Unseemly Ambition (2 page)

They looked up to see Lady Principal
Pomeroy approaching. “Ruby,” she said, in her high-pitched, breathy
voice, “the photographer is ready for you.”

“
Um, Miss Pomeroy….”
Concordia gestured toward the lady principal’s frizzy brown flyaway
hair, coming out of its bun.

“
Oh!” Gertrude Pomeroy
reached up to anchor the straggling pins. “Thank you, dear.” She
gave a wink, her eyes bright blue behind crooked
spectacles.

Ruby stood and tugged at her cuffs.
“Let’s get this over with.”

“
I’ll wait for you,”
Concordia offered. “We can go back to the cottage
together.”

With a nod, Ruby followed Miss Pomeroy
toward the platform.

Concordia sipped her tea. Over by the
French doors, Miss Jenkins, the school’s infirmarian and physical
training instructor, conversed with Bursar Isley and his wife,
Lily.

Concordia found her
attention drawn to Lily Isley—an attractive woman, though on the
nearer side of fifty. Today her elegant figure was shown to great
advantage in a godeted skirt of deep-red velvet
, which drew a number of admiring glances from the men in the
room.
No doubt Mrs. Isley was accustomed to
such looks from her days as a stage actress.

Though Mrs. Isley had obviously
abandoned the footlights since her marriage, Concordia hoped she
could be coaxed to take over the senior play. It had by default
become Concordia’s responsibility once again this year.

Miss Jenkins detached herself from the
group and poured herself a cup of tea. Concordia caught her eye,
gesturing to the rocking chair beside her, and Miss Jenkins crossed
the room.

“
Whew!” Miss Jenkins
settled into the chair. “Between the warm room and the non-stop
talking, I was beginning to feel as if I were on the basketball
court with my students.”

Although Hannah Jenkins was getting on
in years—her white hair and deeply-lined face from hatless years of
outdoor activity made that clear—she carried her trim figure with
an ageless vigor that astounded her colleagues. Concordia, decades
younger, couldn’t imagine keeping up with a gymnasium full of
students day after day.

“
I thought you kept the
girls running around too much to have breath for chit-chat,”
Concordia said with a grin.

Miss Jenkins pursed her lips. “You’d
be surprised. If mindless chatter were a school subject, these
girls would pass with flying colors.”

“
What were you speaking to
the bursar and his wife about? It seemed a lively
conversation.”

“
It was entirely one-sided,
I can assure you,” Miss Jenkins said. “First, Isley complained
about the cost of this reception, but of course it’s not surprising
that he’d been overruled. One cannot come between ladies and their
sweets. I’m surprised all his years of marriage haven’t taught him
that.”

Concordia smiled. “He’s quite near
with a dollar.”

“
Stingy
is more like it,” Miss Jenkins retorted, setting her empty cup
aside. “Oh, I’m not saying the college’s financial condition hasn’t
improved considerably under his tenure, but when the president of
the school can’t even get a new buggy to replace the old one that’s
beyond repair, it gets ridiculous.”

“
But I heard we
are
getting a new buggy,
and that you had something to do with it,” Concordia
said.

Miss Jenkins smiled. “It wasn’t easy.
A friend of mine works for the Hartford Carriage Company, and I was
able to wheedle a college discount on last year’s Buckeye buggy.
The model didn’t sell as well as expected. The deep discount swayed
the bursar in the end.” She sighed. “The sight of Edward Langdon
riding to town in the custodian’s farm cart should never be
repeated.”

Concordia smothered a laugh,
remembering Langdon’s expression of painful dignity last week as he
rode through the front gate on the rickety old wagon.

“
Then our conversation
shifted to politics,” Miss Jenkins went on, plucking a meringue
from a nearby tray. “I didn’t realize how active the Isleys are in
the state senatorial campaign. Particularly Mrs. Isley, which was a
surprise.”

Concordia raised an eyebrow.
“Really?”

“
Regrettably, I couldn’t
shift the topic to women’s suffrage, so that’s when I—” Miss
Jenkins hesitated as Ruby approached them.

“
All done with the
photographer?” Concordia asked Ruby.

The matron nodded. “And more’n ready
to go home.”

Concordia checked her lapel watch.
“My, yes, it’s getting late.” She stacked their dishware, giving a
little nod of goodbye as Miss Jenkins turned to leave as
well.

“
Wot’s this?” Ruby asked,
pulling Mr. Rosen’s card off the plate.

“
What
is
that, indeed?” a testy male voice
chimed in.

Concordia’s heart sank as she turned
to see Randolph Maynard’s tall figure looming over her. The dean’s
imperious tone had attracted the attention of others standing
nearby: Lady Principal Pomeroy, President Langdon, and the
Isleys.

Maynard glanced at the card
Ruby clutched. “Hmm. What does a
newspaper
reporter
want with one of our teachers?” He
raised an eyebrow. “Or do you prefer ‘lady sleuth,’ Miss
Wells?”

What, have you lost your
wits?

Othello
, I.i

Week 2, Instructor Calendar

Valentine’s Day 1898

Concordia slipped the card from Ruby’s
grasp and tucked it into her skirt pocket. “If it’s all the same to
you, Mr. Maynard, I have themes to grade,” she snapped. The nerve
of the man, holding her up to ridicule in front of everyone as if
she were an errant schoolgirl.

Maynard’s lip curled. “One
would hope so, Miss Wells. That
is
what we are paying you for.”

Concordia turned away without another
word, remembering on her way out of Sycamore House to retrieve her
coat. And a good thing, too: the snow that had been threatening all
day was coming down in earnest. Several inches covered the ground
already.

Ruby followed right behind. “Too big
for his breeches, that one,” she huffed. She wrapped her scarf more
securely around her head and planted her feet in Concordia’s tracks
in the snow.

