Miss Jones’ New Position
“I’m not at all happy having this Miss Jones person at your establishment, Miss Primm.”
Collette Jones, the new language teacher at the esteemed seminary for ladies, paused in the corridor when she overheard herself being discussed inside of her employer’s office. The complaining voice belonged to a particularly vocal parent, Mrs. Metcalf and, quite frankly, the woman’s sentiments came as no surprise.
Even if the speed at which she disclosed them was somewhat concerning.
Not quite ten minutes earlier, the woman had interrogated Collette in her classroom. “You are one of Lord Chaswick’s… sisters, then?”The woman’s brows had risen so high, they’d nearly disappeared in her hair.
And by sisters, it was obvious she meantillegitimaterelations. Because Collette’s mother had not been married to Lord Chaswick’s father. The news of their connection had only been made public last spring.
“Miss Jones has outstanding qualifications and will fit in quite well,” said Miss Primm, her tone carrying an air of finality. “In fact, we’re thrilled to have a teacher as passionate about Latin and French as she is. Your daughters stand only to benefit from Miss Jones’ instruction.”
“She is a proper lady, despite her birth,” another voice added. That would be Miss Shipley coming to her defense, Miss Primm’s assistant headmistress.
“That remains to be seen,” Mrs. Metcalf responded. “But take note that I donotapprove of a bastard teaching my little darlings. They are quite impressionable, you know.”
Collette rolled her eyes heavenward. Did the woman think the circumstances of her birth were catching? Hearing Mrs. Metcalf speak thusly, she struggled to understand the idiosyncrasies of society.
Which was precisely why she’d chosen to teach, rather than allow her brother and sister-in-law to introduce her to one bachelor after another.
“We are sufficiently confident in her abilities,” Miss Primm stated matter-of-factly.
“Well, I don’t know…”
The Metcalfe girls—Prudence, Patience, and Charity—were ages twelve, fourteen, and sixteen, respectively. This was to be their first semester attending Miss Primm’s Private Seminary for the Refinement and Education of Ladies.
Emphasis onRefinement.
All of the students were returning from summer holiday today and the week would mark Collette’s first as a teacher.
“You’ll see. Come the end of term, you’ll be as happy as we are that Miss Jones has joined our staff. Were you aware that her younger sister recently married the Marquess of Greystone?” The ever-proper Miss Shipley, of course, would be well aware that Collette’s connection to a lofty title would be more persuasive than her actual teaching abilities.
“A travesty.” Mrs. Metcalfe announced. “What is the world coming to?”
Shaking her head, and thinking the conversation must be nearing its conclusion, Collette backed away from Miss Primm’s office and all but ran to her classroom.
My classroom!A place where she would teachherlessons, tohervery own students.
Stepping inside, her gaze flew to the board where she’d written her name in perfect script.Miss Jones.
Simply because she’d been born on the wrong side of the blanket didn’t mean she hadn’t been properly educated. Her brother—her half-brother, to be more accurate—was a wealthy baron and had provided Collette and her younger sisters with excellent governesses from the moment he’d discovered their existence. And after he’d married last spring, he’d offered her the choice to either enter society or pursue her career in teaching.
Her decision had been an easy one.
Unwilling to subject herself to the censure of theton, Collette had chosen teaching. It was all she’d ever hoped for, and now, at the age of two and twenty, her dream was coming to fruition.
She simply needed to get through her first day, and then her first week.
And then the next one.
Collette strode to her desk and went to work organizing her affects for the umpteenth time that morning, and yet, still, she couldn’t keep her hands from shaking.
Dratted nerves.
Because, truth be told, she never would have been offered the position if not for a considerable donation made by her brother—in exchange for one small favor.
“Pardon me,” a cultured voice said from the open door.
