“This is the teacher in question?” Mrs. Cecilia Bennington peered down her patrician nose at Louise before sniffing with disdain. “There is no accounting for the lower class’s taste.” She then directed her attention back at Fiona.
Louise had no idea if Mrs. Bennington viewed her as lower class or if she was referring to Jesse and thus measured Louise as beneath lower class. In either case, the woman had clearly meant to insult her. She had silently endured similar treatment from women like Cecilia Bennington during her marriage and widowhood, but a year in Singapore had shown her that she did indeed have value. She was not merely an oddity to be examined and then pushed into a corner. Her opinions counted for something. Hadn’t Jesse said as much?
She could bear disdain, snubs and even false accusations from the likes of Cecilia Bennington, but she could not and would not allow her or anyone else to disparage another person, especially when that individual happened to be an intelligent man who had valiantly served the Union during the recent conflict.
“Mr. Hammond is a credit to his country.”
Mrs. Bennington snapped her head toward her at the unexpected comment. “One would expect the unprincipled one to defend the other.”
Louise was livid. She could no longer sit quietly and endure blatant insults. She was about to respond when she caught Fiona’s warning glare out of the corner of her eye. Her friend clearly wanted to handle this herself, but Fiona wasn’t the one being disparaged.
“Mrs. Bennington. Mr. Bennington.” Fiona fluttered between the two the way she did amongst patrons at one of her concerts. “Surely we can sit and discuss this over tea like civilized people.”
She motioned to the two stuffed chairs that someone—probably Sawyer—had dragged into her office.
“Would you care for tea?” Fiona managed gracious hospitality even when facing the insufferable. She must have been a fine actress as well as singer.
If only Louise could exude such grace. Instead, she stood stiff as a wooden doll.
Fiona swept a hand toward the desk. “Allow me.”
That’s when Louise noticed the tea service. My! She took pride in her powers of observation, but temper had narrowed her vision to the extent that she could not see the details. Fiona’s warning glance had spared her from an ugly confrontation and deep regret.
“I will serve.” Louise brushed past Fiona to get to the tea service. She needed to do something. Being useful had kept her out of the eye of the wealthier women in the past. Serving seemed to make her invisible, as if she became no more than a maid.
“Milk and sugar for me,” Mr. Bennington said with a consoling smile as he settled into one of the chairs.
He was definitely the more companionable of the pair, though clearly not the one in charge. His top hat and overcoat hung from a coat tree in the corner. Expensive silk and quality fabric. Louise remembered it well, though she would never again be able to afford such luxuries.
“I take mine black,” Mrs. Bennington said without looking in her direction. “Now, where were we?”
Fiona sat in the chair beside the desk. “We are going to discuss the matter in a civilized manner.”
“What is there to discuss?” Cecilia Bennington said with a swish of her silk skirts. “When we received the wire, we rushed to our dear Priscilla’s side only to find she has suffered greatly under the tutelage of a woman of questionable virtue.” Her glare in Louise’s direction made it perfectly clear who that woman was.
“It’s a simple misunderstanding.” Fiona’s voice took on a soft, comforting tone, quite different from usual. “Your daughter happened to walk past the classroom precisely when Mr. Hammond rescued Mrs. Smythe from a precipitous fall.”
“So that woman says.” Cecelia Bennington didn’t so much as look at Louise. “It’s her word against my daughter’s.”
Louise lifted the full teapot and poured into the first cup, but her shaking hand caused the liquid to slosh onto the saucer. After setting down the pot, she took a deep breath. Best give this one to Mr. Bennington. His wife would criticize her pouring. Now, what had he wanted? Milk and sugar? She hoped so.
“Mr. Hammond concurred with Mrs. Smythe’s account,” Fiona said calmly.
Louise poured the second cup, spilling even more of the liquid on the saucer. Perhaps Louise should have had her friend serve the tea after all.
“Of course he did,” Cecilia Bennington said. “They are in this together, after all.”
Louise gritted her teeth. “For your information, we did not like each other at the time.”
Cecilia stared at her as if she’d just realized Louise was still in the room. “Which is as good as admitting that you are enamored by the man now. I understand you are a widow, Mrs. Smythe. As such, you must take extra care with your reputation, even if you weren’t instructing young ladies. My daughter informed me that you have been walking with him alone after dark.”
Fiona let out a dramatic sigh and closed her eyes, followed by a shake of the head. This was not heading in a good direction, but Louise would not allow this woman to destroy her. She had kept quiet about Warren’s drinking and violent temper to preserve his reputation. She had given excuses, taking the blame onto herself. No more, especially since nothing improper had occurred.
“Mr. Hammond was escorting me home for my safety. Perhaps your daughter also told you that I kept a respectable distance from him while he watched only to ensure I did not lose my footing. Mr. Hammond should be praised, not accused.”
