Netherby Halls (7 page)

Next to the narrow bed, which was covered with a
simple quilt of faded flowers on a pink background, stood a small,
stark nightstand. She also spied a sturdy chest of drawers, a long
mirror, and a tall, albeit narrow satinwood wardrobe.

Well, well, she was at Netherby. She had her own room
and no complaints. Things could be worse.

Miss Sallstone was a bit of a mystery. Sassy was
certain she was not what she wanted people to think—a simple
headmistress. She was sure that the headmistress was much more than
she presented, but what?

Also, what was the awful sensation she got when she
walked up the stairs? Evil? Her logic rejected this. At a school
for young girls? Impossible … and yet her magic voice had
clearly whispered the word
evil
. She had been accosted with
it; the wickedness of lingering ill deeds always made her feel sick
and set her on guard, and that was how she’d had felt.

Briefly she wondered what had happened to Miss
Saunders and made a mental note to inquire about her in the
morning.

She thought of her father and mother and then, with a
soft ache, began the business of unpacking.

* * *

Light splattered with dust particles seared through
Sassy’s undraped window the following morning and brought her eyes
flickeringly to life.

She had not slept well, and with a groan she gazed up
at the bright sun’s rays taunting her. Shading her eyes against the
offending light, she groaned again. “Must get to town and purchase
some fabric for that bare window,” she mumbled to herself.

How odd, she thought, that a window in a room
occupied by her predecessor should have gone without drapes. She
shrugged this off as she pulled the covers over herself. It was so
cold in her room.

A few moments later, she dragged herself out of bed
and washed with the water from the pitcher she had been given after
dinner. That too was uncomfortably cold. She picked out a warm
woolen shawl and draped it around herself before she went about the
business of brushing her hair, taking out the Grecian curls it had
been styled into by Lady Margate’s maid. Decidedly that would
not
do at the school. Instead, she divided her hair, braided
both sections, and pinned them at the top of her head where wispy
locks shaded her forehead.

She donned one of her mourning gowns of gray silk,
with a white lace fichu at the neck. The gown was long sleeved and
banded at the waist with a darker shade of gray velvet. Finally,
she pulled on her half-boots of black leather and then picked up
the dark wool shawl. Throwing it over her shoulders, she made her
way to the stairs to find Miss Graves.

Once again, she felt the pulse of ‘something’ in the
walls that hugged the wide staircase and tried to ignore it.

She had to make this position work—
she didn’t have
a choice.
Women of her class when left without parents, and
without a home, had to find a way to make an acceptable living. Her
trust fund would not buy her a home or even lease one and still
have enough left over to pay for everything that went with
maintaining one.

She needed to work, to save … and …

Molly almost ran into her. “Oh! There ye be!” Molly
took her hand, saying, “Oh, Miss, ye be late!”

“Late?” she repeated, surprised. The hour was quite
early. “Well, no one told me what time I was to meet with Miss
Graves,” she said, frowning, as she allowed Molly to pull her along
a few steps before dropping the girl’s hand when they reached the
L-shaped hall to a thick oak door.

Molly whispered, “Miss Graves is waiting on ye in
there, and the headmistress will be along any minute...”

Sassy smiled. “Is this usual?”

“No. I came to fetch ye so ye wouldn’t be late yer
first morning.” She clucked her tongue. “Never saw Miss Sallstone
leave her quarters before breakfast. She doesn’t dine with the
teachers. Not she!” Molly shook her head. “But she be coming in
this morning to make ye known to them, and in a right foul mood to
boot.”

“I see. I suppose she is more comfortable taking
breakfast in her rooms,” Sassy remarked absently.

“Aye, and never before ten! And,” Molly said with a
strange look, “not always alone.”

Curiosity aroused, Sassy raised a brow at the girl’s
tone. “Oh?”

Molly nodded. Evidently she had taken a liking to
Sassy, for she put her hand on Sassy’s arm, eyed her
conspiratorially, and as though imparting very serious information
said, “Aye, that one entertains in her room, and if Lady Devine
knew of it, heads would roll.”

