Page 33 of A Rogue in Moonlight
“Aye, thank you. Miss MacCarran may have rules of her own.” He inclined his head toward her.
“Thank you, Mr. MacGregor.” Fiona folded her hands. “Here is what I expect from each of you. Treat others with respect. Wait your turn to speak, and raise your hand if you have something to say. And pay attention to your schoolwork and apply yourself to your books.”
A hand rose at the back of the room. “Miss, we have no books,” Andrew said.
Fiona raised her brows. “None?” Most schools had a few copies of certain texts.
“None in English, Miss, and only a couple in Gaelic,” Andrew answered.
“I have a book,” Lucy said. “So I brought it. But it may not be what you want.” She waved it. “It has some poems in it.”
“Thank you, Lucy. There are only seven students. I wonder, Mr. MacGregor.” She turned toward him and spoke softly. “Translated texts for teaching English to Gaels are scarce. But I was told we would have some books.”
“Few books have been translated into Gaelic, I am sure you know,” he said, as she nodded. “I purchased several from a Glasgow bookseller, but the other teacher took them when she left. Your arrival was something of a surprise, but I will purchase more books for the schoolroom—if you are staying.”
“You know I am,” she told him under her breath. “The Bible and some religious texts have been translated—do you have those in your home? We could use them, if so.”
“This is a school, not a kirk.”
“I agree. But they are useful if they are all we have. Scholars need texts to read and to improve their English skills. Perhaps Reverend MacIan has some books in both languages that I can borrow for the class.”
“I have a small library at Kinloch House. Lucy found her book there,” he said. For an instant, Fiona wondered if he were jealous of her mention of the reverend, but she dismissed that. “You may borrow whatever texts you like.” He tilted his head. “I recently acquired a copy of a book by the American Thomas Paine, which has been translated into Gaelic. I would be happy to lend it to you.”
“I would find it quite interesting, though it is above the level of these students. Without proper texts to suit, they may as well stay home.”
MacGregor smiled slowly. “Very true.”
She leaned close, speaking in nearly a whisper. “That is not a reason to close the school and send the dominie away.”
He raised his brows, looking amused and innocent. “Miss MacCarran, I am wounded,” he murmured. “I am here to help, not plot your demise. The offer to borrow my books stands. Farewell for now, and I wish you luck of the day.” He lifted a hand to the students, and left.
Fiona turned back to the class, aware that her heart was beating very fast. “Can anyone tell me what supplies we have here?” she asked.
Mairi MacDonald raised her hand. “We have slates and chalk in the cupboard.”
“Thank you, Mairi. Please fetch them and pass them around. Andrew, will you help her?” The two students went to an old cupboard beneath a window, removed a stack of slates and a box of cut chalk sticks, and began handing them about.
“We also have quills and ink, but not very much paper,” Lucy said. Fiona nodded, turning toward her. The girl’s heart-shaped face, curling brown hair, and wide dark eyes would make her a beauty one day, Fiona thought.
“Thank you, Lucy. Now who speaks some English, and who can read a little in English or in Gaelic?”
Two or three hands went up. Fiona soon learned that while some could barely read, most could write their names and a few words.Lucy, the youngest, had the best grasp of both languages. “And I can write in English, too,” the little girl said.
“Miss MacCarran,” Andrew said, “if we can all sign our names, and the pastor reads the Bible to us at Sunday kirk sessions, why do we have to learn more?”
“Because you cannot always be a smuggler, Andrew MacGregor,” Lucy said.
“Lucy,” Fiona said sternly. “Please do not speak out of turn. Raise your hand before speaking in class, and be considerate of others in what you say.”
“But Andrew is my cousin!”
“Here at school he is your fellow scholar,” Fiona pointed out.
Lucy scowled. “When my mother was the dominie, we did not have to ask permission. Well, I did not,” she added.
“I am the dominie now,” Fiona said gently, aware the girl had lost her mother.
Lilias raised her hand. “My uncle says Highlanders need scholarly skills to do well in the future. The lads cannot be free traders for long, for soon the laws will not permit—ow!” This as Pol MacDonald elbowed her into silence.
