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M orning sunlight streamed through the windows of Chilton's bedchamber, rousing him from the deepest sleep he had enjoyed in days. The confrontation with Caroline had lifted a weight he hadn't fully recognized until its absence made his shoulders feel curiously light.

Jenkins entered with quiet efficiency, drawing back the curtains and laying out Chilton's clothing for the day.

"Good morning, my lord," the valet said. "I trust you slept well?"

"Remarkably so," Chilton replied, stretching as he rose. "Has there been any word from Matthews regarding the Williams’ property assessment?"

"Yes, my lord. He left the documents in the study last evening and mentioned he would be available to discuss them at your convenience."

"Excellent." Chilton moved to the washstand, splashing cold water on his face. "Please inform him I'll see him after breakfast. And Jenkins?"

"My lord?"

"Have the stable master prepare Sultan for a morning ride. I intend to visit the village school afterward. And send word to Reverend Harrington that I may call on him around eleven, if convenient."

As Jenkins assisted with his morning routine, Chilton's mind raced ahead to the day's tasks. The village school would provide a starting point for his educational inquiries, and Reverend Harrington would have insights into both its successes and limitations.

Breakfast awaited in the morning room, where sunlight illuminated the simple fare Mrs. Hobbs always prepared. As Chilton ate, he reviewed the correspondence that had arrived with the morning post.

Among the expected communications was a letter bearing the Smythe family crest. He opened it with particular interest:

Lord Sutcliffe,

Lady Evangeline and I are delighted that you will join our gathering next week. The discussion promises to be most illuminating, particularly with your perspective on rural education needs.

I have taken the liberty of extending an invitation to Miss Martin as well, believing her practical experience would complement the more theoretical approaches of our other guests. She has graciously accepted.

We look forward to welcoming you both to Berkeley Square on Tuesday.

Your servant, Sean Smythe

Chilton found himself smiling at the confirmation of Meredith's attendance. Sean Smythe was nothing if not perceptive.

With breakfast concluded, Chilton made his way to the study, where Matthews awaited with the promised reports.

"Good morning, Matthews," Chilton greeted him. "I trust you have the assessment of the old schoolhouse property?"

"Yes, my lord." Matthews handed over a detailed document. "As you suspected, the building has fallen into significant disrepair since its closure five years ago. The roof requires substantial work, and the interior would need complete renovation."

Chilton examined the report, noting the projected costs with a thoughtful frown. "More extensive than I had hoped, but not prohibitive. What of the cottage adjacent to it? The one that formerly housed the schoolmaster?"

"In somewhat better condition, my lord, though still requiring work to be properly habitable." Matthews hesitated, then added, "If I may ask, are you considering reopening the village school?"

"Not exactly," Chilton replied. "I'm exploring options for establishing a new educational initiative on the estate. The old schoolhouse location is one possibility, though perhaps not ideal given its distance from some of the tenant farms."

Matthews shifted uncomfortably. "My lord, about yesterday's conversation regarding educational initiatives... I fear I may have seemed unsupportive. That was not my intention."

"No?" Chilton raised an eyebrow. "You made your reservations quite clear, I thought."

"From a purely financial perspective, yes," the steward acknowledged. "But upon reflection, I recognize that not all estate improvements can be measured in immediate returns. Your father often spoke of obligations beyond the ledger."

The concession surprised Chilton. "Did he indeed? That aspect of his philosophy seems to have been somewhat overlooked in recent years."

Matthews had the grace to look discomfited. "Lady Hurst emphasized financial stability during your early years as baron. A prudent approach, given the uncertainties of the time."

"And now?" Chilton pressed.

"Now," Matthews said carefully, "I believe Sutcliffe is well-positioned to consider broader initiatives, including educational opportunities for tenant children."

"I'm glad to hear it," Chilton said finally. "Because I intend to move forward with establishing a school here at Sutcliffe. The exact form and location remain to be determined, but the commitment is firm."

"Very good, my lord." Matthews' expression revealed nothing of his personal opinion. "Shall I prepare a more comprehensive assessment of potential locations and associated costs?"

