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Bram tagged his uncle’s heels as he strode the long college corridor toward the board room, his irritation palpable. Grimwinkle’s refusal to see him yesterday had left him seething, his frustration compounded at the lack of information regarding the sale of Eva’s relics. Nor could he shake the annoyance over the fact he and Uncle Pendleton had not found definitive proof of Caelum Academia—though they had more than enough evidence of a second-century Roman settlement. And to top it all off, an unwelcome eight-legged visitor had taken up residence in his quarters during his absence. The sight of the hairy intruder scurrying across his desk upon his return had nearly sent him into a fit of arachnophobic rage as he’d hunted the thing with his shoe all night. But to no avail. He had yet to slay that monster.

“Step lively, nephew.” His uncle beckoned him with a swing of his arm. “We don’t want to be late.”

“Why not?” He smirked. “I guarantee Grimwinkle will not be on time.”

“That doesn’t mean we ought not be.”

Begrudgingly, he upped his pace, and they entered the board room. The first thing that caught him off guard was the two piles of muscle stationed at each side of the door, as if he and his uncle were on the dock for murder at a Bow Street court. The second—and at this he blinked in surprise—was that not only were the six committee members already spaced out along the extended table, but Grimwinkle sat at the center, wearing a herringbone suit, a tobacco-brown bow tie, and a curl to his lip that could stop a cohort of Roman soldiers.

He knew. Impossibly, somehow the man knew they didn’t have the proof of Caelum Academia or Grimwinkle would never be here on time with that smug look on his face.

Uncle Pendleton strolled to the small desk in front of the review board and set down his leather satchel. Bram stood at his side, and once the echo of his own footsteps faded, silence reigned.

Grimwinkle looked down the table to where the secretary, Mr. Clem, perched on his chair like a fat slug. Clem gave him a sharp nod, then Grimwinkle banged his gavel even sharper. “This disciplinary meeting is called to order. We are convened today—as previously scheduled—to decide the matter of academic fitness on behalf of Regius Professor Sebastian Pendleton. Mr. Clem, can you please confirm?”

Mr. Clem shuffled a few papers. “As recorded on Monday, October seventh, in my own hand—” He cleared his throat. “‘This board shall reconvene on December thirteenth, at which point irrefutable confirmation will be presented by Professors Webb and Pendleton authenticating the existence of Caelum Academia , the supposed refuge of Roman Christians and artisans. If no such evidence is provided, Professor Pendleton will be deemed unfit as an instructor of excellence in the classroom and immediately dismissed.’”

“Thank you, Mr. Clem.” Grimwinkle swiveled his head toward Uncle Pendleton. “And so, Professor, the board members and I are now prepared to evaluate your evidence. Please present your findings.”

After an excessive amount of rummaging in his bag, Uncle Pendleton pulled out an old wooden horse—a child’s toy that had absolutely nothing to do with the dig. Bram quickly stayed his hand.

“Uncle, not that,” he whispered urgently. “The report you wrote. Please tell me you have it.”

“Hmm?” His uncle peered over the rims of his spectacles, confusion rife in his eyes.

“The report.” Bram enunciated each word in a desperate undertone.

“The ... ah!” He dove back into his bag. Thankfully, this time he retrieved a small sheaf of bound papers, then reverently set it in front of Grimwinkle.

Grimwinkle merely sneered as he stabbed the document with his finger. “This is not the Holy Grail as you promised.”

Bram tugged his collar, gut churning. He knew this would get ugly but so soon?

His uncle brushed away Grimwinkle’s finger as if it were a gnat to be swatted, “Nevertheless, this is a complete log of what Professor Webb and I preserved. Most items date back to the second century and are indisputably of Roman Christian origins. You already have a wagon load of many of the relics listed here, so you have had time to assess authenticity for yourself. There is no denying we unearthed a historic and valuable settlement, as I knew we would.”

“I do not deny it, though I am surprised in light of all the ... shall we call them setbacks that you suffered. But even so, Professor Pendleton, that is not what this review board charged you to accomplish. You have no proof of Caelum Academia whatsoever, and so as stated—” Once again he peered down the table at Mr. Clem.

The secretary reshuffled his papers. “As it is written, and I quote, ‘If no such evidence is provided, Professor Pendleton will be deemed unfit as an instructor of excellence in the classroom and immediately dismissed.’ End quote.”

