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I n the yard beyond, Athena heard the chatter of their pupils as Selena led them back into the house for their next lesson. But inside the conservatory, all was silent.

Athena sat forward in her wicker chair, waiting, as Mr. Vernon began pacing the floor of the glassed-in chamber beside the potted plants and ferns.

“Caroline was dragged from our home, taken in irons to York Castle, and incarcerated in the Female Prison,” he said at last. “I bribed my way in to visit her a few times.” He let out a bark of disgust. “Debtors, I’m told, had more ‘comfortable’ rooms on the upper floor.

But women felons were housed on the ground floor, where the food and living conditions weren’t fit for an animal, much less a human being.

Caroline slept on a pile of straw. They shaved her head, withheld water, and only removed her waste once a week.

Her tiny cell was situated in the interior of the building without a single window or other means of admitting air or light.

She sat in darkness day and night, encaged by moldy walls like a rat in a trap. ”

“Dear lord.” A shudder swept through her. “Didn’t they let prisoners take fresh air in a yard?”

“No.” He ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“By the time of Caroline’s incarceration, York Prison had adopted a new style they called ‘the separate system,’ where prisoners were kept apart from each other at all times.

Even prison chapels have dividers in them now to keep prisoners from talking to each other. ”

Athena was profoundly disturbed. “How long was she at York Prison?”

“Nearly three months. The assizes in York are held four times a year. Caroline had just missed one trial and hanging cycle and had to wait for the next. Many prisoners in the felons’ wing got so ill, they didn’t live long enough to see their trials.

My sister might not have survived even those three months if I hadn’t stepped in. ”

“What did you do?”

“Because she was a gentlewoman, I was able to persuade the governor of the prison”—he rubbed his fingers together to indicate that said persuasion had required a financial outlay—“to give Caroline better food and more water, and to allow her to work in the laundry. It was grueling labor, but my sister begged me to arrange it, for it got her out of that dark cell for a few hours a day. Although she wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone, she befriended another prisoner, a woman named Harriet who also worked in the laundry.

” He ceased pacing and stopped a few feet away from her.

“Harriet was serving a life sentence for stealing a leg of mutton to feed her starving family. She had gone to prison a healthy young woman, but two years later, she was so ill with consumption, she could hardly breathe.”

“Oh! How horrible.” Athena stood, her stomach churning. She couldn’t bear to think of what these women and others like them had gone through. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Vernon. York Prison sounds like Hell on Earth.”

“It was.”

“What happened to Harriet?”

Mr. Vernon stared at the ground. “She died. And Caroline…” He seemed unable to finish the sentence.

Pain suffused his features, but it was soon replaced by resolution.

“Miss Taylor. You asked for my advice. Well, here it is: the past is past. We cannot alter it, no matter how much we might wish to. I respect your desire to find out who was behind the criminal act of which my sister was convicted, but at this late date, it is a puzzle that cannot be solved. And as I said, I don’t want that matter dragged out into public view again.

” He crossed to her and took both of her hands in his.

“How many times must I say it? Please, stop looking .”

His expression was so imploring, and so filled with concern, that Athena’s breath caught in her throat.

Despite the gravity of the moment, the touch of his hands on hers caused sparks to ignite throughout her body.

At the same time, her spirits flagged. He had dismissed every theory she had presented. “But, Mr. Vernon,” she began.

“Please, no but s. I beg you to direct your efforts to something more productive: your students and your school.” With that, he left the room.

Athena stood there, struggling to recover from the sensations still coursing through her. Why did she have to respond this way, every time this man touched her? Sudden tears burned behind her eyes.

Were they tears of frustration at the downtrodden state of her quest? Or tears of pain and sorrow for Caroline Vernon and other women like her who may have been unjustly incarcerated and hanged at York Prison? She couldn’t be certain.

*

From her hard, wooden bench in the train’s third-class compartment, Athena gazed out the window at passing fields and farms. She was on her way to York to visit the bookseller Mrs. Hillman had recommended.

Riding the train was a relatively new experience, and Athena marveled at this technological and engineering feat that made it possible to travel at the whirlwind speed of thirty-five miles per hour.

