With spring came the reason for Lavender House’s name—the entire perimeter of the grounds was rimmed with lavender bushes that burst toward the sky first in green stems, then in tiny purple blooms that further filled them out. Hazel dried some of the stalks for sachets she tucked into the corner of her wardrobe and beneath her pillow.
She liked lavender oil for her foot and preferred the scent over more fruity or floral perfumes, but came to feel as though it belonged to her. There was something robust about the blooms, strong and healing. Though she tried not to think about it, she knew she would miss this house when she left Ipswich, miss being surrounded by the herbal shrub that so resonated with her increasing sense of self and identity.
The parlor school continued, and Mrs. Randall proved to be an excellent partner. She brought her four-year-old granddaughter with her two days a week, and the young girl was learning her letters at an incredible speed. The women and girls were thriving, growing in confidence, and working hard at their studies.
Rachel, Corinne’s niece, took a position in an estate house a few miles to the south. That she was hired as a house maid instead of a kitchen maid had her mother beaming—front of house staff were expected to have more education and poise.
The simple success of these accomplishments made Hazel more and more excited about her own school, but also increased her awareness that there were things she would miss about this life in Ipswich. To miss them now by focusing too much on the future was foolish, and so she enjoyed her days with the parlor students and her evenings with Duncan and kept her thoughts about the future in a separate compartment from the present in which she was living.
Cordon Academy’s spring term ended in May, and Hazel’s ownership of the school, as well as the name change to the Stillman School for the Advancement of Young Women, was announced at the final teacher’s tea of the year. Hazel wished she could have been there but had to settle for Sophie’s letter, which was three pages long and full of details that made Hazel both green with envy and deeply grateful for Sophie’s willingness to lead the transition.
On the Saturday evening following Sophie’s letter—the next time the discussion topic was of her choosing—Hazel chose to discuss Sophie’s letter and the school. It would not be Duncan’s favorite topic, but then she was not all that interested in discussing the unification of Upper and Lower Egypt during the First Dynasty, and they had discussed it on three separate occasions due to Duncan’s fascination with the political maneuverings of that time.
“Sophie is determining which teachers will stay on for the reduced terms and which we will need to replace come next winter, when we will be ready for full enrollment. I worry we will lose the more proficient and ambitious faculty.” Hazel set the letter in her lap, still tingling from the excitement of reading it even though she’d read it four times already.
“Why would they not stay on?” Duncan asked from where he sat across from her.
His hair, which he combed back with some sort of pomade each morning, was coming loose from its holdings, resulting in a more devil-may-care arrangement around his face she found quite attractive. The wavy locks softened his features, and looking at him now, with the energy of the day still coursing through her, Hazel felt the oddest desire to cross to him, sit on his lap, and brush the unruly hair from his eyes herself. That the thought did not make her blush must be due to the excitement of officially owning the school. Her school!
“It is your turn to answer,” Duncan prompted her, drawing her back from the thoughts that had gone so far astray.
“I’m sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “What was the question?”
“I asked why the proficient and ambitious teachers would not stay on.”
“Because I am young and untried,” Hazel said. “The teachers of the advanced subjects will have limited options regarding positions at other schools but will pursue whatever opportunities they can. I expect we will lose a few, which will put Stillman at a disadvantage.”
She smiled as she said the name and then repeated it three times in her head: Stillman School for the Advancement of Young Women, Stillman School for the Advancement of Young Women, Stillman School for the Advancement of Young Women. It was a bit of a mouthful, but she already thought of it as just Stillman School, which had a nice ring. She suddenly remembered that her name was no longer Stillman, but Penhale. “Penhale School for the Advancement of Young Women” did not sound like her school, however.
“The teachers of the more traditional subjects have a better chance of finding a position with a school that is secure, so I imagine they will explore their options, which may leave us heavy in advanced topics and weak in the basics, which are necessary for building a solid foundation of scholarship.”
“Advanced teachers should have no trouble teaching the more foundational subjects, such as you are doing in the parlor school.”
“That is true,” Hazel conceded. “I shall ask Sophie to discuss that option with the teachers we are inviting to stay. Sophie has also found a builder to renovate the east dormitories and perform a few repairs to the classrooms and teacher rooms. I think I shall do the teachers’ parlor in shades of green and gold. Sophie hasn’t been able to walk him through the rooms, of course, due to the term being in session, but we hope to begin the construction phase by the end of the month.”
She bit her tongue to keep from saying she wished she could be a part of everything that was happening in King’s Lynn.
“So,” she said, straightening in her chair and leaning forward to collect the folder where she kept all her notes about the school. “I would like your feedback on my proposed curriculum.”
“I hope there is a course on the history of mathematics,” Duncan said. “That continues to be a portion of your education that is decidedly lacking.”
“I know, I know,” Hazel said with a smile. As though she would ever forget his thoughts on that particular topic. “Sophie and I have agreed on two tracks of focus. They will share some of the core topics like writing, etiquette, and French, but will also include their own specific courses that focus on either Science or Classical.” She handed him a paper that outlined the separate tracks, and his hair fell forward as he leaned in to take it. His fingers brushed hers, and they shared a look across the paper before resuming their places in their chairs and in the topic.
They discussed the curriculum for an hour. Duncan remained in his chair, which meant he did not find this topic very interesting; when he was excited, he paced. Hazel did not need his excitement, however, and he participated fully, though he fixated on the need for a history of mathematics class and went on for nearly a quarter of an hour about how that particular class could be worked into both tracks. He did not stop campaigning until she agreed to discuss the possibility with Sophie. Some of his ideas were excellent, however, like adding an “innovations” class to the science curriculum that would focus on the newest discoveries and inventions as further industrialization was introduced.