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because of it. And if your desperate attempts at inducing sense and compassion into your charges, or those after hours forays into the city for charitable education were not telling enough, I know your disposition well. Remember, I have known you all your life! You have never made any secrets of your likes and dislikes. Even if you very rarely express them out loud, they are written on your face plainly for anyone to see who takes the trouble. And you never did take to letter writing as an art. Your own sweet self shines through in every line.”
    The slight smile on her daughter’s face induced Mrs Tournier to take her hand and clutch it.
    “So then, what is this shame and disgrace you talk of? You are by no means the first capable and intelligent young woman to be dismissed for unfathomable reasons. Surely no one who knows you can doubt your character and your diligence?”
    “I had thought not, Maman, but it seems that old prejudices are more highly regarded, and less easily replaced, than poor young teachers. Maman, Mr Hockdown implied that my dealings in town involved . . . less than respectable actions as well. I don’t know how he could say such things; how could anyone say such things about me?”
    Mrs Tournier was not a timid woman by any measure. She had also seen enough of the world and man’s folly, greed and cruelty not to be easily impressed by renewed evidence of it. Furthermore, having been quite a beauty in her day and blessed with a sweet countenance, she did not portray dismay or rage very convincingly — which perhaps had always been the saviour of her sometimes more than trying manners and bluntness. Now, however, she definitely could have inspired the most sanguine of her fellow men to recoil. She looked at her daughter, her calm vanished, eyes flashing and her brows laid in deep wrinkles.
    “Infamous! So that is how the land is laid, is it? That horrid man! That sad, desperate excuse for a human being!”
    She clasped the locket around her neck with her late husband’s portrait as she always did when agitated and, rubbing it for a few seconds, managed to compose herself.
    “Nothing surprising, nothing extraordinary, but I am incensed all the same. ‘Less than respectable’, indeed! Oh, I do believe I am too put out to make any sense! But rest assured, I shall spend a sleepless night articulating my chagrin and tomorrow after breakfast I shall be glad to spell out my injured sense of justice and propriety in carefully worded phrases to Mr Hockdown! We may be without recourse, but we are most certainly not without voice! You may be certain of that.”
    Strangely enough, this show of agitation had a calming effect upon Holly. This was what she was accustomed to; her mother had always been her most vocal champion, and now that she had shared her burden she was sure that somehow, between the two of them, things would be put right.
    She pulled her mother to sit down beside her, laid her head upon her shoulder and rested a moment in the comfort she found there. Then after pouring two cups of tea and mixing them properly, she handed one of them over.
    “When does Elizabeth arrive?”
    Mrs Tournier pursed her lips and patted her daughter’s hand.
    “As if you have not been counting the days for the past month. But I will allow your unnecessary question as a very welcome change of subject. Elizabeth will be here in two days’ time, and, as I have been able to procure a copy of Mrs Burney’s latest play, you and she must fight over the part of the romantic heroine I think. I’m convinced that it will rally your spirits. I think we must arrange a little soirée around it, don’t you? I know Elizabeth with be highly disappointed if we do not and will insist on reading it out loud herself and commenting on the wit of it all, whether we have an audience or not. If only we can contrive some way of keeping any undeserving young men we find ourselves obliged to invite from insisting on the part of the