“Thank you, Mr. Clem.” Grimwinkle cast a cankerous gaze at Bram’s uncle. “In light of such, it is my duty to dismiss—”

“Now see here!” Bram stepped to the front of the desk. This was going too fast and too far. “You have seen for yourself the antiquities we brought in, Professor Grimwinkle. That proves—”

Grimwinkle held up his hand. “That’s enough, Professor Webb.”

No, it wasn’t. Not nearly enough. He jutted his jaw. “You have had nearly three weeks to inspect the validity of those antiquities and—”

“I said that’s enough.”

“—we uncovered a legitimate second-century Roman settlement of Christian origin, not to mention—”

The gavel banged like the slamming of a guillotine. “Silence! Or I shall have you bodily removed from this room.”

Bram gritted his teeth. So that’s what the muscles were for. The man had planned all along to terminate his uncle!

“Now then, Regius Professor Pendleton, it is my duty to inform you of your dismissal from Trinity College. Kindly vacate your office by Monday morning, lest your belongings be removed by the cleaning staff during the Christmas recess.”

“Vacate?” His uncle stood like a lost little boy wondering where his mam had gone.

Completely breaking Bram’s heart.

Then birthing a rage so molten, he stiffened to a ramrod.

“You cannot do such a thing! That man has served this institution with high honours for the past forty years.” Bram stormed up to Grimwinkle and slammed his fist onto the report Uncle Pendleton had so painstakingly written. “You, sir, have your proof right here of my uncle’s service and dedication. You cannot simply discard him like yesterday’s newspaper. It is unjust. You are tarnishing his legacy, his entire career, based on some arbitrary technicality and your own personal vendetta. He always was the better scholar, and you know it. It was you who stole his notes on the Ostia Antica dig, writing the award-winning article that belonged to him!”

A rumble traveled around the faculty members.

And was immediately quashed by another thunderous strike of the gavel. “That was hearsay of years ago, and your belief in the matter calls into question your own judgment.” Little flecks of spittle flew from Grimwinkle’s mouth. “Furthermore, Professor Webb, in light of your complicity in the matter of Caelum Academia and your unwavering support of former Professor Pendleton’s unfounded endeavors, I must also terminate your position at Trinity College as well.”

“This is preposterous!” Bram threw his hands in the air. “You cannot punish me for supporting a fellow scholar in his pursuit of knowledge.”

Uncle Pendleton stepped between him and Grimwinkle, head dipped like a bull on the charge. “Do not commit such a vindictive act, Grimwinkle. It’s me you hate, not my nephew. Catherine never loved you. She loved me—though I was too preoccupied to act on my feelings at the time.”

The gavel banged so hard, the head flew off and ricocheted from the table, bounding its way along the floor until all that could be heard were the great snorts of air huffing from Grimwinkle’s nose. He snapped his gaze to the men on his left, then his right. “Has any man here an objection to my decision?”

Bram scanned from face to face. Only one man opened his mouth, then just as quickly closed it. If anyone naysaid Grimwinkle, their own head would be on the chopping block. And while Bram understood such a truth, nothing but contempt for each man roiled in his gut.

“Mr. Clem,” Grimwinkle thundered down the table. “Be it therefore written the dismissal of Professors Pendleton and Webb was unanimously voted upon and deemed the proper conclusion to this meeting.”

Then he skewered Bram with a razor-sharp stare. “Like your uncle, vacate your office by Monday morning. Furthermore, the two of you are banned from completing the dig at Inman Manor, which I will personally see to finishing.”

Bram’s jaw dropped. This was not to be borne! He sidestepped his uncle, facing the bully man-to-man. “Because you wish the glory of publishing what we found. That was your plan all along, was it not? You were the one who hired Trestwell to foul up our work, hampering our progress just enough to get us out of the picture so you could swoop in and claim victory for yourself!”

A collective gasp hissed throughout the room.

“Nonsense. Guards, take this man outside.” A demon couldn’t have sounded any more ominous than the rasp in Grimwinkle’s tone. “This meeting is adjourned.”

“You cannot do this!” Bram lunged.

And was immediately yanked back by a steel grip to each of his arms. His feet slid across the floor, his voice the only weapon in reach. “The Lord judge you, Grimwinkle!”

What a horrid day.

Cold air nipped Eva’s cheeks as she halted the pony cart in the vicarage’s drive. The entire ride here Penny had either been chattering like a magpie or singing at the top of her voice. Not anymore. She went strangely silent when the wheels stopped their grind. Hardly ten feet in front of them, an enameled carriage stood at the ready, horses snorting. Mr. Blackwood strode their way, completely absent of colour in his grey garb, save for those electric blue eyes of his.

