PART 4
Nikita and Carla rounded the corner of the building and ran, literally, into a grizzled old man with long grey hair. He was dressed in workman's clothes with a colorful bandana wound around his head.
"Whoa! I must have died and gone to heaven because here's a pair of angels!" he exclaimed. He looked from one to the other with a gleam in his eyes.
"Pardon me!" they both blurted out. "We were just on our way to the chapel for orientation," Nikita explained.
"New students, are you? Well, let me welcome you. My name's Walter and I keep this place from going to rack and ruin. And that down yonder is my apprentice, Sparks." He gestured to a tall, thin man repairing a window at the far end of the building.
Nikita and Carla were trying not to giggle at Walter's gypsy-like appearance. When he looked back to them, Carla cleared her throat and said, "Nice to meet you, Mr. Walter. I'm Carla and this is my roommate, Nikita."
"Good afternoon," Nikita answered. She couldn't help noticing the way Walter stared at her.
"Forgive me, Miss. You remind me of my little Sally. She would have been about your age. Pneumonia got her when she was five."
"Oh, I'm so sorry."
"It seems like a long time ago. . .a lifetime really." Walter suddenly straightened up and smiled. "Well, ladies, you'd best hurry along. That Miss Glanzman runs a tight ship around here!"
"But I thought Mr. Wolfe was the headmaster," Carla said.
"He's more for looks," Walter laughed. "Glanzman is the one who really runs the show, if you know what I mean. When she says 'jump,' Wolfe jumps!"
Nikita and Carla exchanged a glance. "I hope we run into you again," Nikita said cheerfully.
"You can count on that, my dears! Now off with you." He turned and began calling out instructions to his apprentice.
"That's so sad about his daughter," said Carla thoughtfully.
"I'm sure he was a good father. He has kind eyes," Nikita replied as they looked after him.
The girls ran into the chapel and slid into the last pew just as a woman, presumably Miss Glanzman, was approaching the pulpit. "I hope she's not going to give us a sermon," giggled Carla. "I've already had one from Papa this morning."
Nikita elbowed her roommate. "Sssh! We don't want to get put on restrictions the very first day."
The woman, who was indeed Miss Glanzman, introduced herself and the headmaster and teachers. She launched into a history of The Sanibelle School and some of its well-known graduates. She exhorted the incoming students to continue to uphold the high standards established by the founder, Miss Janet Sanibelle.
After about forty-five minutes Miss Glanzman concluded her remarks. "And now the first group will report to Doctor Sandra in the infirmary for your physical assessments. The second group should report to Nurse Radish."
Somewhat reluctantly, the students began making their way back to the main building. As they waited outside the frosted glass doors of the infirmary, Nikita and Carla fell into conversation with a chattering group of girls from Brazil. Their names were Lorena, Fern, Bel, Gadenia, and Isabelita.
"All our fathers are in the diplomatic service in London," Lorena explained.
"Yes, and they installed us here so that we would not spend all our time shopping in Harrod's!" added Bel. High-pitched giggles erupted at this remark.
"Oh, how I enjoyed Harrod's," Carla sighed. "I was there once with my mother and aunt and I'm simply dying to go back!"
"Nee-kee-tah, such beautiful hair!" exclaimed Fern. She fingered the long blond tresses. "Like silk. Your lover must adore running his hands through this."
Nikita felt a flush stealing up from her chest to her cheeks. She had no ready reply to this shocking statement. Thankfully, she was saved from further embarrassment by Dr. Sandra calling her into the infirmary.
In their room that night, Nikita and Carla sat on the narrow beds in their nightgowns, talking and laughing.
"I really like those Brazilian girls," Nikita said. "They're so lively and colorful. Like a flock of parrots!"
"Yes, I think we should call them the Brazilian Babes," laughed Carla. She struggled to get the brush through her unruly curls. "Do you think any of them have lovers?"
Nikita sprawled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. "Lovers? Do you think it's possible? They're the same age as us." She absently twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
"Why not? My mother was married at fifteen," Carla said.
"I can't imagine me doing something like that," said Nikita doubtfully. "I mean, what's the rush? I want to travel and see the world."
Carla gave up the fight with her hair and laid the brush aside. "Your cousin Seymour is very nice."
"Seymour? Please!" Nikita laughed. "All he likes to do is build things and tinker around in the blacksmith's shop."
PART 5
Nikita adapted easily to the routine of classes, studying, and examinations. It wasn't as tiresome as she had imagined. The teachers were dedicated and caring and appreciated her keen mind and quick wit. It was actually fun.
She and Carla became fast friends with the Brazilian Babes. They all lived on the same floor and were in and out of each other's rooms constantly. Isabelita was good at doing impressions of their teachers, which provoked much laughter. Gadenia was an artist and drew some dead-on sketches of the faculty. Most were flattering, except the one of Headmaster Wolfe, who wound up looking like one of the gargoyles on Notre Dame Cathedral.
