by Guy Antibes
At the far end of the University grounds was an open field with no indications of classrooms to be built. Sara had to restrain a smile.
“Don’t worry about buildings, Dean Hotspring,” Banna said. “We have been given use of the training camp that adjoins University property.”
“You… You what?” His face turned red.
“The King deeded the entire camp to the Women’s College,” Banna said.
“But we were promised that land, Mrs. Hedge.”
“By whom?” Sara said.
“I’m not at liberty to say,” the Dean said. His face turned red and he rubbed his hands and pressed his lips tightly together.
“I’m confident that it wasn’t King Terrant.”
“No.”
Sara shrugged. “I’m afraid our royal charter will take precedence, but we aren’t here to hem the University in. No, we are here to work out a cooperative relationship,” Sara said.
“Relationship? It is my understanding that you are completely on your own. There is no academic relationship.” Dean Hotspring sat up a little straighter.
Sara looked at a man now ready for battle and he had just been bloodied a bit, but now that the University could exercise its prerogative, he would stiffen up.
“Now, now. We should have a working understanding, Dean,” Banna said. “An exchange of professors, students attending courses at each institution where there is more expertise. We successfully implemented such a program between Tarrey College and the Women’s School.”
“Obridge is in the provinces, Mrs. Hedge. We are in Parth.” His neck stiffened and his chin rose in the air just a bit.
“I agree that is where we are, Dean Hotspring. Perhaps to start we can ask for Library privileges and your recognition of educational competence, similar to what you provide Tarry College. Not a full recognition of work done, but a certification of acceptance of work accomplished… even if it isn’t at University level.”
“I’ve never…”
“You do it for the men at Tarrey College. Shall I show you a few of such certifications, Dean?”
“No need. But those are for men who may use them to qualify for a University education.”
“We don’t seek slots for our women at your University, just recognition,” Banna said.
The Dean rose. “Would you like some wine?”
Banna smiled sweetly as did Sara following the lead of her mentor. His offer was meant to change the subject or give him some thinking time. After letting him pour small glasses of wine, he sat back down. “About your land.”
His change of subject couldn’t have been better. “What about our land?” Banna said.
“Now that the camp land is available, I can arrange a trade for a parcel twice as big as that outside the city.”
“It’s not available, Dean. We will be starting courses before summer is out. We have identified ten notable women scholars who have gone through the Women’s School in Obridge to teach. Of course, I will be one of them. If you have any of your students interested in Practical Mathematics or a few other subjects that you don’t teach, we’d be happy to take them in for a small fee.”
“That won’t be necessary. The University has no demand for trade courses.”
Sara cocked her head. “Then Doctor Hedge had to have been given faulty information. A few of your faculty members have mentioned that such courses would help your students comprehend various higher level subjects with a better grounding in ‘trade courses’.”
“Perhaps among some of our staff…” The Dean let the comment slide.
“Dean Hotspring, what is this blank land in your plan?” Sara pointed to the field.
“Athletic fields, primarily for Rumball. We’d like to build on it, but…” he shrugged, “Our students want space to play and we are afraid we’ll lose students if we don’t have a field.”
So some of the richer, less dedicated students want to play a bit and not have to spend all their time at their books. That’s what he meant to say. Sara now knew they could negotiate.
“Perhaps we can accommodate one another,” Sara said. “What if we leased a field of equivalent size to the University for a nominal fee, say one thousand crowns per year?”
The Dean sat back. “That is a pretty steep rental charge.” Hotspring didn’t deny interest. It was time to solidify the real offer.
“It would seem that land is a premium within the precinct of your institution.”
Tiny beads of sweat formed on the Dean’s forehead. He stared at the plan.
“Right here. This little lane could be extended onto the College property by building a modestly sized bridge, giving you direct access. Why it would almost be an extension of the University, Dean.”
“Still, the Regents would never agree.”
“I suppose there is nothing to discuss, then.” Sara turned in her seat, away from the Dean. She used her body language to close off the offer.
“Wait, Sara,” Banna said, reacting to Sara’s feigned body language. “What if we did a bit of a compromise?”
“Compromise?” Sara said.
“Yes. I don’t want bad feelings between the College and the University. What would the Regents say to a one thousand crown payment for twenty years of unfettered use of the field?”
“I suppose we could do that,” the Dean said, visibly relaxing. His eyes drifted back to the plan and his finger traced its way along the access lane that Sara pointed out. “With a provision to extend the lease and retain first refusal should the Women’s College lose possession of the land?”
“However, there still is the matter of College recognition.” Sara didn’t mind the extension, but the first right of refusal could be a calculation on the Women’s College failure. Still they needed University certification to attract the caliber of women students that would make the school a success.
The Dean went silent as he continued to look at the plan and not into their eyes. “I suppose we could do something of the sort. We would have to review your courses.”
“That’s already being done in the Women’s School, Dean. We pass every time, since we teach many of the Tarrey College men. Your professors review the College and the School together. Perhaps we can go over the conditions for certification and Sara has brought along a plan of the camp. We can get preliminary agreement on both of these actions and perhaps give you a quick look at our plans.”
