Page 34 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Cyril followed Mrs. Whittemore to the settee and sat after she took her place. She turned toward him, hands neatly folded in her lap. With a steadying breath, she offered Cyril a sympathetic smile and a hushed voice. “You’ve stumbled into the fiery furnace that is the Whittemore family once again, Mr. Burke. And, once again, I ask you to remain steadfast while we sort some things out. You see, Violet has been key in this endeavor of a school for girls since its conception. I daresay that you, more than anyone else in this room, know her mind and its workings. You know of the hurdles of society set against formal education for women. This school is not just a philanthropic project or a business venture.” She cast a glance toward her husband, now sitting across the room nursing his drink. She again met Cyril’s gaze, her brown eyes flashing. “For Violet, it is a reckoning. She has put so much of herself, her thought, her experience into the planning. I believe it has become her life’s cause. Do you see?”

A mix of dawning and disappointment heated his neck and chest. “She saw herself as headmistress.”

“She was not the only one. I admit I encouraged the idea and set my own heart in that direction as well. It became a real expectation for both of us.”

“And Mr. Whittemore thought differently.”

“Obviously. But I’d spoken to him. Only this morning, I’d presented Violet as a deserving candidate. He said he’d consider it—but he could hardly tolerate the idea of her teaching at the school, let alone—”

“Running it.”

“Yes. And, to make matters worse, she overheard the conversation.”

Cy winced.

She nodded. “Even so, I thought he’d see. We need someone in place, and soon. I used that urgency as a way of making him see Violet as the only choice. It seemed to churn him into looking elsewhere.”

“And he ran into me.”

Her smile held sadness. “Yes. You. The boy who met her every challenge and never let her win unless she earned it.” She laughed. “Do you know, in her imaginary swordplay, you were the villainous sea captain to her heroic pirate?”

His smile was grim. “Wonderful. And now I’ve taken her ship.”

“And her crew.”

He bowed his head. The image of his mother urgently packing while needing to find living arrangements in London came to mind. He should be home. “I will withdraw from the position.” He swallowed. It had been too good to be true. “I’ll return to the college tomorrow and ask if I might still be considered for theprofessorship.” He’d already sent notice to Professor Cornell that he’d taken another position. It might be too late.

“No.”

He lifted his head. “No?”

“Mr. Burke, I am about to pry, and I do so with my deepest regard and promise of confidentiality. Tell me why you are suddenly needing a position. What has happened? I do not wish to meddle, but under the circumstances, I feel it would be helpful to know. And I cannot deny that I’m filled with concern for your mother, whom I count as a dear friend.”

Cy considered her words. He had no doubt she was sincere. “Mrs. Whittemore, even my sister does not understand the circumstances my mother and I find ourselves in.” He rubbed at his beard, staring at nothing. “My father’s illness … Dr. Kerr’s diagnosis is pneumonia.”

She inhaled. “Oh dear.”

“Yes. The next week or so will tell us more. He’ll be going to London for treatment. There is some hope. But should the worst happen—” His breath halted, and he swallowed. Lowering his voice, he met Mrs. Whittemore’s compassionate expression. “Should the worst happen, Oakleigh House—that is to say, much of our finances are tied up in long-term investment and improvements. We are already retrenching. Treatment is costly. My taking a job would provide the family with safety.”

“I see.”

“With my schooling, and professorship being a worthy pursuit, I will do what I can. What I must.”

She studied him. “It’s easy to understand what my husband sees in you, Mr. Burke. Of course, I have always known you were a remarkable young man.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. The woman had knownhim since he was a boy in short pants, but when the time came, he hadn’t come up to snuff.

The moment was interrupted by four young women marching back into the room, led by Miss Whittemore, who strode to her father’s chair. “I have a proposition.”

Mr. Whittemore groaned and put his hand over his eyes.

Cy remembered to stand. The movement caught Miss Whittemore’s gaze, but she straightened and directed her remarks to her father.

“I propose that Mr. Burke and I both act as heads of the school.”

Mr. Whittemore shook his head, but before he could respond, she continued, her friends standing behind her like angels of deliverance. They might as well have had swords and armor. But Miss Whittemore, she wielded the golden trump. How well Cy knew her words were her might.

“Justfor the summer term. By the end of the term, it should be clear who has a better grasp of running a college for girls”—Cy noted the slight emphasis on the wordgirls—“and the job will go to her … or him.” She turned, then, and met his gaze. “And the other candidate will bow out gracefully.”