Her Master and Commander by Karen Hawkins

several tasteful plays each term. Lady Barkstow’s Academie for Ladies has its own horse trainer. Every girl is given a horse on arriving, and the school promises that they will all be capital horsewomen by the time they leave.”
    “Horses?” Mother put down her fork. “That sounds rather expensive.”
    “I wasn’t suggesting we do the same thing as the other schools,” Prudence said quickly. “But we must find our own specialty so we can convince good families to bring their daughters here and not elsewhere. We could provide a combination of the gentler arts and some good, healthy fresh air activities. We are in the countryside, so perhaps we can turn that to our advantage.”
    Mother sighed a little. “Prudence, I wish we weren’t reduced to this. I love the idea of a school, but I hate that we have to do it. That takes so much of the enjoyment out of it.”
    Prudence pushed herself from the table. “Mother, I am sorry about Phillip’s—”
    Mother put her hand over Prudence’s. “Stop. He didn’t mean to leave things in such a state.”
    “It’s not only the money, but the humiliation of—” Prudence pressed her lips together. “All those people trusted him. He should have realized he was in over his head and not made so many promises.”
    “He was overly optimistic, perhaps. But what he did was not criminal. There should have never been so many people pressing him for funds. And then, to cut us socially—” Mother looked down at her plate. “I know that was difficult for you.”
    “For both of us. I thought some of those women were my friends, but they weren’t.” No, her supposed “friends” had believed the lies published in the papers. That Phillip had stolen money from his investors, that she had enticed men to invest. It was horrid and tawdry, and still, after three years, left a horrid taste in her mouth. Worse had been the strain on Phillip of those ugly rumors. He’d grown pale and tense. And then ill. He’d just seemed to waste away before her very eyes.
    She took a sip of tea to stop the tightness from building in her throat. “There is nothing to be gained in reliving the past. Besides—”
    A loud bleating filled the air. Mother and Prudence looked at each other. The bleating came again, louder and much closer this time.
    Mother jumped to her feet and ran to the window, almost pressing her nose to the pane of glass. “Prudence! It’s that same sheep! Eating the tops off all of the winter kelp.”
    “Not the winter kelp!” Prudence tossed her knife and fork to the table. “That does it! I am going to the captain’s cottage, only this time—” What could she do? Her mind raced, rejecting plan after plan. Finally, one clear thought danced before her. “I know what I’ll do.
    Mother, I will take that silly sheep to him! Let him put up with it!”
    Mother blinked. “But—”
    Prudence was already out the door. Mother rushed to follow. “Prudence, wait! Don’t go while you are in a dither! You’ll just say something foolish. Finish breakfast, at least.” Mother caught Prudence’s arm and halted her. “You’ll be calmer. You might even have some time to do something with your hair. And while I like that gown, perhaps the blue one with the—”
    “No.” Prudence pulled free, yanked her cape from the hook by the front door and slung it about her shoulders. “It’s time we spoke to the captain in his own language.”
    “Oh dear!”
    Prudence wrapped the muffler about her neck. “I am going to take the captain’s sheep right into his household for a change. See if he likes that!”
    “Prudence, perhaps it would be better if you—”
    But Prudence was already gone, her face set in determined lines. “Captain Llevanth,” she muttered as she marched out the door and toward the sound of the bleating, “ready or not, you are in for a very sheepish morning.”

Chapter 6
     
     
    It is important for your master to command the respect of his peers and neighbors.