Chapter Seven
All the theory in the world wasn’t much use without the means to put it into practice effectively, and no matter how much it might chafe, Georgie desperately needed proper experience and a good reference if she was ever going to get another position as a governess. Those were two of the three cast-iron conclusions she had come to after a fitful first night in her temporary bedchamber. The third and most unpleasant one was that she had foolishly allowed Captain Kincaid’s first impressions of her to be bad. Which meant that her temporary position here beneath his roof could well be cut short if she didn’t do a better job of appearing to be the sort of governess he wanted. If he dismissed her, then she would be not only the only protégé who could not impress at an interview, but one of those who failed to impress on the job too.
The utter humiliation of holding those two accolades, on top of the dubious honor of being the oldest protégé to ever find gainful employment after graduating, filled her with dread. So much of it, she wouldn’t feel able to show her face at Miss Prentice’s school again if she made a hash of this.
Especially in her first week!
The shame would be so unbearable she would have to move to the wilds of the Pennines to avoid bumping into anyone she knew. Or the Outer Hebrides. Or better yet, remove herself to the Antipodes and live in exile for all eternity with the convicts.
She absolutely could not let that happen!
Which meant that she had to find a way to convince him that she was the right woman for the position. A task that might be easier said than done after yesterday’s debacle with the dog and the string.
The expression of complete horror and disappointment etched into the captain’s handsome face the second he entered her classroom had haunted her ever since. Even as she had rebelled against his pompous, authoritarian tone with all the bravado of one who had grown up under the constant and crushing disapproval of the colonel, she had been hideously embarrassed to have been found so wanting and clueless after so short an acquaintance.
And she did not doubt for a second that the captain thought her clueless because the tension in every sinew of his body announced that better than any words possibly could. Not that the words he did choose to use contradicted his blatant disgust at her methods in any way. No, indeed. Sarcasm had positively dripped off every clipped consonant as he had surveyed the untidy floor.
I am intrigued to understand how you thoughtthis amount of chaos was a fitting educational substitute for a valuable afternoon of reading, writing, and arithmetic. Only it doesn’t appear to me that you managed much of that in the three hours you had for lessons but wasted on fun.
Could he have issued a more damning indictment of her teaching abilities than that? He thought she had not only wasted time, but that she was a complete waste of time too.
With hindsight, destroying all the order and effort he had put into her classroom once they had come in from the garden had not been the most sensible way to convince her employer that she was a governess par excellence.
Instead of alienating him from the outset with her modern and collaborative approach to education, she and the children could have spent a few minutes collecting some specimens in the garden. Then drawn those insects at their desks while she gently probed them with questions. What had possessed her to dispense with the desks entirely on her first day, she still couldn’t fathom, especially when the captain had been so proud of them.
Then, instead of presenting him with the calm, serene scene he patently expected to see, he had been confronted with anarchy. It hadn’t been that bad, of course, because he had only seen the last, damning few minutes of her efforts. But to someone like him—someone who wore two pocket watches and was so neat and fastidious he had likely never experienced so much as a hair out of place on his own head—it must have looked like the whole world had gone to hell in a handcart.
She really should have handled that better. And she shouldn’t have left him with that flippant jibe about swabbing the deck because that meant he had been left steaming. Was probably still steaming because she had avoided eating a slice of humble pie and had quoted Confucius rather than apologized for making such a mess of his morning room.
But it was done now; she couldn’t change yesterday. Today, however, she was adamant he would find no fault. Today, she was going to take heed of Miss P’s wise words and do whatever it took to convince the captain that her classroom was running precisely as the stickler envisioned it. Even if that meant meekly standing by and biting her tongue while he lectured her or patronized her like the colonel had daily.
Or badly quoted military leaders at her.
Somewhat ironically and with a twinkle in his eye, as if he were getting the quotes wrong on purpose.
But still. The similarities to the unyielding and pompous colonel were close enough to make her wary of trying the captain’s patience with the relentless enthusiasm with which she had tried her awful stepfather’s. The colonel had been stuck with her and the captain wasn’t, so she really had to do a better job of doing the job he thought she should be doing.
All she had to do was earn the stickler’s trust.
From the back foot.
Fast.
While suppressing the rebellious St. Joan of Arc within who was positively fighting to get out and tell him how wrong he was about everything.
Heaven help her!
For the umpteenth time, she checked the equipment and books neatly lined up on her desk and compared them to her notes. Today, she had planned a packed schedule, which would serve as categoric proof that she hadn’t wasted a single second of the children’s valuable lesson time if he decided to check on her again.
Which, of course, he would.
Men like that, who were convinced that they always knew best, that all their orders should be followed to the letter without question, would be too arrogant and pompous to think that they would not have been obeyed if she pandered a little to their ego. It certainly would have worked on the colonel if she’d been able to suppress her own outrage at him long enough to try it. His revolving succession of temporary servants were adept at keeping up the right appearances whenever he was around, and because keeping up appearances allowed them to blend into the woodwork, the fool never noticed when they weren’t following his orders to the letter. Ergo, she would do the same now.
