Harriet smiled apologetically as he strode off. “He’s a dreadful show-off, dear, but quite harmless. Shall we go in?”
Jane was slow to answer. Again she felt the sting of disappointment that the two people she most wanted to meet would remain names without faces for yet a while. Meanwhile, two others had just left her in a daze of astonishment. She had never met a young man quite so brash, so cockily sure of himself, as Brandon Ainsley—or a mother so openly adoring.
“I’d like to walk in the garden a bit, if you don’t mind, Aunt Harriet.” Graciously excused by Harriet, Jane set off for the cool shade.
Like many fine Charlestown houses, the Ainsleys’ was long and narrow, with a short side facing the street and one long side looking out over a secluded garden. The house had covered verandas on three levels, overlooking flagstone paths winding through a miniature forest of fragrant orange and gardenia, jasmine and honeysuckle. Beyond that were the huge stone-floored kitchen, servants’ quarters, storehouse, carriage house, and stables.
Off to one side sat another small building, with a handlettered sign above the door:
SCHOOLROOM
S. CORDWYN, SCHOOLMASTER
Impelled by curiosity, Jane approached the glass-paned door and tried to peer inside. Suddenly the door swung open, and she stepped back with a gasp. A tall, dark-haired young man with piercing gray eyes stood there frowning at her, as if annoyed by this intrusion. Jane hastily offered apology.
“I’m sorry. I was being nosy. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”
A sudden smile transformed his piercing gaze into a gentle one. “You must be Miss Prentice, lately arrived from England.” His resonant voice had an accent quite different from the Ainsleys’. “I’m Simon Cordwyn, schoolmaster, at your service.” He opened the door wide in welcome. “Would you like to come inside? There are no classes on Saturday afternoon.”
Jane hesitated for only a moment. “Thank you, sir.” She stepped into a room full of long tables and rows of straight-backed chairs. In front was a desk covered with books and papers.
“It’s an old storehouse,” Simon explained, “converted to a higher purpose, thanks to Mr. Ainsley’s enlightened generosity.”
Jane smiled. “It reminds me of my village school back home. Of course, I had to stop going when my father died. There was no money to pay for it.”
“Well, I’d be pleased to have you attend this school, if you like,” he said. “You could come with the older boys in the afternoons. It would certainly overturn tradition, since the gentlemen here see little value in education for girls. But I do. That’s one of the ways we differ.”
How wonderful it would be to study with books again, Jane thought wistfully, but brightened when she spoke. “I must say, it’s nice to meet a schoolmaster who believes in education for girls. I should imagine that’s quite as unusual here as it is in England.”
Simon pulled up two chairs. “Well, I’m convinced they’ll see the light eventually. Now, please, sit down. Tell me how you like it here so far.” His tone was so kind and gentle that Jane somehow found herself telling this stranger just how she felt about her new home.
“The Ainsleys have been wonderful to me, and I’m sure my uncle and aunt will be, too,” Jane said. “But everything is so different here. I guess I’m a little homesick.”
“I know what you mean. After almost five years, I still don’t feel truly at home here.”
This was the opening for the question Jane longed to ask. “Where are you from, Mr. Cordwyn?”
“Pennsylvania, in the North. And it’s very unlike South Carolina.”
“It is? How so?”
“Society is so much more class-conscious here in the South. There’s a more gracious style of living here, too—for those with money. And in the North, thank God, we don’t have slavery.”
“Slavery.” Jane’s face darkened at the word. “That’s not an easy idea to get used to. But the Ainsleys’ Negroes seem to be treated kindly.”
“Yes,” Simon conceded. “And they’re lucky to have such decent folks as owners. Actually, many Southerners treat their slaves kindly. But it’s still an evil system, and someday it will have to be abolished.”
This grim topic had only increased Jane’s curiosity. “Feeling as you do, Mr. Cordwyn, how did you happen to come here?”
“By accident, really. Mr. Ainsley advertised in Philadelphia for a tutor for Brandon, and I applied. I was only twenty at the time, but I’d had two years at Philadelphia College, and Mr. Ainsley thought I’d do.” Simon shook his head. “I regret to say, I failed miserably with Brandon. He cares only for horses and racing. He soon deserted my classes altogether.”
