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A few minutes’ walk brought Athena to Woodcroft House, giving her little time to reflect on Mr. Vernon’s revelation—and barely time to dry her tears.

As the butler answered the door, Athena squared her shoulders and requested a meeting with the master of the house.

Neville Sinclair was dressed for riding and about to leave for the stables, but he grudgingly granted Athena an interview in his study. When she admitted that this was an appeal to release Caroline Vernon, he rolled his eyes and insisted that Athena keep it brief.

Mr. Sinclair’s face remained expressionless as Athena went through her list of suspects and their possible motives.

She finished by explaining that Mrs. Ethel Hunt, nee Leighton, had admitted to giving false testimony at Miss Vernon’s trial.

“She never found rat poison in Miss Vernon’s room, sir. She made up the entire story.”

“Is that so?” He tugged at his blond mustache, his eyes narrowing. “And what reason does this Mrs. Hunt give for falsifying her testimony?”

“She was blackmailed into it, for reasons she prefers not to disclose.”

“‘ Prefers not to disclose ,’” Mr. Sinclair repeated. “And you come here, expecting me to accept this as proof of…what?”

“It proves, sir, that someone else murdered Harold Sinclair and framed Caroline Vernon for it. Mrs. Hunt said her blackmailer wore a mask but was of medium height and build and had blond hair. Every one of the suspects I named meets that description.”

He blinked at that and then let out a harsh laugh. “Miss Taylor. You must take me for a fool, but I assure you I am not . I considered all the people you have named nine years ago . None of them murdered my brother, I assure you.”

“But, sir—”

“Enough, Miss Taylor. Enough!” He sliced his hand through the air like a swordsman wielding his blade.

“You have tried my patience to the breaking point. Why do you feel so strongly about this subject, I wonder? Is it because you are keen to redeem the reputation of Thorndale Manor, by somehow mitigating Miss Vernon’s guilt?

Or is it your own guilt that drives you?

For let us be frank: it was you who led me to the attic at Darkmoor Park last night, and in so doing exposed Miss Vernon and sealed her fate. ”

Athena felt her cheeks flame and could make no reply.

“Either way, I have given you more than enough chances to plead your case, and I am done , do you hear me? Done .” He leaned forward across his desk, his eyes flashing.

“Caroline Vernon is a convicted murderer. She will be transported to York Prison tomorrow morning. Make no mistake about it, she will hang for her crime this time . I shall see to it.” He rang the servants’ bell and rose.

“Make this the last time you approach me about this matter. Now if you will forgive me, I must take my leave.”

As Athena headed back across the Woodcroft House grounds, every step seemed to require a monumental effort. All her efforts on Miss Vernon’s behalf had been in vain. Mr. Sinclair would do nothing. Mr. Vernon blamed Athena for everything, and she could only agree with him.

As she passed the dog kennel, dozens of hunting hounds eagerly leapt up and down behind the bars of their cages and barked their heads off. Their yapping had begun to ebb when she suddenly heard the approaching sound of even deeper, more furious barking.

Athena whirled in alarm to see two huge mastiffs racing in her direction, teeth bared in their snarling, black-masked faces.

Athena screamed in horror and started to run but then stopped herself.

She had been attacked by a dog once as a child and recalled what she’d been told, should it ever happen again.

“You cannot outrun an angry dog. It will awaken their prey instinct. Instead, drop and curl.”

Athena plunged to the grass and rolled up in a ball.

The dogs hurled themselves at her. Their vicious growls roared in her ears as they snapped their slobbering jaws.

Fabric ripped. One painful bite after another dug into her arm, a leg, her ankle.

Terrified, she recalled something else she had been told about dog attacks. “Distract them with an object.”

Athena managed to wriggle her handbag up between her fists and shoved it at one of the dogs. The angry beast clamped down on the bag but was only distracted for a few seconds before renewing its attack.

“Get off her!” came a man’s voice.

