“I was beginning to think that the reverend was going to keep us cooped up in that heat all day.” Maud looked past her cousin’s shoulder to see Mollie smiling at her as she walked up toward them. “Oh, look—there’s Mollie,” and she smiled back. She and Mollie had been sitting together at school since they were eight years old; right before Maud had been sent to Malpeque, they’d made a solemn vow of friendship. Mollie’s real name was Amanda, but they had nicknamed each other last fall when they formed a secret club with Jack Laird and the Baptist minister’s stepson, Nate Spurr. Maud was Pollie and Jack and Nate were Snap and Snip.
“Maudie!” Mollie cried out and reached around Pensie to give Maud a hug. Maud hugged her friend back, and tried to suppress a stab of jealousy when she felt the small bustle at the back of Mollie’s summer dress. Maud had read in the Young Ladies’ Journal that the big bustle—a separate piece of clothing that attached to one’s waistband from the back, giving it extra flare—had become stylish again. Maud would have loved to have one on her dress, but according to Grandma, bustles were wasteful—“all that material.”
“When are you going to give up those juvenile nicknames?” Pensie said, when they had pulled apart.
Mollie puffed under her plush hat.
Ever since Pensie had started wearing a corset the previous year, she had begun to put on airs like she knew everything. It was confusing because sometimes Pensie seemed like the girl Maud grew up with, and then other times it was as if she was entering into that great divide where all she cared about was finding a husband. But it was too hot for quarrels.
“Never!” Maud said. “We love them, don’t we, Mollie?” In response, Mollie hugged her again, even more fiercely. Maud couldn’t help but wonder if Mollie was doing it more for Pensie’s benefit than hers.
“Why don’t I have a nickname?” Maud’s cousin Lu said, coming up behind Mollie.
“You do, my dear cousin. Your full name is Lucy and I call you Lu,” Maud said.
Lu beamed.
“Did you see Jack Laird?” Mollie asked, taking Maud’s hand. Pensie frowned down at their hands, and Maud discreetly let go. It was too hot to hold hands anyway. “He looks nice today.”
“Amanda Macneill,” Pensie said, using Mollie’s given name. “You’re terrible.”
“You’re not much better,” Maud teased. “Your mother informed Grandma when she last came for tea that Quill Rollings is calling.”
Pensie flushed. “He was asking after Mother.”
Maud and Mollie exchanged a smile.
“I don’t know why you all care,” Lu said. Being only almost-twelve, Lu didn’t find boys all that interesting.
Mollie tried to smoothly change the subject. “The new teacher is so lovely. She has big plans for our class and is nothing like that stuck-up Miss Robinson. Oh, I’m sorry Maud…”
Heat tickled Maud’s cheeks—and it wasn’t from the weather.
“It will be all right, Maudie,” Pensie said, putting her arm around Maud’s shoulders. This time Mollie frowned, but Maud didn’t move. “I suspect the school board would not have hired her if they didn’t think her suitable.”
But they had hired the last one too.
“Mother is giving me the signal,” Lu said and waved goodbye. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
“Good, now I can give you this.” Mollie opened her Bible and pulled out a folded piece of paper—a letter! This must have been the “news” she was talking about.
Pensie moved over to Maud’s left to block any possible prying eyes. “You need to be careful,” she whispered. Maud suppressed the urge to sigh. She wished her old friend could just be curious about the letter’s contents, and not so proper.
“That’s why I waited for Lu to go,” Mollie said.
They all loved Lu, but she was known to accidentally allow things to slip, and then her father would tell Maud’s grandparents. Uncle John Franklin was her mother’s older brother, but he treated Maud like she was a poor country cousin, dependent upon them for the rest of her life. During family gatherings he either ignored her, or insulted her. Neither was tolerable. But seeing the familiar handwriting of the sender, Maud forgot all about that and was overcome with a fluttery feeling. Thank goodness Mollie had waited.
Maud shoved the letter into her Bible.
More people were beginning to head home for Sunday dinner. Uncle John Franklin, Lu, and the rest of the family would be over at the homestead soon enough and then the long, dull afternoon would begin.