“He’ll regret that someday, I don’t doubt,” Jane said.
“I don’t think so,” Simon replied. “When he inherits his father’s business and the Ainsley estates, he’ll devote his life to his thoroughbred horses and fine racecourses, and have no regrets at all.”
Jane was puzzled. “Yet even after he left, you go on teaching here?”
“Oh yes. This school was well established when Brandon quit, and the Ainsleys urged me to continue—even though their own son wouldn’t benefit. So, here I am. But enough of all that. Tell me about yourself, Lady Jane.”
“Please, I’m just Jane here. I’m in America now.”
“Indeed you are—and a very long way from home. Why is that?”
“It’s not much of a story. My mother died when I was very young, so I barely remember her. My father, the Earl of Almesbury, died just last year, but I never really knew him. He was—well, not exactly a devoted father. I was brought up by my companion, Mrs. Morley. She’s been almost like a member of the family since long before I was born, and I’m glad to say she’s with me still. At one time the earldom included a large estate, but my father squandered it all away, leaving me an orphan without means. Fortunately for me, Uncle Robert, his younger brother, has agreed to take me in. So—as you said about yourself—here I am.”
Simon nodded thoughtfully. “Seems to me you’ve been mostly on your own in life so far, Jane. That’s regrettable, but in a way also beneficial. No doubt it has taught you a degree of self-reliance, which will serve you well from now on. And you know—this may sound foolish, but it strikes me that we have something important in common, you and I.”
“Really? What’s that?”
“It could be said that we’re both, in a sense, aliens in a foreign land, trying to find our way.”
Jane stared at him. “What a fascinating thought, Mr. Cordwyn. Yes, I do believe you’re—”
At that point a knock sounded at the open door. “Ah, there you are, Jane.” It was Brandon, looking in.
Simon greeted him with a smile. “Master Brandon! Come, join us.”
“Thank you, sir, I can’t stay. I just came looking for my cousin. I was worried about you, Jane. I thought perhaps you’d gotten lost.”
“Lost? Hardly—I’m not a helpless child!” Rising, she turned to the schoolmaster. “But I’m afraid I’ve taken up too much of your time, Mr. Cordwyn. Forgive me. I’m very glad to have made your acquaintance.”
“Not at all, Jane. My pleasure.” He was up, extending his hand to her. “And don’t forget—Monday, one o’clock. I’d be honored if you’d join us.”
“Thank you. Perhaps I will. Good-bye.” Going to the door, she took the arm Brandon offered, and they started back to the main house.
After they had gone a short way, Brandon fixed a disapproving frown on his companion. “Jane, what can you be thinking of? An English lady such as yourself doesn’t strike up casual acquaintances with strangers. And as for attending his school—good Lord, you couldn’t possibly do such a thing!”
“Why ever not? I’ve attended school before, and I love it.”
“He’s not one of us, that’s why. He’s a Northerner and common folk, and suspect in both his politics and his morals.”
“What can you mean by that?”
“No, I’l
l say no more. But make no mistake, associating with the likes of him won’t help you take your proper place among us. You’ve got a lot to learn about American ways, I can see that. But never fear. I’ll see to your instruction in these matters.”
Jane suppressed her urge to smile, but her answering tone was gently mocking. “How very nice of you, Brandon! Yes, I’m sure I have a lot to learn.” Her next thought she left unspoken:
But I rather think, sir, it will not be you who teaches me.
Chapter 4
The idea of attending Mr. Cordwyn’s school appealed to Jane, but she was not sure about being the only girl in a schoolroom full of rowdy boys. Mrs. Morley agreed with Brandon on the matter, that it was simply not a proper thing to do. In the end, Jane decided to seek Arthur’s opinion.
“I see no harm in it, Jane,” he said. “Cordwyn’s a fine fellow, and an excellent teacher, I believe. And if you find it to your liking, you’ll be welcome to use my modest library to help you in your studies.”
Jane thanked him. And so it was settled—she would go to school again.
