The Secret of Dinswood

by Ellen Alexander

  Emma fell in love with the lounge. It was an enormous room that ran almost the entire length of the west hall on the north side. The room boasted a large fireplace and comfortable-looking couches and chairs arranged in little groups. According to Miss Grimstock, it was a cozy room in which to read or play chess after supper. “This was Lord Dinswood’s favorite room in the castle,” she told them with what could be interpreted as a smile, but which looked more like a grimace on her birdlike face. “He loved to play chess in here. In fact, he always kept a chess board set up on the table you see there in front of the fireplace.” Some of the students snickered at the mention of reading and chess, but Miss Grimstock once again ignored them and continued on with the tour.

  If Emma loved the lounge, the library had to be a close second. It had two stories with an old-fashioned, wrought iron spiral staircase leading up to the book stacks on the second level. Emma couldn’t begin to estimate the number of books housed here, and she found herself looking forward to browsing among the endless bookshelves. The library also boasted a fireplace with some overstuffed armchairs set in a semicircle in front of it. Emma could see herself curled up in one of the armchairs enjoying a good book. She hoped she’d have time to read, considering the high academic standards Dean Harwood had been talking about.

  Miss Grimstock’s voice droned on as she pointed to a section of the library containing long, wooden tables with lamps for research and study and another section of the library that contained computers. “The computers are to be used solely for word processing; computer games are strictly forbidden here at Dinswood Academy. We feel your time is better employed on more mentally challenging activities. You will not have internet access, nor do we have any television sets.” The groans from the students were too loud to ignore this time.

  One student even objected out loud. “No TV? You’ve got to be kidding!”

  Miss Grimstock’s beady eyes searched out the offender and gave him a piercing look. “And what is your name young man?”

  Clearly embarrassed now, the young man stammered, “S-S-Sebastian C-Conners.” Sebastian, a plump boy with red hair and freckles, shifted his weight and stared fixedly at the floor.

  “Well, Mr. Conners, as I was saying, there are no televisions at Dinswood. Sitting mindlessly in front of a television screen for hours on end is a waste of our most valuable asset. I’m speaking of time, Mr. Conners, time that could be used for reading or a hobby such as woodworking or knitting.” Miss Grimstock’s look now encompassed the entire group. “Each semester you will be given a list of hobbies from which to choose, and you will receive the instruction necessary to pursue these hobbies. Does anyone else have a complaint or question?”

  The rest of the group had the good sense to remain quiet, and so Miss Grimstock led them back into the hall and pointed to the doors leading to the girls’ dormitory. As with the boys’ dormitory, they did not go in, but instead were taken back to the main entrance hall. “The classrooms are on the second floor. We have a well-equipped science laboratory, and we are proud to announce that the greenhouse has finally been completed and can be found behind the main building. You will now have the opportunity to take classes in horticulture.” At this point, Miss Grimstock paused as if expecting some kind of excited response from the students, but when none was forthcoming, she simply pursed her lips and continued on. “The staff residences are on the third floor and are strictly off-limits to students.” This last statement was emphasized with a warning frown from Miss Grimstock. “And now I will turn you over to your dorm advisors.”

  Dorm advisors were actually older students who had demonstrated sufficient responsibility and intelligence to be entrusted with a group of new recruits. Emma’s dorm advisor was a senior girl named Deborah. Deborah was a tall, rather plain girl with long brown hair, who obviously didn’t believe in wasting a lot of time in conversation. She showed each of the girls to their rooms and told them they would have just enough time to unpack before supper. Then she left them to fend for themselves until supper.