“Maud,” Grandma called from the church steps, Grandfather plodding down behind her. “Don’t be too long.”
“Yes, Grandma,” Maud said.
“That’s what I’m talking about. I’m just as curious as you are about that letter, but you need to be careful that your grandmother doesn’t see it, Maudie,” Pensie said. “I already had to be away from you this summer. I would hate for you to be sent away again.”
Pensie had missed her! Maud embraced her. “I don’t want to be away from you ever again. I promise to be careful,” she said.
Pensie took a step back and seemed to be looking around for someone. Maud pushed away the feeling that her dearest cousin didn’t want to return her embrace, but then Pensie said, “There’s Mother. She’ll be expecting me. I’ll see you for our walk tomorrow and you can tell me about school.” By the way she said “school,” Maud knew exactly what (or who) Pensie was talking about—the precious secret of who had authored the letter now in Maud’s Bible. Maud expected Pensie to hug her again, but she didn’t. Maybe she was just hot.
Mollie and Maud walked through the cemetery’s grassy path toward Cavendish’s main road. Mollie lived down the hill, near the hollow.
“Thank you for being the messenger,” Maud said.
“He gave it to Jack to give to me,” Mollie said. “Jack said that he was adamant you receive it before school begins.”
“The intrigue,” Maud said, making sure the letter was still safely tucked in her Bible.
Mollie giggled. “I tried to get Jack to at least hint, but he was silent as the morning sunrise.” Mollie liked to talk in metaphors.
They stopped at the edge of the cemetery.
Maud loved it here at the crossroads, where she could see much of Cavendish. The spot overlooked the red road south to the North Shore and the other one east, connecting her home. Down the hill, facing west past the hollow and Mollie’s home, was Laird’s Hill, the Cavendish Hall and Baptist church.
“Sadly, it will have to wait,” Maud said, her gazing floating upon a particular tombstone.
Mollie held Maud’s hand. “Have you visited since you returned?”
Maud nodded. “It was the first thing I did. But you know how I love my little rituals.”
“It is why I adore you.” They hugged, and then Mollie said, “The first day of school promises to be interesting.”
“It certainly does,” Maud murmured, watching Mollie walk down the hill.
CHAPTER TWO
Maud tried walking in quiet reverence to her mother’s tombstone, but her mind kept wandering to the next day at school. While she was thrilled to be back with Mollie and Lu—and, yes, possibly the person who had crafted the letter safely tucked in her Bible—Maud was also quite nervous about how she and the new teacher, Miss Gordon, would get along.
Last year, Maud had been delighted when she heard that the school trustees had chosen Miss Izzie Robinson to be Cavendish’s first lady teacher. Of course, back then not everyone in the community had been. There was much talk about women being unable to handle a classroom as well as a man—particularly with the older boys.
And for Grandfather, it was even more than that. He thought that teaching was a man’s profession—a profession that was certainly beneath a Macneill. When Maud once revealed that she might want to teach, he had pronounced that “no Macneill would lower herself to be little more than a nanny.”
Then, somehow Miss Robinson convinced Grandma to allow her to bo
ard with them. It wasn’t unusual: teachers often did. Her grandparents made money from the farm, and running the post office out of their kitchen, but the additional boarding income was also helpful. But Miss Robinson’s sour disposition and Grandfather’s tendency to insult was sure to cause difficulty. And it did.
One evening a month after Miss Robinson had started living with them, Grandfather made some suggestion that Miss Robinson couldn’t keep order in the classroom, which was a half-truth, as Miss Robinson could only keep the boys in check if she threatened a whipping.
“If you were one of my students, Mr. Macneill, I might show you how I deal with impertinence,” she said.
“The impertinence is your unladylike tone,” Grandfather said.
“How about some more peas?” Grandma held the bowl out to her husband.
“I’ll take some,” Maud said. Grandma gave her the bowl and she took an extra helping. “These are delicious!”
“Thank you, Maud.” Grandma nodded over her spectacles approvingly.
