“I’m not sure what you mean?”
“I read that Little Women was inspired by Alcott’s experiences during the Civil War,” Maud said. “And living with her sisters.”
“Yes, very much like that,” Miss Gordon said.
Maud thought, again, of the last two lines of the poem she had just read:
And write upon its shining scroll
A woman’s humble name.
“Was there anything else, Maud?” Miss Gordon said.
“I wondered…it isn’t possible right now…but I was thinking of Prince of Wales College. In Charlottetown.”
Miss Gordon smiled. “I think you could do quite well at college. And we are heading into an age where a girl needs a profession.”
“Such as being a teacher,” Maud said.
“Being a teacher would be a practical option,” Miss Gordon said.
The light was fading. It was time to go home.
“You have to decide, Maud, how you want to live your life,” Miss Gordon said, standing up and packing away her things. “Not so long ago, women were forbidden to teach. It was believed that we weren’t suited to the profession, but slowly we are proving those people wrong. And a woman writer? There are some who don’t think women can write.” She paused. “You have chosen a difficult path, Maud. But I believe you will persevere. And I will help you any way I can.”
It was so rare for anyone to encourage her that Maud asked, “Why?”
Miss Gordon smiled gently. “Each student should have a teacher who sees their potential, and I don’t think you have been given that opportunity. You’re cleverer than most of the students here. And I’m aware of what happened with my predecessor.” Maud stared at her shoes. “Don’t worry. I don’t allow others to cloud my judgment of people.”
“The Montreal Witness contest appears to be the perfect opportunity,” Maud said, more to herself than to her teacher.
“I agree,” Miss Gordon said.
Maud said goodbye to Miss Gordon and took the long way home through Lover’s Lane, as there was much to think about, plans to be made. When she got home, Maud burned “The Queen’s Betrayal” and started on a new version of “On Cape LeForce.” Then, she copied out “The Fringed Gentian” onto a letter bill and glued it into the front of one her workbooks. It would be a constant reminder of a far-off goal: perhaps, one day, if she was vigilant, she would reach those sublime heights.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The following Saturday morning a number of Maud’s classmates—including Nate, Jack, Clemmie, Nellie, and Annie—met to help decorate Cavendish Hall for the evening literary. But as they worked, they were dismayed to hear the sound of heavy rain hitting the windowpanes. Would it keep people away?
Maud and Mollie sat at a table making a bouquet of leaves that echoed the rich colors of a typical Island autumn. Each had tucked one in their hair—Mollie, orange; Maud, red. Maud noted how the orange highlighted the blond in her best friend’s curls. They had already worked on some pretty bunting made from leftover cloth Miss Gordon had collected. Even if it was gray and stormy outside, it would be colorful inside.
“I don’t know why we’re bothering,” Clemmie said, pinning some of the bunting Maud and Mollie had worked on to the wall. “People are bound to stay home. I know that’s where I would be—if I didn’t have to be here.”
“What kind of attitude is that?” Miss Gordon said, looking up from her checklist. “People have worked hard, and it is only right that their community should show its support.”
Clemmie and Nellie exchanged a look but silently went back to work.
Mollie gave Maud a reassuring smile. Maud was trying not to show it, but she was nervous. Tonight would be the first time she’d ever had to recite something in front of a real audience. The whole village, including her grandparents, was coming. Pensie had stopped by last evening for their nightly walk to give Maud some ribbon for good luck. “Perhaps you can pin it to your hat,” she suggested.
The jitters over speaking certainly helped distract Maud from the other thing she was nervous about—walking home with Nate. She just had to be sure to wait until after her grandparents had left, which wouldn’t be a problem because they tended to leave right away. Thank goodness Jack and Mollie were going to be there. On the way over, Mollie couldn’t stop talking about how she hoped that Jack would hold her hand; he had yet to make that particular move. Maud hadn’t told Mollie about holding Nate’s hand. It felt too private to tell anyone just yet.