Eva looped the reins as the reverend reached for Penny’s hand. “Allow me to help you down, Miss Inman. Mrs. Mortimer awaits you in her carriage.” He lifted his face to Eva. “No need to alight, Miss Inman. My man Henry will see to your sister’s trunk.”

Sure enough, the driver from the other carriage loped over to the back of the pony cart, where Sinclair had secured Penny’s belongings.

Eva gave Mr. Blackwood a tight smile. “I should like to say a proper good-bye to my sister, Mr. Blackwood.”

“For her sake and yours, I think it best if we keep emotions to a minimum. Excess is akin to gluttony. Come along now, Miss Inman.” He guided Penny away.

“Good-bye, Eva.” Penny flailed her free hand.

No. This was not how it should be. Not how it would be!

Eva flew from the cart, shoes landing with a crunch in the pea gravel, and dashed over to her sister before Mr. Blackwood could stuff Penny into the carriage like an order of feed to be delivered. In one quick movement, she pulled her sister from the reverend’s grasp and wrapped her arms around the girl. “Good-bye, love. I shall write to you often and expect you to as well, as long as it does not deter you from your studies. I am sure one of the school attendants will not mind taking dictation from you. Make sure you mind your manners and remember that I—oh, poppet.”

Fighting tears, she pressed her cheek against the top of Penny’s head. How could she possibly do this? This would be the last chance she had to breathe in her sister’s rosemary scent. “I love you so much that I have not words big enough to express it. But here, I have something special to give you. Keep it in your pocket, and if you should find yourself missing home, just rub your thumb over the face of it.” She handed Penny the same small rock that Bram had given her.

Penny sniffled as she wrapped her fingers around it, then buried her face against Eva’s coat. “Maybe I shouldn’t go.” Her words muffled out on a cry. “Maybe I ought to just stay here with you.”

“Tut-tut, Miss Penny!” Mrs. Mortimer shrilled from the carriage door, one of her plump hands waving toward them. “We’ve a long drive ahead of us. You’ll feel much better once we begin your adventure. Brother, help the girl into the carriage.”

“My sister is right, Miss Inman. You’ve made your decision to send the girl to school, so let your yes be yes.” Harsh words, yet a surprisingly soft current ran beneath them, almost as if Mr. Blackwood had a heart after all.

One last time, Eva hugged her sister fiercely, then set Penny from her and produced her handkerchief, dabbing the girl’s eyes. An education was the best thing for Penny. She pressed the cloth into her sister’s hand and stepped away. “The reverend is right. We have made our decision, have we not?”

“I ... I guess so.” Penny drew in a shaky breath. “But you will come to visit me soon and often, will you not?”

Eva bit her lip, her hand absently traveling to the outline of an envelope in her pocket. If Bram’s telegram didn’t say money would soon arrive, she’d have no choice but to accept Mrs. Pempernill’s employment. Not that she could tell Penny that, of course. She straightened her sister’s bonnet. “I would never turn down an opportunity to see you.”

“Off we go, Miss Inman.” Mr. Blackwood gathered Penny and lifted her into the carriage.

In light of her father’s warning about Mr. Blackwood, it chafed to see her sister in the man’s hands—but at least he would not be accompanying them to London. Mrs. Mortimer’s maid, sitting pinch-faced opposite her employer, was an improvement over Mr. Blackwood.

Mrs. Mortimer immediately reached for the door handle, then paused and smiled at Eva. “Oh dear, Miss Inman, I neglected to tell you the school allows no visitors for the first year. It is better for the students to acclimate without interruption. Good-bye.” She pulled the door shut with a clack and the carriage rolled off, leaving Eva standing with her mouth agape. A whole year? She was to be parted from her sister for so long?

A sob strangled in her throat.

“Now, now, Miss Inman. Your sister is merely making a natural progression from girl to young lady. I understand these things are hard on the heart, but ultimately they’re good for the soul in that she—and you—will have to trust God with each other all the more.” Mr. Blackwood reached a hand toward her but, inches from contact, withdrew it. “After all, you and your sister are in God’s hands, and there is no better place to be. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an excessive amount of paperwork to finish. It’s revenue day, you know. Good-bye.”

He wheeled about, the grey tails of his coat flapping in his haste.

Callous, harsh man. Leaving her to mourn the loss of her only family member alone on this grey December morn. Could he not have tarried just a moment more?