“You should come and inspect my class yourself,” Miss Robinson went on. “Maybe you would actually learn something, such as how to be hospitable.”
Grandfather banged the jug of apple cider he had been pouring on the table and some of the juice spilled onto Grandma’s linen tablecloth. Maud flinched.
“Miss Robinson,” Grandma said. “I hear your brother will be coming to visit. You know he also stayed with us last year.”
This had the desired effect, as Miss Robinson loved talking about her brother, and the quarrel was appeased for the present.
But things between Grandfather and Miss Robinson continued to unravel, which meant things got worse for Maud at school. Miss Robinson would pick on Maud any chance she could and, as much as the young girl tried not to cry in front of everyone, somehow her teacher knew exactly what to say. When Maud told Grandma, she was advised to stop crying and listen to her elders.
Everything had escalated last March, when Miss Robinson asked the class to memorize and interpret a poem. Maud had spent much of the week practicing so Miss Robinson wouldn’t be able to find fault.
After Nate had given his excellent recitation and interpretation of Tennyson’s “Sir Lancelot and Queen Guinevere,” Clemmie fumbled through her passage so badly Miss Robinson took over and interpreted the poem herself.
Maud was barely listening; her turn was next, and she was quite nervous.
“Do you not agree, Maud?” Miss Robinson said.
Maud recoiled. The class went still. Maud desperately tried to think.
“I suppose you think I’m incorrect,” Miss Robinson went on. “You know you have an expressive face that tells us everything you’re thinking.”
Maud stared at her boots. At least her teacher wouldn’t see her face, or the tears.
“Like your grandfather, you think you are all high and mighty and superior. If you know so much, you should be able to do your reading now without any errors.”
It was as if a toad had gone to sleep on Maud’s tongue. She couldn’t remember anything. Miss Robinson smiled triumphantly and told Maud to sit down.
After school, Maud ran upstairs to her room to write the whole ordeal in her journal. Sitting on her bed, Maud wrote as if it burned her to write, but it would scorch her if she didn’t. As the words mingled with the anger, the world around her shifted and Maud moved past Miss Robinson, finding herself on the edge of her dream world. Her bones ached, her eyes burned, her shoulders screamed, but she kept writing until she lost herself and found her way back.
After a very awkward dinner, where Maud couldn’t swallow her meal from nerves, Grandma called Maud into the parlor. Miss Robinson sat proudly on the green sofa, and the soft lamplight highlighted her grandparents’ disappointment. It was considered bad manners to challenge a teacher.
“Did you forget your lessons today?” Grandma said.
“No, ma’am.”
“She lies,” Miss Robinson said. “You stood there gaping like one of your grandfather’s fish.”
“That would be your sour disposition,” Grandfather said. Maud knew better than to think he was standing up for her; this was one of his insults.
“Alexander, please,” Grandma said, and clasped her hands on her lap. “Maud may be flighty and irresponsible, but I’ve never known her to lie, Miss Robinson.”
For a fleeting moment, Maud wondered if maybe Grandma would stand up for her. Reverend Archibald was always talking about God’s miracles; perhaps this would be one of them.
“Maud,” Grandma said. “Please explain what happened in a calm and rational way.”
“I knew my lesson,” Maud said, as if each word was sparked with venom. “But Miss Robinson did not give me the opportunity to speak.”
“Maud.” Grandma peered over her spectacles. “I said calmly and rationally.”
“But you don’t understand, Grandma!” Maud said, hating the childish whine creeping into her voice. “I did know it, but she had startled me so badly the words completely left my head. I knew it! I knew it!”
“You don’t speak to your grandmother that way,” Grandfather said, without raising his voice. The sound curdled Maud’s stomach, bringing forth the inevitable tears.
“Miss Robinson,” Grandma said, standing up. “I’m sorry for my granddaughter’s conduct.” She glared at Maud. “She knows better than to allow her emotions to get the better of her.”
There was no mercy. Her grandparents would always be ashamed of her.
