Page 84 of The Mistress of All & Torn

“I beg your pardon, Lady Barrington, if you will allow me, I will show you to Mr. Mullen. I beg your forgiveness, we did not expect you, ma’am, and …”

“Mr. Mullen is in the second classroom, we were told. Please lead us there,” Elizabeth requested, trying to keep her calm.

The building was like a maze and they walked along a hall, then down a passage, until the man finally stopped in front of a door. A hum of small voices could be heard, as well as a stronger, male one.

Elizabeth opened the door, prepared to look friendly at her first meeting with the children. She entered with a large smile that immediately froze on her face.

Around twenty girls, aged around ten, were sitting on their benches and praying. In a corner, a woman of middle age and another one in her early twenties were waiting with apparent distress. On the teacher’s table, a girl was bent over, while a man, with his back to the door, was spanking her buttocks with a stick.

For a moment, Elizabeth remained stunned in disbelief, hoping her eyes were deceiving her, until she heard her sisters’ gasps of horror.

Anger suffocated Elizabeth and she stepped forward, grabbing the man’s arm with all the force of her ire. Astonished whispers spread across the room and the man turned to her, pushing Elizabeth's hand away while shouting at her.

“Are you out of your mind, woman? Who are you? How did you get in? I demand to know what you are doing here?”

Elizabeth straightened her back and moved another step forward.

“I am Lady Barrington, the mistress of this place. I demand to know what you are doing here, sir?”

“Lady Barrington? Dear Lord, when did your ladyship arrive? We were not informed of your visit! I am Mr. Mullen and this is Mrs. Russell, the superintendent. And that is Miss Green, the English teacher. We are honoured to make your acquaintance, madam. I deeply apologise for this misunderstanding.”

“Good day,” Elizabeth addressed him and the classroom. The teachers curtsied, but the girls barely murmured a greeting.

They were uniformly dressed in grey gowns of the plainest cut, with little pockets in front of their frocks, wearing woollen stockings and heavy shoes, fastened with brass buckles. Their hair was tight, with not a visible curl, and their faces pale and thin.

“Stand up and greet Lady Barrington, your benefactress!” Mr. Mullen shouted and the girls rose to their feet, voicing a loud, ‘Good day, Lady Barrington!’

“Please sit down,” Elizabeth smiled at them, then turned towards the punished girl who was now waiting fearfully. “Mr. Mullen, perhaps it is time for this young lady to return to her bench?”

“Oh, yes. Go to your place, Ruth. We will settle the matter later,” he said severely, with a meaningful look, then turned to Elizabeth with a large, condescending smile.

“I apologise, you have caught us in a most unpleasant moment. We had to chasten some most undesirable behaviour, born from a faulty character difficult to correct. This girl is a liar and a thief!”

Elizabeth’s eyebrow arched. “Mr. Mullen, I would suggest we continue this conversation privately.”

In the doorway, she noticed a large group of teachers, most likely alerted by the servant. She nodded to them, then said, “Since we are all here, it would be an excellent moment to make the introductions. Is there anyone who can supervise the girls?”

“Yes ma’am. The monitors. I shall instruct them immediately,” Mrs. Russell said.

“Good. Do you have a large room where we may all fit? Perhaps a breakfast room?” Elizabeth asked.

Mr. Mullen’s face changed. “The breakfast room is not a proper place for your ladyship. We will find a more suitable place… If we knew of your visit we would have made the arrangements.”

“What do you mean, sir? Is it not large enough? Do the girls not eat there?”

“Yes they do, but…”

“Then it must be suited well enough. Let us not waste time,” Elizabeth said, leaving the class.

In the hall, the entire group of teachers were waiting.

“Well? The breakfast room, please?” Elizabeth repeated and they were finally directed towards it.

When they entered, the reason for Mr. Mullen’s reluctance became clear.

It was a large, low-ceiled, gloomy room, with many tables and chairs aligned in order. A woman—the cook—was boiling something and the smell was most uninviting.

At their entrance, the woman remained still, gazing at Mr. Mullen.