  The dorm rooms could more accurately be described as suites with each suite capable of housing four students. Every student was provided with a twin bed, a nightstand, a dresser, and a closet. Each suite also included a nicely sized, relatively modern bathroom. As Emma entered what was to be her new home for the next nine months, she saw that her luggage had already been deposited next to her bed, as had that of her roommates. Emma was embarrassed to see that her suitemates had quite a bit more luggage than her one tattered suitcase. The other girls had trunks, in addition to numerous suitcases and assorted bags. One of the girls looked pointedly at Emma’s meager possessions and stuck her nose in the air. Emma’s discomfort increased as she watched the reactions of the other two girls with whom she would be sharing a room. Well, I certainly don’t see what the big deal is, Emma thought to herself. Really, how much clothing do you need to go to a school where the students have to wear uniforms? The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She was about to say something she knew she’d regret later when she was forestalled by the sudden reappearance of Deborah.

  “I forgot to tell you that after dinner we will meet together to discuss school policies and regulations. I will answer any questions that you might have at that time.” At that, Deborah spun around and hastened from the room.

  “Does anyone else think that girl is a little peculiar?” The question was asked of no one in particular by the short blonde girl who had first noticed Emma’s lack of baggage. “By the way, my name is Clarice Danvers.”

  This comment prompted the others to give their names. A skinny, red-haired girl identified herself as Martha Merriweather, and a pretty, brown-haired girl with bright blue eyes told them her name was Susie Penneman. Then it was Emma’s turn; all of the attention was now focused on her. Emma swallowed nervously and managed to say in a fairly steady tone, “Hi, my name is Emma Higsby. It’s a pleasure to meet all of you.” Emma gave them what she hoped was her friendliest smile and was greatly relieved to see each of them smile back, even Clarice. Now that the awkward first introductions were over, the girls began to converse as if they’d known each other for years, instead of a few short minutes. The conversation flowed freely as the girls unpacked, with Clarice doing most of the talking. Having less to unpack than the other girls, Emma finished first and then sat on her bed and watched the others. Their wardrobes were nothing short of spectacular. It was obvious that these girls came from very rich families. Seeing her own glamorous clothes reminded Clarice about the uniforms the students were required to wear.

  “Can you believe those awful uniforms they’re making us wear?” Clarice began with disgust. Susie and Martha were quick to agree.

  “Yeah, they’re so plain. Last year I went to school at Norton and they had really neat uniforms, but these look like prison clothes or something.” This was from Susie as she pulled yet another beautiful pant outfit from her trunk.

  Emma was beginning to feel a little out of place. She thought the black, knee-length, pleated skirt, white blouse, and red and green plaid vest that comprised Dinswood’s girls’ uniform was kind of cute.

  Sensing Emma’s discomfort, Martha quickly changed the subject by pointing out that it was almost time for supper. “Gosh, look at the time. We’d better get down to the dining hall.” She continued on in a fair imitation of Miss Grimstock, “Remember students, tardiness will not be tolerated.” Susie and Clarice giggled, and Emma knew in that moment that she and Martha were going to be the best of friends.

  Emma sat in the dining hall listening to the hum of conversation around her while she tried to choke down her breakfast. Her stomach was fluttering in a combination of nervousness and excitement. Classes at Dinswood began today and Emma knew that in order to keep her scholarship for next year, she had to maintain a high grade point average this year. Dinswood was known for its high academic standards, and Emma just hoped she was up to the challenge. Martha sat next to her and appeared to be just as n
ervous.

  The weekend had passed much too quickly. Emma and the other first-year students had arrived at the school on Friday. At supper that evening, they had been introduced to the staff. Emma knew it would take a while to remember all the teachers’ names. Back in their dorm room after the meal, Deborah had given them their schedules and gone over a few more rules with them. Emma had been disappointed to learn that Fangorley Forest was off limits to the students unless accompanied by one of the staff. She had been looking forward to exploring the woods around Dinswood, and now it didn’t look like that would be possible. Deborah had explained that it was dangerous because there were bears and other wild animals in the forest. Having grown up in a city, Emma hadn’t considered the inherent danger in tramping around a natural forest.

