Page 23

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After two cups of very stout black tea, Eva still couldn’t contain a yawn the size of all Cambridgeshire. She should be glad for being the sole occupant of the dining room this quiet Sunday morn, but Penny really ought to be down here by now.

Oh , Penny.

She poured a third cup, inhaling the fragrant steam as it flowed from the spout. No doubt her sister was a bit sluggish after being out so late last evening. The gala had gone surprisingly well after the rough start. Leastwise Mrs. Quibble seemed to be pleased when Eva had wished her good night. Hopefully the relief society’s funds would be replenished to cover the whole of next year.

Setting down the teapot with a gentle clink, Eva pressed her fingertips against her tired eyes. She wouldn’t be quite so tired if she’d actually slept the few hours between arriving home and sunrise. Instead, she’d wrestled with the bedsheets, reliving the two times Bram had nearly kissed her last night. She’d wanted him to—which frightened her to no end. She’d never entertained feelings so powerful for a man before. What was she to do with all these unexpected pangs and desires? And there was no one to ask. Lottie was as inexperienced as she. Dixon—having never been married—would blush herself into oblivion. It wasn’t something she could—or would—discuss with the reverend, and Mrs. Mortimer was far too flamboyant to have a serious discussion ... though apparently the woman had held a thoughtful conversation with Penny.

Dropping her hand, Eva blew on her hot tea. Was she being stubborn in refusing Mrs. Mortimer’s offer to sponsor her sister for that school in London? Penny hadn’t said anything about it on the drive home, though to be fair, the girl had not said much of anything, for she’d been far too exhausted.

Eva sipped her scalding drink. She’d promised to care for her little sister, not some hired instructors at an academic establishment in a big city so far from home. But Penny wasn’t so little anymore. Was the girl really turning thirteen in February? Perhaps letting her get the schooling she so desired was the best way to care for her.

Eva rattled her teacup against the saucer. How had the past half hour gone by so quickly? They ought to be leaving for church soon, and her sister had yet to eat.

Striding from the room, she wound her way upstairs to her sister’s bedroom and rapped on the door. “Penny?”

No answer.

“Poppet, are you in there?” Eva tried the knob, which gave. She swung open the door to morning sunshine streaming into the room through open draperies, casting light on a very rumpled—and empty—bed. The counterpane was completely missing.

And so was Penny.

“Oh, sister, where have you gone?”

She whirled, then paused, something shiny catching at the corner of her eye. Turning back around, she crossed the few steps to the washstand and fished out a pendant caught between the stand and the baseboard. She held it up to the sunlight, then gasped. A brooch. The brooch. The one that had gone missing from the Roman collection. What in the world was it doing here?

She shoved the relic into her pocket and strode out the door, not even bothering to shut it. She was on a double mission now—to find Penny and ask what the girl knew about the valuable antiquity.

She ran into Dixon the moment she descended the stairs. “Do you know where my sister is?”

The housekeeper angled her head. “I assumed she was with you now, miss.”

“So you did see her? Did she tell you where she was going to look for me?”

Dixon cradled her feather duster like a babe in arms. “I never spoke with her, miss. When Mary went in to draw the drapes, she said your sister’s bed was empty. I merely thought the girl had woken early—maybe suffered a bad dream or the like—and crawled into bed with you as she used to when she was little.”

“No, she did not.” Eva’s finger flew to her mouth, but at Dixon’s frown, she clasped her hands in front of her. “I hate to ask you this again, but would you mind searching the house, please? I will check with Professor Webb, since she visited him the last time I could not find her.”

The housekeeper bobbed her head. “I’ll get on that straightaway, miss.”

After retrieving her hat and coat, Eva crunched across the backyard’s gravel all the way to the cottage Bram shared with his uncle and crew. She rapped on the door, and it swung open.

“Good morning.” Bram grinned as he knotted his bow tie. “I am afraid we’re running a little late for church. Go ahead and leave without us. I shall make sure the fellows sneak in the rear entry on mice feet to avoid Mr. Blackwood’s evil eye.”

“Very good, but my sister should come with me. Is she here?”

Bram’s fingers stilled at his neck. “No.”

Alarm tightened Eva’s throat. “Has she been here?”

Bram shook his head.

Eva froze as Penny’s words of the night before barreled back to slap her in the face. “Maybe it is time for something different for me. ... Perhaps it is time I grew up.”

Her throat didn’t just tighten, it closed. Those were the sentiments of a desperate girl, one who wouldn’t think twice about running away.

“Eva, are you all right?” Bram clutched her arm, shoring her up. “You have gone pale.”

She stared up at him, horror wrapping around her like a cold mist. “I need your help.”

Bram would rip out his heart and offer it on a platter if doing so would remove such a frantic look from Eva’s face. Whatever help she needed would be hers, no matter the cost.

“You always have my help, Eva. What do you need?”

“It is Penny. She is gone, and this time she is not with you.” Eva wrung her hands. “It is all my fault! She is probably still cross with me. I should have checked on her earlier this morning. Oh, why did I not check on her?”

