Mariel (7 page)

“Of course. Of course,” said the chairman quickly. A stray thought entered his head, and he added more enthusiastically, “You know you are always welcome, Reverend.” He did not glare at the perfectly attired lady sitting on his left. Perhaps with the minister here, Lady Mariel would act as she should, instead of voicing her opinion as though she were a man.

He asked for the minutes of the previous meeting to be read. Mr. Jones volunteered to read the pages sent in by the absent secretary. Mr. Stadley's cow had gone into labor tonight with the usual complications, so no one was surprised to discover him absent.

Throughout the normal, mundane business of the school board, Mariel remained aware of Ian sitting at the back of the room. She kept her head lowered as if the papers in front of her revealed matters of the greatest interest. If she looked up, she was afraid her eyes would stray toward him and display what she must conceal.

She did not understand why he had chosen to attend the meeting. If he wanted to see her, he could have waited until the end of the session. She admitted she did not want him to be here this evening. When she brought up the subject on her mind, Mr. Gratton would not be the only disgruntled boardmember. She was accustomed to this, but she could not guess what Ian would think.

Angrily, she spun her pencil in her fingers. Although Ian invaded her thoughts far too often, she should not allow herself to become overly concerned with his opinion of her. Long ago, she had vowed never to change to suit someone else. It was simply that she wanted him to think well of her. For the first time in her life, another's opinion of her truly mattered.

That Lady Mariel remained silent startled Mr. Gratton. He had expected some outburst from her immediately. His jovial smile brightened his face as he glanced in the pastor's direction. If Reverend Beckwith-Carter had this type of settling influence on Lady Mariel, they must discover a way to coerce him to attend each board meeting.

“No old business? Any new business?” He did not pause to take a breath, before adding, “If there is no—”

With a serenity that deceived no one, Mariel interrupted, “I have a question which would be considered new business, Mr. Gratton.”

“Yes, Lady Mariel?” he asked with obvious reluctance.

“I am wondering why there is no money earmarked for the purchase of new textbooks. I know I am not the only one in the community concerned with the appalling condition of the books our children use.”

“
Our
children,” corrected Mr. Albion, “have used these books for twenty years.”

She smiled at him coolly. More than the head of the school board, this rail-thin man, whose head was covered with sparse gray hairs, abhorred her ideas. He termed each one revolutionary or decadent. Although her voice was not raised, everyone was aware of her disgust with him when she replied.

“I may not have had twelve children attend this school as you have, sir, but I do know that many things have changed in two decades. How do you expect the children of this community to deal with the problems of the approaching twentieth century when they know nothing of the new advances in the second half of this one? If they leave Foxbridge to seek their fortunes in the bigger world, they will be ill-equipped to handle it.”

“We don't want our children to leave!” he retorted with a sniff.

“But they are. They are going to the cities, to America, to the next town.” She warmed to her topic. With her elbows on the table in a most unladylike pose, she pointed the pencil directly at the four men at the table. “We can offer the children of Foxbridge only one thing: a quality education, which will prepare them for the future. Even if they don't leave Foxbridge, they will have to deal with outsiders coming here. Do you want your children to be cheated by hucksters who prey on their ignorance?”

When he saw Mr. Jones nodding in eager agreement, Mr. Knowles leapt to his feet. A pompous man, he always reminded Mariel of a posturing blue jay, decked out with brightly colored feathers, but as empty-headed as the squawks coming from his mouth. The buttons on his forest-green waistcoat strained as he took a deep breath to remonstrate with her. She watched with amused fascination, for she considered him a fool in love with the sound of his own voice.

“Now see here, Lady Mariel. It is all right for you to express your ill-thought-out opinions, but I will not have you disparaging the education the children receive in our school. We do the best with the materials at hand.”

“Exactly.” She smiled as her agreement knocked the next words from him. “You do the best with what you have, but think of how much more you could do if you had up-to-date materials for these hungry young minds! They want to learn. I know that, for I have spoken with both your students and their parents. They appreciate what you have done with the shoddy materials you have here, Mr. Knowles.”

