“I’d take you for many things, Ms. Wakefield, but not stupid,” he said quietly.
“Then naïve,” she corrected. “When I took this job, I thought I could teach them so many things. I could read literature to them. Maybe even a little French. Absolutely ridiculous.” She shook her head.
He caught her arm and turned her back to him. “It’s not ridiculous. If anything, I’d say it’s refreshing.”
She wasn’t sure what he meant by that. “Refreshing?”
He hummed. “Yes. You’ve come into the workhouse wanting to teach French. Do you know how many teachers come into this sort of place and wonder how they can get through the days? How many floggings will they administer? How often can they starve the children to make them behave? How long until they can move on to a better place?”
“What should I do? I want to succeed. I have to succeed. You don’t know. I have to succeed here. There’s nothing else,” she said firmly. Her family was relying on her, and she must live up to that.
Joseph looked at her for several moments. “You must be firm. You must start to make that place your own. The children must know you are master there.”
She turned the word over in her head. “Master?”
“Yes. And you don’t need to be a harsh, cruel master. Be firm. Don’t go back on your word. Stick to the subjects you have planned and move forward.”
“You make it sound so easy.” She looked up into his face.
“It is.” He paused and then added, “Or it will be.”
She straightened her spine. Be the master. “Thank you. I was feeling quite low.”
“It is my pleasure, Ms. Wakefield.” His eyes were warm as they gazed at her.
They turned at the sound of someone approaching, and she saw Matron and Henry Ryland. Matron and Henry looked back at them.
“Ms. Wakefield. Mr. Caldwell,” Matron said, acknowledging them both. She eyed Audrey intently as if disapproving.
Audrey caught Henry Ryland looking at her and then Joseph.
“You should return to your room, Ms. Wakefield. It’s getting late,” Matron told her firmly.
“I’d like to speak to Ms. Wakefield first,” Henry said curtly to them all.
“Of course,” Matron said and left.
“Ms. Wakefield,” he said and motioned for her to walk before him, leaving Joseph Caldwell behind.
Chapter Eight
When they were out of sight from Joseph Caldwell, Audrey looked up to meet Henry Ryland’s gaze. “You wish to speak to me?”
Standing beside her, he felt a sense of longing he couldn’t explain. He had not expected to see her speaking to Joseph Caldwell in the quiet of the garden. He had felt a strange sensation that he couldn’t name, and it irked him. Jealously? Absurd. He dismissed it immediately. It was juvenile.
“I did. I wanted to see how things were. How you are doing?” He looked into her blue eyes.
“How am I doing?” she repeated. “Well, you’ll be happy to know I’m not doing well at all. If I’m honest with myself, I’m a failure.”
He frowned. “Why would that make me happy?”
She gave him a knowing look. “Because you don’t want me here. You never wanted me here, remember? You wanted me to be the tea girl at your office. You accepted my offer because you felt sorry for me. I know you do.”
“I did feel sorry for you. What’s wrong with that? I felt sorry for a young woman alone in the world having to support her family. Would you prefer I didn’t give a damn and let you starve?” He studied her, watching her reaction.
“You have no idea how difficult this has been,” she said suddenly, her tone sharp. “My whole life was gone the moment my father died. It hasn’t been easy. I’m trying to do the best I can.”
“I know that. It’s commendable,” he told her quietly, hoping to reassure her that he wasn’t trying to upset her. “And if you’ll allow me to say, you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. No one expects you to take over a schoolroom and run it as if you’ve been there ten years in two days.”
She took a deep breath. “Thank you for that. I want to help the children, at least teach them the basics if I can.”
“You will. Despite you thinking I thought so little of you, I actually thought you were quite plucky that afternoon,” he said honestly.
She gave him an odd look. “Plucky?”
“Plucky. That’s not a bad word, is it?” He cocked his head, giving her a lopsided smile.
A hint of a grin tugged at her lips. “No. Plucky is good.”
“Oh. I almost forgot. My mother wants to invite you to tea,” he added.
She faltered in her steps. “What?”
“Tea with my mother,” he repeated, thinking she was charming. “I’d like to invite you on her behalf.”
She looked at him and suddenly began laughing. “Tea with your mother?”
“Yes. Why are you laughing?” It wasn’t funny at all, was it?
She shook her head. “Nothing. It’s just I know no one here. And now tea with your mother.”
“Yes.”
“Did she ask me or are you asking me?” Audrey wondered.
“She did. It was her idea. I’ve the letter of invite here somewhere,” he said, searching his inner jacket pocket.
She pushed her hair behind her ears. “How does she even know of me?”
“I told her of you. We talk of many things.” He handed her the small invite with her name on the front. “She’s a formidable woman. I think you’ll like her.”
She hummed as she studied the envelope. “Will I? I’ve met no one in Norwich. She’ll be my first acquaintance.”
“I wouldn’t say no one. What of young Mr. Caldwell?” Henry cursed himself the moment he spoke the words. He sounded like a jealous lover.
She glanced up at him, a question on her face. “Mr. Caldwell? He’s staff, just as me. He was offering me advice on the classroom as well.”
