Prof.MacLaren

So he was a tutor…that he could pay for his profession. It was all so backwards, but all the more intriguing.

“So this profession…if there is no money…then you have entered it simply because you are passionate about it?”

A concept foreign to her. In her world, people held positions passed down from family, or out of necessity. Perhaps her music tutor was the only other person she knew who had a profession based on love of a thing, but he was an eccentric old man, half mad with age.

“Have you…found something that was exciting to you, even if a museum did not pay for it?”

“Well... yes. You see, both of my parents are also historians and archaeologists, so I grew up often on the digs with one or both of them. I can’t imagine doing anything else... There’s such a keen sense of...satisfaction and excitement when all your months or years of studying and searching finally pay off and you find something. Even if it’s something small, such as a ring or a tiny statuette. That feeling is worth more than any amount of money, but unfortunately there’s things in the profession that cannot be paid with satisfaction.”

He smiled, eyes twinkling as he blushed; his tongue was getting carried away... but she didn’t seem to mind.

Marie found herself sitting up, excited. “Archaeology! You mean to say you…dig around in the dirt and uncover lost creatures and civilizations?”

She scooted forward in her seat, nearly coming off the edge entirely.

“What a great adventurer you must be!”

Her brows furrowed and she gave a little shake of her head. “Then…what are you doing here, with someone like me? I will be so boring in comparison!”

He laughed and took a seat for himself, “Well it’s... much more book-work and study that you hope will lead to something exciting...”

Which it...rarely did.

“Well, unless you find something that a museum will be willing to pay for, it’s not a profession that provides you with an income, unfortunately. So... I teach between expeditions.”

“Do you find this suitable?” she asked, taking a seat and looking upwards. “I find the sounds of nature very calming. Not having the…” she waved her hands around, circling her head, “the mountains of books from the library to loom down upon me….I feel less…tense.”

With her hands lowering to her lap, she hovered in a question.

“…what…do you like teaching the most?”

Round about way of both deflecting and semi-answering his question... Still he smiled at her return question and fiddled with his watch chain a moment, still looking around.

“Yes this is suitable. Where you are most comfortable is the most suitable place of all and if this is where that is... then it works fine for me.”

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” she told him earnestly, slowing her step to walk beside him, not before him, “I am not nearly as critical as the rest of my countrymen.”

Upon entrance into the grand conservatory, Marie smiled brightly at a dark, giant of a man tending a fruit tree who gave a subtle, raised brow. She’d fill him in later.

“That suits me just fine. Italian is not so far from French, and German is not so far from English. Though I do my learning best through listening and speaking as opposed to reading and writing.”

The room before them could have been a small park, lush foliage along a paved white path. There was a small buzz of the wildlife that made its home here and the call of some of Lord Dufresne’s exotic birds. A man made crystalline pool sat in the center, a few wicker sofas along the edge, cushions sporting bright, tropical prints.

“The wading pool is quite enjoyable on hot days,” she pointed out, “if you don’t mind fish nibbling at your toes.”

But perhaps a sofa wasn’t the best for learning.

A little bit further down the path, it turned into a smaller, secluded area beset with with a proper table and four chairs. Marie often took tea here with her closest friend, the two of them wondering what it might be like to be among these plants and animals in their natural habitat.

It was private enough not to encourage distraction, yet visible enough to avoid scandal.

“This,” she said with a sweep of her arm, “one of my favourite places in our house.”

While he didn’t have any problems at all with Africans, Jaime still gave a start at seeing him there, caught off guard, but quickly regained his composure and nodded politely as he passed, turning his attention to the indoor tropics the very wealthy seemed to always like but never enough to actually live there.

Marie led him through the halls of the great house, taking note that he took an interest in something she had to show him, and hadn’t brushed her off. Maybe they would get along. She was beginning to feel hopeful.

“English mostly,” she replied, turning to him with a little smile, “which if you prefer, I could speak instead.”

She didn’t want to say outright that his French was painful to hear; he was here working in her country, doing his best. His surname suggested he was a Scot, even if his features suggested that was only partial, or even perhaps solely raised by a Scot. Still, it was a fair enough assumption that he spoke English, she thought.

“I have some Latin memorized from the sciences and a little bit of Italian that is largely applicable to music. I haven’t studied either conversationally.”

Jaime grimaced slightly; he could speak French fine, but he was well aware of his accent... “I apologize...” he said, switching to English, “I have tried to master the French accent but have failed every attempt...”

So, she only spoke English and French then; any other household he might have found that surprising but from what he’d learned thus far, not so much in this one.