It was a challenge to focus on the scenery, however, for her thoughts were occupied by her conversation with Mr. Vernon the previous morning, and his plea for her to stop looking .

If only she could. But having learned how much Caroline Vernon had suffered had made Athena even more determined to solve the mystery.

She wouldn’t seek Mr. Vernon’s advice anymore.

But she wouldn’t give up. She would find a way to clear Miss Vernon’s name, which would not only restore Thorndale Manor’s tattered reputation, but Mr. Vernon’s as well.

He may be against this at the moment , she told herself, but when all is said and done, he’ll be glad I stayed the course. And then…

The memory of their kiss invaded Athena’s thoughts. She ordered it to go away. She had made it clear that she was not interested in a romantic relationship with him. She would not waver in that intention, or in her plan to find the truth and set things right.

Athena found Hardwick Booksellers on a busy shopping street a few blocks from the York Minster. The moment Athena stepped inside the long, narrow shop lined with endless rows of books and inhaled the pleasing scent of old paper and bindings, she felt at home.

She spent a good hour and a half with the shop’s proprietor, going over a list of books that she deemed suitable for a young girl’s education and entertainment.

Mr. Biggs was only too happy to charge the volumes to Mrs. Hillman’s account.

He promised to order any books they didn’t have from their sister shop in London and to have the whole shipment delivered to Thorndale Manor within a week or two.

Athena left the shop feeling satisfied. How wonderful it would be, going forward, for each of her pupils to have her own copy of the textbook or novel they were studying!

She was grateful to Mrs. Hillman for making this possible.

I shall happily read aloud to that good woman every week for the rest of my life, if she should wish it.

Athena was about to hail a cab back to the train station, when a road sign caught her eye, indicating the way to Clifford’s Tower.

On a previous visit to York, she’d had a glimpse of the famous ruined keep of the medieval Norman castle.

She recalled that it stood directly adjacent to York Prison, which was only a fifteen-minute walk from where she stood.

After hearing Mr. Vernon’s account of Caroline Vernon’s horrific experience at that prison, Athena felt a sudden need to see the place. Before she knew it, her footsteps were leading in that direction.

She soon arrived at Clifford’s Tower, the semi-ruin of an immense, two-story, stone fortress that had been designed like a four-leaf clover and stood high atop a humanmade mound.

The tower was situated within the perimeter of stone walls that enclosed York Castle, where the new prison had been constructed twenty-five years ago.

Athena continued along the boundary wall to the York Prison gatehouse, a crenellated stone fortress that resembled a small castle itself. Athena paused by a massive, wrought-iron gate and peeked in through the railings.

Within, she could see the castle courtyard, where she’d heard that the hangings took place.

A wide-open area of scrubby lawn was surrounded by a series of imposing-looking buildings.

The two most elegant were erected of sandstone and fronted by Ionic columns and pilasters.

One of them, she presumed, must be the Assize Court.

Which of the others housed debtors and felons? Which building was the Female Prison?

How many prisoners had been, and were still, unjustly incarcerated in this place?

Athena shuddered at the thought. She hungered to go inside those gates, and to stand in that empty courtyard where Miss Vernon had met her awful fate. But she knew that was impossible. The gates were locked, and she had no good reason to be here.

“Shiny, red apples,” called out a high-pitched, reedy voice. “One for a penny.”

A snowy-haired, withered-looking woman was seated on a stool outside the wall, beside a large basket of apples. Athena’s stomach rumbled, reminding her that it had been many hours since she had eaten. She approached the woman and offered her a coin.

“Here ye go, missy.” The old woman shined an apple against one sleeve of her faded dress before offering it to Athena.

“Thank you.” Athena accepted the apple, her attention still focused on the imposing sites beyond those wrought-iron gates.

“Here to see a prisoner, are ye?” the old woman asked.

“More to… honor the memory of one,” Athena replied distantly.

“Oh? I expect he were hanged?”

“Sadly, yes. And it was a she .”

The woman clucked her tongue. “Been selling apples here for nigh on forty years. I’ve seen far too many a felon hanged in that castle courtyard.”