He nodded. “I believe I need a bit more wine, ladies.”
~
“I don’t think we quite got what we wanted,” Banna said as she plopped down on a settee in Sara’s sitting room.
“We went to get certification by the University and that is ours. What worries me is that the land lease motivates the Dean to promote our failure. You saw how salivated at the camp land. I’ll bet he’s already decided what buildings to put on the old Rumball field.”
Willa entered with tea and pastries and sat with them.
“I have the first estimates of remodels and they’re not pretty,” Willa said. “However, they fall in the bounds that we set. I can have tradesmen start on Oneday. Your residence will be renovated first, Headmistress, so you can live on the site. If it’s all right with Sara, I’d like to move in with you while we’re under construction. That way I can keep my eye on things.”
Banna laughed. “Certainly, but neither of us will be bound to live there all week.”
“It’s all right with me. I wouldn’t mind moving in, but I like it here and my shoulder is feeling good enough to restart my weapons training.
Willa’s face drooped. “Maybe I’ll come back for some of those.”
Banna looked surprised. “You are quite a fearsome pair.”
“Fearsome enough, Headmistress. You would have been proud the way Sara saved Obridge.”
“I am proud. A few letters have made their way from Obridge to Parth and you’re a heroine, Sara.”
“We have Captain Choster to thank for helping us raise our little army an
d getting us into the city,” Sara said.
Banna nodded, looking at Sara sideways. “Of course.”
A messenger walked across the courtyard and Sara wondered what message he bore. She waited as patiently as she held two sealed envelopes in his hand.
“Duke Northcross’ seal,” she said and read it to the other two women. “The Belonnian army has withdrawn from the Eastern Passes and Port Fairsea. He shall return within the week.” She didn’t tell them about the Duke wanting to meet with her as soon as he arrived.
Banna shot Sara a knowing look. “What do you think he will do?”
“Nothing. Perhaps let me know that our relationship should be a secret. Nothing that we haven’t discussed before.”
Willa didn’t appear convinced and gave Sara a squint-eyed face. “I think the Duke is at loose ends about you, Sara. Knowing the man as little as I do, I still don’t think he’ll let things lie.”
“He has his own life and his own motivations. If he declares me his daughter, I may become a target.”
“Doesn’t change what I said, Sara and you know it.”
Willa was right. Sara shrugged, although she didn’t feel like shrugging. “What will happen will happen. How will my life change from what I’m doing right now? I’m working on a project so I can be a student again and then we’ll see.”
“What about the other letter?” Willa said looking at the unopened envelope on the table in front of her.
“I don’t recognize the seal,” Sara said as she opened the letter and read. “Do either of you know the Lady Millis Shields?”
“I’ve heard of her,” Willa said. “She’s got her eyes on King Terrant—ambitious, beautiful, ruthless and hard when she needs to be. But the King doesn’t seem to mind. His council wants a queen and she fits, being an Earl’s widow.”
Sara thought of a black widow spider and shivered. “It seems I’m invited to a reception in my honor next Sixday at her home and am permitted to come unescorted.”
That raised Willa’s eyebrows. “That’s a slight, Sara. A minor one, but still something designed to put you in your place. You have to go and you’ll have to be on your guard.”
“I will and I’ll have to buy another gown, I suppose, since they will all have seen my presentation dress. Can you help, Willa? Lady Grianna isn’t here to guide me through all the steps.”
Willa nodded. “And you will need a bit more coaching from me this time. Lady Grianna didn’t go over some of the finer details of mingling with the nobility.”
“Congratulations, dear,” Banna said. “If we can finish up here, I can get to work at my house.”
“As soon as this reception is over with, I can focus on the College. I feel that everything is slipping into place and we’ll get through it without too much trouble. We just need to pay attention to our plan so women can attend the College before fall.” Sara fought to keep from thinking about the invitation. She took a slow breath.
“If duty calls you to other places in Parth’s society that is fine, Sara. You are a Countess and you do have your Firsts,” Willa said. “You don’t have to go back to school.”
“But I will,” Sara said. “I will.” She tried to sound determined.
Banna sat back. “And then you can teach. Think of what it would mean to the girls to be taught by a Countess!”
Sara forced a smile. “We’ll have to get the College built first. We don’t even have our instructors set.”
“And that’s just what you will get to do from here on as well as keep the books.”
Sara nodded. The major part of her contribution towards getting the Women’s College up and running had come to a close. The proposal that had brought her to Parth had turned into a Royal Charter. The institution now had a fat bank account and Willa and Banna would see to the physical part of the College and Sara would follow up with a selection list of instructors.
Her role had diminished and she didn’t quite know what to make of it. Parth had been a whirlwind from when she arrived before Winter’s Rise to now, well into spring. She sat back while Willa and Banna began to talk about their work on the School. Sara felt that she now observed as a child might observe her parents talking about something important. They would listen to Sara’s random comment, but smiled and continued on. Still eighteen, perhaps her age mattered to these mature women.