“Now, now, no one said they were accusing the man of anything,” Mr. Bennington said. “Come, Cecilia. Have a seat.” He stood and repositioned the other chair nearer to his.
Mrs. Bennington ignored her husband in favor of continuing the attack. “That is your version of events, Mrs. Smythe.” Her attention shifted to Fiona. “It wouldn’t do your fledgling school any good to have news of these incidents reach the ears of prospective students.”
Louise shut her eyes. Why hadn’t she kept her mouth closed? If the hotel truly was suffering, this only added to Fiona’s woes.
“Come, dear.” Mr. Bennington shoved the chair nearly to the back of his wife’s knees. “Do sit.”
Mrs. Bennington at last sank into the chair. After adjusting her skirts, she returned her attention to Louise. “Are you going to wait until the tea is cold to serve it?”
In the past, a comment like that would have unnerved Louise and sent her to her books, where she could retreat from the harshness of reality. Today Louise carried the cups to the Benningtons without spilling a single drop.
Wouldn’t Elizabeth Bennett, the heroine of Pride and Prejudice, be proud? That character would have known how to handle such a woman. At the very least she would roll her eyes and whisper her observations to her dear sister, Jane, or her friend, Charlotte Lucas. Louise would have to wait for such comfort from her friend, though given the way events were unfurling, Louise might have to give the comfort.
Fiona and her husband could well be standing on the precipice of ruin if Fiona’s strained expression was any indication. Louise’s defense of her actions had done nothing to help the situation. If anything, it had harmed the school.
The choice was simple. Only one thing would appease the Benningtons. It was a difficult gift to give, but one Louise owed the dear friend who had given her a new lease on life.
She stepped before the Benningtons. “I will resign my position.”
Fiona rose. Cecilia Bennington smiled in triumph.
“A sensible solution,” the woman said before sipping the tea.
“A hasty one.” Fiona frowned at Louise but shifted to a placating tone for the Benningtons. “There is no reason to rush to a decision. You are welcome to stay at the hotel as my guests. If you have not yet eaten, I will ask the cook to make a light supper for you.” Even as she spoke, she ushered the Benningtons from her office.
Mr. Bennington voiced no objection. In fact, he seemed to take the entire matter with a bit of humor. He even gave Louise a wink when passing and his wife wasn’t looking, as if to say that Louise shouldn’t take his wife’s complaints to heart.
Louise couldn’t muster any confidence in Mr. Bennington’s ability to change his wife’s mind. With Priscilla’s goading, Cecilia Bennington would have Louise out the door before sunrise.
* * *
Jesse flung off the bedclothes and rolled onto his right side. His toes smashed into the wall, waking him further. He growled to himself. This bed was too small and the room far too hot. The assistant keeper should have his own quarters, not the smallest bedroom in the peak of the roof. It wasn’t large enough for a child, not to mention a full-grown man.
He groaned and rolled onto his back. Silvery light from the three-quarter moon streamed through the tiny window, landing right in his face. He turned toward the wall. A breath of air fluttered the curtains and raced across his prone body, raising a few goose pimples. He reached for the bedclothes and thought better of it. Perspiration drenched his nightshirt. The momentary chill was a relief.
Much like the icy water that had enveloped him in the dream.
Jesse sat up with a start. The dream. It had returned.
This time the chill went to the bone. Memory was stronger than any dream. The cries and screams got louder and louder until he pressed his hands to his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. The people were dying, and he could do nothing about it. His heart pounded. His lungs screamed for air, but there was only water. It dulled the cries but not the thrashing, the desperate clawing for life. The orange light flickered and died, plunging them into darkness. That’s when he knew all was lost.
Panic raced like a steam locomotive, growing stronger and stronger until he couldn’t fight it. Nothing could stop the cries for help. Nothing could wash away the guilt. Nothing could ease the pain in the center of his chest, feeling like a sharp stake driven clear through him.
“Take me, Lord,” he whispered. “Why didn’t You take me?”
As always, no answer came. Only the pain remained. He knew what to do, what the kindly druggist advised after refusing to give him the dulling laudanum he had sought. Breathe slowly and deeply, counting to four. Then hold that breath an equal time before slowly letting it out. Repeat until the heart calms. Think of something pleasant. Louise. Her gray eyes could soothe any tempest.
Gradually the pounding slowed and the panic went away, leaving him exhausted but too awake to sleep. Jesse’s hand trembled as he fumbled to light a match and then the candle at his bedside. It took more than slowing his breathing to calm the panic. He had to do something with his hands.
Soon the warm glow of the candle filled the room, vanquishing the shadows of the past to the corners. Then he took up his penknife and one of the bits of wood he’d scavenged from the shoreline. The sharp blade cut through the wood easily. He glanced at the small table that served as a desk where all manner of whittled creatures waited in a long line. By morning’s first light, he would have another. Judging from the shape of this bit of wood, a seagull waited inside, ready to be freed.
