by K. B. Owen
Concordia got right to the point. “Mr. Langdon, I want to speak with you about Miss Lovelace and her friends, who are on the verge of being expelled.”
Langdon’s brow furrowed, and his usually amiable expression took on a scowl. “Are you here to plead on their behalf? You’re wasting your time.”
Concordia held up a hand. “What they did was certainly disruptive and ill-considered, but can you hear me out?”
President Langdon gave Concordia a long, silent look. Finally, he sighed in resignation and sat back in his chair. “If it were anyone but you, Concordia, I would not. But I do respect your opinion, and I know you’re not easily influenced by sentimentality. Perhaps you can help me at least understand why in blazes they decided to do such a thing.”
She nodded. “That is the very issue. This wasn’t some high-spirited prank, done in malice or to show off to their peers. They had an earnest motive behind it.”
Langdon waved a dismissive hand. “You mean the engineering program? The girls have already explained their reasons. It makes no sense to me, and I certainly cannot condone such behavior. If anything, these young ladies have already acted in a distinctly unwomanly fashion. A course of study like engineering, suited to men, would exacerbate the problem, not solve it.”
Concordia clenched her teeth. She needed all of the patience she could muster. It certainly would not do to fly off the handle when faced with this all-too-common misconception about a woman’s “nature.”
“Sir,” Concordia began, “the act that you call unwomanly is merely the attempt on the part of these girls to prove that they are capable of the mechanical complexity called for in an engineering program. Granted, the demonstration was flamboyant, designed to draw attention to the issue, but you said yourself that not even the local mechanic wants to attempt dismantling and reassembling the vehicle because of the risk of damage to it. Doesn’t that speak to extraordinary skill, that these young ladies were able to do so?”
Langdon regarded her with a skeptical eye.
“Do you deny that they have exceptional ability?” Concordia persisted. She knew Edward Langdon would not allow bias to interfere with the evidence of his own eyes.
Langdon’s expression softened. “Just between us, I was astounded when each girl described her role in the process; what tools they knew to borrow and use, how they had taught themselves to do certain things. Yes, Concordia, they certainly have skill; talent, even. However—”
Concordia jumped in. “God-given talent?”
Langdon hesitated. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“So, let us suppose, in the hypothetical,” Concordia went on, “that a different talent bestowed by Providence was at issue. Suppose one of these girls had an extraordinary singing voice. What would you do—redirect her into another area of study for which she was ill-suited, forever muting her beautiful voice? Would you forbid her to use and develop her talent because of her sex?”
Langdon was quiet.
“The President Langdon whom I have come to know,” Concordia said softly, “would want her to take singing lessons with the best teacher available, and he would attend her performances as her most avid supporter. The Edward Langdon I know believes deeply in the education of young women, and wants them to reach their full potential.” Concordia let out a deep breath, and sat back in her chair, gloved hands folded in her lap.
Langdon rubbed a hand across his beard, lost in thought. Concordia waited.
“At least we know where you belong, my dear,” Langdon said. “Right here, teaching and supporting these girls. They are lucky to have you.”
Concordia blushed and smoothed her skirts.
“Although I cannot refute your logic, I see two issues,” he went on. “There’s the disciplinary action for a prank of this kind—although I cannot say there has ever been a prank quite of this kind before—and then, there’s the original problem that the girls were reacting to: the lack of an engineering program.”
Concordia’s eyes lit up. “So you’re not going to expel them?”
Langdon threw up his hands in surrender. “Why waste such ability? But we need to direct these young ladies along more productive pursuits. We certainly cannot have them disassembling and reassembling other school machinery when they are disgruntled.”
Concordia suppressed a shudder. Heaven knows what the girls would have resorted to next.
“You never brought the certificate program before the board of trustees?” she asked.
“No, I did not,” Langdon said. “Bursar Isley was vehemently opposed to the expense. You know how, umm...frugal...our bursar can be. Without the support of the entire administration, it was doomed to fail. Besides, there is a great deal of skepticism regarding such a program to begin with. It’s never been done at a women’s college before, you see.”
Concordia did indeed see. “I have an idea. Perhaps we can take care of both issues in a single stroke.”
Langdon propped his elbows on the desk. “I’m listening.”
“Obviously, the first step is to have the young ladies disassemble your buggy, remove it from Mr. Isley’s office, and restore it, correct?”
Langdon nodded.
“Well, then, why not make an event out of it?” Concordia continued. “The incident has already been made public, anyway. Call in that newspaper reporter—” Langdon winced “—and the engineering students from the local colleges, and have the girls show everyone how they worked the process. It would have to be after we’re back from spring recess, of course, so you’d have to wait a bit longer for use of your vehicle. But the publicity may make others more aware of what talent we have here, and sow the seeds for the engineering program, which you can present to the board next year.”
“But that doesn’t seem sufficient punishment for the young ladies involved,” Langdon objected. “They cannot just seize upon valuable property that doesn’t belong to them, and use it for their own purposes.”