"Oooh, better not let that one fall into the wrong hands!" laughed Nikita.
"Yes, it might cause him to have apoplexy," Gadenia agreed. "I'll put it in the bottom of my trunk. We can always pull it out for a laugh!"
Miss Glanzman sat behind her highly polished and neatly organized desk. Spread out before her were the curricula vitae of the applicants who were vying for Marcel Desbiens' position.
For close on 40 years, he had been a Professor of Latin and Romance Languages at The Sanibelle School. Recently, he had expressed a desire to retire once a suitable replacement was found. His arthritis bothered him greatly and he wished to spend more time with his grandchildren.
There were a couple of applications from Oxford, one from Cambridge, and then this one from the Sorbonne. Miss Glanzman picked it up and studied it again. The young man was a summa cum laude graduate and had glowing references from the faculty. He was a native of Marseilles and the eldest child of a prominent shipping family. Accomplished on the cello; skilled in riding, fencing, shooting, and archery; the list of accolades went on and on.
Miss Glanzman stared out the window trying to picture this fascinating young man. And he was young – only 23 years old. Michel Jean-Christophe Samuelle. The school needed some younger male teachers, if for no other reason than something nice to look at. She smiled to herself. What a wickedly, delicious thought! Whatever is the matter with me?
The two that Headmaster Wolfe had installed, Chandler and Fanning, were cronies of his from Oxford. Miss Glanzman did not like either of the men, but she tolerated them with a stiff upper lip.
Dr. Desbiens enthusiastically endorsed the Sorbonne applicant and Miss Glanzman determined that she would have this Frenchman. She wasn't sure how she would convince Wolfe, but no doubt something would occur to her. She had always been a resourceful woman.
Carla sighed as she came into the dormitory room. "Miss Roddy was not pleased about my essay being late." Nikita grinned and rolled her eyes.
"But I simply had to finish my letter to Seymour before the post came!" exclaimed Carla. She and Seymour had been corresponding furiously since meeting at the orientation.
"You really like him, don't you?" asked Nikita.
Carla sighed dreamily. "Oh yes, he's a lovely boy!"
Nikita laughed loudly. "Indeed! Say, if you want to find out how 'lovely' he is, why don't you come home with me next weekend. We're having a party for my Aunt Adrian's birthday."
Carla clapped her hands and squealed in delight. "That would be perfect!" She ran over to the wardrobe and pulled out a burgundy party dress. "I can wear my new frock!"
Later that night Nikita could not get to sleep. Her mind kept returning to Carla and Seymour. She was happy for her friend and her cousin, but she doubted if she would ever be swept off her feet like that. She considered herself much too practical for such sentimental rubbish.
PART 6
Nikita's brow furrowed as she concentrated on Mr. Chandler's geography test. She liked the subject, but this morning she was having a hard time recalling the name of a particular mountain range in Asia. As she glanced up, she found Chandler's eyes upon her. She stared back for a long moment, then looked down at her test. She did not like the way he scrutinized her. It reminded her of Mick.
Unfortunately, she had to leave the question unanswered. As she dropped the paper on the desk and prepared to leave, Chandler remarked, "You have very nice penmanship, Nikita."
Hesitating, she smiled tightly. "Thank you."
Chandler moved from behind the desk to stand in front of her. "I was wondering if you would like to help me with some research I'm doing?"
"Research?"
"Yes, you see I'm working on a paper to submit to the Royal Geographic Society. I need to go up to the British Museum one day and I could use someone to help take notes. I'm afraid my own handwriting is rather untidy." He smiled and gestured to a notebook opened on the desk.
Nikita was quite taken aback at this. She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to think of a response. "Well, I, uh. . ."
Chandler smiled again. He seemed to be enjoying her discomfort. "Just think about it. You can give me your answer in a few days. It could be an especially enlightening experience."
Nikita swallowed self-consciously. "Thank you, Mr. Chandler. However, I really need to work on my French verbs. There's a big test coming up next week." She turned and strode out of the classroom before he could stop her.
Nikita hurried down the hall and around the corner. She sank onto an empty bench with a loud, "Phew!" Her heart was pounding and her palms were sweaty. She quickly wiped them on the front of her skirt.
Work on my French verbs. Where did that come from? Nikita wondered with amusement. Chandler did not need to know that she was already fluent in the language. Did he really think I would fall for that ridiculous offer? Nikita may not have known everything about men, but she smelled a rat here.
The bell rang for luncheon. Nikita stood up and took a deep breath to calm herself. She couldn't wait to share this little incident with Carla.
Carpenter, farrier, veterinarian, gardener. Walter liked to joke that he was a 'jack-of-all-trades.' He had kept the buildings and grounds of The Sanibelle School in good working order for a number of years. When his wife Belinda died five years ago, he moved into a small cottage on the grounds and threw himself into growing orchids. He built a greenhouse behind the cottage and spent many pleasant hours there.
