Page 14 of An Inventor and An Inconvenience (Gentleman Scholars #5)

L ater that week, Faith paused at the corner of Market Street, pretending to adjust her bonnet while carefully scanning the early morning crowds. No one seemed to be paying her any particular attention, but she'd learned to be cautious. After confirming she hadn't been followed, she slipped down the narrow alley that led to Mrs. Henderson's back entrance.

The familiar scent of lavender and beeswax greeted her as she climbed the hidden staircase to the room above the shop. Already she could hear the soft murmur of voices—her students had begun to arrive, using the carefully staggered schedule she'd devised to avoid drawing attention.

A tingle of apprehension mixed with excitement ran through her veins, the same feeling she experienced each time she approached this clandestine classroom.

Every lesson was both a triumph and a risk, each student both a success and a potential danger to their collective secret. Yet the thrill of sharing knowledge, of watching minds unfold like flowers turning toward the sun, made her willing to accept that risk day after day.

She paused briefly at the top of the stairs, taking a moment to compose herself. Through the worn wooden door, Faith could hear Lucy's patient voice sounding out a difficult word. The young housemaid who had once struggled with simple letters was now teaching others. The transformation brought tears to Faith's eyes, and she blinked them away before entering.

"Good morning, Miss Faith!" Lucy whispered as Faith entered.

The young housemaid was helping Mary, a kitchen girl from one of the college's dining halls, practice her letters. Two more girls sat nearby, heads bent over simple arithmetic problems.

The room was modest but tidy, with desks fashioned from old crates and benches that Mrs. Henderson had salvaged from various sources around Oxford. What the space lacked in grandeur, it made up for in purpose.

Pride swelled in Faith's chest as she set down her satchel of materials. In just a few weeks, her small class had grown from three students to six, each one showing remarkable progress despite the constraints they faced.

She remembered their first days—how Lucy had trembled when asked to read aloud, how Mary had apologized repeatedly for her messy figures, how Annie had nearly fled when she couldn't grasp a simple addition problem. Now they worked with quiet confidence, their fear gradually giving way to determination.

"Let's see what you've accomplished," Faith said, gathering their previous day's work.

She'd stayed up late reviewing their exercises, marking corrections and planning today's lessons. The papers were precious proof of their achievements, though they had to be destroyed after review to avoid discovery. This ritual of creation and destruction pained her—each paper represented a small victory that deserved to be celebrated, not hidden away like evidence of wrongdoing.

Faith walked to the window, drawing the thin curtain aside just enough to let in the morning light without exposing them to curious eyes from the street below. The movement caught Sarah's attention, and the bookbinder's daughter looked up from her work with a questioning glance.

"Just checking the weather," Faith assured her with a smile. "It looks to be a fine day."

Sarah nodded and returned to her calculations. Of all the students, she had taken most naturally to mathematics, displaying an intuitive understanding that sometimes left Faith breathless.

What might the girl have accomplished with proper schooling from childhood? The thought both inspired and saddened Faith.

As Faith moved among her students, checking their progress and offering guidance, she couldn't help but marvel at their determination. These girls fought daily battles just to be here—rising before dawn, inventing excuses for their employers, risking their positions and reputations for a chance at education. Their hunger for knowledge reminded Faith of her own childhood, sneaking into her father's study to read his books when he wasn't looking, listening at doors during his lessons with male students.

"Miss Faith?" Mary's voice trembled slightly.

"I've been practicing my numbers, like you showed us." She held out a carefully folded piece of paper. "I checked the butcher's sums yesterday and found he'd been overcharging us for months."

The girl's eyes shone with a mixture of pride and uncertainty, as though still not quite believing in her own abilities. Faith took the paper, examining Mary's neat columns of figures. Indeed, she had caught a pattern of small overcharges that, added together, amounted to a significant sum.

"This is excellent work, Mary," Faith said, feeling a surge of fierce pride. "Your calculations are precise and your reasoning is sound."

"I didn't tell him straightaway," Mary confessed in a hushed voice. "I was afraid he'd wonder how I knew."

"That was wise," Faith agreed. "Perhaps suggest that your employer noticed the discrepancy?"

Mary nodded eagerly. "Cook already suspects something's amiss with the accounts. She'll be pleased when I help save the household money."

Faith was about to respond when footsteps thundered up the back stairs. Mrs. Henderson burst in, her face pale, wisps of gray hair escaping her usually immaculate bun.

"Quick!" she hissed. "Lady Pembroke's housekeeper is in the shop, asking about her scullery maid!"

The familiar calm of the classroom dissolved into silent panic. The girls scrambled to hide their work, their movements practiced from previous close calls. Young Annie, the scullery maid in question, looked terrified. Her already pale complexion turned ashen, and Faith feared she might faint.

"She'll dismiss me if she finds out," Annie whispered, clutching her primer to her chest as though it were both precious and dangerous. "Or worse, tell her ladyship."

Faith's mind raced as she helped Annie tuck the incriminating book under a loose floorboard. She could see the fear in the girl's eyes—fear not just of losing her position, but of losing this precious chance to learn, to change her circumstances through education.

A familiar anger rose in Faith's chest at the injustice of it all. Why should knowledge be denied to these eager minds simply because of their gender and station?

