Page 53 of Her Alien Guardian

My stomach dropped at her words. The thought of Gamma witnessing my shame made me feel sick. I opened my mouth to ask another question, but Elara shook her head minutely, her eyes wide with warning.

“We mustn’t talk about it,” she breathed, her voice trembling slightly. “It only makes it worse if we dwell on it. “

Before I could respond, Mrs. Porter’s sharp voice cut through the quiet of the room. “Silence, girls,” she commanded. “Your samplers require your full attention.”

I quickly ducked my head, focusing intently on my needlework. But try as I might, I couldn’t banish the thoughts of what the evening might bring. Each stitch felt like a countdown, bringing me closer to the moment I dreaded. The words I was embroidering seemed to mock me now—A good girl learns to please. I had failed in that already, disappointing both Mrs. Porter and, undoubtedly, Gamma.

As the morning wore on, the dread in my stomach grew heavier. The beauty of the embroidery, which had so enchanted me earlier, began to feel like a thin veneer over the harsh realities of my new life. The worst part was that even as fear and anxiety churned within me, I couldn’t deny the small part of me that anticipated the punishment with a mortifying excitement. The complexity of my emotions left me feeling dizzy and confused, my cheeks burning with a blush I couldn’t fully explain.

After embroidery, we moved to the schoolroom for our literature lesson. Sunlight streamed through the tall windows, illuminating motes of dust that danced in the air. We sat at our desks facing Dr. Porter at his own—where, I remembered with a shiver, I had seen Lydia caned with her drawers down yesterday.

The headmaster stood before us to begin the lesson, his gray hair neatly combed, his beard trimmed to perfection. His intelligent eyes swept over us as he began, his deep voice filling the room.

“Today, we’ll continue our study of Jane Austen’sPride and Prejudice,” he announced. “To begin, I’d like each of you to share which of the Bennet sisters you admire most, aside of course from Elizabeth, whom we all must love despite her occasional willfulness. We’ll start with you, Miss Elara.”

Elara shifted in her seat, her auburn curls catching the sunlight. “I… I admire Mary Bennet, sir,” she said softly, her cheeks flushing pink. “She loves to play the piano, just as I do. And she’s studious and devoted to improving herself.”

Dr. Porter nodded approvingly. “An interesting choice, Miss Elara. Mary’s dedication to her studies is indeed admirable, though perhaps taken to an extreme. Miss Lydia, your thoughts?”

Lydia sat up straighter, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Well, sir,” she began, her voice carrying a hint of defiance, “I admire Lydia Bennet.”

Dr. Porter’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Indeed? And why is that, Miss Lydia?”

Lydia’s chin lifted slightly. “I know she’s considered a bad girl, sir. But I admire her spirit. She knows what she wants and isn’t afraid to go after it. She’s vivacious and full of life.”

To my surprise, Dr. Porter’s lips curved into a small smile. “An interesting perspective, Miss Lydia. While Lydia Bennet’s actions are certainly not to be emulated, her zest for life is indeed noteworthy. It’s a quality that, when properly channeled and tempered with wisdom, can be quite admirable.”

Lydia’s eyes widened at the unexpected praise, a pleased flush spreading across her cheeks.

Dr. Porter’s gaze then turned to me, his expression thoughtful. “And you, Miss Tessara? I know you haven’t read the entire book yet, but based on what you’ve read and heard, which Bennet sister do you admire most?”

CHAPTER 29

Tessara

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. The weight of Dr. Porter’s expectant gaze and the lingering shame from last night’s transgressions made it difficult to think clearly—and I had only had the chance to read three chapters of the book, during study period the night before. As I considered the Bennet sisters, though, one stood out.

I took a deep breath, attempting to calm my racing heart. “From what I’ve read and heard, sir, I admire Jane Bennet,” I said softly, my voice wavering slightly. “Even when she’s treated so cruelly by the Bingley sisters, she remains good-hearted and kind.”

As I spoke, I found my confidence growing. The memory of Jane’s gentle nature, her unwavering compassion even in the face of adversity, resonated deeply within me. “She never speaks ill of anyone, even those who have wronged her,” I continued, my voice stronger now. “And despite the pain she endures, she still believes in the goodness of others.”

I paused, thinking of my own experiences, the cruelty I had endured at the hands of the Vionians. How easy it would be to let bitterness consume me, to close my heart to kindness and trust. But Jane’s example offered another path.

“And in the end,” I added, a small smile tugging at my lips, “Jane’s goodness is rewarded, isn’t it?” I blushed a little. “I skipped to the end, because I wanted to see. She gets to marry Mr. Bingley, the man she truly loves.” The thought of such a happy ending, of love triumphing over adversity, filled me with a warmth I hadn’t expected.

Dr. Porter’s eyebrows rose, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his features. “An excellent answer, Miss Tessara,” he said, his deep voice filled with approval. “You’ve grasped a fundamental truth about Jane’s character that many readers overlook—her sheer persistence in her kindness.”

He began to pace slowly in front of the class, his hands clasped behind his back. “Jane’s ability to maintain her gentle nature in the face of adversity is indeed admirable. It speaks to a strength of character that goes beyond mere passivity.”

Dr. Porter’s gaze swept over all three of us, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a shame,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “that I will have to punish you girls this afternoon. I must say, though, that the anticipation of your correction has produced good results in your studies and comportment today.”

I felt my cheeks flush hot at his words, the reminder of our impending punishment sending a shiver down my spine.

“However,” Dr. Porter continued, his tone growing stern, “actions have consequences, and it is crucial that you learn thislesson well. A Prosperian lady must exercise self-control at all times, even in the privacy of her own bedchamber.”

I couldn’t help but squirm slightly in my seat. The sensation from the lingering soreness of my bottom hole sent a jolt of awareness through my body, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassing need. For the first time, I almost wished Mrs. Porter had turned our governors down, rather than raising them to level seven, when she had woken us.

After our literature lesson the day crawled by at an agonizing pace. Each tick of the ornate grandfather clock in the parlor seemed to echo through the hushed halls of the academy, a steady reminder of the punishment that loomed ever closer.

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