“Ah, but that isn’t all,” Concordia said. “And I think the next part will please Mr. Isley in particular.” Bless his penny-pinching heart, she added silently. “You can place the girls on restriction for the rest of the semester, where in their free time they are put to work fixing various mechanical problems that have arisen at the school. Door latches, sticking windows, broken pulleys on window-blinds, things like that. We never want for those sorts of annoyances. Of course, you’ll want someone knowledgeable in such things to supervise them and help if there are any difficulties. Perhaps the custodian?”
Langdon’s smile was growing wider by the minute. “I’m beginning to see the appeal of your plan.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “And by putting these girls to work on such projects, we can see if they are truly dedicated and suited for such tasks.”
“No doubt they will learn a great deal, too,” Concordia pointed out. “It’s certainly not the certificate program that they wanted, but they’ll be getting a lot of hands-on practice.”
“It may even prove to be useful if we go to the board next year about the program,” Langdon mused.
“So you’ll do it?” Concordia asked.
He nodded. “I suppose I can wait another week to have my buggy back. At least Isley won’t be in need of his office during the recess.” He stood, as did Concordia. “Tell the young ladies to be prepared for a great deal of work when they return.”
Concordia grinned, and hurried back to share the good news with the girls.
By the end of the following day, the campus was nearly deserted. The students and most of the teachers had gone. Even Miss Hamilton was nowhere to be found. Concordia wondered if she had learned anything at the train station yesterday.
The cottage was strangely quiet as she finished grading examinations. She knew she would have no time to work once she visited her mother tomorrow. The rest of the week was sure to be a whirlwind of outings, shopping, and social calls. But the visit would be as good a time as any to share the news of her engagement.
Concordia puckered her brow, wondering how to tell her mother that the engagement was to be kept secret for now. Would Mother accede to that request? Or would she haul Concordia around town, shopping for a trousseau?
That would not do. She would have to be very firm.
A knock at the door roused her.
“This is a surprise!” Concordia exclaimed, opening the door to Lieutenant Capshaw.
“Hello, miss.” Although the shadows of sleepless nights smudged his eyes—worry about Eli’s long absence was surely taking its toll—Capshaw greeted her with a half-smile.
She led him to the parlor. “Please, sit down. You have news?”
Capshaw crouched gingerly upon a low rocking chair, his long legs bent nearly double. “Indeed, yes. I just received a telegram from Miss Hamilton. She was writing in haste, and asked me to inform you as well. Her interview with the conductor has given her the lead she needed. She’s picked up Eli’s trail.”
“Wonderful!” Concordia exclaimed.
“But you’re not going to like the rest of it,” Capshaw said, in his usual melancholy tone. “Eli spent time in the Cranston town jail for sneaking aboard the train bound for Hartford.”
Concordia clenched her hands together. “They put a child in jail?”
“It was the day after Florence’s murder,” Capshaw explained, his jaw rigid. “He was released three days later, into the care of a reformatory school matron, but he slipped away from her. Miss Hamilton is trying to trace his whereabouts since then.”
“Wait,” Concordia said. “How did Eli come to be boarding a train to Hartford? From where? And why Cranston, Rhode Island?”
“The train originated in Providence. The boy was caught between there and Cranston.”
“And Miss Hamilton thinks he’s been following Florence Willoughby’s killer,” Concordia said. Her stomach twisted in worry. Where was Eli now? It would have been several weeks since the boy’s release from jail. Why hadn’t he returned?
Capshaw ran a hand through his hair. “I am sorely tempted to join Miss Hamilton in the hunt, and risk losing my position,” he said. “Why didn’t Eli send word?”
The pained look on Capshaw’s face spoke volumes about the agony of a parent who cannot do anything but sit back and wait.
“I assume Miss Hamilton is checking with the doctors in the town, in case the boy was injured?” Concordia asked.
Capshaw nodded. “I have to say, my respect for Miss Hamilton has grown considerably. She’s a very thorough investigator.”
Indeed she was. Concordia smiled.
“But that’s not the only reason for my visit,” Capshaw said. “I need to speak to Ruby.”
Concordia raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t talked with her yet?” It had been weeks since Capshaw had begun his investigation of the mysterious man on campus.
Capshaw frowned. “I’ve rescheduled our meeting twice, after she sent me messages with some excuse or other as to why it was inconvenient. It seemed prudent to simply show up to talk with her.”
Concordia shook her head. Something was wrong here. Why was Ruby acting so strangely? “Ruby left for vacation yesterday. She won’t be back until the end of the week.”
Capshaw’s frown deepened into a scowl. “She’s deliberately avoiding me.”
Concordia nodded. “Reluctantly, I’d have to agree. But why?”
“I can think of only one explanation, miss. Ruby knows this man. And she’s protecting him.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Why do you speak so faintly?
Are you not well?
Othello, III.iii
Spring Recess
April 1898
Concordia rang the bell of her mother’s house in the Frog Hollow section of Hartford.
The housekeeper opened the door wide. “Miss Concordia! So glad you’ve come for a visit.” She reached for Concordia’s valise. “Here, let me take that. Come in!”
“It’s nice to be home,” Concordia said. “How are you, Mrs. Houston?”
The housekeeper bobbed her head. “Doin’ just fine, dear, but you look a bit thinner than when I saw you last, if you don’t mind me sayin’ so. You’ve been working too hard, I expect.”
