“Speak for yourself.” He looked around the kitchen. “I wonder if there is any of the salmon pie left?”
She glared. “Try to pay attention here, Ambrose.”
“Sorry.” He sat down, folded his hands on the table and regarded her with the air of a well-behaved schoolboy. “What was it you were saying?”
“We both know that, in spite of your attempt to make light of the matter, your reputation is not in grave danger here. And neither is mine, for that matter.”
“Huh.” He rubbed his chin. “Are you quite certain of that?”
“Yes.” She drew herself up and attempted a brave smile. “I can deal with any problems that might develop from this affair. Do not forget that I have spent many years concealing my past. I will be able to forge a new identity again. Sooner or later I will obtain another position in a girls’ school.”
“I see. You do not need me to protect your reputation, is that it?”
“My reputation is my responsibility, Ambrose, not yours. It is very kind of you to assume such a gallant attitude, but I assure you, it is not necessary.”
“What about the girls? I got the impression that they rather enjoyed
living here. I know that Phoebe has written to her aunt and is quite looking forward to being reunited with her. But surely you do not intend to send the others back to the very same relatives who were only too happy to pay Trimley and Larkin to dispose of them.”
“Of course not.” She stiffened, shocked by the notion. “I gave the girls my word that they would have a home with me as long as they wished. I would not dream of going back on such a promise.”
“No,” he said. “You would never do that.”
“They may be wealthy young ladies now, but they still need protection and stability until they are mature enough to go out into the world,” she continued. “They must also learn to manage their inheritances and to be cautious of men who might try to wed them for their money.”
“I agree.”
“But the girls are my responsibility, Ambrose, not yours,” she said earnestly. “Now that the danger is past, you must not feel that you have any further obligations toward them. Or to me.”
He got to his feet, leaned forward and planted both hands on the table. “In other words, I am free to go back to the life that I have created for myself. Is that what you are saying?”
“Well, yes. Yes, I suppose that is what I am trying to say.”
“But what if that life no longer appeals to me?” he said.
“I beg your pardon?”
“What if I have discovered that I rather like having a partner again?”
“Ambrose—”
“Before you offer any more excuses for your failure to make an honest man of me, will you answer one question?”
She could hardly breathe. “What is that?”
“Do you love me, Concordia?”
The tears that she had been struggling to hold back leaked from the corners of her eyes. She removed her eyeglasses and dabbed furiously at the moisture with the sleeve of her robe.
“You must know that I do,” she whispered.
“No, I did not know. I admit that I had hopes in that regard, but I could not be sure and the uncertainty has been damn near intolerable. Concordia, look at me.”
She blinked hard to clear her eyes and replaced her glasses. “What is it?”
“I love you,” he said.
“Oh, Ambrose.” More tears welled up and spilled down her cheeks. “You must see that it is impossible.”
“Why?”
She flung her arms wide. “You are a wealthy gentleman, one of the heirs to Stoner’s estate. If you truly wish to marry, you can look much higher than an impoverished teacher with a disreputable past.”
“How many times do I have to tell you I am no gentleman. I am merely a somewhat reformed thief who is still addicted to the dark thrill of crawling through other people’s windows late at night, opening locked drawers and digging up secrets that are none of my business.”
She frowned. “You know very well that is not an accurate description of yourself. You are a noble, dedicated knight who is committed to righting wrongs.”
“No, my love, I’m a professional thief who is descended from a long
line of rogues and scoundrels. You are the noble, dedicated person in this kitchen, not me. It is clear that I desperately need your strong moral guidance and influence if I am to resist the temptation to fall back into my old habits.”
“Ambrose.” She did not know whether to laugh or cry. “I do not know what to say.”
“Ask me to marry you.” He straightened and moved around the end of the table to take her into his arms. “That is the best way to ensure that I stay on the right path. It will also settle your account.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I take my fees in the form of favors, if you will recall. The favor I wish from you is an offer of marriage.”
She put her hands on his shoulders. She could see the warmth and the promise in his eyes. Ambrose would not lie to her, she thought. She had trusted him with her life and the lives of her students. He had said that he loved her. She could trust him with her heart.
Something inside her that had been very cold and alone for a long time blossomed as though struck by sunlight. She had found someone to love. She would not reject this extraordinary gift.
“I love you with all my heart,” she whispered. “Will you marry me, Ambrose?”
“Yes,” he said against her mouth. “Yes, please. As soon as possible.”
Joy sang through her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with all of the passion and love she had been storing up for the right man.
He moved his mouth to her throat.
“You were wrong about one thing,” he said.
“What was that?”
“My imagination is more wide-ranging than you think. I am, for example, quite capable of viewing this kitchen table as a suitable location for a passionate tryst.”
“Ambrose.”
“Not in front of the dogs, I trust,” Stoner said from the doorway.
Dante and Beatrice bounded into the room.
“Or the young ladies,” Stoner added.
Hannah, Phoebe, Edwina and Theodora arrived in the doorway behind Stoner.
“Did she ask him yet?” Hannah demanded.
Stoner smiled benevolently at Ambrose and Concordia. “Yes, I believe she did.”
“What did Mr. Wells say?” Edwina asked eagerly.
From the circle of Ambrose’s arms, Concordia looked at the enthusiastic crowd in the doorway. They were all linked together, she thought. She could feel the invisible bonds that connected her not only to Ambrose, but to John Stoner and the four girls. Felix Denver was a part of this circle, too.
She recognized this feeling. It had been a very long time since she had last experienced it, but some things one never forgot.
This was how it felt to have a family.
She smiled. “I am delighted to inform you that Mr. Wells said yes.”
A
nnie Petrie made her way through the old cemetery shortly after midnight. Fog shrouded the headstones and monuments, much as it had the first time she met him here. She clutched the edges of her cloak with one hand and held the lantern aloft with the other.