"Mrs. Henderson, can you tell her Annie's been learning millinery?” Faith suggested, keeping her voice steady despite her racing heart. “That she hopes to advance herself to lady's maid?"

The widow nodded, her eyes showing understanding of the necessary deception. She adjusted her cap and smoothed her apron, transforming back into the respectable shopkeeper before hurrying back downstairs. Faith quickly helped the girls hide all evidence of their true studies, her hands shaking as she gathered papers and books.

Through the floorboards, they could hear Mrs. Henderson's cheerful voice: "Oh yes, such a dedicated girl! She shows real promise with ribbons..."

The conversation continued, muffled but audible. The housekeeper's stern inquiries, Mrs. Henderson's airy reassurances, a moment of doubtful silence, and then finally the sound of agreement. Faith held her breath until they heard the housekeeper leave, apparently satisfied with the explanation.

But the close call left everyone shaken.

"Perhaps we should stop," Annie whispered, tears in her eyes.

"It's too dangerous. If I lost my position, my family—" She broke off, unable to complete the thought, but Faith understood.

For girls like Annie, a position in a good household wasn't just employment—it was survival for themselves and often for family members who depended on their wages.

"No." Mary's voice was surprisingly firm. She looked up from where she'd been collecting her hidden papers, a new resolve hardening her usually gentle features. "I won't go back to not knowing if I'm being cheated. Knowledge is worth the risk."

Faith gazed at her students—these brave, determined girls who risked everything for the chance to learn. She thought of Jasper, working so diligently to create something that could make dangerous work safer. His passion for improving lives through innovation, even if it was partially motivated by seeking his father's approval, spoke to something deeper in him.

"We'll be more careful," Faith assured them. "But Mary's right. Knowledge is power, and you deserve that power just as much as any man."

She looked at each student in turn, meeting their eyes, willing them to feel the conviction that burned in her own heart. "This isn't just about reading books or doing sums. This is about claiming what should be your birthright—the right to understand the world around you, to question, to reason, to improve your circumstances through your own intelligence."

Annie wiped her tears, sitting a little straighter. "But how can we be more careful? They already suspect something."

It was a valid question. Faith had instituted precautions from the beginning—staggered arrivals, fake millinery projects as cover, destruction of written work—but these measures were proving insufficient as their group grew.

"I have some ideas," Faith said, though in truth the beginnings of a plan were only just forming in her mind. "For now, let's continue with today's lesson. The best defense we have is ensuring your progress is worth whatever risk we face."

They resumed their lessons, the routine of learning providing some comfort after the disruption. Faith introduced a new concept in basic geometry, showing how angles and measurements could be applied to practical tasks from sewing to carpentry.

The girls gradually relaxed as they became absorbed in their work, though Faith noticed how often Annie glanced nervously at the door, how Lucy positioned herself closer to the window where she could watch the alley below.

The incident had shaken them all, forcing Faith to confront the very real dangers her students faced. This wasn't just about defying convention—it was about risking livelihoods, security, and futures. The weight of that responsibility pressed on her shoulders as she moved from student to student, correcting here, encouraging there.

As the lesson progressed, Faith found her thoughts returning to Jasper's workshop. He had shown her his latest designs just yesterday—intricate mechanisms designed to provide early warning of dangerous conditions in mines. The principles behind his work weren't limited to industrial applications. Perhaps, with some adaptation...

The morning passed quickly, and soon it was time for the girls to leave, slipping away one by one with carefully timed departures. Faith watched them go with a mixture of pride and concern.

Mary with her confident stride and growing skills with numbers. Sarah with her natural mathematical ability that might one day rival university scholars, if only she were permitted to develop it. Lucy, who had progressed from struggling student to patient teacher. Annie, still shaken but resolute in her determination to continue.

Faith lingered to help Mrs. Henderson tidy up.

"I've been thinking," she said slowly. "About ways to make this safer for everyone."

The widow looked up from gathering stray papers. "Oh?"

"There's someone—an inventor—who might be able to help. His work is focused on mining safety, but perhaps..." Faith thought of Jasper's clever mechanisms, his attention to detail. "Perhaps some of his principles could be adapted to help protect our school."

"The young Lord Jasper?" Mrs. Henderson's eyebrows rose. "Are you sure it's wise to involve someone of his station?"

Faith understood her concern. Jasper's position in Society made him both a valuable potential ally and a dangerous confidant. Yet she'd seen how he approached problems, how he genuinely wanted his inventions to help people.

"I believe he could be trusted," she said carefully. "And after today... we need to consider every possible way to protect the girls."

Mrs. Henderson nodded slowly. "Very well. But be careful, my dear. You're risking more than just yourself."

Faith gathered her things, her mind already turning over possibilities. Jasper's latest design, with its system of distributed pressure points, had shown her how mechanical principles could be adapted for different purposes. Perhaps his innovative thinking could help them create better safeguards for the school.

As she made her way back through Oxford's bustling streets, Faith felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her. Yet she also felt a surge of determination. She would find a way to protect her students, to continue their education despite the risks. And perhaps, in seeking Jasper's help, she might show him that there were more ways to make a difference in the world than just earning his father's approval.