He puffed several times, but could think of nothing to say. Glancing at the other members of the board for aid, he found none. They were as startled by her reaction as the teacher was. He dropped back into his chair and stared at the floor, unsure how she had twisted his words to use them to prove her point.

Mr. Jones seconded her argument as he said enthusiastically, “I agree with Lady Mariel. She has shown me some of the literature she has gathered from various textbook publishers. Science books, history books, the classics. Our children could learn about the people of the far-flung countries of the Empire. Who knows what ideas might come from these young minds if they are properly taught?”

“Ideas?” Mr. Albion refused to be intimidated. “Like hers?” He hooked his thumb toward the smiling woman.

“No,” Mariel replied quietly. “New ideas, original ideas, ideas which we in our plodding conventionalism cannot conceive, Mr. Albion.”

He sniffed. “Old ideas were good enough for me and mine.”

“Old ideas are the building blocks for the future.” She glanced around the table. “Or is that what you want to avoid? I can tell you, gentlemen, that the future is coming whether you wish it or not. Hiding like a ferret in a hedgerow will not stop the days from passing. Look at this school. It is an outgrowth of the school my great-great grandmother started with the newfangled ideas she brought with her from America. Would you go back to that time when your children were ignorant of booklearning?”

“Change simply for the sake of change is useless,” stated Albion, but more weakly.

When she agreed with him, the resigned faces of the board grew longer. “Of course, Mr. Albion, but not change for the sake of the children of Foxbridge. Who wants to stand and be counted as one willing to deny them the best?”

Mr. Gratton saw no one else was willing to joust verbally with Lady Mariel. Not that he blamed them. The woman was too damn glib! Guiltily he looked at the minister sitting silently at the back of the room. He could not tell what Reverend Beckwith-Carter thought, for his face was emotionless. His hope for an ally dimmed. Reverend Tanner had agreed with the male members of the school board, but had not been able to convince Lady Mariel to seek more ladylike pursuits and leave government to men who knew how to handle it. Rumor had it Reverend Beckwith-Carter had been seen riding with Lady Mariel in that blasted contraption of hers.

As the clock on the wall struck nine, he sighed. He must get back to the Three Georges. “Very well, Lady Mariel. I assume you have this information on the books you wish to purchase, but I must adjourn this meeting because of the late hour. For our next meeting, please have that information, as well as costs, available for us.”

She closed the folder in front of her. Although she had not won the battle tonight, she knew when to accept her small victories and retire gracefully from the contest. “I will send a copy of the information I have to each of you a week before the next meeting. That will give you time to peruse it, so you can be adequately prepared to discuss this.”

Mr. Gratton said quietly, “Thank you, Lady Mariel.” He bristled internally at her easy efficiency. Although she made no suggestions that she could run the board more effectively than he, others had. Loudly and often, he had heard about the fine work Lady Mariel did. It aggravated him more each time. That he liked her despite her outlandish ideas irritated him even more.

Closing the meeting before anyone else could speak, he avoided Mr. Knowles's eyes. He knew the older teacher wanted to talk to him about this newest twist Lady Mariel was bringing to the board. Until he had a chance to organize his thoughts out of the chaos roiling through his head, he did not want to discuss this with anyone.

The pubkeeper hurried to speak to the minister, who was rising slowly from the cramped school chair. This way he could avoid the teacher. “Thank you for coming, Reverend Beckwith-Carter. I trust you enjoyed yourself.”

Ian smiled. “Without a doubt. She certainly speaks her mind, doesn't she?”

“Yes!” he snapped. His frustration found an easy outlet with the clergyman. “She comes in here with her strange ideas and thinks she can change what has worked for years. It all comes from allowing women to vote in local elections. As soon as that happened, she convinced some fools to nominate her for the school board. Since her victory at the polls, she has been creating havoc at each meeting.”

With studied nonchalance, Ian asked, “I am sure the election results were close.”

