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The subject wore a white, satin gown, with matching rosettes at her bodice and atop her short, cap sleeves.

Her black hair was swept up in a style that had become popular more than a decade ago and was still fashionable, with a coronet of braids and ringlets framing her pale face.

Her facial features echoed those of her brother.

Her expression and the look in her eyes conveyed intelligence, warmth, and kindness.

Athena sensed, just by looking at her, that this was a young woman with a big heart, someone you would want to befriend. In her gloved hands, Caroline Vernon carried not the usual nosegay or fan, but a book—a symbol, perhaps, of the young lady’s love of reading.

“She was beautiful,” Athena murmured.

“Yes.” Mrs. Hillman’s voice caught.

Mr. Vernon said nothing, but he stared at the carpet and cleared his throat, as if suppressing some deeply felt emotion.

Athena’s own throat seemed to close. It struck her as unbelievably sad that this young woman had been snatched from life only a year after the portrait had been painted.

Had she really committed that murder? Or had she been wrongly convicted, as Mrs. Lloyd had insisted?

Athena longed to know more. “How is it, Mrs. Hillman, that you became acquainted with the Vernon children?”

“Caroline and Ian’s mother, Penelope, and I were bosom friends since childhood, even though she was five years younger than me.

When Penelope married Arthur Vernon, I knew it was a love match.

But I teased her that she only took him because she knew that by living at Thorndale Manor, she would only be a mile-and-a-half walk away from me. ”

Athena and Selena chuckled.

“Oh! What a lovely time we had in those early years.” Mrs. Hillman’s smile faded, and her voice grew serious.

“And then Penelope became ill. After she died, I was distraught, but my heart went out to those poor, motherless children. Arthur Vernon was wrapped in his own grief, so I…” She gave Mr. Vernon a questioning look.

“I hope you didn’t mind, Ian? All those lunches and tea parties and outings to the river to sail your boats?

All the long walks in my gardens when we ‘hunted’ for lions and tigers?

I know your sister enjoyed it, but you were a growing boy. It wasn’t too much, was it?”

“I treasure every memory, Mrs. Hillman,” was his earnest reply.

Their hostess lay a hand over her heart. “A welcome thing for a lonely, old woman to hear.”

“You are hardly old, ma’am, and I hope you are not lonely,” he said quietly. “You have me. You have friends in the village.” He gestured to Athena and Selena. “And two new friends.”

Athena didn’t know what to make of this. She wanted to hate Mr. Vernon, whom she felt certain hated her. But he wasn’t exhibiting the same animosity that he had that day on the riverbank. This was a much softer side.

“My sister and I are honored to have made your acquaintance, Mrs. Hillman,” Selena assured her.

The older woman’s eyes crinkled. “The feeling is mutual. It is a shame that you couldn’t have met Caroline. I think you would have gotten along well together.”

Athena seized on the comment. “Do I take it, from her portrait, that Miss Vernon was fond of books?”

“Oh, yes. Caroline read everything she could get her hands on. She used to read aloud to me—poetry and the works of Shakespeare and all our favorite novels. Oh! I do so enjoy hearing a book read aloud. It is one of my favorite things. Caroline had the most calming and expressive voice. When she read, it was as if the rest of the world didn’t exist, and all my problems went away.

” Moisture gathered in Mrs. Hillman’s pale eyes.

“What happened to her is such a tragedy. I imagine you know the story?”

“Just bits and pieces,” Athena admitted.

Mr. Vernon darted Mrs. Hillman a warning look. “It is all ancient history. We needn’t get into it.”

“Why not?” Mrs. Hillman replied. “In my mind, it can’t be talked about often enough.”

Mr. Vernon’s mouth tightened. Athena sensed his frustration and thought, Perhaps it was insensitive of me to pursue a topic that might bring him pain. Before she could think of a way to redirect the conversation, Mrs. Hillman went on.

“When Caroline was eighteen, she fell in love with a sailor.”

“A sailor?” Selena echoed.

“Edward Ackroyd is a seaman in the Royal Navy, and the son of a coal miner. He and Caroline were mad about each other, but he didn’t have a penny to his name.

Her father wouldn’t allow the marriage. A common sailor, Mr. Vernon said, was not fit to shine his daughter’s shoes.

Instead, he accepted an offer from Harold Sinclair, the richest man in the neighborhood, and one of the vilest human beings I have ever met.

Although it is a lady’s right to end an engagement, her father wouldn’t allow it.

I tried to get him to see reason, but his mind was set on the union.

