The Housemistress Read Online Free PDF

gets on with business. “It’s almost nine-thirty.” She consults her watch to be certain. “Should I show Harcourt to the dorm?”
    “ Ce n’est pas nécessaire .” Carriveau dismisses the suggestion with a flick of her wrist. “I can do it. If you wouldn’t mind, though, could you check on the kitchen? Some of the children and I were baking cookies before I was drawn away.”
    “As you wish.” Miss Ansell appears reluctant to go, but doesn’t argue.
    “We have two dormitories here,” Carriveau explains as she leads Rylie up the staircase. “One for the Lower Sixth, and one for the older girls in the Upper Sixth. While I am responsible for the house overall, Miss Ansell helps out with the Upper Sixth—doing bed checks, wake-ups, and so on—and she’s in charge of the house when I’m not here.”
    At the top of the stairs, the hallway branches off left and right: Upper Sixth dormitory to the left, Lower Sixth dormitory to the right, bathrooms adjacent to each. Miss Ansell’s private quarters, Carriveau points out, are located at the far end of the Upper Sixth hallway, while her own are located at the end of the Lower Sixth hallway.
    As she stops at a large linen cupboard to collect fresh bed sheets and a duvet cover, Rylie breaks away from her to examine the many and varied framed photographs hanging on the walls.
    Some are house pictures, with Carriveau and Miss Ansell standing proudly with their students from one year to the next. As with most school pictures, there are always one or two students who ruin an otherwise perfect shot by looking in the wrong place at the wrong time, and last year’s photograph is no exception. One of the Lower Sixth girls has her head turned partially to the side, her eyes fixed on something that was obviously far more interesting than the photographer.
    Rylie squints, trying to follow her sightline. She appears to have her eyes locked on Carriveau, as does one of the other girls—and that girl Rylie recognizes. She’s the rather bedraggled student who came to Carriveau’s rescue in the lobby.
    Going back beyond three full school years, there’s a different Housemistress and Rylie loses interest. Other pictures are from various sporting events, where the houses are pitted against one another to promote friendly competition. Lacrosse appears to be a particular favorite, and one of the most recent pictures is of a sporty blonde bearing Carriveau house colors—purple and gold—holding up a trophy.
    Kaitlyn Simmons.
    Team Captain.
    Most Valuable Player.
    “Do you play?” Carriveau wonders, looking fondly at the picture, hugging an armful of lavender scented linens to her chest. “I get the impression you might be rather athletic.”
    Rylie’s stomach performs a little somersault. That impression was obviously gleaned from caressing her firm ass and muscular thighs, thus confirming her suspicion that the tactile exploration of her body had bugger all to do with the wrinkles in her uniform.
    “Lacrosse is my main sport, but I’m no MVP,” she answers modestly, electricity shooting through her as Carriveau’s shoulder brushes against hers. “How many girls are there here?”
    “Our capacity is thirty, but as of this moment, we have twenty-seven: fifteen in the Upper Sixth and twelve in the Lower Sixth, with one Head Girl in each dormitory.” Carriveau swings open the door into the Lower Sixth dorm.
    The long, wide room has been partitioned off into fifteen equal cubicles, the dividing walls only four and a half feet high. This gives the girls privacy while sleeping, but allows Carriveau to look in on them easily.
    Each cubicle is rectangular, precisely long enough for a single bed to fit snugly against one wall—completely boxed in on three sides—and wide enough to accommodate a bedside table that has one lockable drawer in which to keep any valuables and private items, a small dresser, and a twenty-four inch clothing rail on the back wall for hanging uniforms.