“And why is that?” Sassy’s brows arched.

“Because ’tis a man she entertains,” Molly said with
a low hiss. “The doc comes regular, he does. And from what I have
noticed,” Molly said knowingly, “they are real good friends, they
are.” She shrugged. “And there be others as well.”

Sassy digested this but realized she shouldn’t
encourage this sort of gossip so said softly, “Thank you, Molly,
but I had better get inside before the headmistress arrives.”

Molly squeezed her arm and flitted off. Watching her
depart, Sassy marveled to herself for a moment. Molly was no more
than a child really, and yet she spoke with the most knowing manner
Sassy had ever encountered in one so young.

The doors opened into a rectangular room some forty
feet wide and sixty feet long. Windows reaching from ceiling to
floor covered nearly the full length of the front wall overlooking
the rose garden. The drapes of maroon velvet were pulled back, and
a swag of gold-trimmed maroon velvet made up the valance.

A huge fireplace took up a side wall, and one long
rectangular table sat in the center, at the moment housing some
sixty girls ranging in age from ten to sixteen.

Sassy smiled at their upturned faces and made her way
with as much poise as she could summon while all eyes were on
her.

She stopped at the round faculty table. As the
headmistress had not yet appeared, she decided to introduce herself
to the elderly women already seated there.

“Good morning, ladies. I am Miss Winthrop, the new
tutor.” She turned to the eldest woman and said, “You must be Miss
Graves.”

“I am,” said the small wiry woman, not getting up
from her seat as she waved her hand towards the other ladies. “This
is Miss Betty Tyler and her sister Wilma Tyler.”

“I am very pleased to meet you,” Sassy said politely,
noting that none of the three women had yet to offer a smile. Miss
Graves wore her short gray hair bobbed and covered with an ivory
lace cap, and her features were as steely as the shade of her hair.
Her gown of puce was trimmed with the same ivory lace. Her eyes
were a hard shade of gray and held no warmth.

The Tyler sisters seemed at first glance complete
opposites of one another. Betty, whom Sassy judged to be the elder
of the two, was fair. The woman’s hair was streaked with gray and
was tied in a single braid wound into a bun at the nape of her
neck. She was plump and short, while her sister Wilma was
dark-haired, tall, and bony. All three women were well past their
fiftieth year.

“She is far too young, Miss Graves,” Miss Betty said
in a high, shrill voice as though Sassy were not standing
there.

“But sweet, don’t you think?” put in her
sister.

“Never mind that, ladies. Miss Winthrop is here, and
as she has been appointed by Lady Devine herself, it is not our
place to question her lack of years,” Miss Graves said, her eyes
flickering over Sassy and then looking past her with an obvious
change in her demeanor.

Sassy looked around to find Miss Sallstone walking
briskly towards them.

“Up early, isn’t she?” Miss Wilma whispered within
Sassy’s hearing.

“Hush!” her sister cautioned.

Miss Sallstone came up short before Sassy and
inclined her head. “Ah, Miss Winthrop, I approve of your hair
today. It is far more in keeping than the cluster of ringlets you
wore yesterday. Perhaps later you might be able to do something
about all those curls around your face?”

Sassy’s temper tickled a few thoughts off in her
mind, but she didn’t allow herself to voice them. Her immediate
reaction was that her wispy curls were nothing compared to the
low-cut bodice of Miss Sallstone’s lovely green velvet gown.
However, for the moment, she maintained her composure and her
tongue.

“I see that you have already met your colleagues and
shall detain you only another moment from your breakfast to make
you known to our students.” She lifted her right hand for
attention, stilling the quiet chatter. She then announced the new
addition to the teaching team at Netherby.

Morning introductions at an end, Sassy was invited to
sit beside Miss Graves, as the headmistress excused herself and
left them to one another.

An odd feeling came over Sassy whenever Sallstone was
about, and it was very difficult to set aside. Was it just her
nerves? Was it the instant dislike she’d felt when she met the
woman? Just what was it?

