Page 37 of Charming the Headmistress (Spinsters and their Suitors #3)

CHAPTER THIRTY

T he letter arrived just after breakfast, sealed in dark green wax and pressed with the unmistakable crest of Haverton House. Eleanor recognized it at once, her breath catching before she even broke the seal.

She read it twice.

Lord Camden had visited George Weatherby.

The letter was brief, to the point, and meticulously polite.

He had gone to Weatherby’s estate unannounced.

The meeting had not been fruitful, but it had confirmed the seriousness of the threat.

There was no signature flourish, no poetic sentiment—but between the lines, Eleanor read the fury and the protectiveness, cloaked in careful restraint.

She folded the letter and set it down gently beside her tea.

He had gone alone.

And he had not told her beforehand because he hadn’t wanted to worry her—or, perhaps, because he had known she might have told him not to go.

Across the table, Mrs. Carter watched her over the rim of her teacup. “Bad news?”

“Not precisely.” Eleanor stood, her hands clasped tightly before her. “Lord Camden went to speak with Weatherby.”

Mrs. Carter’s eyes widened. “Alone?”

Eleanor nodded. “Apparently so.”

“That man never does anything halfway,” Mrs. Carter muttered.

“No,” Eleanor said quietly, “he doesn’t.”

There was a long pause.

“He cares for you,” Mrs. Carter said bluntly.

Eleanor turned sharply. “That is not the point.”

“It rather is,” her assistant replied, her tone gentler now. “You look as though someone has stolen the breath from your very chest.”

Eleanor sank into the nearest chair. “I told him I needed to focus. That I could not be distracted.”

“And in his own way, he showed he heard you—by standing where you could not,” Mrs. Carter said softly.

Eleanor couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “He said he would help, and he has.”

“Yes,” Mrs. Carter said gently, “but it’s not only about the school anymore, is it?”

Eleanor looked down at her hands.

“No,” she whispered. “It’s not.”

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of preparations. The Board would be arriving in three days, and Eleanor reviewed every presentation, every speech, every report with twice her usual vigilance.

She met with Miss Rawlie about the mathematics display, with Miss Bellamy about the artwork, and stood at the back of the chapel as the girls rehearsed a musical recitation from Psalms. Her encouragements were calm and confident, her presence steady.

But inside, her heart was a storm. Each footstep down the halls echoed with Camden’s promise. Each flicker of candlelight reminded her of the letter’s words, and the knowledge that he was fighting beside her lent both comfort and fear.

When she passed Helena in the corridor, the girl handed her another note—this one shorter, folded twice, with a pressed ivy leaf tucked between the pages.

Helena had not said much, only: “He’s still trying. I think it’s hard, but he wants you to know he hasn’t given up.”

Eleanor took the note into her office and closed the door.

It was Lord Camden’s handwriting again.

I will not stand back. I will not let this school be taken from you. I am pursuing every option. When it is done—if you are willing—I hope to pursue something more. —C.

She pressed the letter to her chest, eyes burning. A shiver ran through her—not of fear, but of fierce, fragile hope. He was out there, fighting, and that meant she must not falter.

Three days.

In three days, the Board would meet. The fate of Greenbrook—and her own—might change forever.

But now, she no longer felt alone in the fight.

And that, somehow, gave her the courage to hope.

The main hall felt cold, despite the fire crackling in the grate. Eleanor stood at the head of the long table, her notes laid out before her, spine ramrod straight as she addressed the gathered members of the Greenbrook Academy Board.

She had delivered her report with clarity and precision. She had outlined the academy’s academic progress, presented documentation of the charitable origins of the land, and shared written support from several former governors—including Lord Strathwick and Viscount Allendale.

She had, she believed, done everything right.

And yet, she saw the shifting glances. The tight-lipped frowns. The raised brows of two of the newer board members who had barely concealed their disapproval of her leadership since the moment they arrived.

“I must ask,” came the dry voice of Mr. Cartwright, “whether we are meant to believe this is merely a clerical matter. The land was never properly deeded. Surely the fault lies with the original oversight.”

“The original oversight,” Eleanor said steadily, “was an unfortunate gap in the formal documentation. However, the intention of the gift is well-documented in public records and corroborated by living witnesses.”

A flicker of triumph ran through Eleanor—until a sharp voice cut it short.

Lord Greaves leaned forward. “But intention will not protect the school in a court of law, Miss Langford. What of this Weatherby fellow? If he presses his claim, have we any legal standing to resist him?”

“I have consulted with a solicitor,” Eleanor replied. “And Lord Camden has taken it upon himself to investigate additional avenues—”

“Lord Camden,” interrupted Mr. Albridge, with a hint of disdain, “is not a member of this Board.”

Eleanor’s fingers clenched around the edge of her report. “No. But he has been an ardent supporter, and only one of many supporters I have secured.”

“He is also a gentleman,” Albridge added coolly. “And not unfamiliar with Miss Langford's company, I believe.”

A ripple of murmurs circled the table.

Eleanor drew herself up. “Whatever you may imply, Lord Camden’s efforts have been on behalf of the academy and the students. Nothing more.”

Cartwright leaned back in his chair. “Regardless of your assurances, Miss Langford, this is not solely your fight. If we determine the risk to the school’s reputation or finances is too great, we may be forced to consider alternate solutions.”

“What do you mean alternate solutions?”

“Greenbrook Academy will not have the funds to purchase the school and lands at the price Mr. Weatherby has set. It would not make fiscal sense,” Lord Greaves said.

A murmur of agreement rumbled around the room.

“Furthermore,” added Mr. Albridge, “we must look at the realistic possibilities. It would take time and effort to secure a relocation of the academy. There would be enrollment reductions to consider. But without the generous building and land, a suitable replacement may be unobtainable.”

A chill spread through her.

“You mean to say you might forgo trying to keep Greenbrook Academy?” she asked, the words barely above a whisper.

No one answered.

The fire crackled.

Lord Greaves cleared his throat. “Let us adjourn until we have more information. We’ll reconvene in a fortnight.”

And just like that, the meeting was over.

Eleanor remained standing long after the others had filed out, her shoulders square, her heart aching. She forced her chin up, determined not to let them see how the words had wounded her.

When she returned to her office, she sat at her desk without removing her gloves. The ache behind her eyes had nothing to do with fatigue and everything to do with defeat.

A knock sounded at the door.

Mrs. Carter stepped in quietly, reading Eleanor’s face instantly.

“No good?”

Eleanor shook her head slowly. “They do not seem to want to fight this cause. They do not trust me. And they are afraid. Afraid enough to abandon the very mission they once championed. But I will not.”

Mrs. Carter crossed to the chair opposite her and sat down. “Then we find another way.”

Eleanor let out a breath that trembled just slightly.

“I cannot lose this place, Mrs. Carter.”

“And you won’t.”

But even as her assistant spoke the words, Eleanor was no longer sure she believed them.

As Mrs. Carter was about to leave, she paused at the doorway.

“There is someone who wishes to see you in the drawing room, when you are ready.” Without giving any clue to who it might be, Mrs. Carter left, leaving Eleanor puzzled.

She took a few more moments to compose herself.

Perhaps it was one of the girls who had needed extra support, and couldn’t wait until tomorrow.

She took a steadying breath. She would do what she could, and she would do her best to leave her own worries in her office.