am well used to being around children. I believe I know how to handle them.” So long as they were not seriously ill and in need of nursing, she would have no difficulty whatsoever.
“The girls might not be problematic for you, Miss Dunne. They respond quickly to correction. However, some of the boys are of rough temperament, having spent many years in the streets before we took them in. I think you might not be so ready to ‘handle them’ as you believe. We have had other teachers flee in terror.”
“I shall learn how to manage them.” Rachel leaned forward, eager to impress upon this woman the sincerity of her desire to work hard. To help. I must help, some way, somehow. It is all I know to do. “I am not afraid of rough boys. I have a teenage brother. I will do whatever you require.”
“Do you have a reference as to your character?” Mrs. Chapman’s glance encompassed both Claire and Rachel. “Your cousin has vouched for you, of course, but you must understand that I require recommendations from people who are not relations.”
Her hand, with its cording of veins and sinews, extended above the papers on her desk, waiting to be supplied that which Rachel lacked.
Claire’s shoulder moved forward as if to shield Rachel from the woman’s grasp. “Her current employer, Dr. James Edmunds of Belgravia, will supply a recommendation at the end of her service.”
“I will not consider your cousin, Miss Harwood, without such an item. There are several teachers here who will not welcome a non-English girl, and I cannot begin to contemplate hiring her without a reference of highest quality” Mrs. Chapman’s hand withdrew. “As it is, Miss Dunne, you will only be brought in as an assistant teacher. Until you have the ability to attend school and obtain a certificate, you will never be offered greater.”
“I do not presume I would receive greater, Mrs. Chapman.”
Rachel’s pronouncement eased the headmistress’s tight frown of displeasure. “When might you begin?”
“In two weeks.” A time that sounded like forever, and certainly long enough to permit Molly to decide to reveal all and send Rachel’s growing house of cards tumbling.
“I will speak to you then, Miss Dunne. But only if you have that recommendation in hand.”
Claire slid her chair back, a rapid scrape across oak flooring, said their good-byes, and departed with haste.
“This is excellent, Rachel. Perfect,” she whispered, leading Rachel back the way they came.
“Molly could so easily ruin this chance for me, Claire.”
“We must trust that our cause is just and that God will lead you safely through these trials.”
“How can you be so trusting, Claire?” Rachel asked, aware that Claire could hear the frustration and doubt in her voice.
“I’ve had to learn to be, Rachel.” The planes of Claire’s face flattened. “It’s all that gets me through.”
“Did all go well with your appointment, Miss Dunne?” Mrs. Mainprice, streaks of flour powdering her chin, looked up from the dough spread across the table in a circle of yeasty ivory. Her shoulders heaved as she worked the pastry.
“My cousin reassures me that I was marvelous. Now for the headmistress to agree with her.” Rachel yanked off her bonnet, a curl of hair unwinding. “I hope Molly and Peg were not forced to do more work because of my absence.”
“Wheesht, why are you fretting over the two of them when your interview is so much more important? Truth be told, Molly’s been so unwell she couldn’t budge from her chamber if King William commanded.” Mrs. Main-price stopped just shy of sharply clucking her tongue. “Her stomach’s been ailing her, and my linseed tea doesn’t seem to be helping much.”
Which might explain why Molly hadn’t said anything to Dr. Edmunds as yet.
“I wonder if a tonic my mother used to make for stomach ailments would work for her.” The words were out before Rachel could stop them. A banaltradh to her core.
Mrs. Mainprice straightened and brushed loose flour off her hands. “Joe mentioned you knew a bit about the herbs when you fixed him up.”
“Only what I have learned here and there,” Rachel equivocated, her hands beginning to tremble. To busy them, she extracted a hairpin and worked the loose strand back into the bun at the nape of her neck. “The recipe is simple enough. An infusion of dill and parsley in cinnamon water with a tiny quantity of diluted syrup of poppy. It always helped me when I felt ill.”
“There’s dill and parsley in the kitchen garden. I