Page 36 of The Headmistress

Sam stole one last lingering glance at the rigid form standing in the doorway.

“I’m here if you need me.” The cold expression warmed imperceptibly, but Magdalene said nothing, simply turned, and disappeared behind the massive doors.

A second later Willoughby, as if sensing the departure of his mistress even in his sleep, rose, stretched, and trotted after her as quickly as his bulk allowed him.

13

Of Pavement On The Road To Hell & Loyalty

Sheriff Green, a burly man with a misplaced Southern accent amidst all the New Englanders, arrived relatively swiftly, all things considered. Either Magdalene had pulled some strings, or he was simply curious about the drama playing out at Three Dragons Academy, Sam wasn’t certain.

Still, he seemed thorough, respectful, and overall competent. If they had to go through the whole ordeal and involve law enforcement, they certainly could have done much worse.

The afternoon passed in a complete upheaval of people coming and going, inspecting the dormitory, the Mess Hall, and generally disturbing the usually quiet and monotonous passage of summer days at Dragons. Sam had to laugh at having taken the monotony for granted, as nothing had been quiet, or business as usual since Magdalene had set foot on the island, and if she was perfectly honest with herself, since her eyes had met Magdalene’s magical ones in that dim bar in Manhattan.

Orla anxiously flitted from one place to the next, exceedingly getting on everyone’s nerves, to the point that even the ever-pleasant Joanne—who had returned from the mainland in something approaching a food coma from all the donuts she’d indulged in—had snarled at her to sit down and stop interfering with whatever the cops were attempting to do.

The three of them sat in silence in the teachers’ lounge awaiting further developments when the door opened and Stanton Alden entered the room. He looked somehow older than the last time Sam had seen him a month ago, at Magdalene’s presentation. His back stooped a bit, and he seemed very tired. Sam knew he’d announced earlier that year that he was running for Governor of Massachusetts again, although she couldn’t fathom why. He had served a term as Governor in his early fifties, made a bid for Senate, lost, and settled into a placid sort of semi-retirement, running all kinds of charities and businesses. He was an exceptionally wealthy man. Perhaps he was bored and restless and thus kept finding things to do. But it was rather obvious that the pace of all those things and the campaign were wearing on him. At almost seventy, despite still being fit and trim, he was no longer a spring chicken.

Still, he did not look good at the moment, and for some unknown reason, Sam held a sliver of affinity for him, despite him having been a completely unsuitable, even neglectful, guardian to her once upon a time. Granted, he could’ve been much worse, but he also could have been better. What did it say about her perception of men, that she was rejoicing about them not being worse for the second time today? She filed the thought away and turned to Alden as he made his way into the room and shook hands with everyone.

“Professor Threadneedle, I would like to speak with you. Is there a place where we could do that? I’d hate to disturb the ladies.” Sam schooled her face to remain impassive, but it was rather hard not to giggle at the obvious disappointment on Joanne and Orla’s faces. As much as they loved Sam, when they were bored, they were also very nosy and they were surely burning with desire to know the eldest trustee’s reasons to be on the island and to speak privately to Sam.

She could absolutely relate to her friends’ curiosity though, and with great anticipation and no small amount of trepidation, she stood up and led him down the corridor to the classroom she normally taught in. To her surprise, the chairs were overturned on the desks and the room smelled of fresh paint. When did Magdalene have this space renovated?

Sam felt like so many things about the school were changing that she barely managed to keep up. And in times like these, she realized that she had no idea how Magdalene juggled so many balls at once and still succeeded in keeping pace for Dragons to reopen in time for the new school year. The woman was a machine, and Sam felt that she was not giving her enough credit, enough praise, or enough trust. Because ultimately, as much as Sam was conflicted about Magdalene’s reforms, she could no longer deny that—quietly and without drawing unnecessary attention—the Headmistress was also going about the business of running the Academy and making it better.

With these thoughts percolating in her mind and distracting her from the business at hand, Sam struggled to pull herself back into the present situation, which needed her to have her wits about her. Alden’s visits were sporadic and he’d never sought her out before. Why was he here now?

Alden walked around the classroom, touching some of the paintings, obviously getting his courage up to get to the point he had traveled all the way from Boston to make. Finally, he turned, seeming to gather his thoughts.

“Ah, I guess it’s customary to inquire about menial things and make small talk in these situations?” Sam’s face must’ve shown the incredulity to his opening salvo and he shrugged a shoulder before giving her a tightlipped smile that was more grimace than anything else.

“I was in the neighborhood, so to speak. Campaigning. You might’ve heard about my renewed political ambitions.”

Sam nodded, still mystified by the turn of this conversation.

“Found myself in an empty mansion a year ago when my Edward passed away. You’d never think that you’d outlive your family. So when they came to me to see if I was interested in challenging the current empty suit, I said why not? In any case, I’m rambling and this isn’t why I’m here.”

He made another full circle around the classroom before approaching her.

“Are you okay, Samantha?”

He had never called her by her first name. Even as a kid when she’d spent the occasional holiday at his home, he always used the polite address to the young woman and her last name. To have him say it now sounded foreign and unwarranted.

“I heard from Joel that you’ve been attacked several times.” His face showed honest concern, but Sam was perplexed by how misplaced it felt.

“Ah, I’m okay, Mr. Alden. And it seems Headmistress Nox was the intended target. I’m fine, thank you.” She carefully perched on the corner of her desk and sat very still, confused by the whole scene playing out in front of her. He seemed disquieted somehow, but Sam couldn’t really place his emotion and decided to wait him out.

“That’s good. Well, obviously it’s not good that Ms. Nox is being harassed, but is there real danger? To the school? To the faculty?”

She shrugged a shoulder. He obviously needed more reassurance than she had given him so far, but Sam chose to remain silent and continued to observe his unraveling. Something about his words was rubbing her wrong. He clearly had an agenda, but Sam couldn’t figure out what it was.

“I, ah, I was concerned about the whole situation concerning the school and with whatever is happening here with Ms. Nox.”

The damn address. The way he was addressing Magdalene and the glaring lack of the proper title was what Sam’s ear had been disturbed by, she suddenly realized. It was strange that Alden was not referring to Magdalene as ‘Headmistress’. It was weird. He was acting weird. The whole situation was, well, weird for lack of a better word, and Sam was just a bit too frazzled to be looking into better vocabulary choices.

“I think we may have made a mistake by allowing her free rein at Dragons, don’t you think so?”

---