She would pander to the captain’s obsession with time and use it so productively that even he would have no cause to find any fault! The navy, according to Mrs. Rigsby, was the captain’s life. Therefore, it stood to reason that if she could make the problem of the children disappear, her employer’s disapproving focus would return to Admiralty matters, where it belonged.
“Good morning, Miss Rowe.” Even though she was expecting her new pupils to arrive, her nerves were pulled too tight not to clench at Felix’s greeting. Once again, Norbert was trailing on his heels, and that wouldn’t do at all when the dog had played a significant part in creating yesterday’s chaos. The boy scanned the desks warily, taking in the paper, quills, and abacuses gracing each one with undisguised disappointment. “What’s all that for?”
“Our first mathematics lesson. I always prefer to tackle that first thing while the mind is at its freshest.” They were going to cram a lot into that first hour. Papers would be filled aplenty with sums the stickler could scrutinize at leisure. Then there would be an hour of geography, which she knew the aspiring explorer Felix would adore. Then the final hour before lunch would be something the girls would enjoy—she had planned their English lesson around one of the stories in Grimms’ Fairy Tales. A story about a princess called Rapunzel who was locked in a high tower.
This afternoon, they would start with science, and this time they would go outside to collect a few specimens to study in class. History would follow, and they would begin learning about all the kings and queens of England, starting with Alfred the Great. The day would purposefully end with handwriting practice, so that when the captain arrived at five to five on the dot to inspect the troops, the children would have pens in their hands.
If Georgie said so herself, that final lesson was a stroke of genius. Today, Captain Kincaid would not only see the physical manifestation of what he thought good learning looked like, he would return to a tidy oasis of disciplined quiet.
Felix ran his fingertip over the nearest abacus before he flicked a bead to one side, as if dismissing it. “What will I be learning while the girls do maths?”
“Mathematics as well. There is always more to learn.”
As that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear, he pouted. “But I already told you that Mama and Papa have taught me everything I need to know and I’m hardly going to need anything more complex when I am going to be an entomologist.” The nonchalance returned as he made his way to the globe and set it spinning. “I’ve been studying more important things, like surviving alone in the wild. I’ve even built my own treehouse, which Norbert and I camp in overnight all the time and which I doubt many other boys of ten are clever enough to do. I can light a fire without a tinderbox and cook a meal on it. I bet Uncle Harry cannot even do that.” His skinny chest puffed with pride. “Those are the sorts of skills an exploring entomologist needs all alone in a strange land. You do remember that I am going to sail around the world and record every insect on the planet, don’t you?”
“Of course, I remember.” Georgie nodded, ensuring her smile was encouraging and not in any way patronizing. “And after seeing how well you drew them yesterday, I have no doubt that Insectum Mundus will be Professor Felix Pendleton’s magnum opus. One that academics will refer to for centuries to come.” The boy’s chest puffed some more at her compliment. “But it is going to be a jolly difficult thing to write if you cannot sail the seven seas single-handed, as you plan to, because you will never be able to do that without understanding complex mathematics.” She gestured for him to sit, ignoring the outraged confusion that skittered across his features as he did so with reluctance.
“Navigation, for example, requires some very complex calculations.” She really didn’t have a clue what navigating required, so she guessed in as convincing a manner as she could with all the bravado of an expert on the subject. “If you get the angles and the sums wrong, you could end up anywhere. Get the wind speed wrong and you could crash your vessel into the rocks because you did not leave enough time to slow it down. Not to mention, as I am sure your uncle will concur if we ask his expert naval opinion, the dangers of not calculating your provisions correctly, or worse, distributing the weight of them incorrectly belowdecks. The consequences for the good ship, Felix, could be catastrophic. There will be no seven volumes on insects if you starve to death or die of thirst on your voyage. Nor will the world ever get to read your life’s work if your vessel has sunk to the bottom of the sea with you still in it.”
“But…”
Fortunately, the timely arrival of Marianne and Grace with Polly, the young scullery maid who had been commandeered to act as the children’s nanny in the mornings and at bedtime, prevented further argument.
“Good morning, girls. Please take your seats.” Georgie ushered them into the room while the maid hovered in the doorway. She didn’t appear to be much older than Felix herself. Fourteen, perhaps. Fifteen at a push. Too young to cope with the three boisterous Pendletons, that was for certain. The poor thing already looked as though she had been run ragged by the effort it had taken to shepherd them all into their clothes and down to the dining room.
“The children have had their breakfast and the captain told me to remind you that their luncheon will be served promptly at one and their supper on the dot of five.” To her credit, Polly looked as uncomfortable issuing that reminder as Georgie was galled to hear it, and wrung her hands, pained. “If there’s nothing else you need me to do, Miss Rowe, Mrs. Rigsby needs me in the kitchen.”
“If you would just take Norbert to the kitchen with you, Mr. Simpkins will know where to put him until the children finish their lessons.” At least she hoped Simpkins did. She hadn’t asked him. Had barely conversed with him at all, truth be told, because he regarded her with almost as much bewilderment and disapproval as the captain did.