  The rest of the student body had begun to arrive in spurts on Saturday. Sunday had been a day of settling in. In the morning, Emma had attended chapel with Martha. The chapel stood down a path a short distance to the east of the school. It was right on the edge of Fangorley Forest but was set back far enough that she had been unable to see it when she had first arrived on Friday. Deborah had told them about the chapel and that services were held on Sunday mornings at eight o’clock. The minister, Reverend James Palmer, was the husband of Judy Palmer, the school’s foreign language teacher. Emma had enjoyed the service. Reverend Palmer was a soft-spoken man of medium build and height. He had thinning, sandy-colored hair and wore wire-rimmed spectacles. He had given the impression of being a kind and compassionate man. During the service, he had informed the students that he also served as the school’s counselor and that he would be available to speak with them whenever they had a problem. Emma had left the chapel feeling more at ease than she had since arriving at Dinswood. She and Martha had spent the rest of the day exploring the grounds and looking around the new greenhouse. It had been a beautiful September day with ample sunshine and only a slight cool mountain breeze.

  Emma was recalled to the present by Martha’s sudden exclamation.

  “Isn’t he gorgeous!” Martha was looking toward the end of the long table where all the first-year students sat.

  “Which one do you mean?” Emma asked.

  “Do I have to tell you?” Martha asked with amazement. “I’m talking about the tall, dark-haired boy on the end.”

  “Oh. Yeah, he’s really cute, but don’t you think we’d better get to class?” Emma asked, looking at her watch and deliberately changing the subject. She doubted any of the rich boys here would be interested in her, and anyway, she needed to concentrate on her studies.

  “Well okay,” Martha said, finally prying her eyes away. “But I’m going to find out who he is,” she vowed as they left the dining hall.

  Emma had been pleased to learn that she and Martha had the same schedules. All the first-year students took the same classes but not necessarily at the same time. Martha’s schedule matched up with Emma’s perfectly. Their first class was English with Mrs. Abigail Perkins. After explaining her grading system and classroom rules, Mrs. Perkins, a short, plump woman with curly brown hair, informed them that they would be reading many of the classics this year, starting with Herman Melville’s Moby Dick. The groans from the class were audible, not because they knew anything about the book, but just reading in general was enough to elicit this response from most twelve-year-olds.

  “Have you seen that book? It’s enormous!” someone close to Emma said in a loud whisper. Emma looked around for the source of the comment and discovered that once again it was Sebastian Conners, the red-haired, freckle-face boy who had raised the ire of Miss Grimstock during Friday’s tour. Sebastian got no response from anyone around him; they were all too afraid to comment, but Emma was sure most of the class agreed with him.

  Their next class was mathematics with Mr. Richard Godfrey. Mr. Godfrey, a tall, stern-looking man with light brown hair and black-rimmed glasses, wasted no time but promptly passed out books and gave them an assignment. Emma fully expected a comment from Sebastian, who seemed to have the same schedule as she and Martha, but for once he was silent. When, out of curiosity, Emma turned to look at him, she almost laughed out loud. He was sitting there in what appeared to be shock. Emma deduced that Sebastian’s previous school must not have been as challenging as this one was sure to be.

  Art class was next on their schedules. They would only have art every other day as it rotated with PE class. Emma was glad, because she had never been very good at art and knew this would be a class in which she would struggle. Martha, however, had no such trepidation.

  “I can’t wait to meet the art teacher. He’s supposed to be really good, and I just love to paint and draw!” Martha said excitedly as they finally located the art room.

  “He’d better be good if I’m going to pass,” Emma said, and when Martha laughed, she added, “I’m not kidding; I’m really not very artistic.”

  Mr. Henri Dubois at least looked the part of an art master, complete with a goatee and a mustache that curled up on the ends. He was a little difficult to understand, as he spoke with a French accent, but he certainly knew his stuff if the paintings hanging on the classroom walls were examples of his work.