“I see.”
“I’m trying to survive in a place as foreign to me as the moon,” she told him. “I’ll take all the advice and any friendship given to me.”
“Who else have you befriended?” he wondered.
“Levi. Levi Penn. The porter. He’s been kind to me as well.”
“Naturally.”
“Naturally what?” she asked him.
“Naturally you’ll make friends,” he said. She was a lovely young woman, and most men would be drawn to her. He knew he was.
They came to a stop near the entrance to the building, and Audrey turned to face him. “I’ll bid you a good night here, Mr. Ryland. I must get inside and work on tomorrow’s lesson plan.”
He felt unhappy at having to part ways with her. The more time he spent with Audrey, the more he wanted to continue to be with her. It was a strange sensation, as they barely knew each other, but it was as if she was seeping under his skin. It was an elusive, strange awareness.
“I think my mother said tea on Saturday. I’ll hope you’ll be able to make it.”
“Of course I will. Tell her thank you.”
“I will. Good night, Ms. Wakefield.”
She turned and headed back inside, pausing to wave to him at the door. Henry watched her walk away, feeling very much like one of the schoolboys she taught.
Henry walked down the path away from the workhouse, passed the stables, and went back to the street, where he hailed a cab home. He couldn’t shake the sense of wanting to help Audrey Wakefield succeed, and after seeing her that afternoon, he had mixed emotions.
He had somehow forgotten just how lovely she was, and watching her speak to Joseph Caldwell stirred up feelings of jealousy, which was ridiculous. He hardly knew the girl. He had made some excuse to visit the workhouse and had run into the Matron giving out new duties to several female inmates.
He had asked how things were going, and she replied that all was well. She had given him a look that his mother had done when he was a child, and he suspected she knew exactly why he was t
here. But she said nothing. She walked with him as they spoke about the odds and ends of the workhouse, and when she asked if he wished to speak to the Master, as he often did, he said no.
Again, she had said nothing but continued speaking with him. When they had come upon Joseph Caldwell and Audrey speaking, he had sensed the Matron looking at him with a smirk on her face.
He shook his head. So foolish. What was he doing anyway? A young woman had sought his help, and he had given it to her. The matter should be ended.
He had been able to secure a job, at least temporarily, for her, and that was that. It should have nothing more to do with him unless she performed poorly. But he had to be honest with himself, and in the setting sun outside the Norwich Workhouse, he would be.
She wasn’t just a member of staff or just a woman he had helped because a friend of his father’s had asked it.
He felt something when he looked at her. He wanted to be around her more. It was a strange sensation after what he had been through with Della, but it was there all the same, and he couldn’t stop it. All he could do now was stay calm and be a gentleman when he was around her. For the time being, it was enough. But as it crept upon him unexpectedly, he knew.
He wanted more.
Audrey tidied her desk the next afternoon. Today had been entirely different inside the classroom. She had been fairly strict with the children as she placed them in groups and asked the groups to work together to find solutions for the math problems. Those who did would have extra time outdoors.
Hearing this, the children had worked together, excited to be outside. When they returned, she had read them a story and asked them to speak about certain themes in it. It was not exactly what she hoped for, but it was a start.
When she closed and locked the door, her mood was still light. Walking down the long barren hallway, she turned left and went to look for the chaplain. She needed his help for the Christian verses she thought to review with the children. She found the door she was looking for with “Chaplain” written on it. She knocked and was bid to enter.
“Mr. Reed?” she asked as she entered.
The man behind the desk looked up. He had a small head and beady eyes behind his spectacles. “I am Freeman Reed. The workhouse chaplain. How may I help you?”
She stopped before his desk. “Good afternoon. My name is Audrey Wakefield. I’m the new schoolmistress.”
“I don’t approve of women teaching,” he said, abruptly pulling out a jeweled box and inhaling the tobacco snuff.
His tone took her aback, and she wasn’t sure how to respond at first. “Really? Why not?”
“’But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence,’” he said, quoting scripture to her.
Audrey looked at him calmly. She could play this game. “’The Lord gives the word; the women who announce the news are a great host.’”
His little eyes watched her intently. “You know the scriptures.”
“My father was a vicar.”
“Ah. What brings you here to see me?”
She took in a deep breath. “I wanted to discuss what Christian principles you think should be taught in the classroom.”
Freeman Reed snorted. “Christian principles? For this heathen lot?”
She frowned. “Are they heathens?”
“Are they not?” he returned.
She didn’t like what he was insinuating. “I think they are good people who have fallen on hard times. It happens.”
“Does it, Ms. Wakefield?” He shook his head. “You are a young woman who I wager has never entered the workhouse as an inmate. Correct?”
“Yes,” she said, unsure where he was going.
“Your father was a hardworking man and no doubt your mother a decent woman.” He paused, and she waited for him to get to his point. “You see, the difference between your family and the inmates here is quite simple.”
“Really?”
“Indeed. And it can be summed up in one word. Sloth.” He emphasized the last word as if that made a point.
