Page 18 of The Marriage Method

Nell came forward. She offered her hand in greeting. “Penelope Trewlove,” she said. “Deputy headmistress of Miss Corvus’s Benevolent Academy for the Betterment of Young Ladies.”

Miss Jean’s hand froze halfway to Nell’s. “Miss Corvus?” She snorted. “That’s a name I ain’t heard in a long time.”

“She sends her regards,” Nell said, hand still extended.

Miss Jean shook it at last. “I bet she does.” She gestured to the empty chair. Scraps of fabric and trimmings littered the seat. “Move those aside, and sit yourself down.”

Nell cleared away a place before taking a seat. “I hope I’ve not come at a bad time.”

Miss Jean chuckled as she resumed her work. “It’s all bad times here, Miss Trewlove. Or hadn’t you noticed?”

“But excellent craftsmanship, I see.” Nell reached to examine a section of the linen dress. “Your stitching is flawless,” she observed with genuine admiration.

Miss Jean’s mouth quirked with dry humor. “Miss Corvus tell you to say that?”

“No, indeed. I can recognize good work when I see it. I have the honor of teaching a sewing class at the Academy. Needlework is one of my favorite subjects.”

“A favorite subject, you call it? Teaching orphans to mend rich folks’ clothes?”

“We don’t focus a great deal on mending,” Nell said. “We spend more time on samplers.”

“Samplers? Huh!” Miss Jean scoffed. “Won’t earn them no money, sewing samplers.” Her needle flew as she spoke, stabbing in and out of the linen with unrelenting precision. “More of Miss Corvus’s crackbrained ideas, in’t it? Instructing girls on samplers, lock-picking, fencing, and fisticuffs, as though any of those are the means to making a living.”

Nell’s mouth tipped with amusement at Miss Jean’s unflattering characterization. “I see you’ve some familiarity with our special curriculum. Was it Miss Corvus who shared it with you?”

“Oh, aye. She confided all about the classes she offered to her best and brightest. That’s rich people for you, I said. They’ve the coin to indulge any odd notion, and all the rest of you fine folk go along with their fancies instead of telling them they’ve lost their bloody minds. But I told her, and all.” Miss Jean glanced up again, an ironic set to her smile. “So, why’d she send you to me after all this time? She already knows I ain’t coming to work for her.”

Nell failed to contain a flash of surprise. “She offered you a position at the Academy?”

“Aye, she did, the madwoman. She said as how I could be a teacher.”

“You certainly could be,” Nell said.

Again, Miss Jean scoffed. “Teaching what, I ask you?”

“Needlework, for one. As to anything else—I daresay you have your talents. Miss Corvus is adept at choosing teachers who can convey some useful skill to our girls.”

“I don’t read or write, Miss Trewlove. Can’t be taught. The letters are all backward and upside down to me. Happen you know that, else you’d have sent a note instead of coming here yourself. And without a chaperone, too.” Miss Jean looked Nell over with a critical eye. “You think that mourning costume will protect you from the worst of this place?”

“No,” Nell said. “I don’t imagine it will.” She smiled again. “Fortunately, I can protect myself.”

Miss Jean laughed. “Miss Corvus said much the same when she come here all those years ago.” At last, she put aside her mending. “So, what is it she wants?”

Nell studied her for a moment. She knew various ways of dealing with people—flattery, manipulation, outright intimidation. But none of them would serve here. If Miss Corvus had offered Miss Jean a position as a teacher, then she was an equal in the fight. It would have to be the truth.

“We were expecting a new pupil at the charity school two days ago,” Nell said. “Her name is Flora Brent.”

The health records the workhouse had forwarded to the Academy had given a brief description of the girl. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do.

“She’s but fourteen,” Nell said. “Dark-haired and exceedingly pretty for her age. She never arrived.”

Miss Jean was quiet a moment. “Happen she changed her mind.”

“She could have done,” Nell allowed. “But we don’t think so.”

“No? Not everyone wants to be saved by an eccentric gentlewoman, Miss Trewlove.”

Nell wondered if that was the very issue that had prevented Miss Jean from joining their ranks. Did she believe Miss Corvus was some patronizing would-be rescuer? That her aims were any less valid simply because she’d been born into a life of wealth and privilege?