  Their last class before lunch was science with Miss Louisa Jennings. Science had always been Emma’s favorite subject. The science room had lab tables with sinks and gas valves. They sat on stools at the lab tables as Miss Jennings explained that this year they would be using a general science textbook that covered topics from each of the major fields of science. Emma liked Miss Jennings immediately. She was a pretty young woman of medium height with light brown hair that just reached her shoulders and bright green eyes. It wasn’t Miss Jennings’s appearance, however, that earned Emma’s approval; it was her enthusiasm. As Miss Jennings spoke, it was obvious that she had a passion for science.

  After science, Emma and Martha headed downstairs to the dining hall for lunch. Martha was just expressing her disappointment at not having any classes with the cute boy they’d seen at breakfast, when Clarice and Susie came in and sat on the bench next to her. Wherever Clarice went, Susie was not far behind. It was obvious Susie thought Clarice was the best thing since sliced bread, and Emma was reminded of a little puppy following its master around. Clarice seemed to take it for granted that Susie was right behind her, and having heard Martha’s comment, she asked, “Who are you talking about?”

  “A cute boy. We don’t know his name yet, but we’ll point him out to you when he comes in,” Martha answered.

  They didn’t have to wait long as he came in with Sebastian Conners just a moment later.

  “There he is,” Martha said excitedly. “He’s the tall dark-haired boy with the freckle-face boy who can’t keep his mouth shut.”

  “Oh, that’s Douglas Harwood,” Clarice said in a bored tone.

  “Harwood, you mean as in Dean Harwood?” Emma asked.

  “The very same,” Clarice said. “Douglas Harwood is Dean Harwood’s son.”

  Martha was rendered speechless on several counts. First of all, Clarice did not seem at all impressed by the good looks of Douglas Harwood. Second, she had not even been aware that Dean Harwood was married and had a son. Third, how did Clarice know all this? Martha chose to address the second issue first.

  “I didn’t know Dean Harwood was married.”

  “He’s not anymore. He’s divorced,” Clarice said.

  “How do you know all this?” Martha asked in amazement.

  “My father is on the board of directors and knows everything about this school,” Clarice replied in a superior tone.

  “Don’t you think he’s gorgeous?” Martha asked.

  “Oh, he’s okay I guess, but his family has no money. His father works here for heaven’s sake,” Clarice said.

  “Could you be any more of a snob?” Martha asked in disgust.

  “Mother told me the only people worth knowing are people like us,” Clarice replied as if reciting a mantra.

  “By people like us you
mean rich people,” Emma said, beginning to get angry.

  Sensing her friend’s rising temper, Martha intervened.

  “Clarice, my father told me that having money was just a matter of good fortune and that what really matters is how you treat others. He also says having money doesn’t give you the right to be rude.”

  “Yes, but your family isn’t as rich as mine,” Clarice said calmly.

  Now it was Martha’s turn to get mad. In an attempt to head off what could prove to be an extended and heated argument, Emma put her hands up in mock surrender and said, “Okay Clarice, you win the Richest Person Here Award. Can we get back to the subject of Douglas Harwood? Where is his mother?”

  Susie, who had been listening quietly up to this point, blurted out, “Oh, she’s remarried and lives somewhere in Europe.” Then, at a disapproving look from Clarice, she continued more slowly, “Douglas never sees her. She and her new husband have children of their own now, and I guess she’s too busy with them to worry much about Douglas.”

  As Emma listened she began to feel a kinship with Douglas Harwood. Although his mother was still alive, she might as well be dead as far as her son was concerned. Emma watched him at the end of the table as he laughed at something Sebastian was saying. He seemed to be just like any other boy, but Emma knew somewhere deep inside him there must be a deep sense of loss.

  After Susie’s outburst, no more was said about Dean Harwood or his son; but later that day Emma discovered that Doug was in her history class. He came walking in just before the bell, and by her indrawn breath, Emma knew that Martha had seen him as well. There had been no time for conversation, as immediately after the bell Miss Grimstock had begun her lecture and had stopped only long enough to give them an assignment. They were supposed to read the first two chapters in their books. Emma was beginning to feel a little overwhelmed. They had homework in almost every class, and it was only the first day.