“Blaming yourself will not help the situation. Give me a moment while I fetch my hat and coat.” He gently pulled her inside the cottage.

“Good morning, Miss Inman,” Uncle Pendleton called from across the room. The students dipped their heads in greeting as well. Thank heaven they were all in the last stages of getting ready for Sunday service instead of lounging about in shirtsleeves as was the usual.

“There is no time for pleasantries, men.” Bram shrugged into his coat. “Young Miss Penny has gone missing. Lads, I need you to split up. One of you take the barn, the other two walk the route to the dig on the off chance she wandered out there.”

Uncle Pendleton grabbed his hat, wincing from the reach. His back, while better, yet pained him. “I’ll stroll along the front drive and see if Miss Penny has gone that way.”

“Thank you.” Tears strained Eva’s voice.

And broke his heart.

He grabbed her hand and led her out across the drive.

“Where are we going?” The morning sun illuminated the tears shimmering in her eyes. Would that he could pull her to his chest and cradle her until every last one dried up.

But there was no time for that now ... and who knew if there ever would be?

He guided her down an overgrown path that followed a creek. “Remember that old greenhouse? As I recall, there was a time or two you hid in there when you did not wish to be found.”

“An old...?” Slowly, recognition dawned on her face. “Of course! You always found me there—or anywhere else I happened to scurry off to.”

“Apparently I was drawn to you even then.” He grinned. It was true he’d always cared for Eva, even at a young age, though he’d been too na?ve to admit it.

“Wait here.” He picked his way down the decline of a rocky path. It ended at a glass building so overgrown with ivy that if one didn’t know the greenhouse to be here, one would never find it. He pulled away some of the thick greenery, then scrubbed at the glass wall with the heel of his hand. Through the shadows, beyond a stack of old pots and a pile of rusted tools, he spied a girl-sized lump curled on a weathered bench, a counterpane wrapped tightly about her.

Thank You , God.

He climbed back to Eva and entwined his fingers with hers. “She is there. Come on.”

A small cry rushed past Eva’s lips. “You, sir, are a genius.”

“I just happen to have inside information on the Inman girls, that is all.”

He led her down the frosty trail to the front door, holding tightly to her hand to keep her upright. At the entrance to the greenhouse, just as he’d suspected, the ropey vines had been cleared, enough for a girl to crawl through. Bram yanked away a bit more, then pushed open the door. “I think it is best if you go in alone, for you two may have much to say. I’ll let the others know we found her, and I shall see you at church. Make sure you sneak in the rear door so you do not get the evil eye from Mr. Blackwood.” He winked.

Eva kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”

He turned away, lifting a heartfelt prayer that Eva would be able to manage whatever was troubling young Miss Penny.

Eva ducked inside the greenhouse, the air surprisingly warmer than outside, enough to notice her cheeks weren’t so prickly with cold. Nor did her breath steam out of her nose. She gingerly stepped over some broken pots to the wooden bench at the center, where her sister lay wrapped like a mummy in her counterpane. How many times as a young girl had Eva cried herself to sleep on this same lichen-covered slab of wood when she’d felt the world hadn’t treated her properly?

With careful steps, she approached the bench, mindful of the fragile shards beneath her feet. She settled beside Penny, heart heavy with a mix of frustration and affection. She wanted to throttle the girl for giving her such a scare—and yet, what had driven her little sister to brave the cold of a December morn to come out here in the first place?

“Poppet?” Gently, she nudged her sister’s shoulder. “It is time to wake.”

“Hmm?” The sound was a feather, nothing more.

Her gaze lingered on her sister’s rosy-cheeked face. How young—yet how grown—Penny looked. She was so childlike as she slept, but those thick lashes and full lips belonged to a young woman. A tender smile graced Eva’s lips as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Penny’s forehead. She would—she must—cherish every precious moment she shared with this girl, no matter how often the little mischief-maker irked her.

She nudged her again. “Sister, you must wake now.”

“Eva?” Penny’s head swiveled, but her eyes remained closed.

“Yes, I am here.” Working her arm beneath her sister’s shoulder, she eased her up. “But the real question is, What are you doing here?”

Penny yawned. “I guess I fell asleep.”

“That is what your bed is for, not this old bench.” Absently, she ran her fingers along the cold surface, the seafoam-coloured lichen rough beneath her touch. “Why did you leave the house?”

“I needed to think.”

“Well, next time could you please let someone know where you can be found? I was terribly worried.”

“I didn’t know you’d notice. I mean, you wouldn’t have if I’d not fallen asleep. It wasn’t my plan to be away for so long.” Another yawn stretched her sister’s jaw, and she covered it with the back of her hand while mumbling, “Have we missed Sunday service?”

“Not yet, but we may unless you tell me right now what was so important that you needed to steal away to think about it.”

“I had a decision to make—one I was going to tell you about after church ... after I had a word with Mrs. Mortimer.”

