girls? And the teachers? Of course, the staff, under Deborah’s guidance, would know how to keep the vast ship sailing, no matter the crisis. But she’d never imagined the crisis would be her dismissal.
What if they needed her? There was the assembly today. Several prospective parents were coming. Would they sense tension? Would one of the younger girls start bawling in the middle of the program because Marcia wasn’t there?
She’d spent a half hour each day this past week walking the littlest ones through their steps around the stage, reminding them how to properly curtsy.
Who knew what was going on this very moment at Oak Hall?
All Marcia knew for sure—right now—was that she’d been through a serious crisis once before and intended to deal with this one differently. She wouldn’t be passive. She wouldn’t spend time pitying herself. She’d fight to get her position back.
But she’d have to be careful going about it.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Kerry asked her softly.
“I’m much better today, thank you.” Marcia managed a small smile. The red-cheeked girl hovering over her seemed genuinely concerned. “Actually, Kerry, I hope we’ll become friends while I’m here.”
The maid smiled shyly back. “Thank you, my lady.” And then her brows shot up. “Wait. While you’re here? Aren’t you here for good—that is, until you marry?”
Marcia looked steadily at her in the glass. “I don’t know,” she said, and paused. “Can I trust you to keep a confidence?”
The maid gave a vigorous nod. “I swear you can.”
“Good. I might need an ally in the house. Because the truth is, I want to return to Oak Hall.”
It felt good to say it out loud.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Marcia realized why she’d felt no sense of euphoria—no feeling of vindication—after she’d seen Lord Chadwick. It was because her plan to show Duncan Lattimore and the world that she was happy on her own had had unexpected, wonderful consequences: She was fulfilled. And now—
She wanted that feeling back.
Kerry began to work on pinning her hair. In the mirror, Marcia enjoyed watching the girl’s absorbed expression and her light, deft fingers.
“Every day, I got to witness wonderful things happen all around me,” Marcia said wistfully. “In the girls. The teaching staff. And in the people who cook, clean, garden, and run the stables.” She smiled. “It’s a delightful world, Kerry. We’re an enormous family. And when things go wrong, I get to work on solutions.”
“I suspect you’d be good at that,” the maid said with a grin.
“Thank you.” Marcia toyed with the pages of the poetry book. “There’s nothing I like better at Oak Hall than turning sadness to smiles, even if it’s only to give a little girl a hug when she skins her knee. And if it’s something bigger, if someone feels despair about something”—she couldn’t help wincing, thinking about her own despair—“I like to give them hope.” She swallowed hard. “It’s important work. I miss being part of it.”
Kerry paused, her hands holding a long blond lock of Marcia’s hair. “It’s very important work, my lady. I admire you for taking it on, and I’m sad for you”—she hesitated—“that you’re no longer there.”
“Well,” Marcia replied briskly. “Every day I’m here I want to speak with you about the school and my plans for it. All right? Even if I appear to be all about parties and beaus with my sisters.”
“I won’t let you forget.” Kerry’s tone was earnest, almost stern.
“I already know you won’t,” Marcia told her. “And thank you in advance for being willing to listen. I’ll feel less … undone.”
“It’s my pleasure, Lady Marcia.” The maid’s smile was serene.
She reminded Marcia a bit of Deborah.
In the breakfast room, Daddy stirred his tea and looked at her with unusually somber blue eyes. “It’s good to have you back here with me in the mornings, missy,” he said in
What if they needed her? There was the assembly today. Several prospective parents were coming. Would they sense tension? Would one of the younger girls start bawling in the middle of the program because Marcia wasn’t there?
She’d spent a half hour each day this past week walking the littlest ones through their steps around the stage, reminding them how to properly curtsy.
Who knew what was going on this very moment at Oak Hall?
All Marcia knew for sure—right now—was that she’d been through a serious crisis once before and intended to deal with this one differently. She wouldn’t be passive. She wouldn’t spend time pitying herself. She’d fight to get her position back.
But she’d have to be careful going about it.
“Are you all right, my lady?” Kerry asked her softly.
“I’m much better today, thank you.” Marcia managed a small smile. The red-cheeked girl hovering over her seemed genuinely concerned. “Actually, Kerry, I hope we’ll become friends while I’m here.”
The maid smiled shyly back. “Thank you, my lady.” And then her brows shot up. “Wait. While you’re here? Aren’t you here for good—that is, until you marry?”
Marcia looked steadily at her in the glass. “I don’t know,” she said, and paused. “Can I trust you to keep a confidence?”
The maid gave a vigorous nod. “I swear you can.”
“Good. I might need an ally in the house. Because the truth is, I want to return to Oak Hall.”
It felt good to say it out loud.
“You do?”
“Yes.” Marcia realized why she’d felt no sense of euphoria—no feeling of vindication—after she’d seen Lord Chadwick. It was because her plan to show Duncan Lattimore and the world that she was happy on her own had had unexpected, wonderful consequences: She was fulfilled. And now—
She wanted that feeling back.
Kerry began to work on pinning her hair. In the mirror, Marcia enjoyed watching the girl’s absorbed expression and her light, deft fingers.
“Every day, I got to witness wonderful things happen all around me,” Marcia said wistfully. “In the girls. The teaching staff. And in the people who cook, clean, garden, and run the stables.” She smiled. “It’s a delightful world, Kerry. We’re an enormous family. And when things go wrong, I get to work on solutions.”
“I suspect you’d be good at that,” the maid said with a grin.
“Thank you.” Marcia toyed with the pages of the poetry book. “There’s nothing I like better at Oak Hall than turning sadness to smiles, even if it’s only to give a little girl a hug when she skins her knee. And if it’s something bigger, if someone feels despair about something”—she couldn’t help wincing, thinking about her own despair—“I like to give them hope.” She swallowed hard. “It’s important work. I miss being part of it.”
Kerry paused, her hands holding a long blond lock of Marcia’s hair. “It’s very important work, my lady. I admire you for taking it on, and I’m sad for you”—she hesitated—“that you’re no longer there.”
“Well,” Marcia replied briskly. “Every day I’m here I want to speak with you about the school and my plans for it. All right? Even if I appear to be all about parties and beaus with my sisters.”
“I won’t let you forget.” Kerry’s tone was earnest, almost stern.
“I already know you won’t,” Marcia told her. “And thank you in advance for being willing to listen. I’ll feel less … undone.”
“It’s my pleasure, Lady Marcia.” The maid’s smile was serene.
She reminded Marcia a bit of Deborah.
In the breakfast room, Daddy stirred his tea and looked at her with unusually somber blue eyes. “It’s good to have you back here with me in the mornings, missy,” he said in
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