Page 47 of Hearts of Locke Hill

Miss Whittemore spoke. “It is our hope to instill comportment and camaraderie amongst the girls here, Miss Penhurst.”

“I meant between the two of you.”

Miss Whittemore opened her mouth, but no words came out.

Cy swallowed a cough. “Do I detect a Yorkshire accent, Mrs. Penhurst?”

The woman nodded. “Indeed, sir. I was born in Pickering and spent my childhood there.”

“Ah. I have cousins near Easingwold. I’ve never been to Pickering, but I’m sure it’s lovely.”

Mrs. Penhurst produced a smile. “I think it is, sir.”

“Isn’t Pickering near the moors?” Miss Whittemore asked.

Mrs. Penhurst’s brows rose. “It is, miss. Just below the northern moors.”

“Are they as romantic as the novels let on? The Brontës lived their lives there, didn’t they?”

“Yes, miss. Though, they looked to the western moors from their Haworth. How clever of you to know.”

Miss Whittemore threw a superiorly clever look to Cy. He refrained from rolling his eyes.

Mrs. Whittemore folded her hands. “Mrs. Penhurst has been apprised of your arrangement and has been kind enough to agree to serve you both, within reason. She is not to be made a part of this … challenge, nor should you consider her a pawn of any sort.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Cy said.

“Nor would I,” Miss Whittemore agreed. “Mrs. Penhurst, welcome to Locke Hill. I look forward to working with you.”

“As do I,” Cy added. “I hope you don’t find the situation daunting.”

“I’m sure she’s up to the task, Mr. Burke,” Miss Whittemore said. “After all, we’re hiring the best for the school.” She smiled apologetically at Mrs. Penhurst.

He matched it. “Yes, but I’m guessing that when she was hired, it was under the premise that she’d be working for one headmaster.”

“Actually,” Mrs. Penhurst said, “it was under the premise that I’d be working for one headmistress.” She leaned toward Mrs. Whittemore. “I see what you mean. I’ll be earning that bonus, won’t I?”

Mrs. Whittemore leaned as well. “Indeed, you will, Mary.”

Cy flushed. He’d allowed himself to be drawn into the game. And, no doubt, this might be one of Mrs. Whittemore’s suffrage friends. He nodded. “Forgive me, Mrs. Penhurst. We are still coming to terms with”—he gestured to the screen divider next to him—“all this.”

Mrs. Penhurst straightened with her chin up. “Of course, Mr.Burke. Please know I will do all I can to keep the school running smoothly.”

“I suppose that means we have to give it a smooth start.”

“Yes, sir. Though, in my experience, even the bumpiest starts can make way for the smoothest stretches.”

“I’ll have to remember that.”

“Speaking of bumpy starts,” Mrs. Whittemore said a touch pointedly, “we must move on with our tour. Violet? Would you be so good as to show Mr. Burke his classrooms? I’m just going to have a word with Mrs. Penhurst and your father. You’ll have plenty of time to organize your halves of the office later. I’m sure in the coming days, Mr. Burke will want to bring some personal effects, books and things, from home. We’ll be along shortly.”

With that, Mrs. Whittemore turned to the others, and Cy and Miss Whittemore were relegated to standing, staring at the two desks.

“Well,” Miss Whittemore said, straightening herself. She was just an inch or two shy of Cyril’s height. Tall for a woman, but both her parents were tall. When he’d left for university, she’d still been a full head shorter than he. “I suppose it could be worse.”

“Oh?” he said.

“Yes. They could have relegated me to the broom closet.”