Page 8 of Fortune’s Final Folly

Many nights, she wondered where he went at the end of his working days, or where he was when he didn’t arrive at his office in the morning.

She sighed, returning her focus to the children and their studies.

Never had she been unsatisfied with her life. Kate had been raised in her father’s image—a pious woman who did not covet excessive possessions. Did not dream of places she’d never visit. And she would not tarnish her father’s memory by doing so now. She’d been blessed with the necessities, and that was enough for her…far more than most in Cheapside possessed, certainly.

A tug at her elbow drew her attention.

“Miss Kate,” Zachariah whispered, leaning in close, his brow furrowed with concern. “Why are you sad?”

“Why ever do you think me sad?” Kate kept her tone low so as not to disrupt the other students.

“My mama sighs just like you whenever she thinks of my papi being gone.”

“Your papi will return from sea soon, I am certain of it.” Kate attempted to steer the conversation away from her.

“My mama says the same thing, but that doesn’t stop her from crying when she thinks I be sleepin’.” At only five, Zachariah had experienced more uncertainty and loss than boys thrice his age should. His father had left on a trading ship bound for the West Indies nearly two years earlier, and the vessel—with captain and crew—had not been heard from since. “Don’t be sad, Miss Kate.”

She fought against the tears welling, threatening to betray her feelings to the boy.

“Seeing you each day keeps the sadness away,” Kate replied cheerfully. “How can I be sad when I am surrounded by the brightest, kindest, and most charming children in all of London?”

Zachariah snickered, dipping his head.

Kate stood, clapping her hands to draw the attention of the entire room as the boy returned to his seat. “Children,” she announced, the weight of the envelope in her apron reassuring. “I think we should journey from the schoolroom today.”

“Where to?” shouted Sally Ann, always easily excitable. “Please, tell us.”

“The museum?” Constance guessed, bobbing in her seat.

“No, Tattersalls,” the boys asserted in unison as they enjoyed watching the grooms at work on the horses.

“How about we walk to Albert’s Bookshop and select, together, our next book to read?”

The expressions on a few tiny faces fell in disappointment, but still most seemed overjoyed by the idea of departing the classroom even for a short while.

Kate did not often leave the schoolroom with all her pupils in tow, but today it seemed she needed the outing as much as the children.

The bookseller was only a quick walk down the street. On numerous occasions, after the children had left for the day, Kate would travel the short distance and browse the shelves until the owner closed for the night. She did not often have extra coin to buy books for her own reading; however, Mr. Albert allowed her to enjoy the books in the store as long as she did not bend the bindings or wrinkle the pages.

On a normal day, Kate would not so readily decide to spend her spare coin. Yet, they’d soon be finishing Gulliver’s Travels and would need another book to keep them occupied.

“Collect your coats and hold hands with your partner.” They’d established rules for such outings. Younger pupils were each paired with an older child. They lined up in a double line and were never to let go of their partner’s hand until Kate instructed. Everyone did as told and clasped hands as Kate slipped into her cloak and fastened the brass button near her throat. “Is everyone ready?”

The children all smiled, nodding.

She took the key from the hook near the front door and locked up after the final pair had departed the schoolroom. While her father had been a trusting vicar, he’d always taught her to secure the building if she left—or when she retired above stairs. It was all the more important with Kate living alone, not that it was common knowledge that she resided above the schoolroom without a companion or maid.

The group began down the street at a brisk pace, and Kate kept her eyes trained on the lane ahead of her, her shoulders back as they passed Mr. Cuttlebottom’s cobbler shop. The man would not intimidate her. He would not cause her to hide within her home or place of business.

Despite her father’s lesson on piety, her mother had given her the confidence and strength needed to live in a world she could not control by teaching her that her actions, emotions, and path were solidly within her grasp. She could not control others, but Kate held sway over her reactions.

That was why she never allowed her emotions to take over when the cobbler confronted her.

In her heart, she feared that her father may have spoken of an arrangement to sell her home to the cobbler. But her mind knew that even if he had, there was no written record of the transaction or her father’s intent, which meant Kate was safe.

The door to Mr. Cuttlebottom’s shop swung open as she walked past behind the rows of children. She flinched, hoping the old man didn’t bring his complaints into the street for all to hear. Most of her pupils lived within a few blocks of the schoolroom, and she could not have her neighbors gossiping about her private affairs. Many were hesitant to trust their children with a schoolmistress at all. Kate wanted nothing to jeopardize her pupils’ ability to gain as much knowledge as possible before they grew old enough to work.

To Kate’s shock, it was Mr. Stuart who departed the cobbler shop, not Mr. Cuttlebottom.