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Just as she liked Beth Wills more when she retorted, “No offense, Mr. Weston, but I rather think my boys are more afraid of me than they are of you. If there are any tales being spread about mischief at night, I think I can find them out quicker than you can.”

After her sphinxlike silence, at last Clarissa spoke in command. “Good, thank you, Mrs. Willis. And I think it best to set up night patrols for the next week—every hour on the hour. I’m sure you won’t mind taking tonight, Mr. Weston.”

“It’s a waste of time,” he muttered, just softly enough that Clarissa could plausibly ask, “What was that?”

There weren’t enough jobs going spare in England that Weston could afford to get himself thrown out of this one. So he plastered on a neutral expression and said, “I don’t mind at all.”

As everyone pushed back chairs and gathered up notebooks and calendars, Joshua lingered near enough to say softly to Diana, “Can we talk privately?”

Clarissa chose this moment to say more loudly, “Stay, please, Miss Neville. I’d like a word with you.”

Diana pulled a quick face at Joshua where Clarissa couldn’t see, and he smiled. “Later,” he mouthed, and followed the others out.

When Clarissa did not invite her to retake her seat, Diana wondered if she was about to be fired. Or at least reprimanded for causing trouble among the staff. Maybe the headmistress, too, thought Diana was imagining things.

“I assume, Miss Neville, that you do not drink in the school?”

Worse: Clarissa thought she might be drunkenly imagining things.

“I do not.”

Clarissa’s whole expression lightened. It was almost a smile. “You needn’t look so wary, Diana. May I call you that?”

“Of course.”

“How old are you?”

Didn’t you even read my application? she thought. That was quite a degree of trust in her father’s judgment. “I am twenty-five.”

It wasn’t often that Diana was reduced to such brief sentences, but standing here felt a lot like standing before the nursing matron while being examined for the slightest infraction. Diana was almost tempted to check her uniform and stand to order.

“I’m twenty-four. I’ve never really known those my own age,” Clarissa continued, almost musing. “Being privately schooled, my only companions were my much younger siblings. I have wondered what it might be like to have someone to speak to. Someone I don’t pay.”

“You do pay me.”

Clarissa sighed. “Yes, but a nurse is not the same as a secretary. You have your own … dominion. Your own status. And no doubt plenty of other offers of employment. You are not beholden to me in the way others might be. Would you be willing to call me Clarissa?”

Her very awkwardness proclaimed how little social interaction Clarissa Somersby had enjoyed. But there was an appealing innocence in her awkwardness. “If you’d like.”

“I would.”

When silence fell again—Clarissa was very good at silence—Diana furrowed her brow, trying to divine the atmosphere. “Is that all?”

Eyes downcast, fingers playing with a pen, Clarissa asked, “Have you seen anything, Diana? Anything that seems … that doesn’t belong? Lights or movement?”

Diana blinked. “Are you asking me if I’ve seen a ghost?”

“Have you?”

It was asked with such eagerness, that Diana was almost sorry to say, “No.”

“And your expression proclaims you do not expect to. You do not believe in ghosts.”

Diana chose her words carefully. “If I were ever going to see the spirits of the damned, I would have seen them in France, Clarissa.”

With a curious look of disappointment, Clarissa said, “Just because one is lost does not mean one is damned,”

Oh no, Diana thought guiltily. She’s thinking about her little brother, lost and never found. “I didn’t mean—”