She turned and placed her hand on the doorknob as if hoping to make a quick escape.
“Welcome,” Violet said. “Please do take a seat.” She gestured to an empty desk in the front row.
Mrs. Crawford hesitated. It appears she could not make up her mind about what to do.
“Don’t fret; the class has not yet begun.,” Violet assured her. “You are most welcome to join us.”
It seemed that politeness won whatever mental war Mrs. Crawford had engaged in, and she walked to the front of the class, taking care to avert her gaze from Henry.
His stomach sank. What had he done to make her despise him?
Nate was right. Henry is a spy.
The shock that skittered through Annabel’s veins upon seeing Mr. Hudsyn had momentarily paralyzed her. It was plain he was working for Papa or Lord Craventhorp. What other explanation could there be for his presence at the ladies’ college?
Her mind had screamed at her to run, but the headmistress’s welcoming words and invitation to sit down had given her pause. Annabel couldn’t bring herself to disrespect a woman she so admired. Seeing no alternative, she made her way to an open seat at the front of the room and sat down.
The headmistress addressed the class, introducing first herself and then Mr. Hudsyn. Annabel purposefully kept her eyes on her desk, but her mind whirled with unanswered questions.
How did he know she’d be attending the ladies’ college? Were there others watching her? Or had she mentioned her plans to him during their walk? She could not remember.
As the headmistress gave instructions to the students, Mr. Hudsyn moved toward the front of the class. Annabel shrunk back, certain he was about to grab her by the arm and haul her out of the building into Lord Craventhorp’s carriage. She shuddered at the thought of the viscount’s fury and how he would punish her for embarrassing him by running away.
But he only smiled at her and started distributing composition books to the students. As he approached her desk, she grabbed the cloth bag made for her by Mrs. Taylor and pulled out her notebook. Henry paused and then veered away.
“I see you brought your own composition book.” Annabel jumped at the sound of the headmistress’s voice. The woman leaned over Annabel’s shoulder and peered at the blank pages of her open book.
“I’m sorry,” Annabel said, her heart still racing. “I didn’t know it wasn’t permitted.”
The headmistress laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Don’t be sorry; it’s wonderful! I encourage all my students to keep their own composition books in which to practice their letters daily.”
“My letters, ma’am?” Annabel frowned up at the headmistress. She’d learned the alphabet and to write her name before turning five. Why should she need to practice her letters?
The headmistress leaned a little closer to Annabel and lowered her voice. “How many letters of the alphabet do you know? Don’t be shy. There are no judgments here.”
“I know all of them.” Annabel glanced at the women around her, wondering if she’d come to the correct classroom. A few stared blankly at their open composition books, but most held their quill pens and were busy writing.
A young lady raised her hand, and Annabel saw Mr. Hudsyn walk over and talk to her.
“We are all at different stages in our learning journey,” the headmistress said, and Annabel turned to see that a warm smile accompanied this comment. “But I am glad to hear you know all your letters. Are you able to do a little writing today? Introduce yourself on the page, perhaps?”
Annabel froze. “What do you mean? What is it you want to know?”
“Anything you wish to tell us. As I mentioned to the class, there are no rules. You may write whatever you want to share about yourself. The exercise will help me better understand your needs. You will not be judged, only helped.”
Annabel heard the low scratch of quills as the other students got on with their assigned tasks. She’d been so distracted and deep in thought that she hadn’t been listening when the headmistress had given her instructions to the class. No wonder the woman thought she didn’t know her letters. What else could she think upon seeing Annabel staring blankly at her composition book?
“You don’t have to fill the entire page. Write as much or as little as you feel comfortable with.”
“I will. Thank you, ma’am.”
“If you need help, do not hesitate to raise your hand. Mr. Hudsyn and I are here to assist you.”
Annabel stiffened. The last thing she wanted was for her father’s spy to ask her more questions, but she nodded and thanked the headmistress again.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Mr. Hudsyn move to another student’s desk. He nodded and smiled kindly in response to the young lady’s question. Then he inscribed some letters in her notebook. After which, he gave her the quill and watched as she copied the letters. Annabel frowned.Was this show of kindness and patience an act? What man goes to such lengths to trick a woman like herself? A handsomely paid man might do anything, papa had often said.
At that moment, Mr. Hudsyn glanced at her and smiled. Annabel thought she saw a glint in his eye.Is that a gleam of victory I detect?