During the meal, the women gave Sassy a thorough
lesson as to location of school supplies, students who could be
what they called ‘mischievous,’ and others who were downright
‘trouble-makers.’

Miss Graves took over at one point and gave her the
particulars of her job and what was expected of her.

“Unfortunately, Miss Winthrop,” Miss Graves said,
“the girls that will make up your class—twelve of them, I
think—have been left to themselves since Miss Saunders’s
regrettable departure. They will need some managing.”

“I see,” Sassy replied, wondering how she was going
to get organized.

“You have time off to yourself directly after their
morning lessons, an entire hour and a half, while the girls take
lunch and have free time. Saturday is only a half day, and of
course, Sunday is your own,” Miss Graves added with a sigh.

“Thank you, Miss Graves. You have been most kind,”
Sassy, said thinking the woman had been as cold as she could be
without being rude.

Breakfast was porridge, toast, and an apple. The
simple fare suited Sassy just fine, though the time seemed to drag
until she saw Miss Graves prepare to rise.

“Ah,” Miss Graves said, looking at the Tyler sisters,
“we are off.” She turned to Sassy. “Come along, and you can follow
me to your classroom.”

Thus, it was, a few moments later, Sassy stood behind
her desk looking out onto the faces of twelve girls. She could see
some of them sneak quick peeks at her, while others looked
downright fearful. One seemed to sneer at her. She went about the
business of changing the mood.

Sassy had been holding a large, leather-bound book.
She allowed it to drop soundly on her desk, which got all their
attention for that moment. A moment was all she needed for her
first foray into their lives.

These girls were orphans, from noble homes, but
orphans all the same. At this stage of their lives, she knew that
they lacked parental supervision. Did they also lack attention from
the relatives they did have? What she knew was that they were
orphans whose relatives had shipped them off to boarding school.
Her heart already ached for them.

Her heart already belonged to them on that score. She
smiled warmly, and many of the younger ones responded in kind.
Sassy’s gaze found one young girl, and for a minute they connected
and the child smiled hopefully.

“You have already been told that I am Miss Winthrop.
With that knowledge, you are now quite ahead of me, and we cannot
let such a situation continue. Therefore, if you will take out your
paper and pens, and each write down your full names, I shall make a
tour and gain an advantage. You see, I shall not only learn your
name, but your style of hand as well.” Sassy hoped her smile would
set them at ease.

As she watched them, some hurriedly, write their
names, her heart went out to them. She believed that she had made
the right decision in coming to Netherby Halls. She also believed
what she had suspected the moment she had climbed the
stairs—something was off here, something dark and dangerous! Her
magical aura was usually passive and calm, but now, now it was on
edge.

~
Eight ~

SASSY DRAPED HER dark blue redingote over her
shoulders and slipped her arms into the sleeves as she made her way
outdoors. She took a garden path, meandering slowly along the long
drive of Netherby towards the main gate.

It had been another long, full day, and she needed to
collect her thoughts while she still had the late afternoon’s light
to walk by. Her day with her class had been productive, and she had
been thrilled to find most of the girls seemed to like her. In
fact, she was pleased to admit to herself, she had become quite
popular with them during her short time at Netherby.

For the first time since she had left her home at the
parsonage, she felt somewhat satisfied with her new life. Only
somewhat though, because after a few days at Netherby she was very
nearly certain a mystery enshrouded the place, and that mystery
dealt in something wicked. She was beginning to think it was time
to call on her magic to show her what was wrong. However,
consequences, not always immediately apparent, were ever present
when one used magic. One could get addicted. She would have to be
careful not to turn to it every time she had a problem. In
addition, she had another worry: when she pushed at the dark pulse
with her white magic,
it pushed back!

The sound of a male voice broke into her musings and
caused her to jump and put a hand to her chest. She turned and
found an imposing figure of a tall young man clad in a dark frieze
coat.

He tipped his silk top hat, exposing a thick crop of
sandy-colored hair. Even in the dwindling afternoon light, Sassy
could see his clear, gray eyes were smiling warmly at her.