faces for yet a while. Meanwhile, two others had just left her in a daze of astonishment. She had never met a young man quite so brash, so cockily sure of himself, as Brandon Ainsleyâor a mother so openly adoring.
âIâd like to walk in the garden a bit, if you donât mind, Aunt Harriet.â Graciously excused by Harriet, Jane set off for the cool shade.
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Like many fine Charlestown houses, the Ainsleysâ was long and narrow, with a short side facing the street and one long side looking out over a secluded garden. The house had covered verandas on three levels, overlooking flagstone paths winding through a miniature forest of fragrant orange and gardenia, jasmine and honeysuckle. Beyond that were the huge stone-floored kitchen, servantsâ quarters, storehouse, carriage house, and stables.
Off to one side sat another small building, with a handlettered sign above the door:
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SCHOOLROOM
S. CORDWYN, SCHOOLMASTER
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Impelled by curiosity, Jane approached the glass-paned door and tried to peer inside. Suddenly the door swung open, and she stepped back with a gasp. A tall, dark-haired young man with piercing gray eyes stood there frowning at her, as if annoyed by this intrusion. Jane hastily offered apology.
âIâm sorry. I was being nosy. I hope I didnât disturb you.â
A sudden smile transformed his piercing gaze into a gentle one. âYou must be Miss Prentice, lately arrived from England.â His resonant voice had an accent quite different from the Ainsleysâ. âIâm Simon Cordwyn, schoolmaster, at your service.â He opened the door wide in welcome. âWould you like to come inside? There are no classes on Saturday afternoon.â
Jane hesitated for only a moment. âThank you, sir.â She stepped into a room full of long tables and rows of straight-backed chairs. In front was a desk covered with books and papers.
âItâs an old storehouse,â Simon explained, âconverted to a higher purpose, thanks to Mr. Ainsleyâs enlightened generosity.â
Jane smiled. âIt reminds me of my village school back home. Of course, I had to stop going when my father died. There was no money to pay for it.â
âWell, Iâd be pleased to have you attend this school, if you like,â he said. âYou could come with the older boys in the afternoons. It would certainly overturn tradition, since the gentlemen here see little value in education for girls. But I do. Thatâs one of the ways we differ.â
How wonderful it would be to study with books again
, Jane thought wistfully, but brightened when she spoke. âI must say, itâs nice to meet a schoolmaster who believes in education for girls. I should imagine thatâs quite as unusual here as it is in England.â
Simon pulled up two chairs. âWell, Iâm convinced theyâll see the light eventually. Now, please, sit down. Tell me how you like it here so far.â His tone was so kind and gentle that Jane somehow found herself telling this stranger just how she felt about her new home.
âThe Ainsleys have been wonderful to me, and Iâm sure my uncle and aunt will be, too,â Jane said. âBut everything is so different here. I guess Iâm a little homesick.â
âI know what you mean. After almost five years, I still donât feel truly at home here.â
This was the opening for the question Jane longed to ask. âWhere are you from, Mr. Cordwyn?â
âPennsylvania, in the North. And itâs very unlike South Carolina.â
âIt is? How so?â
âSociety is so much more class-conscious here in the South. Thereâs a more gracious style of living here, tooâfor those with money. And in the North, thank God, we donât have slavery.â
âSlavery.â Janeâs face darkened at the word. âThatâs not an easy idea to get used to. But the Ainsleysâ