Firene: Sublimation

The girl stomps into the library, flinging herself into a chair and scowling at her mother. Beatrice refuses to rise to her bait. She continues to prune the dead flowers from the massive climbing plant that clings to the window frame.

"And how are you liking your new tutor, my dear?"

"I don't know why you and father hired a tutor for me, mother. She refuses to talk about anything interesting - all she seems to want to teach me is useless frippery like music and art and other 'domestic arts', as she calls them. I don't think she has any knowledge whatsoever of mathematics or science."

Beatrice sighs and closes her eyes.

"Firene, sweet... she's not meant to teach you mathematics or science. To tell you true, you probably won't find anyone to teach you something you don't already know about those subjects until you're old enough to go to Longshore. Your father and I merely felt that there were certain... gaps in your education which we were ill-equipped to fill."

"But why must I learn these things at all?"

"By knowing a little about art and music, you mark yourself as a person of culture and refinement. And it is important when you are in the company of others to know how to comport yourself as befits your station. Don't you want to make us proud of you?"

Firene looks at her feet.

"Yes, mother."

"Good girl. Now, go wash up - your father will be home soon."

* * * * * * *

"This is hardly a laughing matter, Beatrice."

His wife stifles a giggle.

"I'm sorry dear; of course it isn't. But honestly, you should have seen the look on her face--"

"Damn it, Bea - that's the third one this year! It's not as though the city possesses an inexhaustible supply of governesses of suitable breeding and background. The agency is beginning to ask questions, and I suspect others are starting to talk. Jecks asked how my 'little spitfire' was the other day, and I'm assuming he wasn't referring to you. If her behaviour becomes common knowledge among our circle, there won't be a single appropriate family willing to let their sons be seen in her company, much less marry her."

"Drake, she's only twelve..."

"And if we wish to reinforce our position in The Company, we must cement our existsing alliances while building new ones. Tedwin will be starting school in just a few years, and by then I'd prefer to see Firene betrothed. I don't want him to live in his sister's shadow."

"Especially when she showed such aptitude for the work..."

"Enough! I have been considering alternatives to our current situation, and Jecks rather casually mentioned a school which might provide the discipline our daughter apparently requires."

He walks briskly to the library door and throws it open.

"Firene! Your mother and I would like a word with you!"

* * * * * * *

Drake watches Firene climb the long flight of stairs from the canal to the heavy iron doors of Miss Markham's School for the Education of Young Ladies. She doesn't look back and doesn't look up, so she fails to see the words carved deeply into the otherwise featureless stone walls.

SILENCE

GRACIOUSNESS

DEFERENCE

POISE

DECORUM

MODESTY

OBEDIENCE

This will do nicely, he thinks, then taps the cabbie on the shoulder when the doors clang shut behind his daughter.

* * * * * * *

Firene stands at attention at the end of her bunk while Matron performs the morning inspection. Unlike most of the others, she doesn't try to whisper or make gestures while Matron's back is turned. Keeping quiet has never been a problem for her. Unfortunately, the same can't be said for poor Teresa Brannart, who has just been caught mouthing something to Alice Govanade. Alice is smart enough to stare straight ahead and not give any indication that she's even aware that Teresa was trying to get her attention, so the Matron turns the full force of her scorn on Teresa.

"Is there something you wish to say, Miss Brannart?"

"No, Matron."

"I see. So you are, what, merely exercising your mouth?"

Don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh...

"Yes, Matron."

"Don't you think it gets quite enough exercise, Miss Brannart?"

Teresa looks at the floor. She knows what's coming.

"I believe you might benefit by a few hours of wearing the brank. However, since I am not convinced that you were not alone in your crime... Miss Govanade!"

Alice flinches involuntarily.

"Yes, Matron?"

"Was it you Miss Brannart was attempting to communicate with?"

"No, Matron!"

"Very well - then you may choose the severity of her punishment."

"Oh, please, Matron - not too severe. I'm sure she's sorry..."

"I'm sure you both will be. You shall both wear the gossip's cage - Miss Brannart for speaking out of turn, and you for lying. Spikes down."

Teresa whimpers slightly. Alice opens her mouth as if to protest, then seems to think better of it.

"The rest of you may leave for breakfast."