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L ater that afternoon, while Selena was teaching period five French, Athena was seated on her favorite wicker chair in the conservatory, taking notes from a biology book, when Mr. Chapman strode in, early for his music lesson.

“Good afternoon.” His smile evaporated when he took in her face. “Miss Taylor! What happened?”

Athena, tired of the subject, lightly replied, “I had an unforeseen meeting with a ditch.”

“Where was this?”

“On the road, coming home from Darkmoor Park.” She hoped that would be the end of it, but Mr. Chapman’s features crinkled.

“That’s a fairly wide road. And yet you fell into a ditch? Why?”

Athena sighed. It was easier to admit the truth than to invent some story. She told him about the runaway carriage. “It was just a bizarre incident. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m glad you’re fine—all evidence to the contrary.” Mr. Chapman gestured to the chair beside her. “May I sit with you for a minute?”

“Of course.”

He sat. After some hesitation, in a deeply serious tone he asked, “Are you certain the carriage driver didn’t see you walking in the road?”

Athena was uncomfortable now and wished she hadn’t told him. “He couldn’t have seen me. Otherwise…” She couldn’t bring herself to complete the thought.

“Otherwise, it might mean that he was deliberately trying to run you down.”

The concept sent a chill shuddering down Athena’s spine. She and Selena had considered the same thing before dismissing it. “Why would you even think that, Mr. Chapman?”

“I’ve been worried about you, Miss Taylor, ever since last Sunday when you said something in the churchyard…” He broke off, as if similarly uncomfortable about finishing his statement.

“I think I know the comment to which you refer,” Athena replied, frowning.

“Do you think it’s prudent to announce your suspicions about the death of Harold Sinclair in a public place?”

“I wasn’t thinking. I should have known better.”

“If I overheard you, someone else may have as well. They may not have taken kindly to the idea of you snooping around in that affair. Carriages and drivers can be hired, you know. Even ones capable of foul deeds, for a price.”

“I thought of that.” Athena’s stomach tightened. “I told myself it was an absurd fancy.”

“Where there’s smoke, there’s fire, Miss Taylor.”

Athena stared at him. “What did you say?”

“ Where there’s smoke, there’s fire . It’s an old saying. It means—”

“I know what it means! My mother always quoted that to me and my sisters.” It felt like a sign—that she and Selena had been on the right track in the first place about that carriage.

“It seems highly unusual to me that a carriage would accidentally run you off the road. But how could they have known that you would be on the road that very day, at that hour?” His eyes widened, and he gasped.

“Oh, no! It’s my fault. At the apothecary shop on Monday—I may have mentioned your visiting schedule at Darkmoor Park? ”

“Don’t blame yourself. How could you have known?”

“The shop was full.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue. “Anyone could have overheard.”

“You could be wrong about all this.”

“I could be,” he acknowledged. “Just in case, I would like to look into it for you.”

“How?”

“I can make inquiries in villages and towns within a ten-mile radius to see if anyone hired a carriage that day. What did the carriage look like?”

“It was a black brougham pulled by two horses.”

“Did it have any special markings?”

“None that I noticed.” Off his nod, she added, “Thank you for offering to do this, Mr. Chapman. I don’t have time to conduct a widespread search like that.”

“It will be my pleasure.” He stood with a smile.

“Now I’d best go prepare for my lesson.” He started away and then paused.

“Do you know, it’s happened again. I almost walked off without giving you a message from Mrs. Hillman.

” From his coat pocket, he pulled out a cream-colored envelope.

“It’s another invitation to tea at Darkmoor Park.

This Sunday afternoon. But it’s not just for you and your sister.

This time, it’s to include all of your pupils as well. ”

Athena’s heart swelled as she stood and accepted the missive. “Oh! The girls will love that. If I write a note of acceptance, will you take it home to Mrs. Hillman after your class?”

“Of course. However, I have a request in return.”

“What is that?”

His voice was filled with concern. “Whatever I may find out about that carriage… we should keep to ourselves. This mission of yours is unwise, Miss Taylor. It may open you to unseen dangers. I should have warned you to drop it when you first mentioned it to me. And now I implore you. Please, give it up.”

Athena pressed her lips together tightly and then shook her head. “I can’t give it up. I have too much at stake, Mr. Chapman. The very reputation of my house is on the line, and with it, the future of my school.”

He let go a long sigh. “Well, then, please be careful.”

She’d heard that before, from her sister Diana. “I will,” Athena promised as he quit the room.

