“Darling girl,” Joan said softly, “tell me something. Have you ever personally witnessed the Duke being cruel to anyone?”
Imogen’s brow furrowed as she thought. “No, Miss. I’ve never even seen him.”
“Has he ever done anything unkind to you? Or to your family?”
“No, Miss.”
Joan turned to the boys. “What about you two? Has the Duke ever been cruel to you? Or to anyone you know personally?”
Both boys shook their heads.
“Then why,” Joan asked gently, “should we judge him as scary or cruel? If he has never done anything to harm us, if, in fact, he has been generous enough to let us use his hall for our school, shouldn’t we speak more kindly about him?”
The children were quiet, considering this.
“People often make assumptions about others based on rumors and gossip,” Joan continued. “They judge without knowing the truth. But that isn’t fair, is it? How would you feel if people decided you were bad or mean without ever speaking to you? Without ever giving you a chance to show your true character?”
“I wouldn’t like it, Miss,” Edmund said quietly.
“Neither would I,” Percival agreed.
“Exactly.” Joan squeezed Imogen’s hands gently. “So let us make a promise, the four of us. We will not judge people before we truly know them. We will not spread rumors or believe gossipwithout evidence. We will give everyone, even dukes who live in big houses, the courtesy of proving who they really are through their actions. Agreed?”
“Agreed, Miss!” all three children chorused.
Joan smiled and rose to her feet. “Excellent. Now, I have homework for each of you. Practice your multiplication tables using the market method we learned today. Don’t be discouraged if you struggle. Every scholar who ever lived struggled at first.”
She hugged each child in turn, their small arms squeezing tight around her waist. As they gathered their things and prepared to leave, Joan felt that fierce warmth in her chest again.
The three students were nearly at the door when Joan heard Edmund whisper to his companions, “Do you think Miss Sinclair will marry the Duke? That would make her a duchess!”
Imogen gasped. “That would be so romantic!”
“I can hear you!” Joan called out, trying to sound stern but unable to suppress her smile.
Three guilty faces turned back to her for a brief moment before the children burst into giggles and ran for the door, their laughter echoing through the hall.
Joan shook her head, still smiling, as she watched them go. The sound of their joy was better than any payment she could have received.
She was gathering her own things when she heard footsteps at the entrance. Timothy Andersen appeared in the doorway, nearly colliding with his son and the other two children as they raced past him.
“Father!” Percival called out, waving enthusiastically before disappearing down the street with his friends.
Timothy watched the children go with an expression of bemusement, then turned to Joan. His weathered face held something that looked remarkably like respect.
“Miss Sinclair,” he said with a nod. “I saw the children running. They looked… happy.”
“I hope so,” Joan replied. “We had a good lesson today.”
Timothy reached into his coat and pulled out a wrapped bundle. “I wanted to give you this. As thanks.”
He handed her the package, and when Joan unwrapped it, she found a generous cut of meat—easily a pound, maybe more. Far more than she could afford to purchase on her limited budget.
“Mr. Andersen, I cannot accept this,” Joan protested. “It’s too much?—”
“It’s gratitude,” Timothy interrupted firmly. “I never thought my Percival would learn to read or write. Never imagined he’d have opportunities beyond following in my footsteps as a butcher. But last night, he showed me his slate. He’d written the entire alphabet, Miss.”
His voice roughened with emotion. “You’re giving my boy a future. That’s worth more than a pound of meat.”
