been able to keep from each other over the last nine years.
‘Since you’re the first to take up your new post, we couldn’t let you go with only a goodbye,’ Grace insisted with the seriousness which still haunted her after her unfortunate incident. ‘We don’t know when we’ll see each other again.’
Joanna threw her arms around Grace. ‘Stop, or you’ll make me cry.’
‘Don’t be silly, you never cry.’ Grace hugged her tightly, then released her. ‘Let’s have our cake.’
They ate their treat while Joanna unwrapped the pen from Rachel, the stationery from Isabel and the ink from Grace.
‘It’s so you can write to us,’ Rachel explained through a mouthful of cake.
‘Thank you all, so much.’ She clutched the items to her chest, deeply grateful. These three women had been the closest she’d ever had to sisters. She didn’t want to lose touch with them, or the deep bonds they’d forged.
Their happy celebration was interrupted by a knock.
Everyone froze as Miss Fanworth stepped inside and closed the door behind her. The short, brown-haired teacher with the soft plumpness of a mother hen tapped her foot in admonition. ‘What’s this? Food in your bedroom. Madame will have a fit if she finds out.’
‘You won’t tell her, will you?’ Isabel pleaded with more drama than earnestness.
A smile spread across Miss Fanworth’s full lips. ‘Of course not. Now cut me a slice.’
This wasn’t the only secret their favourite teacher had kept for the girls. The other would see Grace ruined and all Madame Dubois’s faith in her best teacher and her favourite pupils destroyed.
‘I have a present for you, too.’ Miss Fanworth exchanged her gift for the slice of cake Joanna held out to her.
Joanna unwrapped it to reveal a small leather pouch half-full of coins.
‘It’s for the postage, so you can pay for the letters we send you,’ Miss Fanworth explained as she tasted her cake. ‘I expect to receive a few in return.’
‘Of course, how could I not write to everyone?’
Miss Fanworth set aside her plate, then rose. She laid her hands on Joanna’s shoulders. Tears made her round eyes glisten. ‘You were just a little babe when we first found you on the doorstep with nothing but a blanket and a torn slip of paper with your name on it. Now look at you, all grown up and ready to leave us.’
‘I hope I can do you, Madame Dubois and the school proud.’
‘As long as you remember everything we’ve taught you, you will.’ She laid one full arm across Joanna’s shoulders and turned them both to face the others. ‘In fact, you must all remember your lessons, especially those I told you of the gentlemen you might meet. Don’t be taken in by their kind words, it never ends well—why, look at poor Madame.’
She tutted in sympathy as she shook her head, making her brown curls dance at the sides of her face.
‘What do you mean?’ Isabel asked. All of them leaned in, eager for more. This wasn’t the first time Joanna or the other girls had heard Miss Fanworth allude to something in Madame’s past. Perhaps, with them leaving, Miss Fanworth would at last reveal the headmistress’s secret which had teased them since their first day at the school.
Miss Fanworth’s full cheeks turned a strange shade of red. She was as horrified by her slip as their interest. Then the clop of horses and the call of the coachman drifted up to them from the street below. Miss Fanworth blew out a long breath, as relieved by the distraction as she was saddened by what it meant. ‘Joanna, it’s time for you to go. Are you ready?’
No. Joanna laced her hands in front of her, determined to be brave. She’d stay here as a teacher if they’d let her, but Madame Dubois had insisted she seek a position. She hadn’t argued. She never did, but always went along, no matter what she wanted. ‘I am.’
‘I wish I was going with you.’ Rachel huffed as she took Joanna’s one arm.
Isabel took the other. ‘Me, too.’
‘I wish we could all go together,’ Grace echoed from behind them, at Miss Fanworth’s side as they left the room.
‘We wouldn’t get a stroke of work done if we were in the same house together.’ Joanna laughed through the tightness in her throat.
They walked much slower down the stairs than when they’d ascended, all but Joanna sniffling back tears between jokes and shared memories.
Madame Dubois waited beside the front door, watching the girls reach the bottom. Her black bombazine dress without one wrinkle fell regally from her shoulders. The woman was formidable and more than one small girl had burst into tears at the first sight of her, but they soon learned how deeply she regarded each of her charges. She wouldn’t hug or cry over them like Miss Fanworth, but it didn’t mean she didn’t care.
Though she didn’t care enough to keep me here. Joanna banished the thought as soon as it reared its head. The school was full of little girls who’d been sent away by their families. She shouldn’t expect to be treated any differently by Madame Dubois just because Madame Dubois had helped raise her.
In a flurry of hugs and promises to write, the girls said their goodbyes.
Reluctantly, Joanna left them to approach the headmistress while the others remained with Miss Fanworth. She stood straight and erect before the Frenchwoman. Outside, the coach driver tossed her small trunk containing all she owned up on to the top of the vehicle.
‘This is a proud and exciting day for you, Miss Radcliff. You’re leaving us at last to become a governess.’ Madame Dubois held her arms at angles in front of her, hands crossed, but the softness in her voice and the slight sparkle of moisture at the corners of her grey eyes betrayed her.
She doesn’t want to let me go. Joanna swallowed hard, the request to stay sitting like a marble in her throat. She swallowed it down. There was no point asking for something she wouldn’t receive. Madame wouldn’t give in to her wants any more than she would allow Joanna to give in to hers.
‘Yes, Madame.’ Joanna wished she could wrap her arms around Madame and hug her like the other girls did their mothers when they bid them goodbye on their first day, but she couldn’t. Madame might be as saddened by the parting as Joanna, but there would be no hugging or tears. It wasn’t her way.
‘You’re a bright, intelligent, accomplished young lady who’ll aptly represent the quality of pupils at our school in your first position.’
‘I will, Madame. You’ve prepared me well.’
One month later
Madame Dubois didn’t prepare me for this!
Joanna clutched the book to her chest as she stood in the dark corner of the Huntford Place library. Frances, the eldest Huntford daughter, and Lieutenant Foreman