The next morning, Brandon saddled up Princess and rode off with friends for a tour of far-flung racecourses that would keep him away for a week or more. And that afternoon, Arthur and Harriet took Jane for a carriage drive to see the city. Arthur explained that Charlestown stood on a peninsula between the mouths of two rivers. And he amused Jane by adding, “The natives are a proud people. They like to say that Charlestown is where the Ashley and Cooper Rivers come together to form the Atlantic Ocean.”
Up and down the cobbled streets they drove, Jane admiring the curbside shops, the stately houses, and the many churches with their tall steeples. That morning, she had gazed up into the lofty interior of Saint Michael’s Church, where the Ainsley family regularly attended services.
“Unfortunately, we are temporarily without our church bells,” Arthur told her. “The royal governor had them removed several years ago, in a dispute with our citizens.”
“How sad,” Jane said. “Even sadder that all this quarreling is going on between England and the American colonies.”
“It’s just petty politics, Jane,” Arthur told her. “Believe me, it’ll all blow over in time.”
Next he showed her the Dock Street Theater, where she might enjoy seeing a play performed. And as they drove along East Battery Street near the docks, he pointed out his own Ainsley Emporium.
“I hope to be able to invite you very soon to come in and choose some new dresses,” he said.
Thrilled at that prospect, Jane eagerly studied the Emporium building. But there was no activity around it, and, as she had noticed on her arrival a few days before, there were almost no ships in the nearby harbor. She asked Arthur why, but all he would say was, “Overseas trade is very spotty these days. Unfortunately, stock is rather low just now.” He hurriedly drove on.
On Legare Street stood Robert and Clarissa’s imposing two-story house, regal in tree-shaded seclusion behind a beautiful wrought-iron gate.
Seeing it reminded Jane of her other relatives. “I understand that my father’s cousin Hugh Prentice also lives in Charlestown. Could we—”
“Visit him?” Arthur shot a glance at Harriet, shaking his head. “No, Jane, I’m afraid not.”
“May I ask why? Is something wrong?”
“Nothing that I could easily explain. It’s just that your uncle Robert considers it unsuitable for you to meet him. He forbids it, in fact.”
“But why? Does it have something to do with the quarrel between—”
“Oh, you know how men are, Jane dear,” Harriet said. “Endlessly quarreling! And Robert and Hugh disagree on things so violently, that—well, it’s just too tiresome to worry your pretty head about.”
Jane found the Ainsleys’ reluctance to answer her questions most unsatisfactory. But the carriage was moving on, and because they were plainly determined to say no more, she had to let the matter drop—for now.
Free from Brandon’s disapproving frown, Jane looked into Simon Cordwyn’s schoolroom at one o’clock the next afternoon. While the schoolmaster sat intently reading some papers at his desk, a dozen boys, aged ten to fourteen, chattered in their seats. Jane slipped into a seat at the rear and cringed as the boys turned to stare at her, whispering and snickering.
Simon looked up, then rose, scanning his male charges with narrowed eyes. “Gentlemen,” he began. “Today we welcome a new student, Miss Jane Prentice, from England. You will regard her as your equal and treat her with the utmost respect, or you will incur my extreme disfavor. I expect not to have to say this again.” His voice was quiet, but its hard edge made clear his absolute authority. The unwelcome attention directed at Jane evaporated.
The day’s lesson began, and soon Jane discovered that Mr. Cordwyn encouraged his students to participate in classroom discussion. She herself listened eagerly to everything but remained silent. Toward the end of the session, the schoolmaster turned to her favorite subject—history.
“It was in 1663,” he said to open the discussion, “that King Charles the Second bestowed upon his favorites a tract of land in North America to be known as the Colony of Carolina. The charter described this territory as lying between the thirty-first and thirty-sixth degrees north latitude, and extending westward to the South Seas. Who can tell us what the king might have meant by the South Seas?” He waited. “Anyone?”
After a long silence, no hand being raised, Jane finally lifted hers.
The schoolmaster responded instantly. “Yes, Miss Prentice?”
“I believe he meant the Pacific Ocean, sir.”