Marie laughed at the idea of a formal school room, and tucked the idea of his cousin in the back of her mind. Perhaps a friend to be made.

“Oh, no. After the fourth tutor, I went three years without one, so the schoolroom was done away with.  But…well, we have some lovely seating areas in our conservatory! Our gardens too, of course, but in the conservatory we needn’t worry about weather.”

She stood, eager to show him. Everyone before him had insisted upon a study or the library, demanding a sterile, stuffy work environment.

“We are able to grow fresh fruits all year round as well. Of course not every fruit at the same time and it’s not…orchards—those are outside—but we’re blessed to be without shortage.”

Surprising, but...refreshing. Standing, he gestured for her to lead the way, tucking his notebook back into his pocket, “A good learning environment, provided you’re not easily distracted.”

Good for the natural sciences though, as there would be plenty of plants and insects to observe. Three years without learning though... he really was going to have his work cut out for him.

With a little scowl, she looked towards the bell, wanting to ring for a teacup of her own.

“My parents don’t think it’s right for a young lady, so I’m not supposed to talk about it. They call it ‘sideshow business’.”

Though she was without tea, she continued to help herself to the treats.

“After that, art and music are favorable and then…the sciences, maybe. I enjoy the diagrams and the experimentation.”

A pretty, proud smile lit up her face then.

“I have learned to keep butterflies! After an experiment in life cycles…I found I quite enjoyed the process and now breed three species that help cultivate our gardens.”

Hm... Well, art and music were outside of his purview of teaching anyways, so he didn’t need to worry about that. Lips pursed, he took some more notes in his book, working out a general outline for the time being.

“Oh. …well I am…sorry for my assumption.”

On the bright side, she’d accused a grown man of buggery and he’d not turned ugly and defensive.

“I don’t find learning easy at all.”

Her bluntness was uncharacteristic, but she wasn’t sure if he fully understood. Still, she’d just made a decision to meet him part of the way, so she loosened the tension in her crossed ankles and took a little breath.

“Perhaps we could try the mornings. I usually take a nap around three and everything is more difficult when one is tired. Mornings are quiet and peaceful in this house. Neither of my parents rise until noon.”

He nodded, taking another sip while he thought, then set the cup down and removed a small notebook and pen from his inner breast pocket, jotting down a note.

“Very well, mornings it is. Ah... what subjects would you like to work on first? Is there anything you’ve found to be more enjoyable, or have more interest in? I think perhaps it would be best to start with these and then later in the year move into more challenging and distasteful subjects.”

Ah. Well… he seemed worth trying at least. If he wasn’t going to abuse her, she would at least do her best to meet him halfway. Or a quarter of the way, or as far into the way as she could manage.

It was a relief that he wouldn’t become one of her mother’s lovers, but at his declaration, her eyes widened and she sat up straighter even than her corset demanded.

“You mean to say you engage with men?”

Her voice was a wondered whisper that matched her expression and she gave a little gasp at the thought.

“I….I had heard rumors of such a thing but—never met anyone who—and so openly.”

Given his awful state of dress, she should have known something was different about this fellow.  Her fingertips at her mouth followed another gasp.

“Oh! My father shouldn’t know. But—but don’t worry. I won’t tell him. I won’t tell anyone.”

Jaime blinked at her once, twice, in confusion before the pieces clicked and he blushed, amused at her sudden interest; it wasn’t the first time someone had thought that of him...

“No, no... I am not.. of that persuasion. I do know some who are but... myself, no. Um.. Do you find learning easiest in the morning or in the afternoon?” he asked, steering the conversation somewhere more appropriate.

“I’ll cry if you get angry with me.”

She hadn’t really meant to say it, not as quickly as she had, and she let out a small apology.

“It’s just that…I’m not a good student, and in the schoolroom I am easily frustrated so if you are going to become angry or irritated with me, please do not stay. It would…save us both the stress, I imagine.”

Chomping down another pastry a bit faster than a lady of her standing ought, she leaned forward, lowering her voice in case a certain someone was eavesdropping.

“And don’t engage in intimacy with my mother. Do not do it freely, and do not allow her to bully you into it. I will give you cause to regret it.”

Marie was not the type to threaten those in authority over her, but those in authority were so seldom close enough to her age for Claire to target.  

“I am....” he paused. This was not something a man admitted freely without being ridiculed but, he had a feeling she would not. “I am a man of sensitive nature... so I can assure you that I will not be angry with you, nor abusive. These are not tools for a positive and healthy learning experience and I do not condone them.”

