Blackthorn shook his head. “Not likely to cause even a ripple. Unless Mabel Calloway gets ahold of it.”
“Mabel Calloway?”
“Runs the boardinghouse. Louise Smythe used to stay there, so they’re well-acquainted. Ain’t never seen a bigger matchmaker in my life.”
Jesse’s heart sank. “Surely coming to a woman’s aid isn’t a crime.”
Blackthorn chuckled. “Mabel Calloway saw three women married this year. You can be sure she’s set her mind to marrying off Louise Smythe. Seems to me, you’re the most likely candidate, even if you hadn’t caught her during a fall.”
“Then I need to break off all contact.”
Blackthorn positioned the funnel in the lamp. “Or you could court her.”
“I’m not courting her. I have no interest in Mrs. Smythe.”
“Don’t care for the lady, eh?”
Jesse recalled the feeling of her in his arms, the softness of her skin when his lips had accidentally brushed across her forehead. He did care, and that was the problem. She was entirely unsuitable, just like his mother hadn’t been suited to the harshness of life without servants. Jesse had learned one truth well. The people you cared about most always left you. His mother. Fellow soldiers. Even Clarice, the only woman he’d seriously courted. That’s why a mail-order marriage was the perfect solution.
“Not my type,” he answered simply. “I sent an advertisement for a wife to the Chicago newspapers.”
“You don’t say.” Blackthorn scratched his jaw. “Better a woman you’ve never seen than one you’ve met?”
“Yes. But in case Mrs. Smythe gets any ideas, I need to stay away. It’ll help squash any rumors too.” This was the moment of truth. “That means not giving that lecture on the weather. Would you be willing to do it?”
Blackthorn stared. “Speak to a bunch of girls?”
“You did say you should have been asked.”
The keeper muttered something about fools, laced with a little colorful language.
“You’ll do it then?” Jesse said as confidently as he could.
“Too busy for such nonsense.” Blackthorn pointed a finger at him. “You got yourself into this. A true lighthouse keeper don’t go back on his promises.”
Jesse stifled a groan. If Mrs. Evans didn’t let him out of the lecture, he was stuck spending more time with Louise Smythe. That was a definite problem.
* * *
The afternoon’s class had left Louise exhausted.
For a change of pace, she had brought her favorite novel, Pride and Prejudice, and asked each girl to read a page aloud. Dinah burst into tears when it was her turn. That led Priscilla to comment that “someone” clearly couldn’t read, followed by snickers from her cohorts.
Louise had been livid and made Priscilla stay in the classroom after the remainder of the class was dismissed.
Now she faced the girl, who gazed steadily at her without a trace of remorse.
“I expect you to encourage those who haven’t had the same privileges as you,” Louise began, growing more and more uncomfortable under Priscilla’s unblinking stare. “Do you understand?”
The girl tilted her head slightly, her lips pinched into a smirk. “Of course I understand. I am not illiterate.”
Louise gritted her teeth. Every instinct prompted her to chide the girl, but Fiona’s advice came to mind. Encourage and praise her. Impossible. The girl did nothing worthy of either praise or encouragement. If anything, she’d been even more troublesome after seeing Louise in Jesse Hammond’s arms. That smirk was intended to convey that if Louise threatened to punish her, she would tell tales destined to end Louise’s employment.
A cold chill shook her. She had nowhere else to go, but she would not let a spoiled girl dictate her life. Not this time.
“You were fortunate enough to be born to wealth,” Louise said slowly. “Few are.”
“That’s the way God ordained it should be.”
The girl’s answer raised Louise’s hackles. Compassion, not privilege, was a cornerstone of Christian life. Though a retort rose to her lips, she took a deep breath and offered a silent prayer for restraint and understanding. Christ acted in truth and love. Louise must attempt to emulate that. Only then did she realize that Priscilla’s words sounded too pat, as if she was just repeating what her mother had told her. That gave Louise an idea.
“America is a land of opportunity. Everyone deserves a chance to make a new life.”
“Like you?” Priscilla asked without batting an eyelash.
Louise felt vulnerable. Just how much did the girl know about her? Though born to slightly less privilege than Priscilla, her past had its ugly chapters, with wounds that had just begun to heal. Priscilla couldn’t possibly know what had happened in New York. Even though the Benningtons ran in the same sphere as Warren’s parents, the Smythes were intensely private and protective. Anything they might have communicated would disparage Louise, not reveal the truth.
She took a shaky breath and redirected the conversation. “You have much to offer Dinah. Instead of pointing out her deficiencies, you could help her.”
Priscilla stared. “That’s what you’re supposed to do, isn’t it? You are the teacher.”
Louise wanted to wipe the smirk off the girl’s face, but that would only increase the animosity. No, to gain Priscilla’s confidence, she would have to give her a role that she would relish. She quickly went through the possibilities.
“Until next week, then.” The booming masculine voice in the hallway could only belong to Jesse Hammond. “Good evening, Mrs. Evans.”
Priscilla’s attention shifted to the doorway and its closed door. No doubt the girl would have sought out Jesse. He was by far the most handsome bachelor in Singapore. In spite of the difference in their ages, the girls clearly thought him attractive. It was a good thing she hadn’t begun reading Jane Austen’s Emma, which described just such a romance between a much younger woman and an experienced man.
Louise shook herself. Jealousy was not only wrong, it did no good for anyone. To show she could not be held in its bonds, Louise addressed her student.
“You are gifted in literature.” She hoped the compliment helped. “Are you willing to assist Dinah with her reading?”
Priscilla glanced at the closed door before blinking her impossibly long lashes. “Yes, Mrs. Smythe.”
Was it Louise’s imagination or had the girl stressed Mrs.?
“Very well, you may go then.”
Priscilla scrambled from her seat and rushed out the door.
Unwelcome disappointment flooded into Louise. To counter it, she whistled a cheerful tune, the first that came to her, the carol “We Three Kings.” She then began entering the day’s marks into her record book.
“Isn’t it a little early for Christmas carols?” Jesse’s deep voice knifed through her.
She didn’t dare look up, lest she lose her composure again. “It’s never too early to celebrate the Savior’s birth.”
Though distracted, she managed to place Adeline’s arithmetic score in the proper column.
“Mrs. Evans would like me to give the lecture next Monday,” he said. “If that’s all right with you, that is.”
Naturally it would be on Monday, her usual day for a class on the sciences.