unintentional, as Aunt Marjorie had let him know at the last possible moment that she’d forgotten to order the salt to spread on the walkways prior to the bad weather that even now was threatening to let loose upon their area.

He had a notice in his pocket, one he was unsure how to handle. The opportunity wasn’t meant for him, but was ideal for someone like Caroline. He had carried it since yesterday, after receiving his personal mail.

It was for a teaching job at Madame Tetreault’s Finishing School in Winchester, not so far from where he used to teach in Cambridge. A friend of his who also taught at the school had written to him, asking if he knew of anyone who could teach art and music, as Madame Tetreault would find herself in want of a teacher for both next school year.

He had immediately thought of Caroline. It had nothing to do with the Olympiad and their mutual quest to land the director’s position at the academy. If she won, she won. If not, she could very well leave.

The thought of her leaving did not please him one bit. But if this was a better opportunity for her, it would be wrong of him not to share it with her. He was not looking for another position and could not paint, nor could he sing or play an instrument. But Caroline could do all three. He’d seen her take a turn on the piano, she was quite adept at it, and her voice was lovely.

He reached the academy and unloaded the bags of salt into the shed, where the groundskeeper could access the salt to spread along the walkways. If needed, Stephen would assist the man. Aunt Marjorie had had a pointed conversation with Stephen at breakfast that very morning about the full responsibilities of directing the academy. He told her he understood and would do what needed to be done, should he get the position.

Once inside the house, he heard women’s voices coming from the parlor. It was Aunt Marjorie and Caroline, chatting about Christmas.

“Yes, ma’am, I’m looking forward to seeing my family. My mother and father have been well, thank you.” Caroline’s voice trailed off when she saw him enter the parlor.

“Salt has been picked up, Aunt Marjorie. Let the clouds shower ice on us, and we will not slide, not at Wickham Academy.” He tugged his scarf from around his neck. “I beg your pardon, Caroline. I did not mean to interrupt.”

“Not at all.” She inclined her head in his direction.

Aunt Marjorie rose from her chair. “I shall see if the meal has been set out. Pardon me.” She left the room.

“So where will Christmas find you with your family?” he asked, settling into the chair his aunt had vacated.

Caroline shifted in her chair. She swallowed hard and stared at the fire. “Holyoke.”

“That’s not too far of a trip. Close enough to make it there and back again in a day, with a driver.” He wondered why she didn’t visit her family more often. In fact, he couldn’t recall her ever having left to visit them, not since he’d first met her at the school.

“My father works at a press and my mother keeps house. My sister is a seamstress. They are all very busy,” said Caroline, as if in explanation to his unspoken query. “But a visit at Christmas will be nice, I’m sure. My mother always made it special for my sister and me as children. We would walk together to a Christmas Eve service, then walk home and wait for my father to get there.”

“It sounds like you had an enjoyable upbringing during the holidays,” he said.

“My mother made the most of it for us. What we lacked in some things children might have received, we knew the reason for Christmas and we cherished every gift, no matter how small.”

He thought of the letter in his pocket. Would now be the best time? He didn’t want to hand it to her in front of his aunt. It would be poor form. He wasn’t trying to get rid of her by any means. But the directorship was a big load to carry.

“Stephen, what is it?” She searched his face. He shook his head. “You looked like you were about to say something.”

“Nothing. Not now,” he said, as Aunt Marjorie rounded the corner. “Maybe another time.”

“Dinner is served,” Aunt Marjorie announced.