“Are you here, sir?” she whispered into the shadows.
“Please turn the lantern down, Mrs. Petrie.”
The voice came from the entrance of a nearby crypt. She swung around with a start and then hastily turned down the lantern.
“I got your message,” she said. “And I saw the reports in the newspaper this morning. All about how that Edith Pratt killed Nellie. I don’t know how to thank you, sir.”
“You are satisfied with the results of my inquiries?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Sometimes answers do not bring us the solace that we would wish.”
“That’s as may be,” she said, surprising herself with the strength of her own voice. “But I can tell you for certain that my mind is more
settled now that I know that the person who murdered my sister will pay for her crime.”
“I am pleased to have been of service.”
She hesitated. “About your fee, sir. I hope you haven’t changed your mind about taking it out in trade? I have a little money, but not a great deal.”
“I told you when you hired me that I might someday require a quantity of your wares. That day has arrived somewhat sooner than I anticipated.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“I wish to purchase thirty-eight parasols.”
She was thunderstruck. “But whatever will you do with so many, sir?”
“I have a plan.”
“Yes, sir.” She reminded herself that the rumors concerning this man had always made it clear that he was an odd one. Sensible people, after all, did not engage in the sort of work that he did. “You can have as many parasols as you like. There’s no need to pay for them. I will give them to you. After what you’ve done for me, it is the least I can do.”
“We will consider one of the parasols as payment in full for my services,” he said. “You will receive a fair price for the rest.”
“If you insist, sir.”
“I would like the one that will settle your account to have a very special design. Can you manage that?”
“Yes, sir. My assistant is very good at that sort of thing. What sort of design did you wish for the special parasol?”
“I will see to it that you receive a sketch.”
“Very good, sir.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Petrie.”
There was an almost imperceptible movement in the deep shadows of the crypt. Had he just bowed to her as though she were a proper lady instead of a shopkeeper?
“Will that be all, sir?”
“Yes, Mrs. Petrie. I hope you will recommend my services to others who might be interested in hiring me.”
He could not possibly be teasing her, she told herself. A man with his reputation was unlikely to possess a sense of humor.
“Good night, sir.”
She hoisted the lantern and went quickly toward the cemetery gates.
She knew she would sleep a little more soundly tonight.
A
hushed silence descended when Concordia walked into the dining hall. Thirty-seven anxious young girls rose respectfully. Thirty-seven pairs of eyes turned toward her. Miss Burke and the handful of other staff members who had been retained stood in a small cluster against the wall. They looked just as uncertain and as uneasy as the students. Hannah, Phoebe, Edwina and Theodora stood on the opposite side of the hall. Phoebe’s aunt Winifred was with them, smiling happily.
Concordia went briskly down the aisle between the assembled students. She came to a halt at the front of the room and turned to face her audience. She saw Hannah’s friend Joan sitting in the first row. She looked hopeful and expectant.
Ambrose watched from the doorway. Love and a fierce pride radiated from him in waves that she could feel across the distance that separated them. Felix stood next to him, lounging elegantly against the side of the
door. John Stoner was directly behind the two men. His face was alight with satisfaction.
She turned her attention back to the girls in front of her and felt a glorious sense of exhilaration. No one looked into the future in the same way that a teacher did, she thought. That was because a teacher looked into the eyes of her students.
“You may be seated,” she said.
There was a soft rustle of skirts and petticoats as the students dutifully took their seats.
“Good morning,” she said. “My name is Miss Glade. I am the new headmistress of your school. I am to be married soon, and then you will call me Mrs. Wells. But that will not change my position here at Winslow.”
A soft, audible intake of breath rippled across the room. Several of the girls exchanged baffled glances. Ladies never worked outside the home after they were married.
“As you will soon discover, I have some very modern, some would say unconventional, theories concerning the education of young women,” Concordia continued. “There will be a number of changes taking place here at Winslow. Among other things there will be a new cook and a new menu. There will also be new uniforms and more fires lit on cold days. The sheets will be changed more frequently. In addition, this school will accept girls who are alone in the world from all walks of life, whether or not their backgrounds are deemed respectable.”
A murmur swept through the room.
“I shall be your primary instructor, but I will have the assistance of
four former students who have decided to train to become teachers. Their names are Edwina and Theodora Cooper, Hannah Radburn and Phoebe Leyland.”
At the back of the room the four beamed.
“We shall also enjoy the attention of a new benefactor,” Concordia continued. “His name is Mr. Stoner. In addition to providing for the financial needs of the school, he will immediately begin instructing a new class in which you will all be taught an ancient philosophy and a series of physical and meditative exercises. You will be the first females ever to be trained in the arts of Vanza.”
Curiosity sparked in the faces of the girls.
“My goal,” Concordia continued, “is to provide you with an education and the accomplishments that will allow each of you to make choices regarding your own futures after you leave Winslow. The world is changing with great speed. The young ladies who graduate from Winslow will be prepared to take advantage of those changes. Indeed, I have every expectation that some of you will
lead
them.”
The students were staring at her, openmouthed and wide-eyed now.
She smiled. “We have a lot of adventures in front of us. But at this moment the sun is shining and for once the air is clean outside. I understand that most of you have not been allowed beyond the boundaries of the grounds of this school since the day you arrived. I am a strong believer in the importance of daily exercise. I intend that we shall institute the habit immediately. Please follow me.”
She swept back down the aisle between the rows of chairs. There was a short, startled silence followed by a great deal of scurrying behind her.
The girls jumped to their feet and hurried in her wake.
She paused briefly at the door and turned back to face them again. “One more thing. In the front hall there are a number of pretty new parasols. You will each take one. They are yours to keep.”