Chapter 1090

Carissa nodded, glancing over the girls' practice sheets. Asking them to work on their handwriting was a way to assess their skills and ensure neatness. Most samples were decent, but a few stood out—delicate cursive, meticulously written, each stroke carefully crafted, showing no sign of carelessness.

Setting the papers down, Carissa asked, "So, is this the only thing bothering you? What about the gossip surrounding you and General Farrell? You're not letting it get to you, are you?"

"Their mouths are their own; they can say what they want," Rosalind replied. "It doesn't stop me from eating, sleeping, or living my life. It doesn't hurt me, so why should I let it bother me?"

She chuckled. "Although, I have to admit, their creativity is refreshing. Using an old story to insult me is more original than their usual nonsense about my being heartless or greedy."

Carissa admired Rosalind's strength and confidence in brushing off the malicious gossip. Yet, a frown creased Rosalind's brow. "Do you think this might cause trouble for General Farrell?"

"It won't," Carissa said reassuringly. "These rumors don't usually harm men. In fact, in their story, General Farrell looks like a hero. His reputation has only grown; people don't even mention his military achievements. They're too busy praising how he defended his honor and 'let the royal chancellor's granddaughter slip through his fingers.'"

Rosalind smiled, her expression complex. "As long as it doesn't harm him, that's good. But isn't it strange? He earned his reputation through hard-fought battles, yet now it's overshadowed by ridiculous romance rumors. I really don't know what to make of it."

Carissa wasn't sure if Rosalind felt any regret, but since her decision, she'd never mentioned Thomas again. Only the gossip and her concern for him had prompted this conversation. Rosalind possessed a remarkable ability to let things go, a composure and grace many men could only dream of.

"If you can handle Ms. Quinton and the others, I'll stay out of it," Carissa said.

"Don't worry," Rosalind replied. "Right now, I'm getting to know their personalities. If they're uninterested in learning, I'll give them three chances. If they don't improve, I'll ask you to approve their dismissal. These spots are too precious to waste on those who don't appreciate them. Many eager girls couldn't get in—it would be a shame to let those spots go to waste."

Carissa nodded. "Alright, I'll leave it to you."

"This opportunity is rare," Rosalind sighed. "I hope they understand its value."

Rosalind wasn't optimistic about the academy's future. She wasn't sure how long it would last but hoped it would endure. She knew how restricted women were, even those who could read and write. Many books were forbidden to them. She'd only read widely due to her grandfather's open-mindedness.

Then there were women like Kylie, a so-called prodigy. Rosalind had heard from her grandmother that the queen's reputation was carefully crafted; her talent was at least half exaggerated. The Quinton family needed a well-known daughter to marry the crown prince, but not one who was too clever. A sharp woman would be harder to control.

As Carissa left Rosalind's study, a group of giggling girls approached. She didn't recognize them, though they clearly recognized her from the academy's opening day.

The girl in front eyed Carissa up and down, snickering. "Well, if it isn't our headmistress. Still in your official robes? This is an academy for women, not a government office. I almost thought a man had arrived."

She gave a mock curtsy. "Greetings, Headmistress."

The other girls burst into laughter, clearly not taking Carissa seriously.