Free My Favorite Bride by Christina Dodd

They get more attention from their father when they’ve got no governess, and that’s why they misbehave. Not that ye heard me say so. So we . . . help them along sometimes. Especially the nursemaids. They’ve got a bit of power now, and ‘tis going t’ their heads. Not that ye heard me say that, either.” Clarinda put the fork into Samantha’s hand. “Ye’d best eat, miss, ye’ll need yer strength.”
    After she had eaten, Samantha climbed the stairs to the classroom on the third floor as she considered the information Clarinda had given her. No wonder she had failed to charm the girls. They had been aided and abetted in their defiance by their nursemaids and, indeed, by the whole staff, and if Samantha were going to succeed she would have to take drastic action.
    She had to get the girls away from the house. Away from any support.
    She heard the girls’ animated chatter before she opened the door, but they quieted at once and turned eager faces toward her.
    Perhaps, while she had been resolving to fix the problems of her situation, the children had been realizing how unkind they had been and deciding to do better.
    She smiled at them.
    They smiled back.
    â€œI hope you had a pleasant lunch,” she said.
    In unison, they replied, “Yes, Miss Prendregast.”
    â€œWe’ll study our mathematics now.” They really were chipper. A niggle of unease crept up Samantha’s spine, and she considered them with misgivings. “If you would get out your books—” She opened her desk, and looked down into the drawer.
    A mass of green snakes slithered in every direction, but mostly—toward her. She’d never seen a snake in her life. Hoped never to see one. But she knew what they were. Blinded by panic, by the image of those flickering tongues, the smooth scales, and those lidless black eyes, she screamed.
    The children hooted in derision.
    The snakes dropped onto the floor, writhed across her desk, glided over her chair.
    She shouted, “Ruddy ‘ell!” The children. Dear God, the snakes were going to bite the children. Gathering her courage, she ran to Kyla and Emmeline, grabbed them around the waists, and carried them out into the corridor. Heart pounding, she placed them on the floor and ran back for the others.
    They’d stopped laughing.
    â€œCome on!” She gestured frantically. “Before they bite you.”
    Agnes stood up at her desk and in a tone of withering scorn, said, “They’re just grass snakes. Don’t you know a grass snake when you see one?”
    One of the dreadful creatures slithered across the floor right between Samantha and the children, and she took a running leap over it. Grasping Henrietta by the arm, she said, “Come on.”
    â€œThey’re just grass snakes,” Agnes said again.
    â€œI don’t like this anymore.” Henrietta came with Samantha out in the corridor.
    The two younger children stood wide-eyed.
    The other children traipsed out of the classroom now and joined them.
    â€œThey’re grass snakes.” But Agnes had realized she’d gone too far, and her defiance turned to open hostility.
    Samantha led them to their bedchamber and found a gathering of nursemaids waiting for them. When she stepped through the door, the merry talk stopped, and they looked so guilty Samantha knew the information Clarinda had given her was correct. These maids had egged the children on. In a tone so quiet they had to strain to hear her speak, she commanded, “Get them dressed for a walk. I’ll be back to fetch them soon. And you”—she looked at each one of the six maids—“all of you. Make sure the snakes, every last one of them, are removed from the classroom before we return.”
    The quieter she spoke, the angrier she was, and they must have realized the depths of her rage, for the nursemaids nodded and scurried to do her bidding.
    Samantha