Sara excused herself and walked outside. No rain, no biting cold. The foliage that lined the courtyard now had filled out with leaves and a few flowers emerged. She scraped her toe on the crushed rock. Her servants, no, the Duke’s servants rolled the yard smooth every other day. Her thoughts turned to Choster, re-imagining their workouts with the man long weeks ago on this very ground.
She remembered the excitement of training hard and being pushed by the man. No one pushed her now. No Duke’s machinations, no Klark. She wondered what kept Klark busy right this instant. No Lady Grianna, who gave Sara the opportunity to test her patience. She leaned over and felt her leg without a knife strapped to it.
Teaching in the Women’s College? Sara didn’t want to disappoint Banna, but she’d reject the offer at some point. Sara wasn’t prepared to abandon her mentor, but the time would come. It all made her sad.
The Duke’s message might hold some hope. She didn’t know what, but she yearned for more than corresponding with teachers—more than half of them resided in Parth anyway. Then what?
~~~
Chapter Three
The Black Widow
“I refuse to wear orange,” Sara said, sitting in a dressmaker’s shop, thinking of Vesty’s bridesmaid dresses and how horrid the color made her feel, but according to Willa, Tollson was the best dressmaker in Parth.
The owner, Tollson, turned down his lips. “It is unbecoming to get testy, Countess.” He put a finger to his teeth as if to pick something out of them.
Sara nodded and Tollson thought for a minute and snapped his fingers. “Cream? Cream trimmed with dark brown? Do you like chocolate?”
Sara had to smile. The poor man tried so hard to make her feel at ease, so she would have to relax and accept his help. Willa touched her elbow—a signal to accept? She would take the signal in that way and nodded.
He brought over some sketches of dresses and treatments and Willa helped Sara navigate her way through all of the options until her gown had been designed. That ended up being the easy part as she spent the next hour and a half standing in a back room as the dress came to life, enduring a flutter of dressmakers.
“Tollson,” a woman nearly yelled from the front door. “I have arrived, attend to me!”
The voice grated and Sara accepted Tollson’s departure with good grace. He talked, nearly in a whisper, “You’re nearly done, my Countess. I’ll have Willa,” he winked at her, “do the shoes and I’ll have a small bag made up as well. You will look divine.” He kissed his fingers and blew them at Sara. Willa laughed as he sauntered out to meet the demanding customer.
“What took you so long?” The voice reverberated through the shop.
“I attended another noblewoman, Lady Shields.”
“No one is more important than me. Make sure you remember that,” Lady Shields said.
“The black widow,” Willa mouthed without her voice and pointed out of the fitting room, towards the front.
How could Sara avoid a confrontation with the woman? She must have had an awful day to treat the owner so rudely, or, since she wasn’t among her peers, did Lady Shields just reveal her true self?
The dressmakers worked to carefully remove Sara from the gown and led her out the back way. “It’s better for all of us if she doesn’t see you,” one of the dressmakers said and kissed Willa on the cheek as they left.
“Plant’s niece,” Willa said. “A nice woman who loves making dresses, except I do believe she won’t enjoy the next few hours.”
~
Tollson had sent out a pair of cream gloves that matched the gown. Sara hadn’t noticed women wearing them in court during h
er one experience when the King elevated her to Countess.
“The latest thing—if Tollson sends them I’d wear them. He rules fashion in Parth, that’s why Lady Grianna did not take you to him. The other women will know you wear one of his dresses and I must say he outdid himself for you,” Willa said as she adjusted Sara’s gown. “There. As usual a perfect fit. He is amazing.”
Sara pulled on the gloves and looked at the gown in the mirror in her bedroom, astonished at how grown up she appeared. “I look like a countess,” she said.
“A few gold ornaments in your hair and you will be all set. Trust me to get what’s needed and we’ll work on your hair an hour before you leave for the reception.”
“What more do I need to know tomorrow night?” she said as she removed the gown.
“Remember every thing that Lisha Temple taught you. I can pummel you with metaphors, Sara. Lion’s den or should I say lioness den, spider’s web, a black trap, and on and on. Trust no one and say as little as possible.”
“Should I play mind games with them?”
Willa just shook her head. “I wouldn’t. The men and women that you meet will be cynics like you’ve never met before.”
Back in Obridge, Sara had castigated Lisha Temples’ outside Interpretive Listening group for being cynics and forgetting how to be real people. She had to hold onto that and quietly observe. “Say as little as possible and observe them, so they won’t observe me, is that it?”
“Yes, indeed.”
~
Lady Shields’ house nearly rivaled the Goldagle townhouse in Stonebridge. The hired carriage let Sara off at the door. At least there were other unescorted women and men entering the wide open doors. She presented her invitation and a distinguished servant escorted her to a black haired beauty dressed in a shimmering orange gown.
“Countess of Brightlings, your ladyship,” the man said, leading her into a large ballroom. So this was how Brightlings’ ballroom would have looked had there been nobles enough in the northern downs to fill it.
“Sara Featherwood,” the voice matched with the one in the shop and suddenly Lady Shields turned coarse before her eyes. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Call me Millis would you?”
