Fortune Favors the Sparrow - Rebecca Connolly Page 0,1

insisted that any concerns regarding students, staff, or each other be brought to her at once, and, as far as Clara knew, it was done.

Over the last few years, Clara had come to value and respect Miss Bradford’s insight and advice as she would that of a close friend, or even a sister at times. Miss Bradford was far younger than one might have expected any headmistress at such an establishment to be, but she had been personally tutored by Miss Masters for her position from the beginning, and there had been no question of succession when Miss Masters had decided it was time to retire. Miss Bradford was the only possible, equally qualified choice.

Nevertheless, Clara’s curiosity was piqued. She’d only just had tea with Miss Bradford last week as a sort of personal interview, and she’d thought they had discussed everything pressing and pertinent then.

Unless the meeting was to discuss Miss Bradford’s niece, Tess. She was the girl’s guardian, which was a trifle unconventional, but Tess did not seem to lack any support in her life. Indeed, being practically raised in a finishing school, Tess had more aunts than one might know what to do with, and the few men associated with the school had become uncles and brothers to her.

Now nearly fifteen years of age, Tess was a bright and engaging young woman, one of their more promising pupils. There was some question as to which station she properly belonged to once she left the school, but she floated easily between them all while here.

Such things mattered less in the safe confines of this place.

Clara glanced at the clock, then cleared her throat. “C’est tout pour aujourd’hui, les filles. Vous pouvez ranger vos affaires.”

“Merci, Mademoiselle Harlow,” the group recited in almost perfect unison. They rose from their seats and filed out of the room quietly, their soft words to each other a murmuring hum of sound that began to echo the moment they entered the corridor.

Clara sighed in the now empty room and patted her plain chignon to ensure its neatness before moving into the corridor herself. The vast array of students along her way to the headmistress’s office was not lost on her. Each of the girls were instructed to wear plain gowns in shades of blue, gray, green, or cream, and identical aprons of neat linen were worn by all. The restrictions of gowns were adhered to by each of the girls, but the quality of those gowns varied starkly based on the fortunes of each individual student.

Some of the girls did not comprehend how senseless fine muslin was in the schoolroom, but at least the fashion of it was limited by the apron each wore. Still, it did not stop the girls from lower classes from eying such finery.

“Good morning, Clara,” Miss Bartlett greeted as she passed, exiting her classroom with her usual quick pace, her unruly dark curls flying from their pins as usual.

“Emmeline! I didn’t know you were back, how long can you stay?” Clara beamed at her friend, reaching out a hand to her.

Emmeline took it and squeezed. “Not long, I’m afraid. I’m due back in London on Saturday. My aunt…”

Clara shook her head sadly. “The poor dear. You are so good to look after her.”

“I am not the only relation who does so,” Emmeline reminded Clara with an almost uneasy air. “My cousins tend her nearly as often, but she does seem rather fond of me.”

“Who could help that?” Clara returned the squeeze of her hand. “Might we take tea this afternoon? I’m due to see the headmistress now, but I so want to have a chat.”

Emmeline nodded. “I look forward to it.” She released Clara’s hand and continued down the corridor as Clara moved in the opposite direction. “Girls, not so hasty, please. Miss Edley will not appreciate a twisted ankle before your dancing class. Better tardy than injured, yes?”

“Yes, Miss Bartlett,” the girls answered with the usual reluctance girls of their age tended towards.

Clara had taught the dance classes before Miss Edley had come along, with several instances of the same reluctance of spirit, and it had been a relief to give those responsibilities up.

Whatever Clara’s gifts might have been, she was not an accomplished dancer.

She grinned now at Emmeline’s natural attention to detail, and her quick instruction on her observation. It was so like her to do so, but she was still one of the favorite teachers here. Her demands in London kept her from being present continuously,