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Athena’s heart pounded with mortification. Just moments earlier, she had asked Mrs. Powell if she remembered Edward Ackroyd being at that garden party. He gave Athena a silent glare that was as sharp as cut glass then brushed past her and left the shop.

Had he overheard her discussion with Mrs. Powell? Was he still offended by her line of questioning the day before? Or both? Either way, did it point to his guilt or innocence? There was no way to know.

Mrs. Powell paid for her medicine, said goodbye, and quit the shop, leaving Athena at the head of the line. She placed her order for a cough remedy, requesting one that wouldn’t make the patient sleepy.

Miss Quince discussed the matter with Mr. Quince and returned. “My father says he’ll make a mild tincture of laudanum. It will just take a few minutes.”

While they waited, Athena commented in what she hoped was a casual tone, “It’s nice to see Mr. Ackroyd back in the neighborhood.”

Miss Quince shrugged. “It’s been so long since he’s been in, I’d forgotten what he looked like.”

“He’s been away at sea for nine years, I think?” Athena gave Miss Quince a meaningful look. “Ever since…?”

Miss Quince brushed back a blonde curl from her forehead, returning Athena’s stare. “You mean… ever since Harold Sinclair was murdered?”

Athena nodded.

“I guess Mr. Ackroyd didn’t have the heart to come home, after he’d heard what Caroline Vernon had done.”

Miss Quince had emphasized the woman’s name with undisguised disgust, which Athena found intriguing. Athena lowered her voice confidentially. “Do you think Miss Vernon really did it?”

“She was convicted, wasn’t she?”

“A conviction doesn’t guarantee guilt.”

“Oh, she did it, all right.” Miss Quince’s lips curled. “Caroline Vernon was a pathetic creature. She had everything a woman could want and didn’t appreciate any of it. To murder a man in cold blood like that! Good riddance to her, is what I say.”

The remark was so unexpected and uttered with such venom, it took Athena a moment to respond. It was time to ask the questions she’d come in for. “Miss Quince, do you remember the maid who gave evidence at Miss Vernon’s trial? Miss Ethel Leighton?”

“I read about her in the papers.”

Mr. Quince placed a small bottle on the counter and withdrew. Miss Quince announced the price for the medicine.

Athena asked, “What is Ethel Leighton’s married name?”

“I have no idea. She did everybody a favor, though, so justice could be done.”

“But was justice done?” Athena persisted.

“Enough chitchat!” complained Mr. Osborn impatiently from behind her. “Pay for the bloody thing and move on!”

Athena paid the bill, turned, and gave the medicine to Mr. Osborn. “Sir, would you do me a favor and please give this to your daughter?”

He gave vent to an annoyed huff. “I told you not to buy her any.”

“Well, I did. And I am hoping it will do her some good.”

Mr. Osborn frowned, stuffed the bottle in a pocket without a thank you , and took his place at the counter.

“I’ll see you at school,” Athena told Mr. Chapman, who returned the friendly farewell.

She left the shop, still embarrassed by the look Mr. Ackroyd had given her and disappointed that her conversation with Miss Quince had come to such an abrupt end. The woman’s remarks were mystifying.

“Pathetic creature. She had everything a woman could want and didn’t appreciate any of it… Good riddance to her, is what I say.”

What had been behind Miss Quince’s spiteful outburst? It was a matter that needed looking into.

*

Over the next two days, Athena’s time was so consumed by teaching, lesson planning, and grading papers, she barely had a minute to spare.

Miss Weaver continued to show unusual prowess in both science and mathematics, and to foster those interests, Athena was compiling a reading list and a research project just for her.

Early one chilly morning, Mr. Vernon stopped by to inspect the roof, bringing a burly, bearded, blond man named James Carson to assist. They had lashed two tall, wooden ladders together, creating a ladder long enough to reach the eaves of the roof at the gutter line.

Athena stole a few minutes to watch the end of the proceedings, her heart in her throat the whole time.

Mr. Carson held the ladder at the base while Mr. Vernon worked at a precarious height using a device he had called a roof crawler, which had been fitted into the guttering to support it up the pitched side of the roof.

“One of the slates is indeed broken and there’s a piece missing,” Mr. Vernon told Athena and Mr. Carson when, to her relief, he returned to the ground to safety. “That’s what’s causing the leak.”

“Nothing we can’t fix,” Mr. Carson remarked cheerfully. Athena guessed him to be in his early fifties. He was barrel-chested with beefy arms and looked very fit.

“Thank you both so much for looking into this,” Athena said.

Mr. Carson smiled and touched his cap before heading back to the long cart they had brought. Athena crossed her arms over her chest in an attempt to warm herself. She hadn’t thought to bring her cape.

Mr. Vernon’s concerned gaze found hers. “You’re cold. You didn’t need to come out to watch. Would you like my jacket?”

“Thank you, I’m fine,” she said hastily, not wanting him to be without the added protection. “When do you think you can make the repair?”

“I’ll bring Carson and another crewman on Thursday morning. Do you mind if I leave the ladders in place?”

“That’s fine. Thank you again, sir.”

“Glad to help. See you Thursday.”

“See you then.”

He nodded goodbye. His parting smile reached his eyes, crinkling the corners, a smile that warmed up Athena’s insides and made her feel aglow for the rest of the day and far into the night. Just friends , she reminded herself. Just friends.

On Wednesday afternoon, she read aloud from The Wind Pirate to Mrs. Hillman, a pleasant experience, as always.

As she walked home from Darkmoor Park, Athena inhaled the crisp, autumn air, redolent with the scents of cow parsley and grass in the ditches at the roadside. It was one of her first free moments in days and she was delighted by the peace and quiet.

The late-afternoon sun had painted the sky bluish-grey. Clouds drifted overhead, as puffy and white as the baaa ing sheep in the nearby meadows. The only other sounds that caught Athena’s ears were the stirring of leaves in the trees and the fluttering of her cape and bonnet ribbons in the wind.

Suddenly, there was a new sound. A carriage was approaching from behind.

Athena glanced back and noted that the vehicle, which was black and pulled by two horses, was headed her way at a rapid pace.

She moved to the side of the road. When she glanced back again, to her dismay, the carriage driver was leaning forward in his seat, his hat pulled low as he urged the horses to go even faster.

Athena’s pulse pounded in alarm. The vehicle seemed to be heading directly towards her.

Why is the driver in such a hurry?

A rush of anxiety shot through her system. Athena moved as close as she could to the edge of the road, which dropped off sharply into a deep ditch. But the carriage was bearing down on her as if in deliberate pursuit.

In a few seconds, it will hit me. I’m about to be run over!

The ditch was terrifyingly deep. If she jumped, she might break her neck. But she had no choice. Do it! she told herself.

But before she could make the leap, Athena stumbled and fell down onto the road. Directly into the path of the oncoming vehicle.