“Norbert won’t have that.” Felix jumped out of his seat to plead the dog’s case while stroking his floppy ears. “He has to stay with me. I saved his life, nursed him back from starvation, and gave him a home, so we have an unbreakable bond. Norbert needs to be by my side else he’ll misbehave again.”
“That’s true,” said Marianne, nodding as Norbert buried his nose in his young master’s thigh. “Ever since the first day he found him half drowned on the beach, Norbert is hopelessly devoted to Felix. Trying to separate them will not end well.”
As if she agreed, or was too terrified of Norbert to try, Polly was already backing out of the door. Before she bolted down the hallway, Georgie took hold of the dog’s collar. “After Norbert misbehaved in here yesterday and almost destroyed my classroom, Norbert can enjoy his morning nap in peace while we do our lessons, and he and Felix will be reunited at luncheon. Isn’t that right, Norbert?” She addressed the dog in a soothing, coercive voice as she tried to lure him toward Polly and the door, but sensing shenanigans and his immediate eviction, he planted his big paws beside his young master and refused to budge.
“See.” Felix folded his arms, smug. “I told you he wouldn’t have it. Dogs are the loyalest animals in the entire universe. They have always been a man’s best friend, but when you save a dog’s life, he will never abandon you.” As a reward for that loyalty, Felix bent to stroke his best friend’s ears while he stared back at Georgie, defiant. “Never.”
She would not fall at the first hurdle because of a dog!
If brute force wasn’t going to work, and his master wasn’t going to help, there was always bribery. “I am sure Mrs. Rigsby has a nice treat for you in the kitchen, doesn’t she, boy? A little bit of sausage perhaps?” Norbert’s ears pricked up at just the mention of the word sausage. “Would you like a sausage?” He tilted his shaggy head in canine indecision as he looked from Felix to her, and she knew he was wavering. “Would Norbert like a lovely sausage?” Georgie sauntered to the door herself.
The dog almost stood.
Almost.
The powerful muscles in his back legs quivered as he hovered somewhere in between a sit and a stand. But then he glanced at Felix again for approval, and when the boy offered no encouragement beyond a stern glare, returned his shaggy bottom to the floor with a thud.
“No, Norbert!” She marched back to him and tried to be commanding, pulling herself to her full but pathetic height and staring him dead in the eye. “You need to go to the kitchen.”
Norbert responded by turning his head away and pretending he could neither see nor hear her.
“Felix—take him to the kitchen now!” Georgie wagged her stern teacher finger and gave him her special patented schoolmistress’s stare. A stare so deadly it had brought more than one errant pupil at Miss P’s school to tears when they had dared to test her. Fortunately, it did not let her down today despite Felix’s unbreakable bond with his dog and, after several defiant seconds during which both Marianne and Grace gave him a stern look too, the eldest Pendleton withered on the vine.
“Yes, Miss Rowe.” The boy even bowed his head in shame as his sisters exhaled in relief. “Come on, Norbert. Let’s go get you a sausage in the kitchen.”
Where sausage had been the magic word mere moments ago, kitchen now had the opposite effect, and Norbert went from sitting to collapsing in a heap on the parquet. As Felix tugged on his collar, the dog went rigid, using his immense weight to glue himself to the floor. “No, Norbert!” The boy yanked the collar and the dog barely slid an inch. “You have to go to the kitchen!”
Georgie and Marianne rushed to help maneuver the beast out, and between the three of them, they managed to drag him another foot toward the door. Little Grace then joined in, pushing ineffectually from the rear, and while they all grunted from exertion, all Polly the scullery maid did was blink at them.
“Some help would be appreciated, Polly,” Georgie said through gritted teeth, and after yet another blinking pause, the girl entered the fray.
Finally, they had some purchase on the prostrate Norbert and managed to shift him another two feet before his carcass went from inflexible to floppy. It made no scientific sense, defying all the laws of gravity, but for some reason a floppy Norbert was now quadruple the weight of a stiffened Norbert, and no matter what the five of them tried, the lax muscles had rendered him immovable. Almost as if he were now part of the very fabric of the floor itself and there forever.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” Like a petulant child, Georgie stamped her foot, furious that she had been bested by a dog on only her second day when he had been partly responsible for thoroughly ruining her first. As she racked her brains for an alternative means of moving him, she glanced at the looming clock and realized, with a start, that she had already wasted fifteen minutes of valuable lesson time. Any more and she would be woefully behind her new schedule, the blank sheets of paper atop the children’s desks would not be covered in reams of sums, and the lack of evidence of a rigorous and traditional mathematics lesson would hardly impress the captain when he came to inspect her later.
If the dog refused to compromise, someone had to.
“Norbert can stay for this morning.” She consoled herself that it was only a temporary surrender while she regrouped. “But he will not be allowed into this room this afternoon under any circumstances.” She would barricade the door with her own body if necessary because when the captain returned at the end of the day, there would be no dog to spoil her tidy, disciplined oasis of quiet. This time she would pass muster.
She would pass it with flying colors!
On that she was resolute.