He brushed his hand through his curls with an awkward laugh; this was the first time he’d ever been told by a student to stay away from their mother. 

“On the subject of your mother... I... do not engage in affairs with married women....or any women, actually.”

It took Marie a moment to answer, not because she didn’t know the answer, but she was unused to being asked what she wanted, she took a time to examine every inch of him (in an entirely different manner than her mother), looking for any tell that he was tricking her.  He seemed genuine which meant he may have been a bit crazy. Given the horrendous outfit he had decided to leave the house in, she wondered if he were entirely nutty.

“I…do want to learn things,” she said finally, choosing her words carefully, feeling what little control she’s managed chip away. “my inability to complete schooling has resulted in a…it is not a secret in society and…well, young ladies are…quite savage in their own ways.”

In short, she was bullied.

She sat in silence after that, her face red with shame. Her parents were always pressing her to be better than everyone else, stronger, more cunning, more desirable. To admit she was the target of ridicule was difficult for her.

Silently he sat, his heart going out to her as he choose his words, smile soft and reassuring, “Then if you would like for me to teach you, I will inform your mother that I have accepted the job, if it’s agreeable to you.”

It wasn’t often Marie Dufresne felt awkward or uncomfortable in her own skin. Typically when the growing pains of adolescence reared their heads, she was able to subdue them in her own way. Met with this young tutor’s outstretched hand, she felt like a deer spotted in the woods, unsure of what to do, frozen.

“Uh…”

She reached forward a bit, then pulled back before she could make contact, dipping into a curtsy instead.

Thankful to be seated, she eyed the treats on the low table before them. One biscuit couldn’t hurt. Or two.

“Eleven,” she confirmed, feeling a bit more confident before the tea service, in her element. She could take control of this. It was just…entertaining. The subject at hand needn’t play a role in her demeanor.

“I assure you, regardless of what Lady Dufresne has told you, I am not dim witted, nor am I simple.”

She helped herself to a cup of tea.

“It isn’t learning I am opposed to. I find most things fascinating, actually, and I excel with numbers. It is droning lectures I find horrendously dull. And books. I can’t stand to open a book.”

It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was enough for now.

Jaime shook his head as he returned to his seat, learning forward in open earnestness, “I’ve never met a student who was....dim witted or simple. Only those who did not wish to learn, which... brings me back to the fact that you avoided my first question. Do you want to be taught, Miss Dufresne? Regardless of your parent’s reasons for wanting to educate you, I would like to share the world with you, as with any of my students, if you would wish it.”

Books might be the difficult part... Jaime loved books and all the knowledge they held but there were plenty of workarounds to actual reading (unless she just hated reading... in which case he’d need to bring her around but if there was an actual issue of the mind with the written word... he’d do what was needed to help). Luckily, Jaime was a passionate person who wasn’t easily daunted by challenges.

“Please,” she cooed, leaning over the tea service, “Call me Claire.”

“As for the education,” she said, righting herself and reaching for a biscuit, “I’ll leave that up to your judgement. I don’t know what it is a young man wants in a wife anymore. I hear they want…engaging conversation.” she scoffed at the idea. “Imagine that. The youth of today…so many radical ideas and desires.” She popped up as the daughter in question appeared in the doorway, ushering her in.

“Jaaaaiiime,” she drawled, presenting the girl to him, “this is my Marie. Sixteen years of doe eyes and the perfect pout. She’ll drive any man absolutely wild, don’t you agree?”

Marie herself let out a little gasp at that. She wasn’t usually embarrassed by her mother’s off colour descriptions, but this…was a young man and she suddenly felt very aware of how she looked. Was the way she’d styled her hair today too childish? It had been a trying night of anxiety knowing she was to meet her new tutor, so her maid had wrestled her curls into a crown of braids. Except now Marie felt all too much like a child where she wanted to feel more like a woman. Why was he so young?

Claire’s hand came up to her face, squishing her lips and her cheeks several times.

“This is your new tutor, Pumpkin. He’s handsome, so please don’t hurt him too badly.”

With that, Lady Dufresne let out a little laugh and waved as she left the room, claiming she’d seen enough of Marie’s theatrics and he could accept the position after he’d sized her up.

Red faced, Marie bowed her head, trying to wash away the introduction she had been forced into.

So... it seemed that she only wanted to ...sell her daughter off to the first decent suitor then. The times were changing though. Women were taking jobs out of the home (granted, not usually women of higher breeding but they had to start somewhere), and it was true, the young men of today wanted more than good looks and personality and the ability to play a piano. They did want intelligent conversation (but...still not too much).