Concordia nodded miserably as she
thrust her hands deeper in her pockets. What a horrible man. It
would be a relief to get back to the cottage and work in peace and
quiet.

Peace and quiet were not to
be had at Willow Cottage, however. After nearly three years of
living and teaching at the school, Concordia should know not to
expect
that
. She
and Ruby returned to a cottage filled with chattering girls. They
had made a banner:
Congratulations,
Ruby!
decorated in Valentine’s Day style,
with pink and white lacy hearts around the border. The students
greeted the matron with hugs and an avalanche of
questions:

“
How much money did they
give you?”

“
Were you
nervous?”

“
Let’s see the plaque...did
they spell your name right?”

“
Ooh, what a pretty skirt
you’re wearing today!”

“
What did the newspaper man
ask you?”

“
What sort of food was
there?”

Ruby turned a flustered red and held
up both hands in surrender. “Enough!” she cried. “You’d think I was
the blinkin’ President of America, the way you all are carrying
on.” Her expression softened at the sight of the banner. “I’m real
grateful for the trouble, lambs, but there’s work to be done around
here, and this parlor i’n’t going to clean itself.” She gave one of
the freshmen a meaningful look, and the girl hurried to get the
duster.

“
You heard Ruby,” Concordia
said. “You all have chores and other things to do, so go on, let
the poor woman catch her breath. Anna, take the broom out to the
porch and clear off the snow. Has anyone seen Miss Lovelace or Miss
Smedley?”

“
I haven’t seen Alison,”
one young lady volunteered, “but Maisie came in to change and then
left again. She said she was going coasting on Rook’s Hill with a
couple of the other girls.”

Concordia looked through the window.
With the snow coming down at this rate, she had no intention of
chasing after Miss Lovelace.

Ruby frowned at Concordia. “Somethin’
going on with those two again?”

Concordia pulled her away from the
girls. “They left the reception much earlier than they were
supposed to,” she murmured. “The dean was the one who pointed it
out.”

Ruby sighed. “Land sakes, of all
people to notice. I think some extra chores are in order, once they
show up.”

Concordia nodded.

“
When will we get to read
the valentines?” one girl asked, motioning to the hall basket,
filled to overflowing with homemade cards and small, tissue-wrapped
packets.

“
You know we distribute
them after dinner, and not before,” Concordia said firmly. “Go on,
now.”

The girls pouted but shuffled off to
their tasks.

At that moment, Alison Smedley walked
in. She hesitated at the sight of Concordia and Ruby.

“
Oh. Miss Wells…” she
began.

Concordia gestured to the girl’s
sodden boots and coat. “Hang up your things to dry, then join me in
my quarters.” She looked over at Ruby. “I’ll take care of it. Why
don’t you rest for a while?”

Ruby gave her a grateful look as she
headed for the kitchen.

Concordia regarded Miss Smedley in
silence as the young lady perched uneasily on the only other chair
in Concordia’s study, nervously smoothing back her pale hair in its
bun and settling the folds of her burgundy-velvet-trimmed cashmere
skirts.

Concordia knew that Alison Smedley
came from the Philadelphia Smedleys, a family of blue-blood wealth
with powerful ties to steel and railroad magnates. Here at Hartford
Women’s College, Miss Smedley enjoyed a bevy of admiring girls who
sought her favor. When it suited her, she could be a pleasant young
lady. It did not always suit her. Particularly where her roommate
was concerned.

“
I know what you’re going
to say,” Miss Smedley said, breaking the silence. “I was supposed
to help during the entire reception, and I didn’t stay.”

Concordia waited for more. “Why did
you leave?” she finally asked. It was like pulling
teeth.

Miss Smedley gave a
dramatic sigh. “Maisie was useless. If she wasn’t staring out the
window at the snow, she was rearranging the table, and I’d have to
change it back. I worked hard to get it just right. The spoons
should never go to the left of the saucers in a proper afternoon
tea configuration, nor should the cups be
stacked
.” She rolled her
eyes.

“
So that’s why you
left?”

“
No,” Miss Smedley said
through gritted teeth. “Maisie abandoned me first. To play in the
snow. I suppose one can’t expect much from such an ill-bred girl. I
left after that. After all, why should I stay and do all the
work?”

“
Because we were even more
short-handed, and needed you,” Concordia retorted.

The girl shrugged.

They were getting nowhere. Concordia
stood. “I will have a list of chores for you in the morning, Miss
Smedley. You may go.”

Miss Smedley raised an
eyebrow in surprise, no doubt expecting a long-winded lecture.
“What about Maisie? She should get
more
chores.”

“
There will be plenty of
work for both of you,” Concordia assured her.

After dinner, two dozen excited girls
gathered in the parlor of Willow Cottage. Ruby took a quick count.
“We’re missin’ a few sophomores.”

“
Miss Lovelace and her
friends promised to be back in time for the valentines,” one of the
students said. She paused. “I think I hear them now.”

Sure enough, the door swung wide as
two girls stepped in, bringing a swirl of snow with
them.

“
Brr
, get that door closed,” Concordia said. “Where’s Miss
Lovelace?”

“
She’s stowing the sled,”
one girl answered, shaking snow from her scarf.

“
You’re getting water on
the floor,” Concordia said sternly. “Go hang those things by the
kitchen stove to dry, and mop up this mess. You know
better.”

They gave her a sheepish look and
hurried to the kitchen.

Concordia threw on a shawl and stepped
out to the porch to see what was keeping Miss Lovelace.

What on earth?

A snow-encrusted Maisie Lovelace was
grappling with an enormous sled, obviously homemade and painted a
gaily-hued red.

“
Let me help you with
this…leviathan,” Concordia said, grasping the rope.