“Sloth,” she repeated blankly.
He picked up a pen and fiddled with it. “The families here know that they don’t need to work hard. They don’t need to save for that proverbial rainy day. They don’t need to work and better themselves. Why? Because the workhouse is here. And don’t get me wrong. The workhouse is hard work. But in return, you get a meal, a roof, and no worries.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” He gave her a condescending look. “I doubt it. You still have all the dewy freshness of a young person bent on doing good work here and bettering the inmates.”
“I do, actually.”
He scoffed, folding his hands over his scrawny chest. “Of course you do. And if you manage to stay here a year, two years, and so on, you’ll begin to see that I’m right.”
“Perhaps you don’t see the good in people because you don’t look for it, Mr. Reed,” she countered.
He grinned, showing yellow teeth. “Perhaps. And perhaps you’ll allow me that my many years of experience supersede your…two days, is it?”
Audrey said nothing to this.
“As to your original question, you start at the beginning, of course.” His tone implied it was obvious.
“Genesis,” she said.
“That’s the beginning,” he said pompously.
“Thank you for your time, Mr. Reed.”
He grinned, but there was no warmth in the smile. “I am the gate. If anyone enters through Me, He will be saved.”
“Indeed. Good evening, Mr. Reed.” Audrey closed the door and sighed heavily as she walked back to her room. What a strange man.
Audrey checked herself in the small mirror atop the dresser. Her hair was pinned securely at the nape of her neck. She adjusted the onyx brooch at her throat, then pulled on her small black gloves and picked up her purse as she left her room.
She felt a little excited at the prospect of taking tea with Henry Ryland’s mother. It was rare that she was able to socialize with other respectable women, and she looked forward to the chance of a Saturday outside the workhouse. She also had plans to visit the library Levi had shown her and maybe see the town for herself.
When she hailed a hansom cab, she gave him the address listed on the note she had been sent. It was a brief trip to the address, and when she stepped out, she looked up at the beautiful red brick home. It was an impressive three-story house with a grand octagonal turret that spoke of elegance and money.
When she used the brass knocker to announce her arrival, a young parlor maid immediately answered the door.
“Good afternoon. I believe I am expected. I’m Audrey Wakefield,” she told the maid.
The maid stepped aside, motioning her forward. “Please come this way.”
She led Audrey into the house, past the expansive wooden carved staircase, and into the back of the house into the conservatory.
“Madame, Ms. Wakefield,” the parlor maid said and bobbed a curtesy before she left.
Audrey turned to see a handsome middle-aged woman with brown hair threaded with grey and clear brown eyes. She looked up at Audrey and then signaled for her to be seated. Audrey took the seat next to her as she admired the green plants inside the glass-encased room.
“What a lovely conservatory,” she said, admiring the room.
Theodocia poured out the tea and handed one cup and saucer to Audrey. “Thank you for accepting my invitation, Ms. Wakefield. I’m Theodocia Ryland. I understand you are the new schoolmistress at the workhouse.”
Audrey accepted the cup. “I am.”
Theodocia settled back in her seat and studied Audrey. “In due part to my son.”
“In all part to him,” Audrey returned.
“Perhaps you had a little something to do with it,” Theodocia allowed.
“Perhaps a little,” Audrey agreed.
“How do find Norwich?”
Audrey took a sip of her tea and fo
und it delicious. “I’ve only been here a week. I’ve not been outside the workhouse until today.”
Theodocia seemed surprised. “Indeed? That seems exhausting. Are the children fairly horrid?”
Audrey shook her head. “Not all.”
“I’m a member of several charities here in Norwich. Care of widows, suffragette—”
“Suffragette?” Audrey interrupted her, surprised. “You believe in the vote?”
“Of course. Just because I’ve one foot in the grave doesn’t mean I should not care about the vote,” Theodocia told her.
Audrey disagreed. “You’ve not one foot in the grave, madame.”
Theodocia raised an eyebrow. “Don’t I?”
“Perhaps maybe a toe,” she said playfully as she sipped her tea.
The parlor maid entered the room carrying the tray of sandwiches and sweets. She deposited them on the table and left.
Theodocia selected a sandwich, and Audrey followed suit. “Perhaps you would like to speak at one of my club meetings?”
Audrey nibbled on her sandwich and swallowed before speaking. “I would welcome the chance. You would wish me to speak about the workhouse?”
“Your experience as a teacher.”
Audrey laughed. “My vast experience of one week?”
Theodocia inclined her head. “One week today. In a month from now, a month.”
“Very well. I agree.”
“And if you are a success, Henry tells me you’ll bring your family to live here as well. A mother and sister, I believe?” She took a sip from her teacup.
“Yes. They have remained in the country in case I am not a success.”
Theodocia nodded. “But you will be. Henry has a kind heart, but he can also spot things in people that others cannot.”
Audrey didn’t answer immediately as she pondered her question. “What is it that he sees in me?”
“Beauty perhaps. Who can say?” Theodocia sipped her tea.
Among the Darkness Stirs Page 9