“The first time,” admitted Gratton reluctantly. “She was challenged last winter for a second term and won by a wide margin.”

“You might wish to listen to the opinion of the voters, Mr. Gratton. It may be that only the school board is upset by her so-called newfangled ideas.” He smiled as the man regarded him with shock. Deciding he had made his point, Ian added, “Good evening, sir. I trust I will see you on Sunday.”

Mr. Gratton mumbled something and heard Lady Mariel's lighthearted laugh as she approached. He stepped back to watch while she greeted Reverend Beckwith-Carter. His eyes narrowed when he noted the visible softening of the unyielding edges she presented to the school board. Instantly he knew the new minister would not help them in keeping Lady Mariel from railroading her plans through the school board.

He should have guessed. The pastor was a young man, just the right age to have his head turned by the beautiful Lady Mariel. With a spurt of malicious glee, Mr. Gratton decided it would be gratifying to watch the minister receive his comeuppance. Lady Mariel, in the barkeeper's opinion, was destined to be an old maid. She had turned away too many suitors of wealth and title to be interested in the village parson.

Mariel had no such cold intentions as she smiled at the auburn-haired man who set her heart to beating too rapidly. “Ian, you have met Mr. Jones, haven't you?”

Ian looked at the small man, not much taller than Mariel. Mr. Jones was a pale man with a sallow complexion, nearly colorless blond hair, and drab clothes. Yet when he smiled and extended his hand to the new minister, Ian knew Mr. Jones was a man who loved people and loved his profession. Shaking the proffered hand, Ian said, “It is nice to discover Mariel has one ally on the school board.”

“I am not really a member,” he explained in a voice that seemed incredibly deep for a man of his stature. “I come more as a cheering section for Lady Mariel. In her short term on the board, she has grasped an understanding of the needs of the children which others have not learned during their many years.”

When Mr. Gratton cleared his throat gruffly, Mr. Jones bit his lip to keep from smiling. Mr. Knowles shooed them out of the building, so he could extinguish the lamps. Mariel moved to the steps of the building where she listened as Ian continued his conversation with Mr. Jones.

The other men drifted away into the shadows, leaving the three on the stairs. When Mr. Jones excused himself with the explanation that he had papers to correct for his class, he smiled at the woman waiting with uncharacteristic silence.

“I think we might be able to convince them, Lady Mariel.”

She laughed lightly. “Your suggestion of making it sound as if it was my idea shall work wonderfully.”

“I was sure Knowles would refuse to cooperate,” the teacher explained to Ian. “Then it would be a battle between the two instructors here.”

“By making it seem to be Mariel's idea, you could maintain your working relationship with Knowles.” Ian smiled. “You two have created your idea and sprung it on the others masterfully. I think you will succeed by wearing them down.”

Mariel said, “That is the whole plan. Ian, if—”

“No one will learn of it from me.”

With a chuckle, Mr. Jones bid them a good evening and followed the others toward the far edge of the village. When he had approached Mariel with his concerns, she had understood immediately. Not only did Mr. Jones work with Mr. Knowles, but the two bachelors shared a small house not far from the Three Georges. By reaiming the outrage at her, she protected him.

“Where is your automobile?”

The question drew Mariel out of her thoughts. She smiled when she saw that Ian's eyes were on a level with hers, for he stood on a lower step. “It is recharging. I had to drive out to the orphans' home this afternoon. It refused to cooperate on the way home, but I think it is in good hands now. I hired a mechanic to take care of it.”

He took her hands in his. “I have been anxious to see you, Mariel. I hope we don't always have to part in anger.”

“Ian—”

“No, don't say it. Forget the quarrels we have had. I have to go to the church to retrieve the records book I left there after the wedding Saturday. Do you want to walk with me? Afterward, we can go to the parsonage for another sampling of Mrs. Reed's biscuits.”

Searching his face, she saw the longing, which tormented her. Phipps's words rang in her ears, but she could not see any reason to refuse such a kind invitation. No one would think ill of them for walking to the church.