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“M r. Vernon is indeed the best man for the job, miss,” Mrs. Lloyd confirmed, when Athena told her about the leaking roof the next morning.

As Athena had feared, Tabitha had been obliged to place a bucket in her bedroom to collect the water dripping from the ceiling the previous night.

“All the years that he was growing up, Mr. Vernon liked building and fixing things,” Mrs. Lloyd explained with a proud smile.

“Every summer when he was home from school, he helped the construction crews in the area, just for the love of the work and to learn. It was his idea to add on our conservatory. He couldn’t have been more than seventeen years old.

He wanted to bring the outdoors inside, he said.

He drew up the plans himself, convinced his father, and worked right alongside the builders as they put the thing up. ”

The mental image of a young Ian Vernon, shirtless and hammering away on a building site, caused an annoying quiver to dart through Athena’s stomach. She blinked hard to make it go away. “But Mr. Vernon is an architect now.”

“Yes, but he still does construction work from time to time. There are other men in the trade in town, but they’re nowhere near as skilled. Mr. Vernon grew up here and knows Thorndale Manor better than anyone. I’d ask him straightaway and wouldn’t think twice about it.”

Athena didn’t relish the idea of approaching Mr. Vernon. Their last conversation had ended so badly—and this wasn’t his house anymore. Would he even be interested in helping her? Athena doubted it. But it sounded like he was her best option.

She decided she would stop by his cottage the following day. She was about to ask Mrs. Lloyd about the other topic on her mind, Edward Ackroyd, when the housekeeper was called away to see to a problem with the laundry.

During the exercise period in the rear courtyard, Miss Russell tugged on Athena’s cloak.

“Please don’t blame the other girls about last night.” Miss Russell held a leatherbound notebook close to her chest. “The ghost story meeting was my idea. If you must punish someone, punish me.”

Athena was touched by the girl’s willingness to accept full responsibility, come what may. “I shall take that into consideration. But tell me: why are you so interested in ghosts?”

“Because I’ve seen one.”

“Oh?” Athena struggled to keep her face impassive as they fell in step together. “When?”

“When I was a little girl.”

“How little?”

“I don’t know. Three or four. It was a hot summer night and Mama had left the window open. I was awakened by a sound outside. I looked out and that’s when I saw the ghost.”

“What did the ghost look like?”

“She was all white and glowing. I said, ‘Mama! Come look!’, but when I turned back, the ghost was gone.”

“What did your mother say when you told her?”

“She said I had dreamt it.”

“You are a very smart girl, Miss Russell,” Athena said gently. “You must know there are no such things as ghosts.”

Miss Russell pursed her lips and stamped her foot. “But I saw her .”

Athena sensed that any further attempts to persuade the girl on the matter would be futile. Changing the subject, she asked, “Have you been writing in your notebook?” Athena had approved the notebook that the girl had brought from home but didn’t know what she used it for.

“I write in it every day. It’s where I record my most important thoughts. And all the stories that the servants and people in the neighborhood have been telling me about ghosts.”

“When have you had time to speak to people in the neighborhood about ghosts?” Athena was beginning to feel concerned.

“On Sunday, after church.”

“Miss Russell,” Athena scolded. “You have no business discussing such things with the villagers.”

“Why not?” Miss Russell’s blue eyes sparkled, and her voice grew increasingly animated as she spoke.

“Last Sunday, Miss Quince, the apothecary’s daughter, told me that she once saw a woman in white float through her back garden just after midnight.

And Tabitha said she once heard something in the attic above her room.

” The girl paused and let out a long, disappointed sigh.

“But Mrs. Lloyd checked, and it was just a pigeon that had gotten in through an open window.”

Athena thought back to her first night at Thorndale Manor, when she and Selena had sensed a mysterious presence. She shook her head. “Don’t you see? There is no foundation for either of those stories. They were figments of the women’s imaginations, fed by local legends.”

“Tabitha might have imagined it, but the ghosts that Miss Quince and I saw were real ,” the girl insisted.

It was time to change the subject again. “What else have you been writing about in your journal?”

“Well.” Miss Russell hesitated again. “If you must know, I have been writing about Caroline Vernon.”

Athena’s pulsed quickened. “Why?”

“The other day, during our science lesson, you said something that got me thinking.”

“What did I say?”

“You said Miss Vernon may not have committed murder at all .”

“Oh. I shouldn’t have—” Athena began, but the girl hurried on.