Concordia smiled at the housekeeper’s maternal ways. Some things never change. “Where’s Mother?”
“She’s resting,” Mrs. Houston said, “but she’ll be getting up any minute now. Why don’t you go into the parlor? There’s a nice fire going, and I’ll bring you a cup of tea.”
“That would be lovely.”
The parlor was much the way Concordia remembered. Her mother’s love of order was evident in the matching armchairs with their ornately turned legs, the regimental arrangement of portraits along the far wall, and the evenly spaced set of candlesticks on the mantel. However, the décor seemed to have softened over time; the heavy drapes had been replaced with lighter sheers to let the light and the breezes in; several large crystal bowls of cut flowers topped the tables.
She settled into the burgundy velvet armchair that had been a favorite of her father’s while he was alive. Was it her imagination, or did she catch a faint scent of his pipe tobacco, nearly thirteen years after his death? Impossible, she decided.
Concordia was pouring out tea for herself when her mother walked in, dressed in a simple dove gray sateen wrapper, her silvering blonde hair piled in soft waves atop her head. Concordia was struck by how happy Mother looked these days, and much younger than her fifty-six years.
Mrs. Wells came over and gave her an airy kiss on the cheek. “Concordia dear, I’ve been looking forward to your spring recess for weeks. We’ll have such fun. The first order of business, of course, is shopping.”
“It is?” Concordia repeated blankly. Oh, no. Had Mother already heard about her engagement? Were they going shopping for bridal clothes?
“Yes, of course…oh! I forgot to tell you. I’ll be accompanying Robert and his family on a steamer tour of Ireland in the summer. I need traveling clothes.”
Concordia blinked. “Excuse me?” Her mother, traveling with a man? And Mr. Flynn at that. The relationship seemed to be progressing faster than Concordia realized.
“I’m sorry,” Mrs. Wells said, flustered. “I got so busy that I forgot to write you about it.”
“Not at all,” Concordia reassured her. “I’m usually the one who forgets to tell you things.” That brought a smile. “Why don’t I pour you some tea and you can tell me about this trip.” She picked up the antique silver teapot.
“It’s a group of us, really,” her mother explained. “Several ladies from the Irish Aid Society, Mr. Flynn, his mother and sister. It’s all very proper,” she added hastily. “I’ll be sharing accommodations with two other ladies, and we’ll be visiting the orphanages that we have been raising funds for. We’ll also visit the Flynn family’s birthplace. Robert is most eager to have me see it.”
“That sounds quite exciting,” Concordia said politely. “You are serious about Mr. Flynn, then? Does he return the feeling?”
Her mother flushed and kept her eyes upon her cup. “We don’t have a spoken understanding, but we spend quite a bit of time together, and he’s a most agreeable gentleman. I esteem him greatly.”
“I’m happy for you, Mother, truly I am. Be careful not to give your heart away before you’re sure of him.” How odd to be cautioning her mother, instead of the other way around.
Mrs. Wells nodded as she met Concordia’s eyes once again. “I know. I think I’ve learned a thing or two about that. But let’s talk about you. How are your classes this term? Have you been seeing much of Mr. Bradley?”
At least her mother asked about her work first, before asking about David. That showed improvement.
Now was the time to tell her. Concordia took a sip of tea before answering. “Actually, I have good news to share with you,” she said. Why was she having trouble putting a smile on her face? Perhaps any kind of change had its disquieting aspects, even happy occasions. “David
and I are going to be married.”
“Oh!” Her mother clasped her hands together. “Oh, my dear, I am so happy for you!” She reached over and hugged her daughter enthusiastically, as Concordia scrambled to keep her cup upright in her lap.
“But,” Concordia held up a hand, once her mother had sat down again, “it needs to be a secret, until the school term is over.”
Mrs. Wells’ face fell. Concordia imagined her taking a quick inventory of all the neighborhood matrons she wanted to tell. “I can’t tell anyone? Whyever not?”
“I fear it would pose a distraction for my students. Once they are finished with end-of-term examinations, I’ll notify Lady Principal Pomeroy, and share the news with everyone.”
Letitia Wells was quiet for a long moment, looking at her daughter with anxious eyes.
“Concordia, I cannot believe I’m saying this, but—are you sure you want to marry David? You don’t seem terribly delighted about it.”
Concordia set her cup aside with trembling hands. “I’d be less than honest if I said I had no…reservations. It’s a big change in my life. I’m not sure I’m ready for it. But David is a wonderful man. I do love him.”
“So why not wait?” Mrs. Wells said gently.
Concordia, open-mouthed in astonishment at her mother’s question, was at a loss for words. This was the woman who had taken to her bed for a week when her daughter left home for a college education and a career. Now she was advocating that Concordia postpone her engagement?
Mrs. Wells chuckled at the look on Concordia’s face. “Yes, really. You know that the day you marry and the day I hold your first child in my arms will be the happiest of my life. But your happiness comes first. So I’m asking you, why not wait?”
Emotion flooded Concordia. She choked back a sob and put her head in her hands. “I’ll lose him.”