High Marks for Murder (A Bellehaven House Mystery Book 1) (8 page)

To make matters worse, she was completely alone in this bizarre quest. She could go to no one for help, since nobody believed she could see a ghost. She still found it impossible to believe herself.

Moreover, if word should get back to the school board, or worse, Stuart Hamilton, that she was having hallucinations, she could very well lose her position as headmistress.

It was all extremely disturbing.

Braced for the appearance of Kathleen's cloud, it was almost an anticlimax when the patch of mist finally formed at the edge of the flower beds.

Meredith felt the usual jolt of dread at the first sight of it, but this time she recovered far more quickly. By the time she could make out Kathleen's face, she felt almost calm.

"Give me a sign," she hissed at her friend, as the ghostly figure faded in and out like a shadow caught between sunlight and cloud. "What are you trying to tell me?"

The ghost seemed to understand, as one arm raised and a long finger pointed once more at the flowers.

Meredith stared at the blossoms in frustration. The beds had been weeded after all, so it was not the weeds that concerned Kathleen.

Another idea raised her head. "Are you concerned about your classes? Worried about your pupils? There's no need.
We have a new teacher arriving today. Stuart Hamilton selected her himself. I'm sure she'll—"

The ghost appeared to be agitated. The arm fluttered, then before Meredith could draw another breath, the mist faded away and disappeared.

Disappointed, she turned away, then paused as a faint sound, carried by the breeze, drifted from the silent trees. The sound of someone crying.

She hurried toward the pitiful sobbing, but as she drew near a figure moved in the shadows. He slipped away to vanish among the trees, but not quickly enough to hide his face. It was Davie Gray.

"Miss Fingle wants to see you two in her office this
morning." Mrs. Wilkins laid a stern eye on Olivia. "I told you not to go to Witcheston yesterday. Now you're both in a lot of trouble."

Olivia shrugged, while Grace's face filled with alarm. Neither girl answered, which worried Mrs. Wilkins more than anything they might have said.

She stared hard into Grace's face, knowing the girl was far more likely to tell her what she wanted to know. "So what happened yesterday, anyway?"

Grace glanced at Olivia, whose expression clearly warned her to keep her mouth shut. "Nothing happened, Mrs. Wilkins," she said weakly.

The cook pinched her lips together. "Something must have happened. I didn't hear you come in last night, so you must have got back really late. What were you doing all day?"

"Protesting," Olivia said, with a toss of her head. "That's why we went, wasn't it. To protest."

Mrs. Wilkins studied Grace's face and saw guilt written all over it. "I want to know what happened," she said quietly, "and you're not going anywhere until you tell me."

Grace looked frightened, and tears started spilling down her cheeks. "We nearly got arrested, that's what."

Olivia turned on her with an explosive sound of fury. "I told you not to say anything!"

Mrs. Wilkins folded her arms and summoned her strictest voice. "I think you'd better tell me everything that happened, because sooner or later I'm going to find out."

"Grace punched a constable in the belly and knocked him down," Olivia bellowed. "There! Is that what you wanted to know?"

Grace started whimpering.

Shocked, Mrs. Wilkins stared at her. "Why on earth did you do that?"

"I didn't mean to," Grace wailed. "I sort of bumped into him with the sign I was carrying and he sort of tripped and fell down."

"Oh, good Lord." Mrs. Wilkins felt for the chair behind her and sat down hard.

"He didn't catch us." Olivia sounded sullen now. "We ran away and he chased us—"

"So did lots of people," Grace added, wiping her wet nose on her sleeve. "We had to run really, really hard to get away."

"And then we had to hide in a coal shed." Olivia fished a handkerchief out of her sleeve and shoved it at Grace. "Until it got dark enough to come out again."

Mrs. Wilkins winced when Grace trumpeted into the square of white cotton. "Mercy me. So how did you get home?"

"We walked and walked," Grace said, handing the
handkerchief back to Olivia. "I thought I was going to drop, I did."

"But then we heard a cart coming up behind us." Olivia tucked the handkerchief back in her sleeve. "It was one of the farmers and he offered us a ride. So we hopped aboard."