“Samson! Brutus! Down boys, down!” More shouts followed.

At last, the dogs were pulled off of her. Athena peered up at her rescuers, who were holding back the growling dogs by their collars. She recognized the first man as the groundskeeper, Mr. Leighton.

“Are you all right, miss?” he asked worriedly.

Athena’s mind refused to focus. She couldn’t speak. One of her arms, she noticed, was covered in gore. Her gown looked to be hopelessly ripped.

“I’m so sorry, miss,” said the second man. “I’m Barnes, the Master of the Hounds. The dogs are always locked up. I don’t know how they got loose.”

While the dogs’ keeper took them to their kennel, Mr. Leighton helped Athena to walk back to the house. Her arm and leg were bleeding, and she was in so much pain, she could barely think.

Mr. Sinclair was out riding. Mrs. Sinclair sent a servant to fetch the apothecary and ordered a maid to protect a sofa in the drawing room with sheets and towels before allowing Athena to lie down upon it.

The maid tried to staunch Athena’s wounds until Mr. Quince arrived.

The apothecary cleaned and stitched up Athena, gave her pain medicine, and insisted on driving her home.

“I did my best to clean the wounds, Miss Taylor, but I’m not satisfied,” Mr. Quince said as they neared Thorndale Manor in his carriage. “You must send for me at once if you develop a fever, for it could prove deadly.”

Athena nodded dully, her mind focused on other things. How had the guard dogs gotten loose? Had the gate been left open by accident? Or had it been yet another deliberate attack by someone who wanted her out of the way?

As she and Mr. Quince pulled up in the drive outside Thorndale Manor, her attention was diverted by an entirely different problem. Mr. and Mrs. Russell and Mr. and Mrs. Jones were standing beside two waiting vehicles and arguing with Selena.

Athena threw open the door of Mr. Quince’s coach and stepped down.

“It was bad enough that a murderer once inhabited this house, but to discover her still living !” Mrs. Jones was saying, her face red.

“To know that she had been hiding here for years and had never paid for her crime! It is unconscionable!” declared Mrs. Russell.

“Miss Vernon was not found here,” Selena began, but she wasn’t allowed to continue.

“Only because she was moved, which excuses nothing,” declared Mr. Jones.

“A maid died here only weeks ago!” proclaimed Mrs. Jones. “My own daughter wrote to say that she had discovered the body in the river!”

Alarmed, Athena thanked Mr. Quince and said goodbye . As his vehicle departed, she painfully made her way towards the arguing group.

“Dear lord!” Mr. Russell stared at Athena. “Is that your headmistress?”

“Athena!” Selena gaped. “What happened?”

“I was attacked by dogs. But never mind that. What is happening here?”

Selena’s frown deepened and she spoke into Athena’s ear. “Word has got out about Miss Vernon.”

“ Attacked by dogs ?” exclaimed Mr. Jones, without a shred of sympathy. “Is there no end to the horrific misadventures at this institution?”

“Sir,” Athena interjected. “I assure you that—” But no one was listening.

“I told you this house has a history !” Mrs. Russell hurled at her husband. “It is said to breed evil . You made light of it, but now we have the proof of it!” Turning to Selena, she added, “Tell Lucy to pack up her things at once. We are removing her from this school.”

Mr. Jones repeated the same order with regard to his daughter. “And I expect a full refund for this month’s tuition.”

“As do I,” insisted Mr. Russell.

Athena could only watch in dismay as, in short order, two trunks were brought out and loaded into the waiting vehicles, and the pupils in question were marched out of the building.

Selena hugged Miss Russell goodbye. The little girl’s eyes grew wide at the sight of Athena’s tattered dress and bandaged arm and leg. “Miss Taylor! Are you all right?”

“I’ll be fine. Don’t you worry about me.”

“I don’t want to go.” Miss Russell began to cry. “Mama and Papa are making me.”

Athena winced in pain as she embraced the girl. “You must do as your parents wish.”