Nate and Jack were setting up the wooden chairs on the other side of the hall. Maud couldn’t help but notice how Nate’s navy blue shirt fit nicely around his shoulders, and how wide his shoulders were becoming. She fumbled with one of the bouquet leaves, the stem getting stuck in her ring. Avoiding Mollie’s questioning look, Maud brought the subject back to Clemmie and Annie.
“Did I see Annie and Clemmie fighting this morning?” Maud said.
Mollie nodded. “Yes, it appears they are at odds…again.”
“Those girls need to be careful to keep their quarrel to themselves,” Maud said. “Miss Gordon is in no mood today.”
“She is definitely like my father on planting day.”
“I don’t blame her,” Maud said. “She’s new and wants to show the trustees they didn’t make a mistake.”
“She’s infinitely superior to you-know-who,” Mollie said.
A chair toppled over and someone screamed. Maud and Mollie jumped up to see Clemmie on the ground, holding her ankle, with Annie triumphantly standing over her.
“Yes, the truce is definitely over,” Mollie muttered.
“Miss Gordon!” Clemmie cried. “Annie pushed me off the chair.” She sat on a chair, rubbing her ankle. Nellie dutifully stood beside her.
“I did no such thing, Miss Gordon,” Annie said. “She had refused to move and I was trying to put up the banner as you requested.”
Miss Gordon strode over. “I don’t know what is going on between you girls, but I’ve been watching you and—don’t try to deny it, Clemmie and Annie—I had hoped you would solve this yourselves like true ladies, but clearly I was wrong about your characters—”
“But—” Clemmie said.
“Don’t interrupt me when I’m speaking.” Miss Gordon raised her voice. Maud and Mollie exchanged a look of concern. Their teacher never raised her voice. “Monday afternoon you will be kept after school. We are going to have a ruction—a trial—to determine the cause of all of this and you may call upon witnesses.”
Maud dropped the bouquet she was holding. She had heard of other schools having mock trials but she’d never imagined Miss Gordon would do it. Maud remembered how Annie had threatened her in September. Would she dare? Seeing how Annie had pushed Clemmie off the chair, Maud wasn’t sure what else the girl was capable of.
After that drama, the classmates quietly concentrated on getting the hall ready. By evening, the rain had stopped and, as Miss Gordon had foreseen, many villagers arrived. Mr. George Simpson told Miss Gordon that the hall looked rather “quaint,” while Mrs. Simpson turned to Maud and said, “Don’t be too hard on yourself if you make a mistake. Not many young people are practiced in public speaking.”
Maud tried to smile back, nervously running her hand over the sleeve of her dress. Grandma had helped Maud make a new outfit based on a pattern she had seen in the Young Ladies’ Journal. While Grandma still didn’t approve of the bustle, she did allow Maud an accordion sleeve, because the Young Ladies’ Journal had said it was in fashion for girls ages eleven to fifteen. The dress was made from a dark green and blue tartan that even Grandma said was becoming. Maud wouldn’t let Mrs. Simpson take anything away from this evening.
She looked out at the chairs, which were starting to fill up, and saw her grandparents sitting at the back.
“Good luck,” Nate said to Maud before the program started. He went to sit toward the back with Jack. Maud and Mollie sat in the front row with the rest of the presenters. Pensie and
Lu were there—and Quill and Mary. Pensie had come over to give Maud a hug for good luck and beamed at how Maud had incorporated her ribbon onto the hat.
Maud was grateful to at least be sitting beside Mollie, who was going to perform one of Shakespeare’s songs from As You Like It. Mollie’s voice and dramatic flair certainly added to her rendition, but Maud was so nervous that it was difficult to give her friend her full attention.
All too quickly it was her turn. “The next recitation is by Miss Maud Montgomery,” Mr. Simpson said and sat down.
Maud closed her eyes and focused on steadying her legs. As she was making her way to the front, Clemmie said, a little too loudly, “There she goes!”
Maud stopped. First Mrs. Simpson and now Clemmie! She would not allow that girl to shake her foundation. She stood straight and rolled her shoulders back, somehow making it to the platform as the audience clapped politely.
