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“T ell me about yourself, Miss Taylor,” Mr. Chapman said as they made their way through the rear courtyard towards the gardens in the fading light of day.

“I should rather hear about you.” Athena recalled what little she had learned about his infamous introduction to the world. Worried that it might be too sensitive a subject, she said, “As I understand it, Mrs. Hillman was your guardian?”

“Yes. She took over my care after my mother passed away. But we are not blood relations because… my mother wasn’t my natural mother.” He glanced at her. “But perhaps you are acquainted with the story?”

“Mrs. Hillman did tell me that her sister, Daisy, fell in love with your father—and that he was married at the time?”

“What a scandal, eh?” His eyes were teasing.

“But you can’t plan with whom you’re going to fall in love, can you?

After my parents both died of typhoid, I was sent to an orphanage.

Daisy—although unmarried and with no obligation to me whatsoever—passed herself off as a distant relation and got permission to take me in.

She moved to Lancashire, where she was unknown, and brought me up. ”

Athena was touched by his honesty and courage in admitting this. “How difficult that must have been for her, to raise a child alone.”

“It was. Mrs. Hillman kindly sent money on a regular basis to help us out, but my mother—I always thought of Daisy as my mother—was proud and determined. She worked as a laundress to support us until I was thirteen. She sadly died about the same time that Mr. Hillman passed away. I became Mrs. Hillman’s ward, and she financed my education. For that, I shall always be grateful.”

“Did you enjoy school?”

He made a face. “Not at all.”

“Why not?”

“Boys’ schools in England are a place of torture, Miss Taylor.”

“I have heard such stories.” Athena thought of Neville Sinclair’s tale of his brother’s bullying—and that had been at home. “I wish something could be done to protect young boys.”

“Our institutions are ingrained in the tradition, I’m afraid.” He quirked a dark-brown eyebrow at her. “I trust nothing so untoward would ever go on at a girls’ school?”

“Perish the thought!”

“What made you decide to open a school like this?”

“My sisters and I have been dreaming of such a venture ever since we were girls.” She told him about Diana, who now lived in Cornwall and was married to a Royal Navy captain and baronet. “It is only through his generosity that we are in possession of Thorndale Manor.”

“How wonderful for you.”

“We are very fortunate. Although…” Athena broke off.

“‘Although’?” he prodded.

“Oh, let’s not go there. I don’t wish to share my troubles with you, Mr. Chapman.”

“Why not? We are friends now, aren’t we? And friends share their troubles, don’t they?”

Athena let out a light laugh. “I suppose they do.”

“Well, then?”

She gave in to his questioning look. “This school is an expensive place to run. And, as you have seen, our enrollment is very small. It has been difficult to get students.”

“Why is that? I’ve been wondering.”

They had reached the hedgerows now, and Athena idly plucked a tiny stem from a bush and inhaled its spicy fragrance.

“The ghost of Caroline Vernon casts a long shadow over Thorndale Manor.”

He took that in and nodded. “Ah. Yes. I know the story.”

Athena frowned. “Many people, it turns out, don’t want their children to live in a building that—reputedly—used to house a convicted murderess.”

“What nonsense.” He shook his head. “That happened so long ago.”

“But it’s a problem, and one we didn’t realize we’d be facing until we began advertising for students. We can easily accommodate more than a dozen pupils, Mr. Chapman, yet as you know, we have only five.”

“There must be something you can do about it.”

A breeze began to stir, and a chill invaded the air. Athena noticed that dark clouds were gathering in the sky. “Perhaps there is. I have a plan.”

“What kind of plan?”

“I’d rather not say. It may be impossible.”

“Even so, I should love to hear it.”

Athena hesitated, and then thought, Why not? Mrs. Hillman and Mr. Vernon had both expressed opposition to her quest. Maybe Mr. Chapman would have a more open mind. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I swear to keep a straight face, no matter what you say.”

“I don’t believe Caroline Vernon committed the murder of which she was accused.”

“You don’t?”

“No. I hope to prove her innocence and in so doing, restore the reputation of Thorndale Manor.”

His eyes widened, and then he smiled. “Well, bravo! An admirable goal, if perhaps a bit difficult to attain.” He paused. “I met Miss Vernon, you know, several times.”

“Did you?” Athena envied him, wishing that she could have known Miss Vernon herself. “When?”

“I first met her when I came to visit Mrs. Hillman on a school holiday. Miss Vernon was just a child then, but I saw her several more times over the years. She came to Darkmoor Park frequently. The last time I was here, Miss Vernon was engaged to Harold Sinclair.”

“What was Miss Vernon like?”