“I’ll never forget you, Miss Taylor.”

“I’ll never forget you. Promise me you’ll keep writing wonderful stories.”

“I promise.”

Athena and Selena said heartfelt goodbyes to Miss Jones, who was also weeping. Both girls and their parents entered their respective coaches and drove away.

As she watched them go with a sinking heart, Athena realized that only three students remained at the school.

It could hardly be called a school anymore.

*

That night, Athena dreamt again of Caroline Vernon. This time, she wasn’t a bald wraith trapped in a prison cell. She was the picture of health and beauty—and she was being led to the gallows.

In the dream, an icy wind blew as Miss Vernon stopped before the noose. Her head held high, she proclaimed in a strong, clear voice, “I vow that I am innocent. But I will bravely meet my fate. I bear no ill will against those who have wrongly accused me. My heart is filled only with love.”

Athena awoke to find that dawn had broken, and her eyes were full of tears. The wounds on her arm, leg, and ankle ached. She was freezing cold and shivering violently.

“Athena? Why are your teeth chattering?” Selena crossed to Athena’s bedside and pressed a hand to her forehead. “Oh, no, you’re burning up with fever.”

Selena quit the room and hastily returned with Tabitha and Mrs. Lloyd, who took turns bathing Athena’s forehead with a cool, wet cloth.

Mr. Quince came and diagnosed an infection.

He cleaned and rebound Athena’s wounds, gave her another dose of pain medication, and did a round of bloodletting, which only left her feeling weak and listless.

“I will stop by again this evening,” the apothecary said in a low, worried tone. “In the meantime, keep the fire going and the windows shut. We cannot risk a bad humor entering her lungs, or she could perish.”

Athena, on the edge of sleep, heard this dire pronouncement but felt too tired and ill to care. If she were to die, so be it. It seemed a proper punishment for what she had done.

That afternoon, as Mrs. Lloyd tended her, Athena roused herself enough to ask what was going on with Caroline Vernon.

“Oh, Miss Taylor.” The housekeeper struggled not to cry. “I didn’t want to tell you. But I heard they took Miss Vernon to York Prison this morning, and that she’ll hang next week.”

Athena’s heart was in her mouth. Next week. “And what of Mr. Vernon?”

“He and Mrs. Hillman plan to go to York. They hope to visit Miss Vernon and plead her case to the magistrate.”

Athena knew that would be a futile effort. The new magistrate is Neville Sinclair.

The day wore on. Athena drifted in and out of sleep. She heard carriages arriving. An ominous foreboding took hold of her. She dragged herself to the window and opened it. In the drive below, Mrs. Gilbert and Mr. and Mrs. Weaver were alighting from separate vehicles.

Athena listened as they, too, voiced their discontent to Selena and demanded that their daughters be packed up for immediate removal from the premises.

How desperately Athena wanted to run downstairs and try to talk sense into these people, but she didn’t have the strength. She could only watch as the last pupils in the school were driven away. Athena sank down on her bed in misery. She had never felt so lost or low in her entire life.

The school was a failure and would have to close.

She had pledged to solve the mysteries of Sally Osborn’s and Harold Sinclair’s deaths, but other than unproven theories about a handful of suspects, she had nothing to show for her efforts.

She had only just opened her mind to the idea of marriage. But it was too late.

She loved Mr. Vernon with all her heart. But he would never know it, nor would he care. He would surely never forgive her for her part in his sister’s discovery and apprehension. He must hate her now. She’d lost him forever.

If there was a forever.

She was ill. So ill that she might die. Which is only what you deserve , Athena told herself.

But worse, far worse: Caroline Vernon was going to die in less than a week. And Athena was entirely to blame.

If only she had just minded her own business. If only she had not been so determined to solve these mysteries, especially the one about Pryor Corbett, which was so unimportant. Why was she driven to do things like this? Why, why, why?

Athena buried herself beneath the covers and gave vent to an onslaught of tears.

It was the end of everything.