you.”
Claire frowned at him. “That will not be effective if he is unaware of the expectations.”
Louisa sat down. “I say he knows them. He wouldn’t be so determined to break the rules if he didn’t know them. He is deliberately misbehaving.”
“Why is that?” Jacob asked, setting Claire’s plate in front of her and returning to the buffet.
“Because he’s an as—”
“Louisa,” Claire said sharply. “How can we be expected to teach proper behavior and etiquette if we do not demonstrate it ourselves, even in private?”
“I know the rules; therefore I know when they should be broken,” Louisa replied hotly.
“That is no excuse,” Claire said.
“The boy is a hellion. If he does not change, I say we refuse him our services.”
Sara sat down, looking at Louisa. “Is that not drastic?”
Louisa returned her gaze with a hard one of her own. “Why should we expose any member of our group to such continued assault?”
“Assault? Isn’t that exaggerating the situation?” Jacob asked, taking his own seat.
“What would you call it?” Louisa challenged.
He shrugged and took a bite of bread with meat. “A boy being a boy.”
“So you condone this sort of treatment toward a lady?”
“I didn’t say that,” he defended himself. “I just think you are blowing this out of proportion.”
“Jacob,” Claire said quietly. “Please don’t push her.”
But Louisa spoke over her. “What if Henry was doing this to Claire? What if it were she who was being pushed and insulted and ridiculed on a regular basis? Would he still just be a boy being a boy?”
“That is unfair,” he said in a flat voice.
Sara stared at her plate, the conversation continuing around her as she picked at her food. Perhaps she should have changed her dress before the others had the opportunity to see it. The ants gathered in her throat the longer she listened to the argument. Why do you always cause trouble, girl? What sort of example are you setting? Do you enjoy embarrassing your father?
“Enough,” Claire finally broke in firmly, giving Jacob and Louisa hard looks. “We will discuss this after classes have been finished for the day.”
A tentative knock on the door caught all of their attention. Sara looked up to see Mr. Pomeroy standing uncertainly, his hat in his hands, his eyes glancing from person to person.
“Mr. Pomeroy,” Claire greeted as they all curtseyed, Jacob moving over to shake his hand. “We weren’t expecting you today. What brings you to Ridgestone?”
“I apologize for arriving uninvited, Mrs. Knightly,” the vicar said.
“Goodness, think nothing of it,” she assured him. “Please sit. Have you eaten lunch?”
“Ah, no, thank you, no,” he said, taking a spot at the table. “I’m afraid this isn’t quite a social call.”
Sara swallowed the rest of the ants. “Is something amiss?” she asked, concerned.
Mr. Pomeroy turned his warm chocolate brown eyes to her and Sara’s heart did a little stutter. Not as noticeable as it had been in the past, but it was still there. “Not to worry,” he said. “Nothing has happened to me or to anyone in the parish. However,” he continued, turning back to Claire and Jacob, “I have received word that the elderly vicar in Ramsey Gate has fallen ill. The bishop has requested I travel there to tend his parish while he recovers.”
Sara’s heart slowed down, dismay filling her chest. “Ramsey Gate?” she echoed quietly. “But it is so far away.” He could be gone for over a sennight, considering the distance to be covered; it was at least a full day’s ride at full gallop. Not to mention the time it might take for the elderly vicar to recuperate.
Louisa shot her a disapproving look but refrained from commenting. Mr. Pomeroy addressed her statement. “Yes, and is a sizeable parish compared to Taft. This is why the bishop feels the village can spare me; he perceives there is a greater need for stability and guidance in the
Claire frowned at him. “That will not be effective if he is unaware of the expectations.”
Louisa sat down. “I say he knows them. He wouldn’t be so determined to break the rules if he didn’t know them. He is deliberately misbehaving.”
“Why is that?” Jacob asked, setting Claire’s plate in front of her and returning to the buffet.
“Because he’s an as—”
“Louisa,” Claire said sharply. “How can we be expected to teach proper behavior and etiquette if we do not demonstrate it ourselves, even in private?”
“I know the rules; therefore I know when they should be broken,” Louisa replied hotly.
“That is no excuse,” Claire said.
“The boy is a hellion. If he does not change, I say we refuse him our services.”
Sara sat down, looking at Louisa. “Is that not drastic?”
Louisa returned her gaze with a hard one of her own. “Why should we expose any member of our group to such continued assault?”
“Assault? Isn’t that exaggerating the situation?” Jacob asked, taking his own seat.
“What would you call it?” Louisa challenged.
He shrugged and took a bite of bread with meat. “A boy being a boy.”
“So you condone this sort of treatment toward a lady?”
“I didn’t say that,” he defended himself. “I just think you are blowing this out of proportion.”
“Jacob,” Claire said quietly. “Please don’t push her.”
But Louisa spoke over her. “What if Henry was doing this to Claire? What if it were she who was being pushed and insulted and ridiculed on a regular basis? Would he still just be a boy being a boy?”
“That is unfair,” he said in a flat voice.
Sara stared at her plate, the conversation continuing around her as she picked at her food. Perhaps she should have changed her dress before the others had the opportunity to see it. The ants gathered in her throat the longer she listened to the argument. Why do you always cause trouble, girl? What sort of example are you setting? Do you enjoy embarrassing your father?
“Enough,” Claire finally broke in firmly, giving Jacob and Louisa hard looks. “We will discuss this after classes have been finished for the day.”
A tentative knock on the door caught all of their attention. Sara looked up to see Mr. Pomeroy standing uncertainly, his hat in his hands, his eyes glancing from person to person.
“Mr. Pomeroy,” Claire greeted as they all curtseyed, Jacob moving over to shake his hand. “We weren’t expecting you today. What brings you to Ridgestone?”
“I apologize for arriving uninvited, Mrs. Knightly,” the vicar said.
“Goodness, think nothing of it,” she assured him. “Please sit. Have you eaten lunch?”
“Ah, no, thank you, no,” he said, taking a spot at the table. “I’m afraid this isn’t quite a social call.”
Sara swallowed the rest of the ants. “Is something amiss?” she asked, concerned.
Mr. Pomeroy turned his warm chocolate brown eyes to her and Sara’s heart did a little stutter. Not as noticeable as it had been in the past, but it was still there. “Not to worry,” he said. “Nothing has happened to me or to anyone in the parish. However,” he continued, turning back to Claire and Jacob, “I have received word that the elderly vicar in Ramsey Gate has fallen ill. The bishop has requested I travel there to tend his parish while he recovers.”
Sara’s heart slowed down, dismay filling her chest. “Ramsey Gate?” she echoed quietly. “But it is so far away.” He could be gone for over a sennight, considering the distance to be covered; it was at least a full day’s ride at full gallop. Not to mention the time it might take for the elderly vicar to recuperate.
Louisa shot her a disapproving look but refrained from commenting. Mr. Pomeroy addressed her statement. “Yes, and is a sizeable parish compared to Taft. This is why the bishop feels the village can spare me; he perceives there is a greater need for stability and guidance in the
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