Unseemly Ambition

1
Unseemly
Ambition

A Concordia Wells
Mystery

by K.B. Owen

Author of
Dangerous and Unseemly
and
Unseemly Pursuits

Unseemly
Ambition

A Concordia Wells Mystery

Copyright © 2014 Kathleen Belin
Owen

Printed in the United States of
America

***

All rights reserved, which includes the
right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever except as provided by United States Copyright
Law.

This is a work of fiction. Names,
characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the
author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead,
is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author and
publisher.

Cover design by Melinda VanLone,
BookCoverCorner.com

***

ISBN-978-0-9912368-3-1

To my parents, Steve and
Agnes Belin,

who nurtured my love of
reading

and taught me to be daring
in my ambitions.

Thank you.

Hartford Women’s
College

Week 2, Instructor Calendar

Valentine’s Day 1898

Why must fancy shoes inevitably pinch
during long speeches? Professor Concordia Wells pondered this and
other unanswerable questions as President Langdon droned on in
front of a crowd in the Sycamore House dining room. At least today
Langdon was droning on about her dear friend and cottage-mate Ruby
Hitchcock, so the discomfort was worth it.

Concordia, not blessed with tall
stature, stood on tiptoe to better see President Langdon, Lady
Principal Pomeroy, and Ruby on the platform. The guest of honor
looked lovely today, beaming and dressed in her best Sunday-church
outfit, a soft white pleated shirtwaist with a two-toned tweed
skirt of fawn and navy.

“
Today we give Ruby
Hitchcock this Outstanding Staff Member Award for her more than
twenty years of faithful service to Hartford Women’s College,”
Langdon said. His smile reached his eyes, soft with paternal
sentiment. “But our Ruby is not simply the matron of Willow
Cottage, keeping house and acting as chaperone to the students who
live there. She, along with Miss Wells, are the heart and soul of
that little domicile, acting as surrogate mothers to the girls in
their care, fostering kindness, cooperation, and refined womanly
behavior.”

Ruby looked across the room at
Concordia and rolled her eyes. Concordia grinned, then glanced back
at Miss Smedley and Miss Lovelace, the two Willow Cottage girls
assigned to help serve the refreshments today. Each girl stood as
far from the other at the dessert table as she could manage,
exchanging unladylike scowls. Concordia wished that “kindness,
cooperation, and refined womanly behavior” would assert itself
soon. It might make it easier for the two to share living
quarters.

Concordia turned her attention back to
Ruby, who was extending a gloved hand to accept the plaque and
envelope. After a hearty round of applause, the room fell quiet,
waiting.

“
Ah, um....” Ruby
hesitated. A dusky flush crept up her neck.

Concordia hid a smile behind her
glove. How ironic that a woman perfectly at her ease when dressing
down a wayward student in her charge should find it daunting to
address a crowd of teachers, administrators, and trustees. Perhaps
the presence of the newspaperman jotting notes made Ruby
nervous.

“
This is right kind of you,
Mr. Langdon,” Ruby said finally. “Thank you.”

The reporter raised a hand.

“
Yes…Mr. Rosen.” Langdon
pointed with a pudgy finger.

“
How do you like your job,
Mrs. Hitchcock…it
is
Mrs, isn’t it?” the man asked, pushing his bowler further up
his head as he checked his notes. “Widowed, ma’am?”

Ruby stiffened and her right hand
twitched. Concordia remembered the milkman’s boy had gotten a sound
cuff on the ear last week for asking how old the matron was.
Luckily the reporter was out of range.

“
Yes, her husband died in
the war, more than thirty years ago,” Langdon added
quickly.

“
Ah. My sympathies.” He
made a note. “So what can you tell me about cottage dormitory
life?”

Ruby took a deep breath. “We-ell, them
girls can be right mischievous. I have my hands full keeping up wi’
them.”

Concordia glanced again at Miss
Smedley and Miss Lovelace. They now stood beside each other, and
close proximity between those two rarely ended well. Miss Smedley
appeared to be re-positioning the cups and cutlery, while Miss
Lovelace gripped one lone spoon in her white-knuckled fist, either
to thwart the other girl’s arrangement or to shove it up her
nose...it was difficult to tell.

Right mischievous,
indeed.

“
But they’re good young
ladies all the same,” Ruby added hastily, watching the reporter
scribble on his pad.

“
What do you like best
about being here?” he asked.

“
I suppose the girls
keep
me
young,
too.” Her eyes softened. “I remember them all. I’ve even bounced
some o’ their babes on my knee, when they’ve come back to visit.”
She cleared her throat awkwardly.

Satisfied, the reporter
tucked away his notepad. “The story will be featured in the
paper’s
College Miscellany
section this Friday,” he said.

Langdon beamed his approval, then
gestured to the back table. “Everyone, help yourselves to
refreshments.”

Ruby breathed a sigh as she and
Concordia moved to a buffet table laden with a bounty of sweets:
madelines, scones, linzer tarts, meringues. The sharp tang of
raspberry reminded Concordia of summertime on this blustery winter
day. She offered Ruby a cookie plate. “Here, try the jammy ones,
they’re delicious.”

Ruby shook her head. “I’m jes’
parched, miss. I could do wi’ a cup of tea. Can we go home
now?”

