Page 18 of Rules for Ruin

Was it fear? Effie suspected it might be.

“I expect you’re bound for that…that place at the edge of the Epping Forest,” Lady Belwood said.

Effie wondered that the woman couldn’t bring herself to say the Academy’s name. “I wouldn’t be surprised if my travels took me in that direction.”

Lady Belwood let the curtain fall. “But this is all very distressing!” She paced to the bedroom’s small fireplace, and from there to the double wardrobe. “I was assured, if I did as she wished, if I introduced you into polite society, there would be nothing connecting me to that…that place. And now, here you are, darting off there at the first opportunity!”

“No one will notice me,” Effie said.

“Everyone has noticed you, Miss Flite, from Lord Mannering and Sir Newton to Lord Compton himself. I’d no notion attending his ball would lead to an invitation to dine at his home. He’s such a good and decent gentleman. I shrink at deceiving him.”

Effie gave her hostess an interested look as she returned Franc to the ground. Lady Belwood was ignorant of Effie’s true purpose in attending Compton’s ball. Her ladyship thought it merely an introduction to society. She had no idea that Compton himself was Effie’s goal, not a successful London season.

“Is he likely to interrogate you on the subject?” Effie asked.

Lady Belwood batted the suggestion away with a wave of her hand. “Lord Compton is far too important to trouble himself with the pedigree of every young lady who crosses his path. He will doubtless take me at my word. But that’s beside the point.” She returned to the window. “It’s been lie upon lie for decades. If only I hadn’t—” She broke off, folding her arms as though she had a chill. “That woman contacted me three weeks ago with her request. I knew the day would come. I daren’t refuse her. Giving you a season is an easy enough task, after all. But if you should bring my name into disrepute—”

Effie indicated her sober countenance and unassuming black clothing. “Do I look like the sort of young lady who would bring someone’s name into disrepute?”

Lady Belwood frowned. “No, I-I don’t suppose you do.”

“Well, then.” Effie walked to the door, Franc dutifully at her side. “If there’s nothing else, ma’am, I had best be off.”

Bidding a brisk farewell to her hand-wringing hostess, Effie departed the house in Brook Street with a purposeful stride. Franc pranced alongside her at the end of his lead, his small black nose to the wind. They walked for several blocks until they reached Claridge’s Hotel. From there, Effie hailed a hackney to take them to the railway station. An omnibus ride to the station would have been cheaper, but this wasn’t the time for economy. Miss Corvus’s Academy was some seventeen miles away. The faster Effie got there, the more swiftly she could return and resume her work.

One rail journey, and another hired hackney cab ride later, Effie and Franc arrived at the Academy’s imposing black iron gates. They were admitted by an older student in a plain stuff dress. The girl goggled at Effie unrepentantly as she showed her to one of the anterooms off the Academy’s central hall.

Effie wasn’t there above five minutes before Nell came to join her.

“Miss Corvus can’t see you today,” Nell informed Effie. “Will I do?”

Effie gave her friend a brief but heartfelt hug. “On any other occasion, yes. But today’s errand is rather delicate. I must meet with Miss Corvus privately. She wouldn’t appreciate me speaking out of turn.”

Nell drew back to look at Effie. Her mouth tilted with sympathetic understanding. “Is it about Lord Compton?”

Effie’s brows lifted in surprise. “You know?”

“Some of it, yes. Miss Corvus occasionally lets me into her confidence.”

“Then you comprehend why I must see her.”

“Indeed. But she’s in no condition to receive you. The doctor’s just been, and she’s had a double dose of morphine. She’ll sleep until dinner. I’ve been deputized to act in her stead.” Nell gently slipped her hand under Effie’s arm. “Come with me.”

Effie could do nothing but obey. Collecting Franc under one arm, she numbly trailed after her limping friend, visions of a gravely ill Miss Corvus plaguing her footsteps. Whatever her history with the woman, Effie couldn’t accept the idea of her dying. A world without Artemisia Corvus was a world that didn’t make sense.

“It’s all in hand,” Nell promised her. “You needn’t fret.”

“I’m not fretting,” Effie lied. “Not with you in charge.”

“Hardly that. To be in charge would be to know all of Miss Corvus’s secrets. I haven’t yet reached that exalted stage.”

Ahead of them, girls in coarsely woven gray dresses with full skirts worn over wire crinolines hurried through the corridors on the way to their classes. They cast Effie startled glances as they passed her in the hall. Their young faces lit with excitement.

“That’s her!” one declared. “Euphemia Flite!”

“I thought she would be older,” another whispered.

“I thought she would be taller,” her friend replied archly.