Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87050 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 435(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
As I spoke, I found my confidence growing. The memory of Jane’s gentle nature, her unwavering compassion even in the face of adversity, resonated deeply within me. “She never speaks ill of anyone, even those who have wronged her,” I continued, my voice stronger now. “And despite the pain she endures, she still believes in the goodness of others.”
I paused, thinking of my own experiences, the cruelty I had endured at the hands of the Vionians. How easy it would be to let bitterness consume me, to close my heart to kindness and trust. But Jane’s example offered another path.
“And in the end,” I added, a small smile tugging at my lips, “Jane’s goodness is rewarded, isn’t it?” I blushed a little. “I skipped to the end, because I wanted to see. She gets to marry Mr. Bingley, the man she truly loves.” The thought of such a happy ending, of love triumphing over adversity, filled me with a warmth I hadn’t expected.
Dr. Porter’s eyebrows rose, a look of pleasant surprise crossing his features. “An excellent answer, Miss Tessara,” he said, his deep voice filled with approval. “You’ve grasped a fundamental truth about Jane’s character that many readers overlook—her sheer persistence in her kindness.”
He began to pace slowly in front of the class, his hands clasped behind his back. “Jane’s ability to maintain her gentle nature in the face of adversity is indeed admirable. It speaks to a strength of character that goes beyond mere passivity.”
Dr. Porter’s gaze swept over all three of us, his expression thoughtful. “It’s a shame,” he said, his voice tinged with regret, “that I will have to punish you girls this afternoon. I must say, though, that the anticipation of your correction has produced good results in your studies and comportment today.”
I felt my cheeks flush hot at his words, the reminder of our impending punishment sending a shiver down my spine.
“However,” Dr. Porter continued, his tone growing stern, “actions have consequences, and it is crucial that you learn this lesson well. A Prosperian lady must exercise self-control at all times, even in the privacy of her own bedchamber.”
I couldn’t help but squirm slightly in my seat. The sensation from the lingering soreness of my bottom hole sent a jolt of awareness through my body, a mixture of discomfort and embarrassing need. For the first time, I almost wished Mrs. Porter had turned our governors down, rather than raising them to level seven, when she had woken us.
After our literature lesson the day crawled by at an agonizing pace. Each tick of the ornate grandfather clock in the parlor seemed to echo through the hushed halls of the academy, a steady reminder of the punishment that loomed ever closer.
When luncheon was served, the dining room was filled with the enticing aromas of roasted meats, freshly baked bread, and fragrant herbs. Yet despite the sumptuous spread before us, I found I could hardly eat. My stomach churned with anxiety, making even the thought of food unpalatable. I pushed a piece of perfectly roasted chicken around my plate, the silverware feeling unnaturally heavy in my trembling hands.
Glancing at my companions, I saw that Lydia and Elara seemed equally afflicted. Elara’s face was pale, her freckles standing out starkly against her ashen complexion. She nibbled half-heartedly at a roll, her usual appetite nowhere to be seen. Lydia, typically so vivacious and chatty, sat in uncharacteristic silence, her fork hovering over her plate without ever quite making contact with the food.
Mrs. Porter’s watchful gaze swept over us, her lips pursed in a mixture of disapproval and understanding. “Come now, girls,” she said, her voice stern but not unkind. “You must eat to keep up your strength. A proper young lady always maintains her composure, even in trying circumstances.”
I forced myself to take a small bite of chicken. The succulent meat, which I could tell distantly was some of the best I’d ever had, tasted like sawdust in my mouth nevertheless. I chewed mechanically, swallowing with difficulty. The weight of Mrs. Porter’s expectations and the impending punishment seemed to press down on me, making even this simple act a monumental effort.
After the interminable luncheon, I followed my fellow pupils to the music room for what Elara told me were afternoon piano lessons. The room presented a vision of refined elegance, with its high ceilings, ornate moldings, and large windows that flooded the space with warm afternoon light. A magnificent grand piano stood at its center, its polished ebony surface gleaming invitingly.
As we entered, my eyes were drawn to Elara. Ahead of me, as she entered the beautiful room, the auburn-haired girl seemed to come alive, her earlier pallor giving way to a look of quiet anticipation. She approached the piano with reverence, her fingers trailing lightly over the keys in a gesture that spoke of deep familiarity and love.