“She was a sweet little girl, but as a woman, I thought, perhaps a bit… unstable.”

“‘Unstable’? How?” The wind picked up and Athena wrapped her shawl more tightly around her.

“She was always weeping in deep despair over her impending marriage.”

“Perhaps she was in despair due to her lack of power over her own life,” Athena replied testily. “She was in love with someone else, a sailor, affianced against her will, and locked up at home by her own father.”

“‘Locked up’? Dear Lord, I’d forgotten that. I’ll never forget what happened to Harold Sinclair, though. Poisoned at his own garden party! And Miss Vernon accused and convicted. What a horrific state of affairs. Mrs. Hillman has never gotten over it.”

“I know.” Athena sighed. “Were you there? At the party?”

“No. I had left Darkmoor Bridge a month or so before that party and only heard about what happened later. I have always just accepted that Miss Vernon was guilty, despite Mrs. Hillman’s protestations to the contrary.

” He paused. “If Miss Vernon was innocent, it won’t be easy to prove at this point. ”

“I realize that. But I’m determined to try.”

“Perhaps I can help.”

Athena looked at him. This man was so different from Mr. Vernon, who had derided all her ideas and told her to leave it be. “You would help? How?”

“I don’t know. Do you have any leads?”

“None. I did have one idea, but Mrs. Hillman immediately dismissed it.” She told him her theory about Neville Sinclair.

“Neville Sinclair?” He rubbed his chin with one hand. “I can see why you might suspect him. He did gain a great deal from his brother’s death, and he convicted Miss Vernon very quickly. But it sounds like he had viable evidence to support that conviction.”

“Evidence that might have been manufactured.”

“Perhaps.” He shrugged. “But I still agree with Mrs. Hillman’s assessment of him.”

“Why?”

“I haven’t seen Neville Sinclair in years, but I’ve known him since I was a boy, when I first came to see Mrs. Hillman at Darkmoor Park.

I remember hiding with Neville in the woods one afternoon so he could escape his brother’s wrath.

We talked for hours. He told me that he wanted to become a clergyman when he grew up, to help people and do some good in the world.

But his father insisted on something bigger and better for Neville—that he must go into the law.

Neville was deeply disappointed. I think he was—and probably still is—a good soul.

I can’t see him murdering anyone, much less his own brother, no matter how much he hated the man. ”

Athena nodded as she processed this information. “Thank you for sharing that.”

“However,” Mr. Chapman put in, “Harold Sinclair was a completely different story. Someone else may have wished to do him in.”

“But who?”

Mr. Chapman appeared to be mulling that over. “You said everyone in the neighborhood was at that party?”

“Practically everyone, I’m told, except Mrs. Hillman and Mr. Vernon.”

He paused. “There is someone else you might consider.”

“Who?”

“The sailor.”

Athena blinked in surprise. “Miss Vernon’s sailor?”

“Yes. I never met him, but love can lead people to do foolish things.”

Athena pondered that. “Interesting idea.”

“What was his name again?”

Athena thought back to the story Mrs. Hillman had told her. “I think he was called Edward Ackroyd?”

“That sounds about right.”

They were almost back to the house and drops of rain splashed Athena’s face. “Oh, no. It’s about to storm.”

“Let’s make a run for it!”

They raced to a back door and entered through the conservatory just in time, for two seconds later, the heavens unleashed a thunderous downpour.

“That was close,” Athena observed.

Mr. Chapman glanced at his pocket watch. “Thirty minutes on the dot Miss Taylor, as promised.”

“Thank you for getting me back so promptly.” Athena laughed. Picking up their conversation, she added, “What were you thinking just now? That Edward Ackroyd may have murdered Harold Sinclair to prevent him from marrying the woman he loved?”

“Perhaps. But it all went wrong. And Miss Vernon ended up being accused of the crime.”

“If he loved her, wouldn’t he have come forward and admitted the truth?”

“Maybe by the time she was arrested, he was away at sea.”

Athena’s heart seemed to skip a beat. “Maybe. I wonder where Edward Ackroyd is now?”

“Halfway around the world on a Royal Navy ship, I expect.” He bowed. “I have enjoyed our conversation, Miss Taylor. I wish you the best of luck in your pursuit. And do let me know if I can be of any help.”

“I will.”

After Mr. Chapman had departed, Athena hummed to herself. She had a new suspect to investigate.

Edward Ackroyd.

*

“You and Mr. Chapman were gone quite a while this evening,” Selena observed.

Athena had just called “Lights out” to the girls, and she and Selena had retreated to their study. A hard rain battered the windowpanes and the fire in the hearth did little to combat the chill in the room.