Page 21

Whitmore's eyebrows shot up. "You've read the Cambridge Scientific Journal, Miss Martin?"

"My father subscribed," she replied simply. "As for Dr. Fordham's cranial measurements, I believe his conclusions have been challenged by more recent findings suggesting that brain size bears little correlation to reasoning capacity. Otherwise, elephants would be our intellectual superiors."

A few startled laughs escaped from the onlookers, quickly smothered when Whitmore's face darkened. Dr. Welby, however, seemed more intrigued than offended.

"You've studied this topic extensively," he observed.

"I've had reason to," Meredith responded. "When one's own capabilities are regularly dismissed based on questionable science, one develops a certain interest in examining the evidence."

By now, their conversation had drawn the attention of most of the room. Meredith could feel multiple pairs of eyes upon her, including—she was acutely aware—those of Lord Sutcliffe and Lady Hurst, the latter watching with unmistakable disapproval.

"Scientific debates aside," interjected Mr. Whitmore, clearly eager to regain control of the conversation, "there remains the practical matter of utility. What purpose would advanced education serve for women destined for domesticity? Or for the lower classes who must labour for their bread?"

"What purpose indeed?" Meredith replied, her voice steady despite the flush rising to her cheeks.

"Perhaps the same purpose it serves gentlemen who inherit sufficient wealth never to work—the enrichment of the mind and soul.

Or perhaps more practical benefits: the housewife who can read medical texts might save her child's life when the doctor is miles away.

The farmer who understands mathematics might avoid being cheated at market. "

"You speak of exceptional cases," Whitmore dismissed.

"I speak of human potential," Meredith countered. "A resource we squander with arbitrary limitations. The mind that might have discovered a cure for consumption may instead spend its days scrubbing floors, simply because it was born female or poor."

"A romantic notion," Dr. Welby said, though his tone held less dismissal than Whitmore's. "But education requires resources—teachers, books, buildings. Is it practical to direct such resources toward those unlikely to advance knowledge significantly?"

"Unlikely by whose determination?" Meredith asked. "How can we know what contributions might be made by minds we never cultivate? And is advancement of knowledge the only worthy goal? What of the simple dignity of understanding the world one inhabits?"

The room had grown so quiet that the ticking of the mantel clock seemed thunderous. From the corner of her eye, Meredith saw Lady Hurst's face harden with disapproval, her gloved hand touching her brother's arm in what appeared to be a warning gesture.

To her surprise, Chilton stepped forward, gently but firmly disengaging from his sister's hold.

"Miss Martin raises valid questions," he said, his voice carrying clearly in the silent room. "I've been considering similar issues regarding education for tenant children on my estate. Traditional assumptions may warrant re-examination."

The collective intake of breath at his intervention was almost audible. Lady Hurst's face registered shock that quickly transformed into a calculating assessment.

"How fascinating to hear you express such... progressive views, Chilton," she said, her tone making it clear this was news to her. "I wasn't aware you had developed an interest in educational reform."

"There are many topics of interest at such a gathering," Chilton replied smoothly, though Meredith noticed a certain tension in his stance.

"Miss Martin's practical experience with her Oxford school offers valuable perspectives.

From what I understand, she and Miss Somerton have done much good with the less privileged young women of Oxford. "

"I'm sure it does," Lady Hurst replied with a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Though one must always consider whether academic theories translate effectively to the realities of estate management. The social order exists for good reason, after all."

"Does it?" Meredith asked, unable to prevent the challenge in her voice. "Or has it simply persisted because those who benefit from it rarely question its foundations?"

The question hung in the air; its implications too radical for polite society to address directly. Lady Thornfield, clearly recognizing the dangerous direction of the conversation, stepped forward with practiced social grace.

"What a stimulating exchange of ideas," she said brightly. "But I believe the dinner gong will sound shortly. Perhaps we should all refresh ourselves before the evening meal?"

As the gathering began to disperse, Meredith found herself momentarily alone with Lord Sutcliffe, who had approached under the guise of retrieving a book from a nearby shelf.

"That was bravely done," he said quietly, his voice pitched for her ears alone. "Though I suspect you've confirmed every one of my sister's worst fears about your 'revolutionary tendencies.'"

"I merely questioned dubious assertions presented as scientific fact," Meredith replied, though she couldn't help a small smile at his observation. "If that's revolutionary, then academic standards have fallen considerably since my father's day."

"Caroline views any challenge to established hierarchy as potentially dangerous," Chilton explained, his expression troubled. "She raised me after our parents died, and her views on proper social order are... deeply entrenched."

"So I gathered," Meredith said dryly. "She seems to have strong opinions about what constitutes appropriate interests for a baron."

"Among other things," Chilton agreed with a wry smile that faded quickly. "I should warn you—she's not likely to look favourably on our... discussions."

"Our debates over educational philosophy?" Meredith suggested, deliberately keeping her tone light despite the implication that Lady Hurst might suspect a more personal connection.

"Precisely," Chilton replied, his eyes holding hers with unexpected intensity. "Though I find them increasingly valuable, regardless of outside opinions."

Before Meredith could respond to this potentially significant statement, Lady Hurst reappeared at her brother's elbow, her timing impeccable.

"Chilton, darling, I really must catch up with you, it has been far too long," she said, her voice warm but her eyes coolly assessing as they flickered between him and Meredith.

"Of course," Chilton replied, his aristocratic mask sliding back into place so seamlessly that Meredith might have imagined the momentary vulnerability in his expression. "Miss Martin, until dinner."

As they walked away, Meredith couldn't help noticing how Lady Hurst's hand rested possessively on her brother's arm, her head inclined toward his as she spoke in tones too low to overhear.

The tension in Chilton's shoulders was visible even from a distance, his posture caught between ingrained deference and emerging independence.

Faith appeared at Meredith's side, her expression sympathetic. "Lady Hurst has always been rather... protective of her brother," she observed quietly. "She raised him after their parents died, and I believe she finds it difficult to acknowledge that he's grown into his own man."

"She seems to have very definite ideas about his proper role," Meredith replied, watching as Chilton and his sister disappeared through the doorway.

"Indeed," Faith agreed. "Though I've noticed changes in him since your debates began. He's been asking Jasper about educational initiatives on other estates, inquiring about teaching methods and costs. It's quite a departure from his usual interests."

Meredith felt a curious warmth at this information, quickly tempered by practical caution.

"Educational reform is becoming fashionable in certain circles," she said. "One shouldn't read too much into polite interest."

Faith's knowing smile suggested she wasn't fooled by this dismissal. "Perhaps. Though fashion rarely leads one to defend a bluestocking against scholarly dismissal, particularly when one's sister is watching with eagle eyes."

Before Meredith could formulate a response to this uncomfortably perceptive observation, the dinner gong sounded, calling them to prepare for the evening meal.

As she made her way to her chamber to change, Meredith found herself wondering about the complex dynamics between Chilton and his sister—and what his unexpected defence of her educational arguments might signify about his own evolving views.

One thing seemed certain: Lady Hurst's arrival had introduced a new element to the gathering—one that might well test Chilton's emerging independence as much as it challenged Meredith's educational theories.

The thought should have concerned her, but instead, she found herself curious to see how he would navigate these cross currents of family expectation and personal conviction.

After all, navigating such tensions had been her own daily reality since choosing to pursue her school against her mother's wishes. Perhaps in this, despite their different circumstances, she and the baron might find unexpected common ground.