We had passed many hills with colorful greens and trees that stood tall among the small cottages we passed. The wind was blowing the scent of apples into the carriage as we rode up the final hill towards Spence Boarding School. Xander smiled, looking out the window. He was happy to be rid of me. It’s the only thing I can think of; otherwise why else would he be smiling.
My thoughts were interrupted by the driver slowing his horse down and the voice of a woman. I look out my window to see an old woman smiling. “You’ve come back to me child!”
“Would you please move miss?” the driver called but the woman ignored him.
“You must come to Mother Elena again! I shall read your futures!”
“Miss! Please!” the driver called.
“Have you seen Carolina? You took her and-“ but I couldn’t hear the last thing she said for the driver started off, making her run out of the road and out of danger. I could hear her calling out to me but Xander locked his eyes with mine. I shrugged and he rolled his eyes, looking back out the window and ignoring me. Leaving me to my thoughts about what the woman was talking about.
I fiddle with a stray strand of my long unruly blonde hair as my green eyes glance from side to side. Blackness has begun to creep on the hills and I can see something in the trees. I shake my head, closing my eyes telling myself that there is nothing there but I can’t help it as my heart begins to beat faster in my chest. Nothing is moving I tell myself and yet I seem to know that it is not true.
The driver calls out to us, telling me that we have arrived. It was not as I expected. I was expecting a small cottage where girls in corsets and skirts would play tennis. But it was a tall, big building with overgrown gardens and large lands of rolling hills covered in rich trees that stood tall against the sky like the building. As I look up, I see something in the shadows. It isn’t until we have reached the door that I realize it is a gargoyle, staring manacling at me, smiling at me with its grey stone teeth as it protrudes from the roof. It makes me step back away from the school in disgust. Welcome to Spence. A school where we shall teach you to be a mindless drone unless you are attacked in the middle of the night by the gargoyle in front. We hope you enjoy your stay! I took a step closer to Xander as the driver helped him with my luggage. It wasn’t much, just some dresses, my mothers social diary and my fathers old cricket bat to remind me of his better days. Days when mother was alive.
I push the thought back and close me eyes to stop the stinging and the tears from sliding down my cheeks. Taking a deep breath, I look to see the door opened by a small stout woman with a long face that looked worn. Her brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and her grey eyes looked sad as if she had seen everything bad in the world but still held a hint of hope for the future. She did not smile but scowled, looking me up and down. “You must be Ms. Summers. We’ve been expecting you for an hour. Come. Mr. Snyder – our headmaster wishes to speak with you.” I nodded, fallowing the woman up the winding stars. Portraits hang on the walls, faces looking down at me with hard expressions but joyless eyes. At the top, there is a large portrait of a woman that looked to be around forty. Her hair was grey yet mostly dark with bright blue eyes. Her thin lips narrow and her cheeks high. “Ah, Ms. Spence. Lovely woman. She was the old headmistress here.” I nod, thinking how beautiful she must have been.
“She’s very pretty,” I state, smiling gently at her. The corner of her lips curve yet she does not fully smile but her eyes shine brightly as if she approves of me.
We move along the hall in silence until we reach a tall door. The housekeeper beats on the door with meaty fists which is answered by a male voice. “Come in.” She opened the door, leading into a big office, walls covered in books and paintings. A globe sits in the middle with the desk towards the back. At the desk sits a middle age man, working through stacks of paper. “That’s all for now Brigid,” he states in a curt voice, not looking up. Brigid – the housekeeper – smiles lightly at me before leaving the room.
I am left alone with a small man, one who seemed to look nasty and would have fun torturing me for the next couple years of my life. He keeps his head down, continuing on with his work as I stand on the Persian rug and pretend to take notice in a small figurine. I fiddle with my papers, anger and annoyance growing steadily as I look at him. A human being would have offered some tea or at least a chair!
I sigh and concentrate on the small figurine. It was of a milk maid, holding buckets of milk as she sang a sweet song on pink lips with rosy cheeks. It was then that I wished I was the milk maid figurine. So I could sing a song and not have a worry in the world or be tortured by nightmares and visions I don’t understand.
As I was engrossed with the figurine, the small man had stopped working and was starring intently at me, his hands clasped together on the desk. “If you would kindly look up Miss Summers. I know that the figurine is pretty,” he stated, snarling and spitting out the word pretty. “But I don’t think it will engage in conversation with you.” I looked up, immediately regretting so as his beady little eyes roamed over my body as I sat up straight. “Well, aren’t you pretty? You’re looks will get you suitors alone no doubt but are you worthy of Spence?” I could only stare at him, not knowing if I was to talk or not. “And from your silence, some would suspect you a mute. Are you worthy of Spence Miss Summers?”
“Yes sir,” I say my voice steady and firm as I just out my chin in defiance. He couldn’t scare me. I could break him like a twig if I really wanted to, that I was sure of.
“Well then, I trust your journey was pleasant?”
“Oh yes, thank you.”
Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
“Brigid saw you in comfortably?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Tick, tick, tick, tock.
“I usually don’t admit new girls at such an advanced age. I find it is harder for them to grow accustomed to the Spence way of life.” One mark against me. “But under such circumstances, I feel it is our Christian duty to make an exception. I am sorry for your loss.”
I don’t say a word, just stare at the little milk maid. She was probably one her way to her mother where it was safe and there was no shadows lurking.
When I don’t say anything, Mr. Snyder continues. “I understand that custom dictated a mourning period for at least a year but I find that suck persistent reminders are not healthy. It keeps us centered on the dead and not the living. I recognize this is unconventional. It is important that you get on here and be on equal footing with the other girls. After all, some of them have been with us for years, far longer than they’ve been with their own families. Spence is rather like a family, one with affection and honor, rules and consequences.” He emphasizes the last word. “Therefore, you will wear the same uniform everyone else wears. I trust this will be acceptable to you?”
“Yes,” I whisper, feeling guilty about leaving my mourning so easily especially when I was the cause of the mourning to begin with. But I so want to just fit in and not stick out.
“Splendid. Now, you will be in the first class with six young ladies also of your age. Breakfast is served promptly at nine o’clock. You will have instruction in French with Mademoiselle LeFarge, drawing with Miss Calender, music with Mr. Giles. I shall direct your lessons in deportment. Prayers are said at six o’clock each evening in the chapel. In fact” – he glances at the mantel clock – “we shall be leaving for the chapel shortly. Dinner fallows at seven. There is free time in the great hall afterward, with all the girls in bed by ten. I think you shall be very happy here, Miss Summers.”
Translation: That is an order.
“Spence has turned out many wonderful young women who’ve gone out to make very good marriages.”
We don’t expect much more from you. Please don’t embarrass us.
“Why, you might even be sitting here in my position some day.”
If you turn out completely unmarriageable, and you don’t end up in an Austrian convent making lace nightgowns.
His smile wavers a bit and I know he is waiting for me to say something charming. Something that will convince him that he isn’t making a mistake in taking in a grief-stricken girl who seems completely unworthy of Spence’s training. Unfortunately for me, I only nod and his smile disappears.
“While you’re here, I can be a solid ally, if you fallow the rules. Or the sword that cuts you into shape if you do not. Do we understand each other?”
“Yes Mr. Snyder.”
“Great. Let me show you around and then we’ll be off for prayers.”
TBC......