Collinwood: Parts Sixteen-Eighteen

Sixteen

It was three o'clock, and lessons were over. David breathed a heavy sigh of relief and closed his history book. Miss Harridge had him reading about the American Revolution. Then, she had said, Maine had been part of Massachusetts, which had been a hot bed of rebellion. She promised to show him the sites next time they went to Boston. He would be able to see where the Boston Massacre had happened!

He hesitated as he left the school room. Since his father had come home, the study was off limits. Mrs. Johnson had cleared out the old school room where generations of Collins had studied. His Aunt Elizabeth and Uncle Roger had used the school room when they were young, before they were sent off to boarding school. So, it had about forty years of accumulated dust in it and books just as old. Miss Harridge had complained about the maps and globes in the room--Germany had once been two, she said. And there was no more Soviet Union, she had said in disgust. She found a textbook which would do until she could get some more supplies.

Daphne looked up from her book. "Is there something wrong, David?" she asked.

"No. I was just wondering what the Collins did during the Revolution," he said. "We were here then."

Daphne thought about that for a minute. David was very interested in this, she could tell. He knew enough about the Collins property, what with all the wandering around he did. She hoped that if they indulged in this, he would concentrate more on his other studies.

"That would be an interesting topic to study. Perhaps we could follow your family through American history," she suggested. Oh, she hoped this would work!

For the first time in weeks, if not ever, a genuine smile crossed David's face. Yes, she definitely hoped this would work.

Seventeen

"Are you still here?" Quentin asked Daphne without looking up from his papers.

Daphne had entered his office ten minutes beforehand, wanting to speak to Mr. Collins about the schoolroom. Not wanting less than his undivided attention, she had stood in front of his desk waiting for it.

It appeared that his undivided attention was not to be had.

"Yes, Mr. Collins, I am still here," she said tightly. "And I would like your undivided attention."

Her demand was probably not the wisest course of action she could take. Between her admission to brutal honesty at their first meeting to her audicity to demand his undivided attention, Quentin had every wish to send her packing.

Well, he gave it to her. He pushed his papers away, sat back in his chair, and locked his blue eyes onto her. "Tell me, Miss Harridge, do you like your job?"he asked. Before she could answer, he continued. "Because I must admit that your behavior lately has left much to be desired. It makes me wonder what my aunt was thinking when she hired you. It seems my house is filled with incompetents."

She bristled with indignation. Now both were seeing red, and she at least was holding her tongue. Be civil, she told herself, don't raise your voice. "You won't fire me."

"I won't?" he asked. He looked more interested now than angry, and she wondered if this was good or bad.

"To be perfectly frank, sir, you won't. At least not until you find my replacement. So, for the time being, my job is perfectly safe," she explained logically.

"Is that a fact?" Daphne wondered if he was going to contribute anything meaningful to this conversation. He sounded like a shrink.

"Who'd watch David, if not me? You?" She nearly laughed at that. "Or would you place that burden on Mr. Jennings's shoulders?" Daphne sat down in the chair across from him. "Now why don't we dispense with this bull and get down to business?"

The last thing she expected happened next.

Quentin Collins smiled. It wasn't a warm smile meant to put them both at ease, but more of a humorous grin, as if he found the whole situation amusing. And it was, to an extent. Funny-tragic, not funny-haha. She had almost blown it, almost walked away from the job before she had even begun to find out about her sister's death.

"Alright, Miss Harridge. I suppose that you want to talk to me about the deplorable condition of the schoolroom, right?" The smile had disappeared to be replaced by what she called his "business-man" look, a tight, unreadable face.

"How did you guess?" she asked.

"Well, to be perfectly frank, Miss Harridge," he said, the corners of his mouth creeping up,   "that room hasn't been used since my aunt and uncle used it. I'm guessing that Germany is still East and West, and Russia is the USSR. Heck, Poland may not even exist on those maps we have up there." Leather creaked in his chair as he moved. "The history books may even still be wondering who won the Second World War."

This was the closest Daphne had ever witnessed him as being jovial. Sure, there was a lack of smile and his tone was hardly amused, but he had smiled that one time. The situation was a bit unnerving and she almost rathered him to be stern and arrogant--almost. At least she knew how to handle that.

Quentin opened up a drawer in his desk and pulled out a charge card. It was a platinum charge card, and an American Express at that. He was a Collins, after all, and no one would dare to deny a Collins credit. He handed it to her. "Happy shopping," he said. "Just send all receipts to Chris Jennings."

Daphne nodded dumbly. "Yes, sir," she said quietly. She slid the card into her back pocket and turned to walk out of the room.

"Oh, and Miss Harridge?" Quentin Collins called from across the room.

She turned around. "Yes, Mr. Collins?"

"It has come to my attention that you haven't been taking your days off," he said sternly. The autocratic Mr. Collins had returned, she thought. He was right, she hadn't been taken her days off. There was really no place for her to go, nothing she really needed that she couldn't ask Mrs. Johnson to bring into her--shampoo, soap, and other miscellaneous goods. Boston was really too far for just a single day, she visiting Philip and Megan Todd was out of the question.

"I'm going to give you the entire weekend off. Don't waste it. And don't argue with me, I've had enough of that for the day," he said. Lord, the man was moody, she thought. Even PMSing, I'm not that bad. "And you'll begin to take your days off regularly. I don't want to see you from Friday morning to Sunday evening. And don't worry about David."

Don't worry about David? What a stupid statement. Of course she'd worry about David. "Yes, Mr. Collins," she said sullenly. "As you wish." She closed the door a bit forcefully behind her.

Eighteen

By the time she met the Todds Friday evening, she was exhausted. Daphne had bought nearly one of everything at a school supply store, charged it to the Collins account, and arranged to have it delivered to Collinwood by Monday morning. She enjoyed her short time in Rockport and noted to herself that she could come to the small city on her days off, now that she was being forced to take them off. After her conversation with Mr. Collins earlier in the week, he had returned to his usual arrogant and autocratic self. Mealtimes were a dreadful ordeal, David oftentimes refusing to eat with them. At one point she had almost wished that Elizabeth and Julia hadn't left but was sure those two were having a fine enough time in Paris.

From Rockport she took a train to Boston, where Philip and Meaghan met her at the train station. Daphne had brought a small overnight bag with her and had figured that shampoo and toothpaste would be obtainable at the Todds. She looked forward to seeing them. It seemed ages since the last time she had seen them, but it was really only two months. But those two months were spent at Collinwood, she thought, where time seemed to live by different rules.

"And how are you liking your new job, dear?" Meaghan Todd asked after hugging Daphne.

"It's going well," Daphne said in an even tone."David's a delightful child." May God not strike me where I am standing, she thought to herself.

Philip frowned at her. "You should've stayed in Boston, Daphne. You'll find no good in Collinport." He put his arm around her shoulder and squeezed tightly. "We worry about you, Daph."

She looked up into his brown eyes and smiled. "I know, Philip. And I am thankful for it."

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