“Exactly correct. And how far away is that, would you say?”
“I don’t know, sir. And neither did King Charles, most likely. He might have been astonished to learn that he had made one of the largest land grants in all history.”
Simon threw back his head and laughed heartily. “Very good, Miss Prentice! By heaven, that’s what we’ve been missing in this classroom, gentlemen. An occasional display of intelligent wit!”
Jane blushed in pleasure and embarrassment.
Soon class was over. “Tomorrow,” the schoolmaster said, “we shall turn to our geometry. And I shall be immensely pleased if a few of you can exhibit slight familiarity with the properties of a triangle. Good afternoon.”
In a burst of foot-shuffling disorder, the boys bolted for the outdoors. Jane rose slowly, wondering if she might engage Mr. Cordwyn in further conversation. Perhaps he would be willing to answer some of the unanswered questions in her mind. Had he not taken a sincere interest in her—even discovering something they had in common? Already she was beginning to develop a warm feeling for the gende schoolmaster.
To her pleasant surprise, as the other students dashed out he headed straight toward her. “I’m glad you spoke up, Jane,” he said with a smile. “Glad you decided to join our school, too. You’ll be an asset to the class.”
“Well, I know I’ll greatly benefit, sir. Thank you for inviting me.
“Now, would you walk outside with me? I have something to tell you.”
“Certainly.” Jane tingled with curiosity and anticipation. As they strolled through the garden, Mr. Cordwyn said in a low tone, “I’ve been asked to bring you warm greetings from Mr. Hugh Prentice.”
“You know my cousin Hugh?”
“Yes, he and his wife are good friends of mine. I dined with them just last evening near here in Queen Street. Although Hugh’s never seen you, he holds you in great affection and hopes someday you two might meet.”
“Might meet!” Jane stopped short. “Mr. Cordwyn, I just don’t understand. I’m told my uncle Robert forbids me to meet Cousin Hugh. But why? Because they disagree violently! About what? They came to America together years ago. Now they don’t speak? It doesn’t make sense!”
“Maybe I can help.” Simon beckoned toward a shaded bench, and the two sat down. “Simply put, the quarrel between the Prentice cousins is the quarrel between England and th
e American colonies. Hugh is a former Englishman who has become an American. Robert, though he lives in America, will be an Englishman forever. Then there’s Arthur Ainsley, who tries very hard to occupy a middle ground. He agrees with many of his friends that the British have treated us unfairly, but he believes we should resolve our differences by peaceable negotiations.”
“And what, pray tell, are these differences that are causing so much bad blood between friends and kinsmen?”
“You must understand, Jane, this quarrel didn’t start just yesterday. It’s been simmering for years. England maintains that by defeating France in the Seven Years’ War, it saved the American colonies from those ‘awful French.’ So, out of gratitude, the colonies ought to pay their share of the costs of that war. This has led to severe restrictions on our overseas trade, unreasonably high tariffs, and, worst of all, punishing taxation. Of course, paying taxes has always been a part of life. But what infuriates many Americans is what they call ‘taxation without representation.’ That is, without representation in Parliament, where they have no voice at all.”
“That does sound unfair,” Jane said. “Especially for a merchant like Uncle Arthur, whose business is suffering directly. But where do you stand, Mr. Cordwyn? If I may be so bold as to ask.”
“I’m with moderates like Mr. Ainsley. They’re reasonable men who might save us from disaster—if only their voices could be more clearly heard.”
“Why can’t they be?”
“Because the firebrands have taken over, and their voices are much louder and more dramatic.” A dark foreboding came into Simon’s tone as he went on. “You see, there’s something besides reason at work here. Passion. A passionate certainty on each side of the rightness of its position, and an equally passionate determination to prevail at all costs. Look at the Prentice cousins. Robert’s a staunch Loyalist, willing to die for the king and British rule if he has to. Hugh, quite the opposite—a more mild-mannered man than Robert, but a member of the rebel faction, and just as fixed in his views as Robert is in his. Patriots, as people on that side call themselves, are convinced the colonies must declare independence from England altogether.”
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