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“We did feel a presence on our first night in this house.”

“But never again since.”

“No, but what could have accounted for it? Was it Caroline Vernon’s spirit studying us, the new tenants of her home? Perhaps she liked what she saw, and that’s why she went quiet?”

“Perhaps,” Athena replied as they both gave in to tiredness and said goodnight.

Sleep didn’t come easily for Athena, however. The rain continued its ceaseless beat. The wind howled. For several hours, she tossed and turned, and when she finally did drift off, she dreamt of Caroline Vernon.

In the dream, Athena was walking on the Thorndale Manor grounds. She was alone. The sun painted the sky a vivid blue, but she could not feel its warmth. Not a bee was buzzing, and not a bird was singing.

A young woman burst forth from the hedgerows, running with all her might. It was Caroline Vernon, attired as she had been in the portrait hanging above Mrs. Hillman’s fireplace. Except that her black hair was loose, her white gown was spattered with blood, and her blue eyes were wide with fright.

“Help me!” Miss Vernon raced up to Athena. “Help me!”

“How can I help you?” Athena cried.

“Find the truth.” Miss Vernon’s voice was a desperate plea. “Find out who murdered Harold Sinclair. It wasn’t me. It wasn’t me. ”

Athena awoke, gasping and bathed in perspiration, her heart beating so hard, it seemed to be forcing its way out of her chest.

“Athena!” It was Selena’s voice. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” Athena whispered. The soft glow from the embers in the hearth pierced the darkness.

“You were talking in your sleep.”

“What did I say?”

“You said, ‘How can I help you?’”

Athena lay in bed, gripping the covers. “I had a bad dream.”

“What was it about?”

Athena told her.

“How disturbing.” Selena’s voice was no louder than a whisper.

Athena was about to reply when a loud crash rent the air. They both leapt from their beds. “What was that?”

“It came from somewhere above us,” Selena noted.

They lit candles and dashed into the corridor. Miss Russell and Miss Weaver emerged shivering from their chambers, their hair in rag curls. At the same time, the door to the servants’ stairs opened and Tabitha appeared, a candlestick in hand.

“What happened?” Miss Russell exclaimed.

“I heard a loud thud above my room,” Tabitha said.

Determined to restore order, Athena announced, “I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about. Girls, go back to bed. Tabitha, please retire as well.”

The girls and maid did as they’d been ordered. Athena returned to her room and put a warm dress over her night-rail. “I’m going to find out what happened. Stay here, Selena. There’s no reason we should both get wet.”

Downstairs, Athena grabbed her cloak, boots, and an umbrella.

She lit a lantern and, bracing herself, ventured out into the stormy night.

The wind-driven rain blew down and sideways, pelting her with such force that despite her protections, she was soon drenched.

Worse yet, it was pitch black and impossible to see anything that wasn’t within direct range of her lantern’s beam.

She had just determined that her mission had been a folly when she came upon the probable answer to the riddle.

An immense branch from one of the ancient oak trees lay in the rear courtyard, just a few yards from the house.

It must have broken off in the storm and had perhaps fallen onto the roof before dropping to the ground.

Athena returned to her room and, drying herself and her hair, told Selena what she had discovered. After hanging her wet clothes by the hearth, adding new wood from the basket, and stirring the fire back to life, she gratefully climbed back into bed.

“We’re lucky it happened at night, and no one was injured.”

“Indeed, we are.” Athena lay shivering beneath the covers. “It feels ominous that such a huge branch fell on our roof, immediately after I had that disturbing dream.” The dream had felt so real.

“I am no interpreter of dreams.” Selena paused, her voice hushed. “But as I understand it, they reflect the dreamer’s experiences, fears, and beliefs, rather than being a mysterious message or portent.”

“What do you mean?”

Selena hesitated again. “Do you think Caroline Vernon killed Harold Sinclair?”

“No,” Athena answered, surprised by the conviction in her voice. But now that she’d voiced it aloud, she realized it expressed her true belief. “Three people who knew Miss Vernon well swore she couldn’t have killed him or anyone. When I saw her portrait, I felt the same way.”

“So did I,” Selena said.

“You did?”

“Yes. It was as if goodness itself were somehow captured on that canvas.”

“And yet all the evidence pointed to Caroline Vernon, and so she was hanged.”

“Which is a travesty.” The concern on Selena’s face was visible even in the dimly lit room.

“I think your dream was a message from your soul, Athena. It was your conscience trying to tell you something. Begging you to find the truth . The same message, I think, that Diana was trying to deliver in her letter. Perhaps we ought to listen.”

