Scandal At The Christmas Ball. Marguerite Kaye

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СКАЧАТЬ strikes me as someone who knows his duty. I am certain he will do his best by them—better, perhaps, when he’s had this break to distance himself from his grief.’

      ‘I hope so, for the poor mites deserve nothing less.’

      ‘I’ve some experience in this field, you know. I’ve had lads—and I mean lads, Joanna, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen—lose a parent. Sometimes, when we were on campaign, word came months after the death, and often it would fall to me to break the news. I happen to agree with you, security is what they need the most. In such cases, it is the army routine which provides that.’

      ‘And so as an officer, you also acted in loco parentis, just as a teacher does at times—though I do not mean for a moment to compare the two. For you, so far away from home, it must have been so much worse.’ Joanna pressed his arm. ‘Though not so bad as to have to inform a parent on the loss of a child.’ She covered her mouth, aghast almost before the words were out. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry, what a tactless thing to have said. I cannot imagine...’

      But it was too late. ‘No,’ he said, his voice sounding hollow, as if it did not belong to him. ‘No, you cannot.’ So many such carefully crafted letters, full of kind words and platitudes, glossing over the terrible reality of death in battle. And that one, last letter he had not been permitted to write, despite it being the most important of all. Drummond squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head to dispel the memory.

      Joanna’s face was pale, her expression horrified, but he felt as if he was looking at her from afar. It was the deafening silence he remembered most. The sudden, shocked silence like that which followed a cannon’s roar. The disbelief writ large on the faces of his men, that must have been reflected in his. Followed by a blood-curdling roar of anguish. His own voice, emanating from the darkest, deepest recesses of his soul.

      ‘Drummond?’ Joanna gave him a little shake. ‘Drummond?’

      He dug his knuckles into his eyes, pushed his hair back from his brow. ‘Forgive me,’ he said.

      ‘It is I who should apologise. I did not intend to evoke whatever terrible event it was you recalled. I am so very, very sorry.’

      ‘I’m fine,’ he said, relieved to hear that his words had a deal more conviction.

      ‘Do you want to tell me...?’

      ‘No!’ he barked, making Joanna flinch. ‘No,’ he repeated, more mildly. ‘Some things which happen during conflict are not for the ears of civilians—they would not understand.’

      ‘I am truly sorry.’

      ‘Forget it. We have talked enough about my occupation, tell me about yours. What is it you love so much about teaching?’

      To his relief, though she hesitated, she accepted the crude change of subject. ‘Not beating Latin and Greek into my pupils, for one.’

      ‘Men teaching boys, that is a very different thing.’

      ‘Did they succeed?’ she asked, eyeing him quizzically. ‘Or might a gentler approach have been more effective?’

      Drummond shrugged. ‘It is simply how things were, and no doubt are still. Masters on one side, boys on the other, the one pushing, the other resisting.’

      ‘You don’t think that a little encouragement, some interest in the subject matter would have helped bridge the gap? How can one expect to imbue a child with enthusiasm for a subject when it is patently obvious to the child that their teacher does not share it?’

      ‘A good point. Perhaps if my teachers had been more like you I wouldn’t have been so eager to finish school.’

      ‘I was lucky, I had an excellent example to follow. My father was a botanist as well as a tutor, and taught me to think of pupils as flowers, some blooming easily and showily, some needing to be gently coaxed. I have a weakness for those who need coaxed, I must confess,’ Joanna said with a tender smile. ‘There is nothing quite so rewarding as helping a child to find their own particular talent—and every child is gifted in some way, you know.’

      ‘That has been my experience too,’ Drummond said, ‘though I’m not too sure any of my raw recruits would have taken to being likened to a flower. I take it, from the way you talk of him, that your father is no longer with us?’

      ‘He died very peacefully, a few weeks after my twenty-first birthday, almost seven years ago.’ Her eyes were misty with tears, but when Drummond made to apologise, she shook her head. ‘No, you’ve not upset me, I have nothing but lovely memories of our time together.’

      ‘May I take it that it was the loss of your father which required you to take up teaching for a living?’

      ‘In a way, that is how I have always earned my crust, as they say, for latterly, I took over the youngest of Papa’s pupils but, yes, his passing changed things. For a start, the house was only a life rent, and though I could have negotiated to take it on...’ Joanna grimaced. ‘A man can command a great deal more fees than a mere woman, no matter how well educated she is. I simply couldn’t afford it.’

      ‘That seems damned unfair.’

      ‘So many women would agree with you, and so surprisingly few men,’ Joanna said wryly. ‘Right or wrong, it is how it is, there is no point in getting angry about it.’

      ‘I’m not angry. Well, yes, I am. To be forced from your home and into—where did you go?’

      ‘I found a good position as a private governess to two girls. My education and Papa’s reputation made it astonishingly easy—not that my education was much called for. A smattering of French, literature, history, enough to make an adequate conversationalist, was all that was required along with the usual singing and sewing.’ Joanna wrinkled her nose. ‘Young girls who are destined to marry well care little for learning.’ Her brow cleared, and she smiled. ‘You know, I hadn’t thought of my current position in a positive light until now, but there is a great deal to be said for being a school teacher, even when one is not being paid, and is treated as a drudge.’

      ‘Then what on earth are you doing at such a school, when it is clear...’

      ‘On the contrary, the situation is far from clear. It is a decidedly complicated matter, and one that I am not in a position to discuss until I have spoken to the Duchess.’

      The cold air had brought a rosy flush to her cheeks. Her plain poke bonnet framed her face. Her countenance was heart-shaped, with a most decided chin. Her mouth was set, and her eyes met his unflinchingly. It was not only curiosity which made him want to press her further. He liked her. He had an absurd wish to help her, though what he could do—and besides, it seemed help was already on hand in the form of the Duchess. What’s more, he could hardly press her to talk when he’d so steadfastly refused to confide in her himself.

      Drummond sighed, holding up his hands in a gesture of mute acceptance. ‘It is Christmas Day, and we agreed only last night, didn’t we, to forget all about reality and to enjoy ourselves.’

      ‘We did. We aren’t doing very well are we?’

      ‘Well, we must remedy that forthwith.’

      She smiled with her eyes. A silly phrase, but in this case it was true, her eyes were smiling. The snow was falling thickly СКАЧАТЬ