She took to massaging her knee at night along with her feet, but it was almost three weeks before she dared walk without crutches, and even then, she found herself using her crutches around the house more often than not. She had only to imagine a bath chair in her future to see the crutches as something other than a limitation.
In an ironic twist, she learned through letters with Harry that he’d had a severely broken leg just one year earlier, which had sentenced him to bed for weeks, after which he’d had to walk . . . on crutches. It was a strange connection to share, yet when he explained his feelings of dependence and humility, Hazel found herself feeling understood by the brother she had been sure could never understand her.
Summer passed, another parlor student took work as a laundress, and two more girls from the parish joined the school, though Diane, Corinne’s sister, stopped coming for the daily lessons because her neighbor was no longer able to watch her younger children in the mornings. She still came once a week to borrow from the collection of children’s books Corinne and Duncan had helped Hazel build up. Diane’s children would grow up with stories and words they would never have had otherwise.
Duncan began cutting lavender stalks every few days and putting them in the parlor. He said that lavender had become his favorite scent. Hazel kept to herself her own affection of the flowers, though she did not dissect her reasons for keeping their shared love of the herbal flower to herself.
Only six teachers agreed to stay on for Stillman School, and only eighteen students remained enrolled for the summer term. The financial impact was less of a concern than the loss of support, but at least the six teachers who remained were willing to teach a wide variety of subjects. And sixteen of those eighteen summer students signed on for the fall semester. Sophie felt positive about the renovations and the school itself but was concerned about the lack of support from the community.
Hazel began a campaign of letters she sent to numerous business owners, clergy, and prominent households in King’s Lynn, explaining the mission of the Stillman School. She also offered day classes to local girls where they would live at home but attend school four days a week.
By the time fall term began, there were thirty-seven students enrolled, twenty-two of whom were boarding. Hazel interviewed teachers via written correspondence, and four more teachers were hired, with another three—all of them specializing in advanced topics—agreeing to come for winter term. It was exciting and encouraging, and yet the need to keep the Stillman School contained in a specific compartment of Hazel’s brain became even more important if she wanted to enjoy her time in Ipswich.
And she was enjoying her time in Ipswich very much.
Too much?
Duncan worked on his accounts every morning. He still visited with his associates in town, but he had developed the habit of checking in with his tenants’ multiple times in the week. When he relayed the exchanges to Hazel, she told him she feared he was becoming a nuisance.
“No, I am sure they like knowing I am such a conscientious landlord.”
“Not if you are interrupting their work,” Hazel said.
“I want them to know I am available to address any concerns.”
“You can do that without bothering them. They all know you are keeping an office in the building, so they know where to find you if they need help, and that is sufficient.”
“I will consider it, but I do not think you are correct about this.”
“Ask Delores and Mr. Ludwig.”
“Mr. Ludwig?” Duncan said, sounding incensed.
“He does not like you, so you are more likely to get an honest answer.”
“Delores likes me.”
“Yes, she likes you enough to also give you an honest answer. Friends and enemies are those more likely to tell you the truth. The neutral parties, such as the other tenants, will not want to offend you, and therefore they will keep their annoyance to themselves. But from what you have relayed to me of their reactions, I think they are annoyed.”
“Hmm,” Duncan said, returning to his dinner. “I shall ask Delores, but I will not ask Mr. Ludwig.”
Hazel smiled to herself and took another bite of her potato, looking across the table at Duncan and feeling a rush of tenderness for his good heart.
She peeked at the corner in her mind that contained Stillman School and felt regret at the reminder that her future there would take her away from Duncan. They would still see one another, at Christmas at Howard House perhaps, and maybe they would visit one another from time to time, but it would never be like this, and that made her feel heavy. She turned away from that corner and focused on the fact that she was Mrs. Duncan Penhale, a respectable woman running a school in her parlor and keeping a home.
They finished dinner and retired to the dining room. Hazel leaned her crutches against the side of her chair as they sat, settling in for an interesting conversation regarding a subject she had been considering for a few weeks now.
“What is the topic of our discussion tonight?” Duncan asked, sitting on the front portion of his seat. From that position, it would be easy for him to jump to his feet and begin pacing when—or rather, if—the topic warranted the excitement.
“Dogs.”
Duncan sat back in his chair. “I do not like dogs.”
“I want to hear about the day you were bit by the dog.”
“Why?”
“Because, though you have told me some details here and there, I feel there are things missing from the story. And as it is connected to such a significant event of your life, your mother’s death, I want to make sure I understand it.”
“The dog bite is not connected to my mother’s death. It simply took place the day before Mother went for bread and was killed by the carriage. It only feels significant because I remember the two events together, but they have no bearing on one another and are therefore not correlated other than chronologically.”
His tense posture made it clear he did not want to discuss this topic, but Hazel persevered. “You mentioned once that you heard your parents talking about sending the dog away. When did you overhear that discussion?”
“The night of the dog bite. I was hiding in the cupboard.” He stood and began to pace. Usually his pacing was due to excitement of the topic they were discussing, but tonight it seemed to be prompted by anxiety.
Seventeen steps, turn, seventeen steps, turn.
“So, they did not know you could hear them?”
“No. They did not like me to hide in the cupboard, so I would wait until they thought I was asleep, and then I would pretend they were statues who could not tell me not to go in the cupboard and I would sneak in when they were not watching.”
“You preferred the cupboard over your own bed?”