He was in the greenhouse one afternoon when he saw a familiar figure coming across the lawn. Long blonde hair billowed out behind her. Walter smiled and got up to unlatch the door. He had become quite fond of this young lady in a short time. Her sincerity and curiosity had endeared her to him.
"Hiya, Sugar! Come over here and let me show you my latest beauty." Walter proudly showed off his new orchid and rambled on about how he hoped to cross-pollinate it with another orchid. After a few minutes he sensed that something was troubling Nikita.
"What's on your mind, Sugar? And don't say it's nothing because Uncle Walter can read you better than that." He motioned to a couple of chairs in the corner and they sat down.
Nikita told him about the conversation with Chandler and his dodgy invitation. Walter listened without interrupting. He didn't like this one iota. When she finished, he sat for a moment, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. This was not the first time he had heard rumors about Chandler. He wondered if the hasty departure last year of a senior student was in some way connected with Chandler. Oh, it had been very hush-hush. But people gossiped, even in fine institutions like The Sanibelle School.
"How about some tea?" he said suddenly. "I have some of that jasmine kind."
Nikita nodded. In a few minutes she held a warm cup in her hands.
"Tell you what. Come back here tomorrow, you and Miss Carla. I'll have something for you girls to protect yourselves with."
Nikita laid her hand on top of Walter's gnarled one. "Thank you, Walter. You're a good friend."
After Nikita left, Walter went to his workshop. He scratched around in the back until he found what he was looking for. If Headmaster Wolfe ever found out about this, he could be sacked. He knew that Wolfe and Chandler were drinking and gaming buddies.
Walter did not care in the least. He had no love for either of them.
PART 7
While Nikita was in the greenhouse with Walter, Carla was on the archery range with several other students. They were under the disdainful eye of Mr. David Fanning, the archery master.
He shook his head as he watched the uncoordinated young girls take aim at the targets. He couldn't believe he ever let Wolfe talk him into accepting a position here. His time and expertise were utterly wasted on these silly creatures. Most of them thought archery practice was only a time for gossiping. One or two of the bolder ones tried to flirt with him, but in the wake of that nasty business with his late wife, he had to watch his step. He was not yet out of the woods; Wolfe constantly reminded him of that.
Then he observed Miss Fielding. She must have had prior experience with a bow and arrow. Her stance and arm position were good and her shots came closer to the bull's-eye than any of the other girls.
On the whole, her appearance was pleasing to him. Her bright laughter floated over to him. He thought for a moment. It had been too long, in his opinion, since he'd been with a woman. He knew Miss Glanzman kept her charges on a short leash. Perhaps if he were discreet. . .
When Carla caught up with Nikita in the library after tea, she was all aflutter. Glancing around to be sure they were alone she whispered frantically, "You won't believe what happened after archery practice today!"
"I have something to tell you as well," Nikita answered. "Let's move back to that corner, just in case someone comes in." Nikita motioned to a dimly lit area behind a tall bookcase of Greek and Latin texts.
"So, what happened?" Nikita prompted when they were settled.
Carla took a deep breath. "Well, I was the last one putting away my bow in the shed when Mr. Fanning approached me. He had this look on his face that sent a chill down my spine. He put his hands on my shoulders and . . . well, made some inappropriate suggestions!"
"No!" gasped Nikita. First, Mr. Chandler and now Mr. Fanning. This was really too much for one day.
"That is disgusting! Why, the man must be at least thirty, not to mention our teacher!" Nikita was truly horrified when Carla repeated what Fanning had said. Did her father and Uncle George realize there were such perverts at The Sanibelle School? Surely they did not or they would never have sent her here.
Carla snorted. "He's closer to thirty-five, I'd say. Certainly, if I wanted to do those things, it would have to be with a much, much younger man!"
"And one who is pleasing to the eye," added Nikita. They looked at each other and started snickering nervously.
After a moment they stopped. "Why are we laughing? It's really not funny," Nikita admonished.
"You're right. I suppose it just seemed better than crying," said Carla. She clapped her hand over her mouth suddenly. "Oh, my goodness! You said you had something to tell me! What is it?" She looked expectantly at Nikita.
"It's not as bad as what happened to you, but it took me by surprise." Nikita briefly told about Chandler's offer to go to the British Museum. "But I think I put him off quite nicely."
Carla looked pleased. "Good girl! London is an exciting city, but you never know what kind of people you might run into there. Why, Mr. Chandler could turn you over to some white slavers, or something worse."
Nikita had discovered that Carla tended to be very dramatic about a lot of things. "Oh, I don't think it's as bad as that. He just thought he could take advantage of me."
"But you showed him!" said Carla triumphantly.
"I told Walter and he said to come to the greenhouse tomorrow. He's going to help us protect ourselves," Nikita added.
"You know, I'm liking Walter more and more every day," Carla said thoughtfully. "He's the only decent man around here."
Nikita began gathering up her books. "Come on, let's go find the Brazilian Babes. We haven't seen them all day."