"Please do. And Matthews?"

"My lord?"

"This initiative will operate according to educational principles that may differ from conventional assumptions.

The curriculum will extend beyond basic literacy and numeracy.

The opportunities will be available to all tenant children, regardless of gender or perceived 'aptitude. ' Is that understood?"

The steward hesitated only momentarily. "Perfectly, my lord, though a gradual implementation might ease concerns among more traditional tenants."

"A reasonable consideration," Chilton allowed. "We'll discuss specific approaches after I've consulted further with educational experts."

With the business concluded, Chilton made his way to the stables, where Sultan stood saddled and waiting. The morning was crisp but pleasant as they cantered across Sutcliffe's parkland toward the village.

The settlement that had grown up in the shadow of Sutcliffe Manor consisted of a cluster of cottages, a small church with an adjacent graveyard, the vicarage, a public house, and a few shops. At its edge stood the abandoned schoolhouse, its windows boarded, its garden overgrown with neglect.

Chilton dismounted and approached the weathered structure. Though modest in size, the schoolhouse had been solidly built, its stone walls still fundamentally sound despite the obvious disrepair of its roof and wooden elements.

The location had advantages—central to the village, though somewhat distant from outlying farms. Yet as Chilton considered the isolated position, he found himself questioning whether this traditional approach was optimal. Might smaller, more distributed learning centres serve the community better?

These were precisely the practical questions he hoped to explore in London. For now, he remounted Sultan and continued to the village proper, where the church spire rose above the modest cottages.

Reverend Harrington emerged at the sound of hoofbeats, his weathered face breaking into a smile of genuine pleasure.

"Lord Sutcliffe! What a delightful surprise. Do come in—Mrs. Harrington just baked a batch of her famous currant buns."

The vicarage parlour was modest but comfortable. After they were settled with tea and buns, Reverend Harrington leaned forward with evident curiosity.

"Not that your company isn't always welcome, my lord, but I sense this isn't merely a social call. What brings you to the vicarage this morning?"

"Your perception serves you well," Chilton acknowledged. "I've been considering the educational needs of our community, particularly for tenant children who currently have limited access to learning."

The vicar's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Education? That's a topic I wouldn't have expected to interest you, though it's one close to my own heart."

"My interests have evolved," Chilton said simply. "I'm exploring the possibility of establishing a school here at Sutcliffe. As you've overseen the village school in the past, I'd value your insights."

"Well, this is unexpected but most welcome news," Reverend Harrington replied. "The closure of the school was a great loss to the community."

"What were the primary challenges when the school was operational?" Chilton asked.

"Distance was a significant issue for many families. Children from outlying farms often couldn't attend regularly, particularly during planting and harvest seasons. Weather compounded the problem in winter months."

"And the curriculum? Was it adequate for the children's needs?"

"Basic but sound," Reverend Harrington replied. "Reading, writing, arithmetic, some elementary history and geography. Religious instruction, of course. The schoolmaster was competent if somewhat rigid in his methods."

"And the girls? Did they receive the same education as the boys?"

"Well, in theory, yes. Though in practice, the schoolmaster tended to focus more attention on the boys, particularly in mathematics and sciences. Girls were directed toward sewing and household management in their later years."

"And if you were to envision an ideal educational approach for our community, what might it look like?"

The vicar's eyes lit with unexpected animation.

"I've long believed that education should nurture the whole child—mind, body, and spirit.

Not merely teaching facts to be memorized, but cultivating understanding and curiosity.

Where reading opens doors to worlds beyond their immediate experience.

Where mathematics connects to practical problems they encounter in daily life. "

"And would this ideal education differ for boys and girls?" Chilton asked.

The vicar hesitated. "The Scriptures tell us that in Christ there is neither male nor female.

While I believe in the divine ordering of societal roles, I see no theological justification for limiting knowledge based on gender.

Girls' minds are as capable as boys' of understanding all fields of human inquiry. "

"An enlightened view," Chilton observed. "Not universally shared, I imagine."