Standing, he bowed as Claire left the room, his own cheeks stained red as well, embarrassed and feeling for the girl deeply.

“Ah... my name is Jaime MacLaren. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” he said, awkwardly but sincerely, stepping to Marie and offering his hand before offering a seat.

Only five years out of university, Jaime had taking on tutoring jobs to support his archaeology habit, the ‘club’ not accepting him yet until he’d made a worthy discovery, a rule which he thought was a little bit old fashioned and ridiculous. He also thought it utterly nonsensical that his mother was also excluded, not only from the club but also any recognition of any kind for her own worthy discoveries. Therefore he was determined not to join even if they should ask him, and besides, tutoring wasn’t so bad in the off season. He was able to share his passion for knowledge with eager young minds... granted they weren’t usually eager at the beginning but they soon switched over to his view of things.

His last students had been a pair of red-headed twin boys who had also been deemed ‘unteachable’ and ‘holy terrors’, along with ‘perhaps we should call a priest’. The last he’d heard from them, they were studying for the university entrance exams.

Many households did not approve of having a younger male teacher for their daughters, unless he was helplessly plain, and Jaime was well aware of his ‘exotic’ features... more than one lady of the house had made him uncomfortable.

This one was the first who seemed to care so little about her daughter.....and to say what she just had...

“No child is unteachable, madame. Often they just need someone to listen to their needs and find what manner of learning they can grasp. I can assure you with confidence that your daughter will surpass any lady of town.”

Possibly some of the men too... but best to see what work he had cut out for him first.

“I presume you wish her to learn all the basic subjects... reading, mathematics, history, and the sciences? Or is there an area that you wish there to be more focus on?”

Marie popped up in her seat, wide eyed.

“Whoa, really?!”

Hurrying with another bite, she leaned forward.

“So seeds that old were still able to grow? Were they preserved in a special way or that can just happen? And what else did you have? It sounds like so much fun to re-create an authentic ancient meal!”

Her enthusiasm was still surprising and he couldn’t help but smile, her energy sparking his, “Tombs are generally very dry and in most cases you can get some of the seeds to sprout. It really is amazing that they are still viable after so long, but it gives us such a great opportunity, biology and historically.”

He set his fork down, slowly switching over to the teaching mode that his students loved him for, “Many of the ancient peoples of the fertile crescent ate a great deal of onions and garlic.. Those on the Nile and the sea had access to wild birds, fish, and excellent growing seasons which allowed them to have grains, beans, onions, melons and cucumbers. Higher classes had more variety of course and drank wine but lower classes drank beer, which was very sweet and thick. Beer and ale has been made and enjoyed for many millennia, you know, but it was much lower in alcohol content than modern beers. Everyone drank it, even children, as it was much safer than many sources of water.”

“No, I haven’t,” she admitted, waiting until he sat down, inhaling deeply, unable to contain her excitement.

“But I’m a girl who loves to eat so aside from lamb, I’m really open to everything. Wherever I lived I’ve always made a point of really just digging into the cuisine. There’s so much to be said about a people and a culture by food and it…it really brings people together, so I think it’s important. That and I grew up eating out of whatever cans I could find so now that I have access to real food, I want to discover it all.”

Sampling a bite of the chicken and rice together, she let out a small closed mouthed squeal, an exhibit in how delighted she was with his cooking.

“Oooooh, this is so good! You’re a man who knows his way around a kitchen! And this is your mother’s recipe? I love that. I hope you continue to pass it down in your family.”

Jamie’s dark cheeks flushed with pleasure at her praise and he dipped his head, playing with his fork a moment. 

“Food is the soul of any culture. It’s something you can share and relate with, and use to draw closer, both with cultures existing today, and with long gone cultures. A friend of mine made bread from an ancient Egyptian recipe, using grains grown from seeds found in a tomb, so it was as authentic as possible and we lunched like a common Alexandrian might have.”

Marie admitted defeat with the cat, but took no offense. She also had a pet who was difficult to get close with, so she understood.

“This looks and smells amazing!” she cried, clapping her hands and giving a little bounce, her hair joining in.

“And traditional?” she wondered, tucking the skirt of her gingham puff sleeved dress beneath her as she settled back into her chair, eyes alight with anticipation, “tell me all about it!”

“It’s called chicken maijboos.. one of the dishes my mother made when we were all at home together.” he said, lifting the lid to release the wave of scented steam, then took her plate and served her half of a breast, tender and juicy, and a helping of the rice before sitting.