(Author's Note: The name and idea of this story is borrowed from Kiera Cass's The Selection. Told from Daphne's P.O.V. Will contain spanking and other punishments later. Enjoy!)
The day she was born, the doctors said that she'd walk with springtime wherever she goes.
Vienna, 1810-
"Again, a logical fallacy where the discussion is reduced to just two options." "Argumentum falsum dilemma." "Good. A fallacy to base the decision based on popularity instead of the premises." "Argumentum ad populum." "Very good. Now, a fallacy that indicates that something must be true, because there is no proof to the contrary." "Argumentum ad ignorantiam." "Well done, Miss Bridgerton. A fallacy that says that something must be true, because the one who makes it is poor." "Argumentum ad uh….. um, hominen?"
I winced as Master Jacobi whacked his tutorial stick onto my desk. "Argumentum ad lazarum," he corrected me firmly. "Argumentum ad lazarum," I repeated quickly. He tapped his stick a few more times onto my desk before beginning his pacing again, gently rapping the cane on the palm of his hand. "Argument by similarity." "Argumentum a pari." He nodded. "Argument to logic." "Argumentum ad logicam." "Argument by cane." "Argumentum ad baculum." Only then did he stop to smile back at me.
"Congratulations, Miss Bridgerton; nearly a perfect score. You are, by far, one of the best pupils I've ever had the privilege to instruct." "It is I who am the privileged one, Master Jacobi. These past seven years under your tutelage have been and will continue to be the most formative of my life," this warm, affectionate grin drew across my lips. Master Jacobi stared my way for a second before tearing his head away to give a little shake. Then his lips parted a sliver after another brief moment.
"Tomorrow, you shall board a barouche bound for the nearest seaport, where you will ferry to Portsmouth and finally return back to your family estate in London," there was agony in his tone, which I noted. My head lowered slightly, still grinning- albeit miserably myself. "My only regret is that Father could not have seen the young lady you have so seamlessly moulded me into. He would be proud, Master Jacobi….."
My master looked at me a moment more before extending his hand out to reach for mine. Once cradling my palm, he gave my fingers a tight squeeze. "No matter what happens, Miss Bridgerton, you must always remember who you are. You a strong, independent, deeply moral young lady, crafted in the image of the great German idealists. You are a rational agent, and you- and you alone- are responsible for your actions; no one else." "I know, Master."
His hand gave mine another squeeze. "Remember what I've taught, what my superior has taught you, and always treat others as the ends they are. You, like everyone, are an end in of yourself too; never forget that either, my child." "I do promise, Master Jacobi. I shall not let you nor the great and worthy Master Kant down, sir. I shalln't," both my hands clasped his which such profound love and respect. Master Jacobi could only stare, then he smiled deeply and kissed me on the forehead. And he gently shut his old, kind eyes. "The British will not understand you; you are too good for the likes of those Humeans or god-forsaken Utilitarians. Always remember what we have taught you, my dear Miss Bridgerton….
Let no man shake your robust moral compass."