Miss Robinson’s pruned mouth twisted into an almost smile. “She’s at that age, Mrs. Macneill. Young ladies need to know their place.”
Neither grandparent acknowledged Miss Robinson’s remark, but Maud’s grandmother did ask the teacher to leave the room. Satisfied, Miss Robinson smoothed down her skirt and went upstairs.
Grandma waited until they heard the creaking of Miss Robinson’s door shutting before she spoke. “Sit down, Maud,” she said, handing her granddaughter a tissue. “You handled that poorly.”
“I know,” Maud said, blowing her nose. “But I couldn’t help it. She treated me so abominably!”
“Shh,” Grandma said. “Honestly, the way you talked to her…”
Grandfather didn’t speak; raising children was woman’s work.
“We must protect ourselves, Maud, from gossip,” she continued. “That woman is already going around town spreading falsehoods. You’re old enough to understand the damage that can happen to a family if people get the wrong idea.” Grandma was talking about Father.
“Your grandfather and I will talk it over, and we’ll give you our verdict,” Grandma said.
Maud stood up. It was as if a gnarled, twisted root was suffocating her when she remembered what had happened in school. And what would happen if she returned. “I can’t go back there,” she said quietly.
“You can if we make you,” Grandfather said.
Maud opened up her mouth to speak, but her grandmother held her hand up as if to silence her. “True, Alexander. But.” She patted Maud’s hand and dropped her own back on her lap. “I’m not sure it is the best course of action. Now, go upstairs, and we will discuss it.”
Maud listened to her grandmother and went upstairs and waited. She wrote in her journal of how unjustly accused she had felt and how she would never forgive her teacher.
No one said anything for a few days, and for once, her grandparents let Maud stay home from school. Maud helped her grandmother with the chores and at the post office. She took long walks through the cow path she called Lover’s Lane, her favorite place, and waited. She wanted to ask what “verdict” her grandparents had rendered, but they were silent.
A few days later a letter arrived from Aunt Emily in Malpeque indicating she would be “willing to take in Maud for a little while.”
“It is settled,” Grandma said, folding the letter in half. “You are to leave school and we’ll make arrangements with Emily. She’s had some trouble lately with the children, and I
suspect she would love the help. You’ll stay there until we decide how to deal with—” she paused—“her.”
Of course they hadn’t even considered sending Maud to Saskatchewan to live with Father. He couldn’t take Maud when he left the Island after her mother died. He had sold his general store in Clifton and went to visit Maud’s aunt in Boston. He had come back twice: once when Maud was nine, and then again when she was eleven, but she had not seen him since. He wrote to her, of course, and Maud even had a new baby sister, Katie. While he hadn’t said it, Maud knew one day he would come for her.
Now, as Maud stood in front of her mother’s grave, she wondered if Father would have even taken her. From his letters, it didn’t appear to be a good time. He had originally moved to Prince Albert to run his auctioneering business. But Father had big dreams and went into government too, becoming a forest ranger and homestead investigator. His supervisor had accused Father of being in a “conflict of interest” for continuing to run his auctioneering business while also performing his other duties, so he and his new wife were living in Battleford, Saskatchewan. In his letters, Father had told Maud that his requests for a transfer back to Prince Albert, where he had purchased his beautiful home, Eglintoune Villa, were consistently denied. It wasn’t fair! Father worked so hard. Why couldn’t his supervisor see that?
At least she could comfort herself by visiting Mother’s grave. Maud stood quietly in front of the white-and-gray-peppered tombstone. Maud loved the graveyard with its old tombstones of Cavendish’s founders, ancient clans from the Old World communing together. Everyone in Cavendish was practically related. Her grandparents often murmured one had to be careful if you didn’t want to marry your kin—as was the custom with some. By their tone, it was clear they didn’t put themselves in that category.
Maud had memorized every deep crevice of her mother’s tombstone: the hand with its index finger pointed up to the sky, the “God is Love” inscription, and the often quoted hymn for the dead:
“Yet again we hope to meet thee, / When the day of life is fled,” she read out loud.
Maud Page 2