Page 105 of Dragons of the Great Wyves: Fire and Song
I put the amulet in my reticule. We replaced Harriet’s emptied box on the shelf and closed the doors before hurrying down the stairs. But the Overseer was on the middle landing, fuming. He ignored our protests and herded us down to the first floor, then pointed toward the teaching room. “Get along.”
Harriet gave me a tense shrug. We would have to brazen it out.
The teaching room had tea-colored walls and undersized windows. There was no sign of Mrs. Goddard, but it was filled with a score of her older students and boarders, all standing and whispering. One exclaimed “Harriet!” when we entered, and heads spun. Harriet signaled for caution. Swiftly, everyone turned away. Too swiftly. It was as if they knew we were in danger.
Harriet and I had just found the farthest, most gloomy corner when a man’s voice reached us from the hallway. “Skillful is the hand that reforms England!”
That was the voice I had recognized—Mr. Elton. I could not imagine a more detestable person to encounter again, as much for his maltreatment of his wyfe as his violence toward me.
While I bristled, Harriet snatched two of the school’s riding hoods from pegs on the wall. She thrust one at me. Of course; Mr. Elton would recognize us at a glance. I pulled mine on and followed her example by tugging the hood forward to hide my face. Mrs. Goddard’s practical philosophy helped. She had added beds for paid boarders, not luxuries like modern windows or good lamps.
Men strode in: Mr. Elton, looking intense and self-important, and two Overseers, the one we had just met and another, haughty with a bushy beard, his dark gray coat made of leather.
Mr. Elton adopted what I thought of as his greeting smile, the beatific stretching of his lips he assumed while his congregation filed in for services. I had witnessed that in worse circumstances while trapped in his coach, and it made my skin crawl.
“Suchan assembly of young ladies,” he said. “You do your mistress proud.” His gaze roamed over the women and stopped on Harriet and me, draped as if for a long walk.
“Where is Mrs. Goddard?” a girl asked bravely. “We have not seen her for days.”
His gaze moved to her. “Mrs. Goddard. Exactly so. She is preparing a celebration, a testament to your education and piety. We shall join her, humbly, to serve the great, restored True Church, and I have not a doubt of our success.”
He gestured toward the door, and I saw my brother-in-law, John, watching from the threshold. He seemed unwilling to enter. His pompous confidence had shattered. His face was sweaty, his chin and jowls loose.
Mr. Elton called to him solicitously, “Have you a report from Mrs. Goddard?” John seemed confused; his features contorted, and he did not answer. Impatiently, Mr. Elton snapped, “Have you prepared thehouse?”
John dithered, eyed the Overseers, then abruptly he stumbled back and left. I heard his hurrying feet, then the school’s door open and slam.
Mr. Elton scowled but recovered. He spread his arms rapturously to encompass us all. “The True Church ascends, and through His divine foresight, Highbury shall be the temple of His triumph. Two hundred years past, a witch made her home here—the Witch ofWoodhouse.” He crouched theatrically,as if expecting childishoohs, but the audience was quiet as death. Irritated, he resumed, spitting his words, “Her vile influence has dogged our families for generations, spurring disrespect from wyves, inducing rebellion against fathers and brothers, even… even againsthusbands, those selfless men who enforce the strictest virtues while battling… whilebetrayedby their… by female…” He stopped, shoulders heaving, then forced a measured tone. “Rejoice, for from the witch’s ancient sin comes salvation. The Witch of Woodhouse unearthed a foulness in Highbury, and the Emperor himself comes to purge it. We shall bear witness as that blasphemous seraphim is cleansed!”
That grand finish was met with echoing silence. Mr. Elton’s lips worked wetly, then he stamped away, leading the Overseers out of the room.
A pair of soldiers drove us after them. Soldiers blocked the other paths—the stairs, a hallway to the rear of the house. In seconds we were all outside in the street.
Mr. Elton began a grotesque inventory, greeting each girl by name with an insipid smile and sending them to form a line.
“We have to run,” Harriet said in a panicked whisper. Our disguises would never survive close inspection.
“They would catch us,” I whispered. There were soldiers on every side. “Stand so that Mr. Elton cannot see me…”
I turned to the square where we had hidden with Mr. Knightley.Please be watching. Harriet, her robed back to Mr. Elton, set her shoulders wide and head high to block his view. Then I pulled my hood down and stared, still as a statue, at the concealing willow trees and ferns, willing that Mr. Knightley would see me exposed and understand…
“What are you doing?” Harriet hissed frantically.
“Requesting a distraction.”
Orange flashed in the leaves, and acrackcut the air over our heads. The blast of a powerful rifle filled the street. The soldiers, French and Confederate both, scattered instantly leaving the students and Mr. Elton gaping in surprise. I grabbed Harriet’s sleeve and ran the one direction the soldiers had not, yanking open the school’s door and dashing up the stairs. “Where is the way out?”
“Here,” Harriet said, taking the lead, and we ran down a hall into a small reading room at the rear of the house. She strained at the window. I grabbed it as well, and the sash flew up with abang. Harriet swung a leg out. She grabbed my hands, “Steady me!” then got her other leg out and wiggled backward. Her hips caught in the narrow window, but she twisted and made it through.
“Come on!” she called softly from outside. She was crouched on a mildly sloped roof.
“I expected a door!” I said. She gave me a look, so I hitched up my skirt and repeated the ungainly process. Having no one inside to balance me, I teetered awkwardly, Harriet outside tugging my legs while I scrabbled for purchase on the floor and window frame until I wiggled out.
Harriet slid the window closed, frowning and rubbing her hip. “I was littler the last time I did that.”
I looked over the roof’s edge. The school had no grounds, so the rear faced another house’s garden. Past that, it would be woods and farmland with a hundred places to hide. “Do we jump?” I asked. We were ten feet above the uncut grass, but I had never crawled through a window before. Jumping ten feet might be possible, too.
Harriet, though, shook her head and stepped carefully toward the edge. A graceful maple grew nearby, and a thick branch passed beside the roof. She hugged it, shimmied off the shingles, then dangled from her stretched arms and let go, falling the last few feet. I did the same. My grip slipped and I crashed down inelegantly but unhurt.
