“You seem to be in an irritable mood tonight, Hazel. Have I upset you?”
She stabbed a bite of potato with her fork. “You have not upset me, but I am irritable.”
“If I am not the cause of your irritation, it seems unfair that I should be the recipient of your black mood.”
Hazel growled and put down her fork before excusing herself and limping out of the room. Duncan followed, and they continued to argue until she told him to leave her alone and closed the door to her room.
She listened for his boots to retreat and then tensed up every muscle in her body, a sort of silent scream she had perfected as a child when unable to express the emotions pent up inside of her. This was all so ridiculous! She wished she could pace like Duncan did when he was anxious. Or run through the fields the way Harry would when they were young and he was in a temper.
Her stupid foot made such physical expressions impossible, and so she limped to her bed, threw herself onto the coverlet and screamed into the tick over and over again until she felt she had exorcised some portion of the demon that had followed her around all day. Then she flopped onto her back and covered her eyes with one arm.
Yes, it was lovely to have so much time on her hands, to read anything she wanted, to wear nicer clothes, and her new boot was a marvel. But having to be nice to people who would have no bearing on her future and to try to navigate Duncan’s odd thinking patterns was exhausting. He was so literal, and there were things he would never understand about her. Like her feelings tonight. He felt that unless he was the cause of the irritation she was feeling, he should not have to suffer through it. As though she could just correct her mood for his sake. He did not understand what it felt like to have to socialize and pretend they were in a real marriage. He had no compassion for the fact that she was in a strange city, essentially floating through the next year without purpose.
She sighed as her protest began to lose integrity in her mind, dissolving away like snowflakes on an open palm. She was acting like a spoiled child who wanted everything just so and if she could not have it would make sure everyone suffered alongside her.
Suffered. Is that how she felt? That she was suffering? In this fine house with a husband who was kind and demanded nothing of her except evening discussions and a puzzle once a week?
She moved her arm off her eyes only to replace the barrier with both of her hands. Was this mood some delay of temper from childhood that she could finally express? It was ridiculous and pointless, and Duncan was right—it was unfair for her to spat with him when he had done nothing to earn it. Especially since this was not a real marriage but merely an arrangement she needed to find a way through for the next nine months. She would only make it worse if she allowed discord to grow between them.
It still took nearly an hour for Hazel to emerge from her room, and when she limped into the parlor, Duncan looked up from the book he was reading with a wary expression and his eyes on the floor to her immediate right.
“I am sorry for acting like such a child, Duncan,” she said, using the words she had practiced. “I am feeling rather overwhelmed by all the changes in my life and took my frustration out on you, even though you were only attempting to help me sort through it. I hope you will forgive me. I will try very hard not to react in such a way in the future.”
“I have been thinking about your dissatisfaction, and perhaps you would not be feeling so unsettled if you could bring in some aspects of daily life that are more comfortable for you, and thus invite familiarity into this life, which is so different than the one you have lived to this point.”
Though determined to be humble, she was not in the mood to be lectured. “I will consider that, thank you. I think I will go to bed.”
“I think you should start a school for girls.”
She turned back to face him but did not cross the room. “I am starting a school for girls.”
“I mean here, in Ipswich.” He put the book he’d been reading aside and stood. He didn’t move to cross the room to her. “Not a formal school like Cordon Academy, but something small and simple that will allow you to use your teaching skills and fill your time with constructive actions.”
“Even a small and simple school would take a great deal of work, and by the time the structure would be in place, I would be moving back to King’s Lynn.”
He began to pace, and she pushed away her annoyance by reminding herself there was nothing inherently wrong with his pacing. “You do not understand what I am saying, Hazel.”
Her defenses prickled, and the whining tantrum she’d recently talked herself out of begin to build again.
“I have told you of the vicar’s school I attended for several years before I was sent away.”
Nine months, she reminded herself. Only nine more months and I will never have to watch him pace back and forth again.
“What is your point, Duncan?”
“My point is that the vicar’s school offered a basic education, but only to boys. Many girls from our parish have very little education. Most will go into service, which is why education is not emphasized. You told me once that you dream of a country where girls and boys are educated equally and that part of your motivation in purchasing Cordon Academy is to help that goal be realized.
“You are feeling off-center here because what you have worked your whole life to do—teach—is out of your reach until our contract is finished. You do not need an income as most schools do, so why not offer to educate the girls in the parish for the time that you are here? It would occupy you with work that is familiar to you, while also moving toward the overall goal of equal education for girls.
“Even basic writing and counting skills can help these girls attain better positions in service, and as our country continues to industrialize, which I believe will expand opportunities for all persons, male and female, they will be a step ahead of where they would be without those skills. You could purchase a few slates and . . .”
Despite her earlier mood, Hazel became completely captured by Duncan’s idea to the point that they stayed up until nearly ten o’clock working out details and making notes.
Hazel’s ideas regarding a simple parlor school continued to grow throughout the next week. She wrote to Sophie, who agreed it was a great idea. She chatted more with Duncan, then had to set the plans aside so she could manage the dinner with Mr. and Mrs. Randall.
She had never thrown a dinner party, and though she realized it was not much different than a dinner with just Duncan and herself, she became increasingly nervous as the evening came closer. To her relief, the Randalls were personable and warm. Duncan was quite stiff at the start, but once Dr. Randall brought up an article about Halley’s diving bell, which was recently used to recover goods from a sunken ship off the coast of Greece, Duncan relaxed. Mrs. Randall chimed in enough that Hazel felt comfortable adding her thoughts, even though she was the least informed about the modern process of hunting for treasure at the bottom of the sea.