"Our clothes are all dirty." Grace held up her hands. "I scrubbed and scrubbed but I still have coal dust under my fingernails."

"We'd better get that out before you see Miss Fingle." Mrs. Wilkins got up and pulled the girl over to the sink. "And if I were you, I'd keep quiet about that constable."

She could hear the relief in Olivia's voice when she asked, "So you're not going to tell her?"

"You're in enough trouble already." Mrs. Wilkins held Grace's fingers under the tap and let the cold water run while she scrubbed. "Miss Fingle will probably take away your afternoons off for a month."

Olivia muttered something she didn't catch. "Well, we're not the only ones in trouble," she added. "We saw one of the pupils from here having a big row with Victor Silkwood right in the middle of the street. If you ask me, he's probably going to report her to Mrs. Llewellyn. I wouldn't want to be in that girl's shoes when the headmistress finds out."

Mrs. Wilkins frowned. "Which pupil was that, then?"

"Don't know her name."

Grace uttered a squeak of protest as Mrs. Wilkins dug under her nails with a toothpick.

The cook let her go, and turned off the tap. "There, that's the best I can do. Now go and face the music with Miss Fingle, then you both come right back here. You've got a lot to catch up on."

She watched the girls trudge out the door, but her mind was on the girl Olivia had mentioned. Why in heaven's
name would a Bellehaven girl be crossing swords with one of the richest men in the county? She couldn't be his daughter, since everyone knew the Silkwoods had no daughters. Moreover, Mrs. Wilkins knew every pupil in the school, and as far as she knew, none of them were related to the prominent family.

A notable connection such as that would certainly be blazoned all over the school, and while Mrs. Wilkins would be the last person to admit she was a gossip, she was rather proud of her ability to know everyone and everything that went on under the illustrious roofs of Bellehaven.

Deciding that perhaps she should have a word with Mrs. Llewellyn about the incident, she turned her attention to that day's main meal.

Chapter 7

Sylvia Montrose arrived in the middle of the morning
,
accompanied by a startling amount of baggage. Meredith felt quite sorry for poor Reggie, who struggled valiantly to haul a large trunk and several valises up the stairs to the new teacher's chamber.

Miss Montrose appeared younger and decidedly more comely than Meredith had envisioned—a fact that rather irritated her, though she couldn't imagine why.

The new instructress spoke in a soft voice that was at times difficult to hear, with a slight lisp that was bound to invite trouble from some of the more unruly students.

She had a way of twitching her eyes about, as if inspecting her surroundings. Judging from her expression, Bellehaven fell rather short of her expectations.

Confused to find herself so defensive, Meredith made an extra effort to be accommodating. She waited for an hour in order to allow Miss Montrose to settle in, before politely tapping on her door.

It opened immediately, and she was relieved to note that Miss Montrose seemed a little less disparaging as she greeted her.

"I thought you might like to meet some of your students," Meredith said, after she had conducted a short tour of the school. "I asked Miss Cross to take your class this morning, and I'm quite sure she'll be delighted to see you."

"Likewise," Sylvia murmured in her soft voice. "I'm anxious to begin teaching."

"Mr. Hamilton tells me you are quite experienced," Meredith said, as she led the other woman down the long corridor. "He mentioned that you were very well recommended."

Personally, she thought Sylvia Montrose looked too young to be either. Her appearance—the fresh face and smooth skin, the slim figure and the lightness of her step—suggested the woman wasn't much older than Essie. The fact that Sylvia was not yet married added weight to that assumption.

"I have tutored quite a few children in many subjects," Sylvia murmured.

Meredith wondered what that had to do with managing a household, but held her tongue. She had to assume that Stuart Hamilton knew what he was doing. "You may find the pupils at Bellehaven quite different from the charges to whom you are accustomed." She paused in front of a classroom door. "I'm afraid young ladies can be spirited and somewhat rebellious at times."

As if to confirm her sentiments, raised voices could be heard from the other side of the door. Felicity's strident tones rose above the rest, as if attempting to be heard above the clamor.

