Page 105 of Rules for Ruin

“Come and find me after the Derby,” she told him.

With that, she slipped out of the compartment and off of the train.

27

A short hackney cab drive later, Effie arrived at the tall black iron gates of the Academy. This time, she didn’t remain there, waiting impatiently for one of the junior teachers to let her in. Effie was no guest. No former inmate visiting her onetime place of confinement. She was a young lady returning home. She did what she’d been trained to do. She picked the lock.

It was slightly more difficult than the mechanism of an interior door or a simple desk drawer, but no match for her determination. Stabbing her dragonfly hairpins back into her rolled coiffure, Effie entered the grounds, shutting the gates behind her.

She strode up the pebbled path with uncommon purpose. She’d almost reached the door when Nell emerged. She wore a plain stuff dress, covered in a neatly starched apron.

Her eyes went wide. “Effie! What in the world—”

“I’ve come to see her,” Effie said. “I know you advised me not to return, but it can’t be helped. Circumstances demand it.”

Nell frowned, but she didn’t question her. She stepped back, admitting Effie into the empty hall. There were no students about at this time of day. The hour was yet early. They would still be in their classes.

“I just received your latest samplers this morning,” Nell said. “I gave them to Miss Corvus. It’s she who determines my replies.”

“She can reply to me herself.” Effie removed her bonnet and gloves. “Is she doing any better?”

“A great deal better, in fact. She still keeps to her rooms, but she’s growing stronger by the day. A period of enforced rest has worked miracles on her constitution.”

The weight of worry Effie had been carrying these many weeks began to ease. She had been afraid for her former teacher. Frightened she would die. It had made no sense at the time, given Effie’s bitterness toward Miss Corvus. But it made sense to her now.

“I’m relieved to hear it,” she said. “Will you take me to her?”

“Of course.” Nell escorted Effie through the hall. The painting of Judith Slaying Holofernes loomed large ahead of them. So, too, the portrait of Miss Corvus standing in the doorway. Effie glanced at them as they passed, taking comfort from their familiarity.

Arriving at the iron-banded wooden doors that marked Miss Corvus’s private chambers, Nell knocked once.

“Come!” Miss Corvus called out.

Nell opened the door. The faint, sickly sweet fragrance of decay emerged, tickling Effie’s nose just as it had when she’d opened the medieval books in Compton’s library.

“Miss Flite has come to see you, ma’am,” Nell said. “Shall I—”

“Send her in,” Miss Corvus replied tersely.

This time, Effie didn’t quail at the sound of her old schoolmistress’s voice. On the contrary, she was rather impatient to face her. Squaring her shoulders, she entered the cool, black-shrouded darkness of Miss Corvus’s rooms.

Nell moved to close the door after her. “I shall give you privacy.”

“There’s no need,” Effie said. “Indeed, I had rather you joined us.”

• • •

Seated in the armchair across from Miss Corvus, Effie related what she’d learned about her mother, leaving out only the parts that overtly involved Gabriel Royce. She owed Nell and Miss Corvus honesty, but some things were lately too private to share. Gabriel was one of them.

It had been but a short time since Effie had left him on the train. Less than an hour altogether, yet her heart was still aching with love for him. It wasn’t a burdensome ache. Quite the reverse. Knowing he cared for her and that she cared for him in return was a powerful elixir. It bolstered Effie’s courage, giving her the strength to face Miss Corvus and to recount the awful details of what Mrs. Young had shared in Trowley Green.

Nell remained standing by the black-curtained window as Effie finished her tale, her arms folded and her face gone pale with sympathetic anguish.

Miss Corvus was similarly solemn, though it was irritation that etched her hardened countenance, not fellow feeling. She hadn’t expected visitors today. Rather than her usual black silk, she was dressed in a gray flannel dressing gown. A linen handkerchief was crumpled in her hand.

“How much did you know of all this?” Effie asked her.

Miss Corvus remained silent. The malachite table was arrayed beside her, just as it had been on Effie’s last visit. The same tray sat upon it, holding a glass of water, a silver pitcher, and a brown bottle of patent medicine. Despite the evidence of the sickroom, Miss Corvus did appear to be improving in health. She sat taller in her green damask chair, her eyes alert and her face no longer waxen with illness.