The Secret of Hollyfield House, Jude Bayton [books for 20 year olds txt] 📗

my quest to be engaged as teacher to the youngest member of the Clayton family, I had intentionally withheld my relationship with Aramintha. My education at Brampton alone gave me the entrée required to join her staff. Lady Blanche would have been mortified to know her privileged daughter had been the best of friends with a personage as low in the social order as myself. But she would never make that connection. In our correspondence Aramintha had always called me Miss Victoria, after our Queen. She loved subterfuge, and it had been the easiest path to conceal a friendship her mother would have forbidden. Now I was glad of it, for I was determined to discover what had happened to my dearest friend.

“I count myself fortunate indeed to have an education, Lady Clayton. My father placed great value upon it. He considered knowledge the best security for my future. He did not wish me to be vulnerable nor dependent on any other but myself.”

“I see,” she muttered. Her tone suggested she did not. “I am sure you will prove worthy enough to instruct my son. Gideon is a bright boy, yet somewhat high-spirited, though no more than most thirteen-year-olds. My decision to educate him at home may change as I fear he has proven himself to be cleverer than his prior tutors. Not in scholastic endeavors, but rather with his stubbornness and cunning.”

Aramintha had regaled me with many stories of her little brother. I was forewarned, and therefore forearmed. “Gideon and I will make the best of it, Lady Clayton.”

“One hopes so.” She raised her eyebrows. “You understand his past tutors have been men. This will be a trial period for the first month to see how you progress. Do I have your agreement?”

“Indeed.”

“Good. Benedict will make the appropriate financial transactions based upon our contract.” She rose with a rustle of fabric. “Follow me, and I will take you to the schoolroom and introduce Gideon.”

THE CLASSROOM WAS SITUATED at the top of the house, along with what I presumed to be Gideon’s bedroom, a nursery and a playroom. Lady Clayton led me down a short corridor into a spacious chamber, decorated with charts, maps, and diagrams of an educational nature. The front wall was covered in a black chalkboard, with three large desks facing towards where the teacher might conduct lessons. A young blond boy occupied the centre desk, and upon our entrance, he glanced up from his writing. I barely managed to conceal my sudden intake of breath as the boy stared at me with Aramintha’s face. But for his gender, he could be her replica, the same pale blue eyes, butter-yellow hair, full mouth and upturned nose.

“Gideon, here is your new tutor, Miss Westcott,” Lady Clayton spoke sharply. The boy rose to his feet, his fingers still rested on the desk as his gaze fastened on my face. I moved forward and held out a hand in greeting.

“Good morning, Master Gideon, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” He blinked at me but ignored my proffered hand, which I quickly dropped. I smiled, but his expression remained impassive, his demeanor far less attractive than his looks.

“Come, Gideon, where are your manners?” Lady Clayton’s face crumpled with displeasure. “Introduce yourself to Miss Westcott at once.”

“Good day to you, ma’am,” he said begrudgingly and then sat back down.

Lady Clayton sighed. “Gideon can be rather sullen at times.” She observed with a glance at me, her light eyes harsh. “I trust you will be able to manage him?”

“Indeed, Lady Clayton.” My voice conveyed more confidence than I felt.

“Then I shall leave you to it,” she stated flatly, and without further ceremony, Lady Clayton left the room.

I went to the chalkboard and retrieved a long piece of chalk, wrote my name, the date and then turned to my unhappy student.

“Well, Master Gideon, I look forward to us working together. To begin, we should discuss the lessons you have had in the past and determine where we shall start.”

He was completely unresponsive. His pale eyes shimmered with obvious disdain; his chin tilted in defiance. Gideon Clayton was an angry boy. But why?

I tried again. “Master Gideon, I am in no doubt you are displeased with my coming. It is usual to feel this way when a new tutor arrives. Perhaps—”

“We have just met,” he interrupted. “Therefore, how can you profess to know anything whatsoever about me?” His voice balanced on the cusp of breaking, teetered between boyhood and maturity, but the tone was clear. Gideon Clayton was irritated.

“True enough,” I agreed. “But in my experience, it is natural to feel animosity towards an individual who implements a change in routine. I am here to teach. My intention is not to upset you nor cause any discomfort. However, I shall engage you in lessons to earn the salary your mother pays me, monies which ensure my survival. Lady Clayton insists you are to be educated, and if not by me, she will bring in another to teach you, or perhaps even send you away. If your objective is to make my task difficult, you only prolong the punishment by making new acquaintances each time a replacement tutor arrives.” I looked straight at the boy who sat listening to my every word.

“Master Gideon, I am here to teach, and that is all. This can be a relatively decent experience, or you can render it more painful. The decision is yours. Please make it.”

He seemed astonished. The expression upon his face spoke volumes. The boy had apparently never been challenged and seemed surprised by my frank words. I cared not. The most important relationship between pupil and teacher had to be respect. We would make little progress if the sulky boy did not accept me.

I recognized the precise moment Gideon allowed the tension to leave his shoulders. He leaned back in his chair, still unsmiling, but less combative.

“Now,” I said. “Let us discuss how far you are come with your various studies.”

THE LUNCH GONG SOUNDED.