Reluctant to present her friend in an unfavorable light, Meredith dropped her hand from the doorknob. "Perhaps this isn't a good time. It might be as well to wait until after the midday meal."

Sylvia raised her chin, and with surprising firmness declared, "I should very much like to go in there now." Without waiting for Meredith's consent, she grasped the doorknob and turned it.

The door swung open to a deafening commotion. Meredith smothered a gasp when she saw Felicity marching back and forth in front of the class, punching the air with her fist while she chanted, "Women are power! Down with men! Women are power! Down with men!"

Her students roared in approval, clapping and leaping about in a frenzy of excitement. Some of the girls stood on chairs, and one young woman actually bounced up and down on top of her desk in a manner more befitting a common harlot than a future debutante.

The noise was so great and the exhilaration so fierce that no one appeared to notice Meredith and her companion in the doorway.

For several seconds they stood there, stunned into silence. It was Sylvia who recovered first. She bounded forward, right in front of Felicity's path and stood there, hands on hips, green eyes blazing.

Meredith had to admit, with her reddish blond hair catching the sunlight that streamed through the window, the woman presented quite a magnificent spectacle.

Certainly enough to stop Felicity's rampage. Cutting off her chant, she halted in front of the irate Miss Montrose demanding, "Who the blazes are you?"

Instead of answering her, Sylvia turned to the girls, some of whom still hadn't noticed the newcomers to the
room and were chanting over and over, "Down with men! Down with the government!"

All traces of a lisp vanished as Sylvia screeched, "Stop this nonsense at once!"

For the first time Felicity noticed Meredith and had the grace to look sheepish. Felicity held up her hands and roared at the top of her voice, "All right, you hooligans! Silence! Right
now
!"

Gradually the voices died down, until only the shuffling of feet could be heard.

Meredith waited until the fidgeting ceased, then said quietly, "This is Miss Montrose, your new instructress for home management. I trust you will pay her attention and make her feel welcome."

She fixed a stern gaze on each of the now silent girls facing her. "I fully expect everyone to treat Miss Montrose with the respect and consideration afforded all the teachers here at Bellehaven."

She stepped back and signaled to Sylvia to address the class. Felicity looked as if she would speak, but Meredith shook her head at her. To her relief, Felicity snapped her mouth shut and also drew back.

The pupils stared at Sylvia, apparently assessing their new teacher. She seemed to have calmed her temper, though a bright spot of pink stained each of her cheeks. Her long lashes fluttered for a moment or two while she appeared to collect herself, then she started speaking, her voice once more soft and mellow.

"I am delighted to be accepted here at Bellehaven. I relish the opportunity to instruct young ladies in the proper way to manage a household, and I have many exciting ideas and projects that I hope you will all find entertaining as well as educational."

She then launched into a summary of her curriculum and her expectations of the class. "By the time you finish these courses," she added, "you will be able to advise your domestic staff so that your home runs smoothly and efficiently. You will excel in catering extravagant parties that your guests will talk about for years to come. You will learn how to be the perfect companion to your future husband, interpret his wishes, and obey his commands, thus providing a sanctuary worthy of his excellence."

"Poppycock!" Felicity said loudly.

Meredith winced as Sylvia turned to her, both cheeks burning once more. "I beg your pardon?"

"I said poppycock!" Brushing aside Meredith's restraining hand, Felicity strode to Sylvia's side. "It is one thing to instruct these young women how to supervise staff and make important decisions concerning the running of their households, but I will not stand by while you urge them to submit to slavery."

Sylvia's eyes opened wide. "Slavery? Whatever do you mean?"

"I mean all this unmitigated nonsense you're spouting about bowing and scraping in front of their husbands. Obey his commands, indeed. Good Lord, woman, you will put the women's movement back a hundred years!"

A militant expression crossed Sylvia's face. "So that's it. You are one of those abominable suffragettes. I'm surprised and disappointed to find someone with your questionable beliefs allowed anywhere close to these impressionable young girls, much less to actually educate them. I had expected more from this institution."

Watching Felicity's spine stiffen, Meredith decided it was time to intervene before the pupils witnessed an un
seemly confrontation. They were already showing signs of enjoying the dispute a little too much.