* * *
Louise packed her carpetbag that night. Unlike her years as Mrs. Warren Smythe, she didn’t own enough to fill a trunk, nor did she have a trunk to fill. Warren’s family had seen fit to disinherit her of everything but the clothes on her back, a Sunday gown, her Bible, her journal and three books. They’d taken the jewelry, except the wedding ring, which would no longer slide off her finger.
Oh, the bitter irony! That unadorned band of gold brought nothing but painful memories and, when the weather was hot, uncomfortable swelling of her finger. For a long time, she’d seen it as a symbol of Warren’s grip, but now she viewed it as a reminder of what she would never endure again.
If only a paying position was that tenacious. Instead, each had disappeared due to circumstance. Her first, working for Captain and Mrs. Elder as a companion to the ailing lady, had been a delight. Both enjoyed literature, science and debating the latest discoveries. She and the captain had disagreed on Mr. Darwin’s theory on the origin of the species, with her arguing for God’s infallible Word and Captain Elder eager to grasp the new theory. Many a debate lasted until the wee hours of the morning, and they’d ended up agreeing to disagree for the sake of Mrs. Elder, who put a stop to the discord by stating that only God knew the truth.
Alas, Mrs. Elder’s health took a turn for the worse this past winter, and the captain packed their belongings, closed the house and sailed for Chicago, where she would be under the care of knowledgeable physicians.
Until Fiona gave her this teaching position at the beginning of September, Louise had worked at the boardinghouse for her room and board. There she learned to change bed linens and cook meals. Mrs. Calloway had guided her through those tasks, and Louise had thanked God for placing the kindly woman in her path. For with every bit of instruction came a sense of accomplishment and worth.
The teaching position had been a gift from God, bestowing independence, but for the sake of her friend, Fiona, she must relinquish it.
Louise fought back a tear as she shut her carpetbag. With a final look around her room, the bed linens neatly stripped and ready for laundering, she left.
Each step of the staircase creaked under her feet. The scent of the oil used to polish the wood would always remain with her. Mrs. Calloway used a different preparation at the boardinghouse. Louise hoped the woman would take her back under the old arrangement of room and board in exchange for labor. She had only a few coins to her name, not enough to let a room, least of all pay passage to the closest port.
The parlor carpet was new, part of the refurbishing that had been generously provided for by Sawyer Evans’s mother. Its thick nap cushioned her feet, sore inside the shoes whose soles had worn through under the ball of each foot. Layers of newspaper kept out the largest stones but would be of no use once the snow fell.
Louise sighed. She couldn’t afford new shoes, and the town hadn’t a cobbler. She turned toward Fiona’s office.
Her friend stood in the hallway. “Where are you going?”
Louise had worked out her speech. “The students’ welfare must come before everything else.”
Fiona propped her hands on her hips. “And that welfare includes getting a good education. How are they supposed to do that without a teacher?”
“There are others who are qualified. Pearl, for instance.”
Fiona rolled her eyes. “Pearl is plenty busy teaching the children at the one-room schoolhouse and helping out her husband at the general store.”
“You could teach literature and mathematics until you can hire another teacher.”
“I don’t know anything about literature or mathematics. If you’ll recall, I grew up in the tenements.”
Louise had forgotten this sore point of Fiona’s past. “You know far more than you think.”
“And how am I supposed to help with the hotel and raise Mary Clare while teaching full-time? Moreover, who will stay with the girls and ensure they are safe throughout the day and night?”
Louise blanched. She’d been so focused on sparing the school’s reputation that she’d neglected to consider the repercussions of leaving. “But Mrs. Bennington—”
“—has changed her mind.”
“She has?” Louise found that difficult to believe.
Fiona grinned. “A few butter rolls can go a long way toward smoothing ruffled feathers.”
“You made your rolls?”
Fiona was famed for her baking, but she seldom had the time or inclination to do it since marrying and opening the school. While still seeking a husband, she had used those rolls to encourage prospects to give her a second look.
“That and a little persuasion,” Fiona said.
“What sort of persuasion?” Louise was half afraid to hear the answer.
“I merely pointed out that you had saved her daughter’s life when she lay ill with fever.”
“Me? I didn’t do anything.” In fact, Louise had felt terribly helpless. “I had to run to the hotel to get help.”
“If you hadn’t done that, she might have died.”
“But the doctor said—”
“She might have died,” Fiona repeated. “I will not hear any more of your attempts to discount what you have done. The girls need you. I need you. Please stay.”
Louise’s spirits buoyed. She wouldn’t have to find work elsewhere or even move away. She would see Jesse again.
That shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did.