Staring out into the crowd, she felt as though all of Cavendish was there waiting to see if she would fail. Maud looked for her grandparents and her cousins. Her gaze then fell upon Nate, who had the audacity to wink!
Trying not to giggle, Maud breathed in deeply. Trembling, she was sure she was going to forget a word or miss a line. She began. And, as she spoke, each line fell upon the next with ease.
A child, with tender, wistful eyes
Tripped softly through the shade
Of whispering trees, nor sought the spots
When Maud reached the last line and lifted her hand up in a dramatic fashion, it was as though her voice was coming from someone else, filling the room.
And then it was over. It went so quickly she hardly remembered anything. It was quiet for a few moments, and then Nate stood up, whistled, and lead a standing ovation. Even her grandparents clapped politely.
After the performance, Maud and Mollie stayed together while people congratulated them. One of Mollie’s admirers, an awkward fellow from Mayfield, George Robertson, tripped over himself to tell her “How she did that poetry well.” Mollie smiled sweetly (as she was always polite) and then pulled Maud toward someone who didn’t make “her stomach feel as if she’d drunk cod liver oil.” They bumped into Pensie, who had been fighting her way through the crowd to get to them.
“That was well done, Maudie!” She embraced her. “Quill and Mary were quite impressed.” She looked over at Mollie, as if she had just noticed she was there. “You were good too, Amanda.”
Mollie murmured thanks and looked away.
Maud didn’t want them to fight. “I’m so glad you came,” she said. “With your guest.” She nodded to where Quill was standing off to the side, talking with Jack and Nate.
“Of course I’d come,” Pensie said, ignoring Maud’s teasing. “Your big night. We’ll celebrate the next time you stay over.”
Maud felt a bit guilty that she hadn’t spent as much time with Pensie lately as she had with Mollie. They still walked together in the evenings when the weather cooperated, but she hadn’t slept over since that weekend after the journal incident.
“Someone gave you quite the standing ovation,” Pensie said, a little too loudly, pointing to the back of the hall. The warm feeling evaporated, and Maud looked quickly around to see if anyone had heard. Why would Pensie embarrass her? She was usually so careful.
“Well, Quill is waiting for me,” Pensie said. “I’ll see you tomorrow evening.” And she kissed Maud on the cheek and left.
Her grandparents came over next and said that Miss Gordon had organized a “very nice affair.” Maud knew it wasn’t in their nature to compliment her directly—or she might get airs—but she had hoped that just once (on an occasion such as this) they would have. Still, they had come and that was something.
After the students helped Miss Gordon take down the decorations, Maud lingered longer than was probably necessary. Now that she was supposed to meet Nate, she wasn’t sure it was such a good idea. What if Grandma had overheard Pensie? But it was too late: she and Mollie had already accepted the invitation and, despite all of her reservations, Maud had been looking forward to another walk home.
The Four Musketeers had decided that they would meet in front of Nate’s house, and as Maud and Mollie approached, the boys emerged.
“As promised, we have kept our solemn vow to take you home once again.” Nate bowed.
“In plain English, we are here to walk you home,” Jack said, following his friend’s gesture.
Maud and Mollie giggled.
Again they paired up, and Maud took in the late autumn stars and the full moon as she and Nate talked of books and the lecture and her plans to go to school and write. He made her promise to write him everything that happened at the trial at school. “If I’m going to be a lawyer, I should know the goings-on,” he said.
When they got to the top of the hill near the cemetery where Maud had read Nate’s note all those weeks ago, he took Maud’s hand and said, “You know, someone might think I was your future husband for taking your hand.”
Maud tried to pull her hand away, but he held firm and kissed it. His hand was warm—and the kiss! Maud was sure anyone who had ever written about a hand being kissed couldn’t encapsulate the tenderness and joy she felt at that moment. He continued to hold her hand as they turned toward the school woods. Her cheeks felt warm, and she was sure she was all flushed, so she focused her attention on the red earth so he wouldn’t see, hoping she was holding her end of the conversation—although she had no idea what she was saying.
