There were few people in her life Maud had truly hated. She used to think she hated Clemmie, but her feelings toward Mr. Mustard were altogether something new. Bile would rise in Maud’s throat when she saw him. After the brutal incident in school, she never felt safe with him. She wished to never see him again. But now that she was no longer his student, he seemed even more inclined to come over almost every night, staying sometimes until eleven o’clock. Even with the election over, Father still found excuses to go out, and often Mrs. Montgomery would follow, leaving Maud to tend to Bruce and Katie alone.
In her journal, Maud tried to overcome her loathing by making her former teacher into a figure of comedy. It was easy to do, as he was so awkward, having no idea how to read social cues.
What was worse—if one could get any worse than being a deplorable human being—was that Mr. Mustard was intolerably boring. Every night it was the same conversation, rehashing the same stories Maud had heard now at least a thousand times. If it wasn’t about the new Presbyterian church being built, it was about how much he detested card playing and dancing. The conversation would eventually lead to his school days and then to ancestry and nomenclature.
Even worse, people at church were starting to talk about their supposed connection. At Bible Study, Mrs. Stovel and Mrs. Rochester both asked Maud if things were serious with Mr. Mustard.
She had to talk to Father.
A few weeks after she had left school, Maud found her father looking over some auctioneering papers in his study.
“Father, I know you are busy, but I desperately need to talk with you,” she said.
Father put his papers down with a tired smile. “Well, I need a distraction from these bills. How can I help?”
Maud took her time explaining the full business of Mr. Mustard’s dreary, dogged courtship, being sure to keep her tone even. She didn’t want it to sound as though her detestation for the man was coloring her words.
“Mr. Mustard is a teacher, Maud,” Father said. “He will probably make a good husband.”
“Husband!” Maud said. She was only sixteen! “That man is a bore.”
Father chuckled. “Don’t be unkind, Maud. I know that Mustard is a bit, shall we say, awkward, but your stepmother can vouch for his good character.”
Given her stepmother’s own character, Maud had doubts about that endorsement. She had to try another tactic. “Grandma would never let me be alone in a room with a man.”
Father hated being compared to Grandma, and the dig at his wife was unmistakable. Her father picked up his pen and then placed it in the ink. “Perhaps. I trust you, Maud. You’ve grown up in the past few months, taking on more responsibility.” He gave her a long look. “Preparing yourself for a life as mother and wife.”
Even if her stepmother wanted her to be strapped to Mr. Mustard, Maud couldn’t imagine that Father—no. He disliked Mr. Mustard, didn’t he?
“I don’t feel that way about him,” she said, barely choking the words out.
“If you are not interested, you need to tell him. It isn’t proper to lead a man on. People will talk if a woman gives a man the wrong idea.” He picked up his pen again.
But she had done everything in her power to deter Mr. Mustard. She had been rude to him both inside and outside of school. There was also Will. “I’m not sure what else I can do,” she said. It wasn’t as though she could tell him directly. That would be too mortifying for both of them.
“You are an intelligent young woman,” he said. “Now, I need to get back to this.”
Maud left her father to his papers and went to the backyard.
Everything was so out of sorts. Sitting on a large piece of chopped wood, Maud wrapped her shawl around herself and allowed a few quiet tears to come. She’d been doing that a lot lately—crying. Too much crying. Each time, she knew what Grandma would say: she was being too sensitive.
“Are you all right?”
Maud looked up to see Laura standing there, wrapped snugly in her warmest shawl.
“It is too cold to be outside,” Maud said.
“I could say the same thing to you.” Laura picked up a large round log, sat down, and kissed her cheek. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Nothing for me to worry about!” Laura put her arm around Maud. “My friend is crying in the cold, and there’s nothing for me to worry about.”
Despite herself, Maud laughed. “I truly don’t want to burden you.”
“Please,” Laura said. “Burden me. Weren’t you the one who said we are twin souls finding each other? If you cannot tell your twin soul, who can you tell?”
Maud traced the frozen mud with her boot. There was always so much mud in Prince Albert. She was tired of that too.
“Is it your stepmother? Is she working you too hard?”
“That is my lot here,” Maud said, with a wry smile. “But no, this is something else.”
Laura was quiet. They listened to the last of the ice cracking on the river.
“Father says it would be a good match.” She buried her head in Laura’s shawl. “Perhaps I’m wrong?”
“Who? Your old school teacher?”
Maud raised her head.
“I see him here most nights. He’s persistent.” Laura gave Maud a mischievous grin. “Will isn’t happy.” She placed her hand against Maud’s cheek. Maud buried herself back in the soft shawl. “But I know you, and I suspect if it’s gotten you this upset, there is nothing you did wrong.”
“I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do.” She sniffed. “I’ve feigned disinterest, was rude to him in school, and, well, even Will helped to give the impression we were—you know.” The ball of her foot cracked the frozen mud.
“I don’t think you and Will were acting at all.” Laura nudged her. Maud lifted her head up and giggled. “And I suspect that has upset Mr. Mustard and made him more persistent.”
“But how can I stop him? No matter what I do, he keeps coming.”
“Is your father going to sit with him?”
“He’s rarely here now.” Maud realized that her Father had never really been around.
“Maybe you can get permission to come over to our house?”
“One never knows with Mrs. Montgomery.”
“I’ll help you,” Laura declared. Her smile reminded Maud of the look Will got when he was up to something.
“What are you planning?”
“What is the thing the good teacher is most uncomfortable with?”
“Will and I passing notes,” Maud said, remembering.
“Besides that.”
Maud sat up straight, and for the first time in a while, she believed she could actually control this situation. “Anything interesting.”
“Right!” Laura said. “We are going to make his time here more…interesting.”
Maud giggled, but quickly sobered. “The problem is, there’s no rhyme or reason to his visits. How on Earth will we plan something if we don’t know when he’s coming?”