Mrs. Mortimer? Ah. “This is about that school in London.” Drat that woman for ever having mentioned anything to Penny in the first place. “And have you formulated some sort of conclusion about the matter?”

Penny swung one of her legs, the edge of the counterpane swiping a clean line in the dirt on the floor. “I should like to go. Mrs. Mortimer says there’s even a chorus I might join.”

“Are you so very unhappy here with me? You know the professors and their team will be leaving this week. Things will go back to normal then.” Hah! Not likely, not if she didn’t come up with the tax money by Friday—and she was still thirty pounds short. A shiver ran along the top of her shoulders—and not from the chill of the greenhouse. If she couldn’t pay that debt, the school Penny wanted to go to would be the best place for the girl, for she was out of options.

“I am not unhappy with you, Eva ... not anymore, at least.” The swoosh of Penny’s foot stopped. “I admit I have been jealous of how much time you’ve spent with Professor Webb.”

“Is that why you took this?” Eva pulled out the brooch she’d rescued from her sister’s room and pressed the relic against Penny’s fingers.

Penny jerked her head up to face her—though not quite. “You found it!”

“Yes, it had fallen behind your washstand.” Though she wanted to say more, to indict, to convict, instead she kept her tongue still. Accusing the girl wouldn’t be nearly as valuable a lesson as Penny admitting to the theft herself.

Penny’s arm snaked out of the thick blanket, offering back the brooch. “I only meant to examine it for a bit. No one was around for me to ask permission, and I figured since I was part of the crew—or so Professor Webb had said—that it wouldn’t be an offense. When I went to return it, I tried to say as much to the professor, but he was very short with me that day. I wanted him to take me to the field, you see, but he wouldn’t, so I ... I brought the brooch back to my room, thinking to spite him—and you. I know it was very wicked of me, and I was going to put it back the next day, but then I couldn’t find it. I am sorry.” Penny’s head dipped with remorse.

Eva sighed and pulled her sister in for a sideways hug. “I accept your apology, but you will have to make amends with Professor Webb yourself.”

“I will. I promise I’ll make things right.” Penny nuzzled against her for a beat, then lifted her face. “But there’s something I want you to promise as well.”

“And what is it?”

“That you’ll not miss me overmuch when I’m gone to that school in London.”

Despite the gravity of the girl’s tone and furrowed brow, Eva chuckled lightly. “Just because you have decided to go does not mean I give you permission to do so.”

“But that’s exactly why you must. Don’t you see?” Penny rose, facing her, the counterpane rustling a scattering of old leaves over the ground. “You cannot always be in charge of me. I want to be my own person. I want to learn to live in this world, even though I’m blind. They can teach me such things at that school. Mrs. Mortimer said so.”

“I admit I have been a bit overprotective at times, but it is only because I love you so much.” Tears welled, tightening her throat. All the work, doubt, and fears of the past year closed in on her. “I have tried to do my best for you since Papa died, it is just...” She choked. “I would prefer if we could wait another year or two.”

“And where will the money come from then?”

“How did you know—”

Penny must’ve heard the crackle of emotion in her voice, for the girl’s face immediately softened. She reached out her slim hand, searching for Eva’s cheek, and once found, she pressed her palm against it. “I may be blind, but I can see what’s been happening. I notice the same old soup and bread for dinner and that you’ve not gotten a new gown for over a year. Mother’s desk is gone, as is a lot of the furniture that once filled the house. We are barely getting by, are we not?”

Eva sighed. She should’ve known Penny would note such things. “The budget is not your concern. I promised Father I would look after you, and I shall, so there’s no need to fuss.”

“I’m not fussing. I’m just saying that if I went away to school, there would be one less mouth to feed. Please, just think on all I’ve said.”

Eva pressed her own hand over her sister’s, cherishing the connection. It would kill her to send Penny off to London ... but as Bram and his uncle had said, the girl did have a quick mind, one that deserved to be educated beyond what she could give her. “All right, Penny. I will think on it. But if I decide the answer is no, I will not suffer any dramatics, is that clear?”

“I suppose.” A playful smile danced on Penny’s lips. “Though I shall be disappointed.”

“We must all learn to cope with disappointment, for there is nothing on this side of heaven that is perfect.” Eva pushed up from the bench and snugged the counterpane tighter around Penny’s shoulders. “Come, let’s get you in something more suitable for morning service.”

She led the girl through the ivy-strangled door, then up the rocky incline. By the time they rounded the corner of the barn, Bram was already driving his uncle and the college boys in the wagon across the yard. As she watched his fine form, a bittersweet ache settled deep in her chest. The sight of him, strong and steadfast at the reins, stirred emotions she’d been trying to suppress. There was no more denying the pull he had on her, a force that defied reason and propriety—for, yes, indeed, she would have allowed him to kiss her last night—and she would have kissed him right back.

And the truth of her own words of only moments before slapped her hard in the face.

“We must all learn to cope with disappointment.”

He’d be leaving in four days. How was she to cope with that?