*

“This is the most beautiful dining room I’ve ever seen,” enthused Miss Weaver on Sunday afternoon as she took in that elegant chamber at Darkmoor Park.

It is indeed a remarkable chamber , Athena thought, with its carved ceiling, glittering gilt brass chandelier, gold-flecked wallpaper, and gilded moldings .

Mrs. Hillman, at the head of the table, smiled with a satisfied and proprietary air at her assembled guests, who included Mr. Chapman, Athena, Selena, and their five pupils.

The girls, who had not stopped ooh ing and aah ing from the moment they’d entered the house, seemed to be equally agog at the splendor of the table, which was elegantly set with bone china dishes, gleaming silverware, etched crystal glasses, and embroidered linen napkins.

An artful centerpiece fashioned of sprays of dried wheat, flax, millet, pheasant feathers, and autumn leaves was surrounded by tiered trays and platters laden with a veritable feast that included several kinds of cakes, biscuits, scones, finger sandwiches, and dishes of cream and jam.

Two maids stood at attention by the sideboard, ready to refill teacups from several tea pots.

“Thank you, Miss Weaver,” Mrs. Hillman said. “I put a lot of thought into the decoration of this room. I’m delighted that you appreciate it.”

“I wish I could live at your house,” Miss Jones said breathlessly.

“Will Darkmoor Park be yours one day, Mr. Chapman?” asked Miss Russell as she turned to that gentleman.

Mr. Chapman’s face colored slightly. “That is not something I think about, Miss Russell. The matter lies entirely in the hands of Mrs. Hillman.”

“But Mrs. Hillman has no children, does she?” asked Miss Weaver as she bit into a watercress sandwich.

“And isn’t Mr. Chapman your nephew?” Miss Russell persisted.

“He is not,” answered Mrs. Hillman. “I may think of Peter as such, but we are not blood relatives. In fact, I have no close relations.”

“None at all?” Miss Russell sounded appalled.

“None at all. Nor any natural heirs.”

“Miss Russell!” reprimanded Athena, feeling the awkwardness of the moment. “This is not a polite subject to discuss at tea.”

“Why not?” Miss Russell said. “Grownups talk about such things all the time.”

“You are not yet grown up,” Selena pointed out.

“Miss Taylor is right,” instructed Mrs. Hillman.

“There are three subjects which one must never discuss at social gatherings: religion, politics, and money. This house is worth a great deal of money, and therefore, it is improper to mention who might inherit it. Particularly when I—the current owner—am still living and sitting at the table with you.”

Miss Russell blushed. “I do beg your forgiveness.”

“Granted,” replied Mrs. Hillman with a firm nod, adding, “You are young and still learning how to behave in company—this is a good lesson for you.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice dramatically. “However, I will break the rule just this once and satisfy your curiosity.”

The room fell silent. Athena sensed that everyone was holding their breath as they turned their attention to their hostess.

“When my late husband passed away, he left Darkmoor Park to me to do with as I pleased. It is not subject to a male-only entail. I have not yet decided to whom I shall leave it.” Sitting up straight again, she added, “And now let us talk of other things. Are you enjoying school, Miss Russell?”

“Yes, ma’am,” the little girl replied.

The twosome began chatting amiably. Athena regarded them with interest. Mrs. Hillman seemed to be particularly drawn to Miss Russell.

Athena recalled that after their outdoor botany lesson, Mr. Vernon had reacted similarly.

She could see why. Although their youngest pupil, Miss Russell was one of the brightest and most charming.

“What is your favorite subject, dear?” Mrs. Hillman asked.

“Reading and writing,” Miss Russell responded immediately.

“Oh? What are you reading at present?”

“Lots of things. The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe, for one. It’s a short story in an old issue of The Pioneer, an American magazine. It’s about a man who committed a murder and then goes nearly insane with guilt.”

Mrs. Hillman cast a glance at Athena. “Is that proper reading material for an eight-year-old girl?”

“It’s not in our curriculum,” Athena explained. “Miss Russell brought the magazine from home, but Mr. Poe is a fascinating writer. In class, we are reading Miss Austen’s Northanger Abbey .”

“Ah! One of my favorites.” Mrs. Hillman bobbed her head in approval. “Are you acquainted with the novel, Peter?”

“I’ve never heard of it,” he admitted.

Miss Cecilia retrieved another scone. “The second half of the book takes place at an old house that used to be an abbey, just like this one.”

“Perhaps that is one reason I like it so much.” Mrs. Hillman motioned to the maid to refill her cup of tea.

“I love the hero, Henry Tilney.” Miss Jones clasped her hands with a sigh.