Florence - (G.B.)/(B.A.)

Chapter 06

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Lamb to the Slaughter

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"Miss Robinson, come on up," Mr Phillips ordered and all eyes were on Florence as she stood up from her chair and made her way over to the blackboard at the front of the room. She picked up a piece of chalk just when she was given her word. "Spell 'Intriguing'"

Florence wrote as neatly as possible and wandered through her mind the correct spelling of the word: I-N-T-R-I-G . . . The only sounds in the classroom were from her chalk scraping against the board, and she could feel Mr Phillips' piercing gaze on the side of her face, and she sped up her writing: U-I-N-G.

"That would seem correct," he said and Florence hurriedly dropped the chalk and made her way back to her desk. Regardless of whether what Florence thought the teacher was staring at her for was correct or not ⸺ it didn't make it right either way. Or ethical for that matter.

She just couldn't wait to go home.

***

As luck would have it, the rest of the day went slower than Florence imagined. Mr Phillips had assigned everyone to write a short story on at least each side of a sheet of paper. He didn't give them many details, but she knew exactly what to write about. One thing led to another and her writer instincts had fled into the scene. She ended up writing a lot more than one page, and only paused when she was satisfied with her completed work. She suddenly realized that all the other students had already left. She turned around and saw the door shut as the final student left home for the day.

Florence internally scolded herself for taking so much time and was quick to pack up her belongings and carried her basket in one hand and her assignment in the other. She silently approached the teacher's desk and saw his curious expression ⸺ but placed down her work before he could say anything. Just when she was slipping on her coat, she stopped midway when she heard the teacher called, "Miss Robinson? Do you have a few minutes?"

She struggled to think of an excuse but ultimately nodded her head. She approached Mr Phillips by his desk and he moved from around it to stand directly across from her. "Is there something that you needed?"

Florence was caught by surprise when the teacher leaned forward slightly, entering her personal space. "For a woman your age, you're quite intelligent," he mentioned just mere inches away from her face, taking another step forward as she took one back, her back hitting the back of the desk. "Might I suggest joining my honours class?"

"Pardon?" Florence stammered, and Mr Phillips' mouth curled upwards as if he found something funny.

"I'll be blunt with you, Miss Robinson. You are very beautiful in my eyes," he said abruptly and she looked away, but it was difficult. His eyes were piercing right through her.

"Sir?"

"Stephen." The teacher clicked his tongue, both of his hands placed on the desk that she was leaned against on either side of her. He began again, using the same type of gentleness as earlier, "It's just Stephen to you when we're . . . when we're alone like this."

"Okay, Mr Phillips," Florence said on purpose and the teacher's lips curled up as if he'd just heard a joke. This encounter was definitely not what she was expecting when he requested her to stay for a few minutes after class. "I should be well on my way now."

"Miss Robinson," Mr Phillips, with all the politeness that had been bred into him over multiple years, called out with a sniff. Lifting her head, she met his waiting eyes with silent exasperation. "Would you fancy starting a courtship with me? Something quiet and personal, just between us."

"No, thank you, Sir," Florence managed quickly, staring straight into his dark eyes. The man's smirk lowered, turning more into a frown. "I am not interested in you, and frankly, I don't believe that I ever will be. And I would very much appreciate it if you didn't try to illegally associate yourself with another student again as this is ⸺ remind you ⸺ strictly prohibited and frowned upon by most societies."

The teacher looked utterly shocked at the audacity of this girl. All his surprise allowed him to see was this girl who actually rejected him. Nobody ever rejected him; he always got the women he wanted. Florence turned to move but she was still trapped in between both of his hands which lay on either side of her on the desk. He studied the young girl for a moment to see if she would take her words back and agree to his request ⸺ but when she didn't, Mr Phillips stepped away from her completely, glowing scarlet with rage.

"Very well then," he grumbled and didn't look very happy. "You may leave now."

Florence didn't need to be told twice as she hurriedly rushed to the door and slipped on her coat. She opened the door when she heard the teacher make one last comment, "Do remember, Miss Robinson, you will be given the exact same treatment as the other students starting tomorrow. Don't expect to be treated differently anymore."

She glanced back at him and wore a proud smile. "I don't prefer being an outcast anyway, Sir."

Before the man could say anything else ⸺ and the honest fact that Florence was feeling so uncomfortable ⸺ Florence found herself walking faster and faster away from that school and their unorthodox teacher. She was glad that she had the nerves to stand up to his unjust behaviour, but there was something in the back of her mind warning her to not get excited too quickly.

***

"You seem quiet, dear, what's wrong?" Elizabeth Robinson asked her granddaughter later that evening while they were having tea together. When Florence came home from school that day, she didn't speak much, just did her homework and had dinner. How was she to explain that her teacher had inappropriate intentions towards her until she put him in his place?

She couldn't. Instead, she suggested something else, "Is school all that necessary for me?"

This had captured Edgar Robinson's attention from his weekly newspaper. He looked up from the article that he was intently reading and wondered, "What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . everything about school," Florence lied easily through her teeth. Truth was, she absolutely adored attending school and learning new things every day, but she couldn't stir away from the conversation that she had with her teacher regarding his interests in pursuing something with her. She was afraid that if she revealed the truth to her grandparents ⸺ and she meant the whole truth ⸺ that they wouldn't hesitate to immediately pull her from school. She'd only just made friends and it was a great experience. Or . . . worse, they wouldn't believe her entirely, assuming that it was just another excuse for her not wanting to go because they remembered that she wasn't exactly keen on attending school in the first place.

"It's very important for developing minds," Edgar said and glanced at his wife to ask for her silent opinion. "Especially for a young girl like you ⸺ it's a learning experience."

"Unless . . . is there something else bothering⸺"

"No!" Florence interjected and murmured a small apology for raising her voice to a compromising volume. "I mean, um, I was just genuinely curious about everything. A student said that he didn't really need school because he ⸺ because he's the heir to his father's welting business."

"Oh . . ." Edgar trailed off and Florence smiled unsurely. "Well, regardless of you being the heir of something or even just being wealthy ⸺ a basic education should be deemed necessary for everyone."

"I agree, Ed," Elizabeth piped in, and then looked at her granddaughter. "I didn't understand it before, under the assumption that women should be taught at home to prepare for their lives as future wives. But it certainly seems like schooling has done you good, Flo."

"Yes, of course," Florence mustered and took one last sip from her cup of tea. She stood up from the sofa and placed the cup down before peering her attention back to her grandparents. "It's getting late. I think I'm going to head to bed now."

"Alright, dear. Good night."

"Goodnight," she said and left the room.