“
Not quite yet. The lady
principal said something about posing for a picture. But I’ll get
you that tea in the meantime. Why don’t you find us seats?” The
matron was looking pale. Concordia wasn’t so sure this award
business was doing her any favors.

Concordia reached the tea table, a
visual confection of lace and the thinnest, gold-rimmed bone china.
As every surface was spoken for, she struggled to pick up the
teapot while balancing plate, cup, and saucer. Randolph Maynard,
the school’s dean, watched her across the table. “Mr. Maynard,
would you mind?” She inclined her head toward the
teapot.

The dean raised a heavy black eyebrow.
“I’m not on the wait staff, Miss Wells,” he growled in a deep
voice.

Concordia bit back the impertinent
retort that sprang to mind. It would not do to squabble with the
administrator, difficult though he was. Despite being at the school
for a year now, Maynard remained stiff and distant, even downright
grumpy. He got along better with the horses in the school’s stable,
where he spent much of his free time.

“
Speaking of which,”
Maynard continued, his scowl deepening, “where are your students?
Aren’t they supposed to be helping here at the table?”

Oh, no.
She had seen them just a few minutes ago. Concordia turned
away to look up and down the dining room, praying the girls weren’t
off in a corner quarreling. Miss Lovelace and Miss Smedley were
nowhere to be seen. Why had they abandoned their posts? When this
was over and she returned to the cottage, she would give them an
earful.

“
Here, miss, let me help
you with that,” said a voice at her elbow. Mr. Rosen picked up the
heavy pot and poured the tea.

“
Oh!” Concordia was more
distracted than she realized. “Thank you.”

Rosen dropped his voice. “I haven’t
seen you since that...unpleasantness last year. You know, with
Colonel Adams’ death.”

Concordia frowned. “Of course I
remember. But that’s long past. Best not to bring it up again.” She
glanced in Dean Maynard’s direction. He was scowling into his cup,
mercifully oblivious.

“
I couldn’t help but notice
your role in solving the case, Miss Wells,” Rosen
continued.

Concordia waved a dismissive hand.
“I’d say you played a more significant part in helping Lieutenant
Capshaw track down the culprits than I.”

Rosen beamed. “I got quite
the scoop out of it. Certainly a feather in my cap at the
Courant
. But I was
wondering...could I interview you about your
experience?”

“
Me? There’s hardly
anything to tell that you don’t already know.”

“
But it’s a terrific
angle,” Rosen said enthusiastically. “You know, the
lady sleuth
, and all that.
I understand there had been another incident at the school, a
semester earlier. I only just learned about it. Lots of material
there. My readers love that sort of thing.”

To Concordia’s dismay, she
noticed Maynard, on the far side of the table, had taken on a
posture of attentive stillness, which typically comes from trying
to
look
as if one
is not eavesdropping. Time to squash this, before the dean heard
more about her past as a
lady
sleuth
.

“
Certainly not, Mr. Rosen,”
Concordia said. “I have no interest in that sort of
self-aggrandizing. If you’ll excuse me.” She turned away, awkwardly
balancing the teacups and plate.

Rosen slid his card under a cookie.
“In case you change your mind. And if there’s ever anything you
need, feel free to contact me.”

Concordia found Ruby seated on an
ottoman beside the window. “Quick, take something before I drop it
all.”

Ruby grabbed the topmost cup. After
setting everything down, Concordia collapsed into a wing chair. She
looked over at the matron and smiled. “How does it feel to be the
guest of honor?”

Ruby pursed her lips as if tasting
something sour. “A lot of folderol, if you ask me. I prefer a clean
kitchen and a quiet spot by the fire. O’ course, I don’t get much
in the way of clean and quiet at the cottage, either.”

Concordia laughed. All too true. “At
least the reporter didn’t keep you long with a lot of questions.”
She passed Ruby a napkin.

“
Mighty nosy, all the
same.” Ruby snorted. “Wot does he care if I’m a widow or
not?”

“
I suppose they get carried
away. Asking questions is their business, after all. I hope it
didn’t bring up bad memories.”

Ruby shook her head. “No, it’s not
that. Land sakes, that was more’n thirty years ago. I was a new
bride when Johnny went off to war. After he died, it was hard to
make a living. But I managed, even though the widow’s pension was
pitiful.”

Concordia nodded. Ruby’s hobbling
gait, graying hair, and short stature implied a frail old lady, but
the matron was far more resilient than her appearance let
on.

“
Now that we’re talking
’bout brides,” Ruby said, dropping a sugar cube in her tea, “when
is your friend Miss Adams getting married to that
policeman?”

“
Next week,” Concordia
said. “I’m grateful for your help in hemming my dress. Now it’s
perfect.”

Ruby smiled. “You’ll make a lovely
maid of honor. Will Mr. Bradley be there, too?”

Concordia nodded.

Ruby’s smile broadened. “Then you
might want to tuck away those spectacles of yours before the
ceremony.”

“
I happen to be fond of
seeing where I step, thank you very much,” Concordia retorted,
self-consciously adjusting her glasses.

“
With a man’s arm to hold
onto, who needs to see?” Ruby asked mischievously.

Concordia blushed. “That
will be quite enough of
that
sort of talk.”