Then again, did she really want him to?

Eva stomped back to the pony cart and, with a sharp click of her tongue, ordered Dusty to walk on. A snarling mess of sorrow and anger chased circles in her belly all the way to High Street, and she fought tears the entire drive. Letting loose a torrent now would be a disaster. Penny had her handkerchief.

She stopped the cart in front of the Royston Postal Office, then secured Dusty’s reins. If God would but smile upon her— Oh , God , please !— then a telegram from Bram awaited her just inside. Tossing back her shoulders, she marched through the door, the jingle of the bell more grating than merry. Even so, she approached the telegraph window, determined to think only the best of what might be.

A silver-haired fellow with pockmarked cheeks peered at her from his stool. “May I help you?”

“Yes, have you a telegram for Miss Eva Inman?”

He reached for a spindle of papers and riffled through them one by one. There weren’t many, yet it seemed like an eternity before he glanced back up at her. “Sorry, miss. There’s not one here.”

“Are you certain?” She clutched her reticule, acutely aware of how light it felt. “Perhaps the message is addressed to Inman Manor?”

Once again the clerk fingered through the yellow squares of paper, a slight shake to his head. “Nothing, Miss Inman. Sorry.”

Her heart dropped to her shoes. No telegram meant no money would be arriving today.

So she had no choice.

“Thank you.” The words barely pushed past her teeth.

Her steps dragged over to the postal counter on the other side of the shop. She pulled the acceptance letter to Mrs. Pempernill from her pocket and a coin from her purse. “I should like this delivered right away, please.”

“You’re in luck, missy. The morning delivery is just out back.” He shoved the coin in the register drawer, then waved the envelope in the air. “I’ll see this gets in today’s load.”

He disappeared out a side door before she could thank him, which was just as well. She wasn’t feeling very grateful at the moment, not with what she must do next.

Heart heavy, she trudged from the postal service to the revenue office. Bram was gone. As was her sister. And if she didn’t do some elaborate talking, her house would be too.

She reached for the office door just as a man with a red face and monstrous scowl thundered out. “Thieves!” He shook his fist in the air. “The lot of them! Blasted bloodsuckers.”

Eva jumped out of his way, doubtful he even saw her, so noxious was his wrath.

That didn’t bode well.

Sucking in a breath of courage, she entered into a bare-bones office. She approached Mr. Buckle’s desk. “Good day, Mr. Buckle.”

“Good day, Miss...” He narrowed his eyes, his moustache crawling ever farther down the sides of his mouth. “Inman, is it not?”

She dipped her head.

He pulled a wooden box across his desk and fingered through some cards, eventually retrieving one. “I’ve got your statement right here. Once you pay the total amount, you may sign on this line.” He set the paper down and tapped his finger on the mark.

She retrieved the few banknotes in her reticule, reluctant to part with them, then handed them over. “I, em, it is not all quite there, but mostly is.”

His lips moved as he silently counted, then recounted. His gaze sought hers. “You are thirty pounds short.”

“I am.” She forced a brilliant smile. “But you will be happy to know I have taken a job and will make payments to account for the difference.”

He shook his head. “Today is the deadline.”

“I realize that, but as I said, I shall have all my wages sent here, and the shortfall will be eliminated in no time.” She reached for the pen on his desk. “Shall I sign that card now?”

“That’s just it, Miss Inman. Your time has run out.” He snatched the pen from her fingers. “I shall have a possession order drawn up and served on Monday, which will state your eviction date. As it is closing in on the end of the year, I would expect that to be very soon. Property auctions of homes acquired this quarter are to happen in the new year when transfer of ownership will be complete. All that to say, will your wages cover the thirty pounds within the next fortnight?”

Eva gripped her empty reticule so tightly, her fingers ached. She had no idea what Mrs. Pempernill would pay her nor when she’d be paid.

“I-I do not know.”

“Then I suggest you remove whatever personal belongings you have as soon as possible, for whatever remains will be sold with the home. Good day, Miss Inman.”

“But...”

Deep furrows dug into his broad brow. “Was I not clear in my explanation?”

“No, it is not ... I mean...” She sighed. “You were very thorough, Mr. Buckle. Good day.”

She tramped outside to a day devoid of any sort of cheer, the bitter sting of failure prickling down her back, dragging her shoulders to the ground. She’d failed her father in the worst possible way, losing the house, losing her sister. Losing the small remnants of whatever self-respect she owned.

Indeed.

What a horrid day.