Now, as the prairie’s stillness echoed the hollowness of Maud’s heart, and the constant rain pounded into the center of her soul, she felt some compassion for her aunt. She loved Katie, but she also wanted to write and spend time with her new friends.
It was also increasingly clear that her stepmother had no respect for the things Maud cared about. When Maud had asked Father if she could have a copy of Longfellow’s Evangeline for school, as there were not enough copies, her stepmother insisted they couldn’t spend money on something as wasteful as a book. Maud was sure Father would defend her—the book was for school, after all—but he sighed and said that her stepmother was right, money needed to be specifically for essentials right now.
To Maud, books were essential; without them, she would have crumbled into despair. The fact that her father couldn’t see this broke her heart. Perhaps it was because he didn’t see her reading very much. Normally, Maud could lose herself in a story, but with all of her chores and schoolwork—what there was—much of her extra time was stolen for writing. Sometimes she would go back to old favorites, Little Women and Jane Eyre, and a few times she tried Cooper’s The Last of the Mohicans, but her mind would wander. She couldn’t focus.
School continued to be another disappointment. Maud had been right about Mr. Mustard. He did not have a calling for teaching, even making those subjects Maud would have enjoyed—such as studying Longfellow’s Evangeline—tedious.
And it seemed that she couldn’t even escape him after school; he had started calling in the evenings to visit Mrs. Montgomery, since they were old friends.
Sometimes Father was around, sometimes he wasn’t. If it was Miss Gordon paying a call, Maud would have enjoyed having quality time with her teacher, but Mr. Mustard was as dreadfully dull outside of the classroom as he was inside.
Maud could think of only one way to make things better: the convent school. She resolved to ask her father about it, and at dinner one night, Maud waited for a lull in the conversation. “Father, things at school are horrible.”
“Mustard needs to get control of those boys,” Mrs. Montgomery said, cutting a piece of pork roast. “He’s always been a little soft.”
“Mustard comes highly recommended from Ontario,” Father said.
“You should be paying attention to how I run this house,” Mrs. Montgomery said to Maud, ignoring Father’s comment. “You’ll need to know more than whatever you are doing up in your room all of the time.”
“Father, you know how much I love school.” Maud gazed at her father, desperately hoping he’d understand and make the suggestion she wanted to hear. Mrs. Montgomery folded her arms across her stomach. They still hadn’t told Maud about her pregnancy.
Father looked back at Maud and smiled. “Well, there is the convent school up the hill. Pritchard sends his oldest daughter, Laura, there; he was saying she is learning all sorts of things, such as art and music.”
Maud clasped her hands together over her chest. It was amazing how Father could read her mind. “Father, that would be simply divine! I would adore learning art, and you know I already play the organ because I took lessons with Mrs. Spurr.” She resolutely pushed aside the memory of Nate and continued. “I promise I will study hard and make you proud.”
“You cannot be serious, Hugh!” Mrs. Montgomery exclaimed. “No self-respecting Presbyterian family would send their daughter to that school. I’ve seen Laura Pritchard at church, and she acts as though she’s better than us. I think she’s picked up some of those Papist notions. They aren’t only teaching the three r’s there, but the big R—religion—and not the right one, either.”
“But, Mamma,” Maud said, struggling to swallow the word. “That high school has so many boys; there are days when you make Edie stay home, and if Annie is sick, I’m the only girl.”
“You can stay home with me and not study at all,” she said.
Maud started to protest, but something in her stepmother’s expression reminded Maud too much of Miss Robinson.
“I see your point, Mary Ann,” Father said, and then turned to Maud. “Let me think about it.”
Maud didn’t say anything else, but she had a bad feeling about what her father’s decision would be. This settled it. It was time to go home.
After helping Edie with the dishes, she wrote Pensie a long letter, telling her how much she hated it in Prince Albert and begging for news about Cavendish and her family: anything that would take Maud away from here and that woman. It had the desired effect. Writing to Pensie helped her believe that at least, maybe, someone was listening.
Later, Father knocked on the Southview door to tell Maud he had received a telegram from Grandpa, saying he would be coming through Prince Albert by week’s end on his way back to the Island. Perhaps this was her chance. Grandpa had offered to take her with him to British Columbia; maybe he could take her home. But first she had to make sure she had a place to go.
After Father left, Maud put Pensie’s letter aside and composed a new one to Grandma, begging her permission to come home. She wrote that she’d learned her lesson and promised to be obedient from now on.
She put Katie to bed and went downstairs with her speech all prepared. It would upset Father, but she suspected Mrs. Montgomery would cry with jubilation. They were sitting against the plush burnt-yellow couch in the living room, the evening light cascading over the family pictures on the wall.
“I’m glad you’ve come downstairs,” Father said. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said.”
For a second she wondered if he had changed his mind. She sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch, holding onto its wooden arms.
“I know it isn’t proper to be speaking of such matters, but you are a young woman, sixteen in a few months, and we—Mary Ann and I—want to talk with you about the baby we’re expecting in February.”
“That’s wonderful!” Maud said, hoping she sounded as if this was the first time she’d heard about this. “I’m thrilled about having a new brother or sister.” She stood up and hugged her father and then went to embrace her stepmother, but something in Mrs. Montgomery’s expression stopped her. “I’m pleased to hear this,” Mrs. Montgomery said, “given that your priorities are apparently elsewhere.”
Maud slowly sat back down and turned her gaze to the portraits. There was Katie as a baby, Father and Mrs. Montgomery’s wedding picture, a few images of the McTaggarts—but none of her.
“My family is my priority, of course,” she said. This was the truth. She wanted school more than anything. But if Father needed her, she would help him.
“We know you came here”—Father scratched his beard—“under certain circumstances. But we had hoped you might help us when the baby comes.”
Maud didn’t quite understand. “Of course.”
“See, Mary Ann,” Father said. “I told you she would help you.”
“I don’t think she understands,” Mrs. Montgomery said.
“I would help you after school and on weekends, as I do with Katie,” Maud said.