A part of her knew she should let go of his hand. They were daringly close to her grandparents’ house, and who knew what would happen if they were caught or seen. It would only end in heartbreak.
He was Baptist, she Presbyterian.
She remembered her conversation with Pensie about those Dockendorff brides causing a big rift in the family tree. But as Maud walked with Nate’s hand around hers, feeling each fingertip against her skin, all of those concerns were carried away by the stars lighting their way home.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
But by Monday afternoon all of those concerns had returned. Maud arrived home after school so furious at Clemmie and Annie—and what they said about her and Nate—that even after she had written out the entire ordeal in her journal, she was still shaking in anger.
Maud had promised Nate that she would write him a letter telling him exactly what happened, so it would be as if he’d been there himself. Whatever she decided, she had to make sure that Nate would be so upset that he would never speak to Clemmie again! Clemmie had said that she was going to make trouble for Maud, and she had. Maud wasn’t sure what she was more distressed about: her favorite teacher being involved, or that somehow the business between Annie and Clemmie had to do with Maud and Nate.
After pacing her room for almost an hour, Maud was finally calm enough to tell him the truth of how she saw it. Sitting down at the table in front of the window, watching the bare branches of Grandfather’s apple tree lash against the wind, she took a deep breath and began:
Dear Snip,
As promised, I’m faithfully recording the events that occurred after school this afternoon.
First, I am impressed with how Mollie got herself out of this mess by telling Miss Gordon that she knew nothing!
Can you believe it? It hadn’t even dawned on me to lie to Miss Gordon.
The tree snapped against the wind.
Maud stopped. Could she tell Nate what Clemmie had said? Perhaps if she built up to it…
Nate, it was as if we were in a real court of law—or as I have imagined it when I hear Grandpa Montgomery talk about it. Miss Gordon even rapped the drubbing ruler, like it was a gavel. She really could have been a lawyer.
“Annie, Clemmie, and Nellie,” she said. “Your behavior has been deplorable. It is time for you to tell me the truth.”
“Clemmie started it.” Annie pointed at her nemeses. “I was only defending myself.”
And then she had the nerve to point to me! Me!! “Maud s
aw the whole episode.”
I was mortified, but I stood up when Miss Gordon asked me to and proudly faced her.
“What do you know?”
“I don’t know what Annie thinks I saw.”
“That isn’t true!” Annie said.
Miss Gordon sighed and clicked the ruler against her desk.
“Maud, did you see Annie and Clemmie argue?”
“Yes.” I relented.
“And what was the nature of this fight?”
I wished to wipe that smug expression off Annie’s face with a dirty rag, but I took a deep breath and told the truth about what I saw the first day of school between Annie and Clemmie.
I kept wondering how I got there. I didn’t want to get involved with these girls, avoided them, ignored them, and, yet, they snared me into their trap!! I didn’t even want to consider what Miss Gordon was thinking about me.
Finally, Miss Gordon told me to sit down and then asked Mamie to stand up. “Now, why do you side with Annie?” Miss Gordon asked.
Mamie didn’t speak for a long while.
“There must be a reason why you chose to befriends with Annie and not Clemmie,” Miss Gordon said.
“There is,” Mamie finally said. “Clemmie is a gossip and a tattletale.”
“I am not!” Clemmie pounced.
“Clemmie!” Miss Gordon snapped the drubbing ruler against her desk. “You’ll have your chance to speak. It is now Mamie’s turn.”
Clemmie mumbled an apology.
Turning back to Mamie, Miss Gordon said, “Please continue.”
The tree clashed against the house again. Maud paused. Could she actually write the words? What would Nate say if she did? But if she didn’t and Clemmie told him, it would be worse…
“A few weeks ago Clemmie said something mean about Maud and Nate Lockhart to me,” Mamie said.
Miss Gordon’s eyes were now upon me, but I didn’t look away.
“And what did Clemmie say?” Miss Gordon asked.
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