Free Little Girl Lost by Val Wood

to give.
    Margriet, on the other hand, was overjoyed. ‘Will there be other little girls there, Papa? Will I be able to play with them?’ Her expression became cautious for a moment, as if she was thinking of something else.
    â€˜You will be there to learn, Margriet, but I dare say there will be a chance to play too.’
    â€˜And who will take me?’ she said. ‘Will Mama? Oh, but then she would have to walk home alone and she can’t do that.’ Her face clouded for a moment, and then cleared. ‘Florrie will take me, I expect. She doesn’t mind walking by herself; she’s quite used to it.’
    How strange it was, he thought, that women like Florrie had more freedom than someone like Rosamund, who considered it unseemly to walk along the street alone, without the company of a maidservant, even during daylight hours. He gave a deep sigh. Would it ever be any different?
    â€˜And what shall we tell Miss Ripley, Papa? I think she will be sad if she can’t come to teach me any more.’
    â€˜Mama will explain that you will be going to school next term … but we are jumping our hedges too soon. First we have to go and see Miss Barker and find out if she is willing to take you as a pupil.’
    â€˜Oh.’ Margriet considered. ‘You mean she might not? Then I must practise my curtsey and how to say how-de-do to please her.’
    Frederik laughed and patted her cheek. ‘I think, Daisy, that you will impress Miss Barker more if you ask her what she will be teaching you than if you can do a wobble-free curtsey!’
    Frederik decided that he would act in the manner of a masterful husband even though it went against his better nature, and he insisted that Rosamund went with them to meet Miss Barker. Rosamund said little after the initial greeting, but Frederik noticed her surveying the parlour that served as a schoolroom and the five children – three girls and two boys – sitting at the table with books and slates in front of them. A young woman of about eighteen sat with them.
    â€˜This is my assistant, Miss Chambers,’ Miss Barker said, and the young woman got up to shake hands. ‘As you will see, I take only five pupils, but we shall be losing George this summer, and so will have room for another.’ She smiled at one of the boys. ‘He will be attending Hull Grammar School in the autumn. We are all very proud of him.’
    The boy tried to hide a grin, but it was easy to see that he was pleased by the praise.
    â€˜Sanderson’s son?’ Frederik asked. ‘It was Sanderson who recommended you to me.’
    â€˜Ah! Did he? That is very gratifying.’ She took them back into her office, which doubled as another schoolroom; there were exercise books on the table, a small desk with an oil lamp, and in one corner a pianoforte and stool. When they were seated, she turned to Margriet. ‘It’s Margriet, isn’t it? How old are you?’
    Margriet got to her feet and gave a small dip of the knee. ‘I’m six, Miss Barker.’
    â€˜Ah, so you know my name.’
    â€˜Yes, Papa told me.’
    Miss Barker nodded. ‘And is there anything you’d like to ask me? Anything you’d like to know or are anxious about?’
    Margriet worked her mouth as she thought. ‘I’m not anxious about anything, but I wondered if you will be telling us about King Henry?’
    Miss Barker raised her dark eyebrows. ‘Which King Henry?’
    Margriet’s lips shaped into an orb, and she glanced at her father. She only knew of one. ‘The one who had a palace in Hull.’
    â€˜Henry VIII? I see. You are interested in history, are you?’
    â€˜Papa took me to see where the palace and the gardens used to be, but it was a long time ago so the palace isn’t here any more, although the gardens … the gardens might be.’ She paused. ‘At least – I think I know where they are, and