Mrs. Richardson came to a stop at the front of the room and scanned the group. “Good morning, ladies. Thank you all for being here,” she said, then paused for a tense moment. “I’m afraid I have some difficult news to share with you. Lady Montgomery has passed away—” Miss Blakenship, the drama teacher, let out a comically loud gasp, and the headmistress shot her a quelling look. “Given her advanced age and recent decline in health, that in itself is not a surprise, though it is sad. She was a great champion of female education, and as you are all aware, she held a charity auction during her annual garden party that greatly benefited our school. Those funds were crucial to our operations, and though she did leave a small bequest in her will, it does not make up for the loss of her patronage, especially given the ever-rising cost of rent and supplies. You all make a great many sacrifices towork here, so I am committed to keeping your wages intact, but that means we need to find another source of funding to keep our doors open. And quickly. I welcome your suggestions.” She then folded her hands in front of her and looked expectantly at the audience.
The room fell silent for several long moments as people exchanged bewildered looks and hopeless shrugs until Phoebe slowly raised a hand. “What if we held a charity auction of our own?”
Cecily shot her a nervous glance. “But we couldn’t possibly put on an event that compares to Lady Montgomery’s garden party. She wassoelegant.”
Phoebe resisted the urge to roll her eyes. It was quite easy to be elegant when one possessed a great deal of money and a houseful of servants. “Then we’ll do something different,” she said, as her mind began to spin with ideas. “Perhaps we could put on a fair of sorts with the students. They could show what they’ve learned and how valuable the school is to them. We can open it up to the entire neighborhood and solicit donations from local businesses, so more people will attend.”
Lady Montgomery’s garden party was usually the purview of society women who attended rather less out of a sense of civic-mindedness and more so they could show off their newest afternoon gowns.
The headmistress’s expression offered only the barest hint of interest. “What you’re suggesting would be an enormous undertaking, Miss Atkinson.”
Marion immediately raised her hand. “I’ll help.” Phoebe shot her a grateful look and a few other teachers raised their hands as well.
“We can form a committee,” Phoebe said. “Organize it ourselves.”
Mrs. Richardson seemed pleased. “And are you offering to lead this committee, Miss Atkinson?”
It wasn’t really a question.
“Of course.”
“Excellent,” Mrs. Richardson said as one corner of her mouth slightly lifted. It was the closest she ever came to smiling. “Please come see me this afternoon so that we may discuss this further.”
The headmistress then made a few other general announcements before they were dismissed. The rest of the morning passed quickly, as Phoebe was consumed by the gargantuan task of keeping a room full of girls ages twelve to fifteen interested in the works of Homer. As Phoebe explained the historical background that had inspiredThe Odyssey, her gaze wandered to Alice Clarke’s empty desk by the window.
Each morning when Phoebe admitted she still hadn’t heard from Alice, the girls’ collective disappointment was palpable. It hung over the classroom like a fog, thick and impenetrable. They were a close-knit group with a genuine sense of camaraderie, which had made Alice’s absence particularly distressing for them. Marion could think whatever she wanted, but Phoebe knew that Alice wouldn’t have simply disappeared without a word to anyone.
When the bell finally rang for luncheon, Phoebe headed straight for the headmistress’s office, as one wasneverlate for an appointment with Mrs. Richardson.
Three years ago Phoebe had watched the headmistress give a lecture on the importance of public education for girls at her mother’s social club, and working-class girls in particular. Phoebehad recently graduated from Bedford College and taken a position at a finishing school. She liked her students well enough, but they were mostly preparing for a life of upper-class luxury, and Phoebe often found herself bored. She approached the headmistress after her lecture and asked if there were any open positions. Mrs. Richardson had, rightly, been skeptical of Phoebe. She knew how she appeared, like the starry-eyed rich girl she was. But Mrs. Richardson had invited her to visit Langham Place School the following day and Phoebe never left.
The work was often challenging and many of her students had experienced the kind of profound loss and extreme hardship she had never experienced. But Phoebe loved her students and she believed in the school’s mission. She saw firsthand how the girls grew more confident the longer they stayed there, and how they marveled at the skills they developed. They began to see more possibilities for themselves, and many went on to shape their own futures. Every girl should have a right to an education and learn as much as they wished. And Phoebe would do whatever she could to keep this school open.
She rapped on the open door, and the headmistress glanced up from her seat behind a massive desk piled with papers, books, and assorted bric-a-brac. Mrs. Richardson was surprisingly messy in her private quarters, but Phoebe knew she could locate anything she needed, and quickly.
“Miss Atkinson. Please take a seat,” she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.
As Phoebe obeyed, Mrs. Richardson set aside the papers she had been reading and folded her hands.
“I liked your suggestions this morning very much. But to be frank, we need your family’s connections to make this a real success.”
Phoebe shifted in her seat. She kept the more grandiose details of her upbringing to herself, as she didn’t want the other teachers to dismiss her as some kind of interloper. Only Marion and Mrs. Richardson knew just how patrician her background truly was.
“I don’t see why we need to involve anyone outside of the neighborhood, ma’am.”
The headmistress narrowed her eyes. “Unfortunately, we aren’t in a position to be selective, Miss Atkinson. Though I’m sure your committee will come up with something unique, profitability is our primary concern. We must cast a wide net, and see what we can bring in.”
Phoebe glanced out the window where the youngest students were playing with a weather-beaten ball in the tiny yard. She let out a sigh. Of course she would do it.
“I’ll visit my mother after school lets out. I’m sure she will be happy to provide any assistance we need.”
Even if it made Phoebe feel like a hypocrite.
The headmistress cracked another half smile. “Splendid.”
Phoebe moved to rise, but Mrs. Richardson raised a hand. “One more thing before you go: I know you have been looking into Alice Clarke’s whereabouts, but I can’t have one of my most dedicated teachers ending up injail.”
“Ma’am?” Phoebe attempted a look of confusion that was undermined by the blush flooding her cheeks.