He threatened Caroline, using his weak heart as an excuse to force her into acquiescence. ”

Mr. Vernon cleared his throat and insisted sternly, “Let us stop there. I’m sure Miss Taylor and Miss Selena have heard the rest.”

“Have you?” Mrs. Hillman’s featured hardened.

“Have you heard how Caroline suffered, knowing she could never marry the man she loved and would be forever tied to a man she despised? A week before the wedding, at the annual garden party at Woodcroft House, Caroline begged Harold Sinclair to agree to call off the union. He refused. I wasn’t there—I couldn’t stomach the idea of attending one of that man’s parties.

But as I understand it, all the neighborhood was in attendance, high and low, and everyone heard them arguing. Isn’t that so, Ian?”

Mr. Vernon’s lips were pressed together, and tension seemed to radiate from his body. “I only know what I’ve been told. I wasn’t there, either. I was in London at the time.”

“They say that Mr. Sinclair collapsed and died at the party in full view of everyone,” Mrs. Hillman snapped.

“They found arsenic in his glass of punch. Caroline swore she’d had nothing to do with it.

But at the assizes trial in York, a maid at Thorndale Manor said she’d found rat poison in Caroline’s bedroom. ”

“What maid?” Athena’s mind went to Sally Osborn, but that was wrong—Sally hadn’t started working at Thorndale Manor until after Caroline Vernon had been convicted and sentenced for murder.

“I don’t recall her name,” Mrs. Hillman replied with a dismissive wave of her hand. “I think she left Thorndale Manor shortly after that.”

Athena recalled Mrs. Lloyd mentioning, with distaste, a maid who’d left at the time to get married. Sally had filled her place.

“That woman was obviously lying,” Mrs. Hillman went on vehemently.

“As if Caroline could have ever poisoned anybody! She was all goodness and light. But Neville Sinclair had taken over his brother’s place as parish constable, and he needed someone to pay for the crime.

It was a miscarriage of justice! That girl should never have been accused, much less convicted! ”

Mr. Vernon shot to his feet. “Ma’am, you must stop this now.” His tone was troubled, and his eyes seemed to flash a warning. “Remember what the doctor said. You must not over agitate yourself or you could have another stroke.”

Athena felt guilty now. She should have foreseen that the story might discompose both their hostess and Mr. Vernon. “I’m so sorry. It was a terrible thing. We won’t speak of it further.”

Mr. Vernon knelt down on one knee at Mrs. Hillman’s feet and took her hands in his. “Pray, calm yourself. We both know Caroline could never have done that dreadful deed. But we have Caroline’s memory to console us.”

Mrs. Hillman nodded slowly, wordlessly, as their gazes met.

Athena was moved by Mr. Vernon’s concern and by the obvious affection between the two.

Once again, it presented a side to him that Athena had not seen before.

She wished there were some way that she could undo the tension that had arisen and ease the older woman’s anxiety. Perhaps a distraction was in order?

Athena spied a book on a nearby end table. She crossed to it and picked it up. “Mrs. Hillman, you have excellent taste in reading.”

Mrs. Hillman dabbed her eyes, breathing easier now. “Do I?”

“What book is that?” Selena asked.

“ The Wind Pirate by Pryor Corbett.”

“One of our favorites!” Selena cried.

“Have you already read this?” Athena asked Mrs. Hillman.

Mrs. Hillman hesitated. “Yes, some time ago. I took it out to read again.”

“Mr. Vernon, are you familiar with Pryor Corbett’s work?” Athena asked.

Mr. Vernon’s arched brow seemed to imply that he was aware of what she was attempting to do and thought kindly of it. Resuming his seat, he said simply, “I have heard the name.”

“Pryor Corbett is an excellent writer,” Selena enthused. “ The Wind Pirate is the first of his seven novels.”

“His stories always keep us on the edge of our seats,” Athena agreed. “This one is an adventure story about a young woman who, to avoid marriage to a man she dislikes, disguises herself as a boy and escapes to sea on a ship run by pirates.”

“Her father and brothers taught her many masculine skills, including the art of sword fighting, so she fits in with the pirate crew,” Selena added.

“She admires their goals, for these are good pirates,” Mrs. Hillman put in, her eyes twinkling. “They only steal from other pirates and return the spoils to their former owners or the crown.”

“Tension is high, for the heroine must take pains every moment to avoid discovery, and at the same time, fight her attraction to the handsome, young pirate captain.” Athena smiled.

“It sounds interesting,” Mr. Vernon pronounced. “But I’m afraid pirate tales are not my cup of tea. I know Mrs. Hillman is fond of them.”

“Indeed I am. This book is one of my favorites, too. I was hoping to read it again. But my eyes tire so easily these days.”