This is a new project that I'm working on. I'm not sure this is the best beginning. It was the best I could do on the plane.

The closer Cilia came to the crossroads, the slower she walked. She’d passed the old school many times, but never had it been her destination. No matter. This day meant wages and Papa was easier to manage drunk than otherwise. 

An an institution, the Practical School was the subject of much speculation. Students rarely graced its highway-facing lawns and its teachers rarely mingled with the locals. Children, it was said, were dropped off in secrecy to minimize family humiliation. How long one spent at the school or under what terms was also a mystery. Cilia had been cleaning homes and taking care of other folk’s children since she was seven. She wondered how different it would be to be a maid for so many rather than just one household.

There was no gate or fence, just a long, sloping walkway to the main entrance. There must be a service entrance somewhere, but Cilia could not see it and she did not want to waste a morning’s wages trying to look for it. She trusted that the scrap of paper she held and someone inside would show the way.

There were two massive carved oaken doors fit for a party of giants to four abreast. To the side was a human-scaled door of plate glass, so small in comparison that it was unnoticeable behind the boxwoods from the highway. Unlike the big doors that seemed unused for centuries, this small door’s brass handle looked well polished by regular use.

It seemed logical to assume that the front hall, mostly framed by those huge, solid doors would be dark and dismal, but that was not the case. The white marble floor gleamed. Alabaster wall sconces glowed warmly against sky blue walls. The trim was simple, yet elegant.