“You forbade me from investigating Sally Osborn’s drowning, but you didn’t say anything about Miss Vernon. She’s another woman from this house who was involved in murder . You can’t object to me looking into her ; it happened so long ago, before I was even born.”

“I do object, Miss Russell. I—”

“I asked Mrs. Lloyd what happened back then,” Miss Russell continued, as if Athena had not spoken. “But she refused to talk about it. Miss Quince got upset when I brought up the subject. Which is interesting, don’t you think? I wonder if she is hiding something?”

“Miss Russell!” Athena exclaimed. “This line of thinking is not healthy for you. This is a school, not a place for flights of fancy. You must devote your time and energy to studying and learning.”

The girl’s shoulders sagged. “Mama and Papa said the same thing. They say I am too smart for my own good. But I finish all my assignments early. What else am I supposed to do?”

Athena frowned. Although Miss Russell was the youngest pupil in the school, she had indeed made a habit of turning in her work ahead of schedule, and it was almost always brilliantly done.

Athena needed to find some productive way for this girl to spend her time.

An idea suddenly occurred to her. “Miss Russell. You said you want to be a novelist some day?”

“Yes?”

“Why not begin now?”

“Now?”

“This will be your own personal assignment. I want you to take all the extra time on your hands and write a book.”

“ A book ?” Miss Russell’s mouth fell open. “I don’t know how to write a book.”

“I suppose you’ll have to figure it out, then.”

“How would I even start?”

“I imagine you’ll want to plot out a story.”

“About what?”

“Anything you like.”

“Can it be about a ghost?”

Athena was about to protest but then thought better of it. Let the girl write about whatever interested her. “If you wish.”

“Come in, girls!” Selena was clapping her hands. “It’s time for period two.”

As the other pupils crossed the courtyard towards the house, Miss Russell looked up at Athena with worry in her blue eyes. “Miss Taylor?”

“Yes?”

“You haven’t said what my punishment will be. For our meeting in the attic.”

Athena smiled down at her. “I’m not going to punish you for that, Miss Russell.”

“You’re not?” Miss Russell exclaimed with apparent relief.

“It was a girlish caper. You all had your fun and have promised never to do it again. Am I right?”

“Yes! Thank you, Miss Taylor.” Miss Russell paused. “One more thing. What if I can’t do it? Write a book, I mean?”

“I have faith in you, Miss Russell,” Athena assured her. “It all starts with the first page.”

*

The skies were grey and overcast as Athena crossed the lawns and fields to Thorndale Cottage, reputedly the former bailiff’s house, where Mr. Vernon lived. She had never been there.

For some reason, she had felt compelled that morning to don one of her nicest day gowns, a two-piece ensemble in forest-green linen that featured a dome-shaped skirt, a white lace collar, and tight-fitting sleeves with embroidered cuffs.

She had taken extra care with her hair as well, pinning it up neatly above her nape and making sure that not a hair was out of place.

Why she had gone to such effort, she couldn’t say.

This was just a short visit to Mr. Vernon, to seek advice about the leak in her attic, nothing more.

A new, wooden fence separated her property from his.

After she climbed over the stile, it was a short walk across a narrow garden to the cottage.

The one-story building, fashioned of grey stone, was charming and looked very well-maintained.

It had a sloped roof, several good-sized sash windows, and a green front door beneath an arched trellis of old climbing roses that still featured a few fading blooms.

Studying the cottage, Athena was filled with a sense of nostalgia, for it reminded her of the cozy, old country house where she had grown up. And yet she couldn’t help wondering if the former owner of Thorndale Manor considered this to be a step down in life.

She knocked. After a moment, the front door was opened by a grey-haired woman wearing a servant’s cap and an apron that was dusted with flour. “May I help you?”

“I’m Athena Taylor. I sent a note yesterday, to arrange a meeting with Mr. Vernon?”

“You’re the one what lives at the manor house now? Runs that school?”

“Yes, I am.”

“Wait here.” The woman disappeared, leaving the door ajar. Athena heard her say, “Mr. Vernon, Miss Taylor is here to see you.”

“Please show her in, Mrs. Elliston,” was Mr. Vernon’s muted reply.

The woman ushered Athena inside and shut the door. The house was filled with the aroma of simmering meat and potatoes mingled with the fragrance of baking bread. The entryway and corridor were paved in stone and the walls looked like they had been recently whitewashed.