Athena sat up in bed, her pulse hammering a newfound, insistent beat. “ We? ”

Selena nodded. “I know I’ve been the naysayer in all of this, but there might be something in what you say.

Sally’s death might have been an accident, or it might be connected to Harold Sinclair’s murder.

Either way, Caroline Vernon may indeed have been wrongly convicted.

If we can find the real perpetrator and prove it—then we will not only achieve justice for that poor woman but also restore the reputation of Thorndale Manor. ”

“And save our school!”

“Yes.”

Athena paused. “What about Diana’s warning?”

“To be careful?”

“Yes. Look what happened to her at Pendowar Hall.”

“We’ll do what she said. We’ll keep our eyes and ears open. Remember our other favorite saying.”

Athena felt herself smile. “Fortune favors the bold.”

“Whatever happens next, sister dear, I am on board.”

*

They agreed that their first course of action should be to speak to the parish constable, Neville Sinclair, to try to persuade him to reopen his brother’s murder case. Athena decided to do it since she and Neville Sinclair had already met.

After sending a note requesting an appointment, she sought out Mrs. Lloyd to ask for directions.

“I plan to go on Wednesday after reading to Mrs. Hillman,” Athena told the housekeeper, whom she found sitting on a high stool in the pantry, polishing the silver.

“What’s the best way to get to Woodcroft House from Darkmoor Park? ”

“It’s an easy walk, no more than two miles if you take the shortcut.” Mrs. Lloyd gave detailed instructions that involved crossing a field and entering the estate through a back gate that led to the rear grounds. “But why do you wish to go there?”

“I want to speak to Neville Sinclair.”

“I wouldn’t go near that man with a ten-foot pole.” Mrs. Lloyd vigorously scrubbed a knife. “ He’s the reason our Caroline was sent to prison for that horrible crime.”

“I know. But I’d like to learn more about Caroline Vernon’s case.

” Athena paused. She didn’t think it appropriate to share her suspicions with the housekeeper, but perhaps the woman could fill her in on a few facts.

“Mrs. Hillman told me that Caroline’s conviction was heavily influenced by a statement from a maid who worked here—she claimed she’d found a box of rat poison in Miss Vernon’s room. Do you recall the maid’s name?”

“Ethel Leighton.” Mrs. Lloyd’s mouth twisted. “It was a pack of lies! Every word of it!”

“Do you know where Ethel lives now?”

“No idea. Ethel only worked here a few months. After Miss Vernon’s trial, Ethel disappeared.

She said she was getting married, to whom, I don’t know.

” Mrs. Lloyd poured more polishing cream on her rag and attacked a large serving spoon.

“I never should have hired that girl. She was nothing but trouble. One morning, I caught her stealing a silver brooch from Miss Vernon’s jewelry box.

She had the gall to lie to my face about it, insisted she was just going to polish it.

Polish it, my eye!” She let out an incredulous huff.

“That wasn’t even her job! It was the butler’s duty back then—when we had a butler.

Now it’s my job, of course,” she added matter-of-factly.

“In any case, I gave her one more chance, and that was a mistake. A few weeks later, a hundred pounds went missing from the cash box in the master’s study.

I’ll swear on twenty Bibles that Ethel took it, but I couldn’t prove it. ”

“I see. Thank you for sharing that, Mrs. Lloyd.”

Athena realized she needed to learn more about Ethel Leighton. If she was truly a thief, then she might have been the type of person whom a villain could have paid to lie on the witness stand. It was another point to bring up with Neville Sinclair.

First, however, she was due to visit Darkmoor Park. When Athena arrived, Mr. Chapman greeted her in the front hall.

“So good of you to come today to read to Mrs. Hillman,” he said, smiling.

“I was honored to be asked—and grateful for her support for the school. Indeed, it is Mrs. Hillman’s generosity that helps me to afford your salary.”

Mr. Chapman chuckled. “Do you know, Miss Taylor, I’ve only been here a short time, but I already feel more at home at your school, working with your students, and working with you— than anywhere I have ever taught before.”

His brown eyes were filled with warmth and sincerity.

She sensed a depth of interest there, as though she were special in his eyes.

She couldn’t deny it—her students and housekeeper and housemaid were not the only ones who found Mr. Chapman irresistible.

If Athena had half a mind to, she could easily fall prey to charms. But that was not going to happen.

She cleared her throat. “I’m happy to hear you say so, Mr. Chapman. Will you stay to hear me read from The Wind Pirate ?”