But she wasn’t lonely. Not with Penny around. Eva had cared for her little sister since the day of her birth—and promised her father she’d always do so. Besides, her strong-willed poppet got on as well as girls with normal vision and was cheerful as any with a song perpetually ready on her lips. No, sending Penny away was out of the question. She’d already failed her parents. She would not abandon her sister.
Eva squared her shoulders, facing Mrs. Mortimer head-on. “I am sure you have nothing but the best intentions at heart, and I do appreciate the offer, but I don’t see a need for such a gesture. Thank you anyway.”
Mr. Blackwood rose like a bat in a night sky, towering over her with a downward turn to his thin lips. “God’s ways are not our ways, Miss Inman. Do not be so rash as to refuse what might very well be providence. I suggest you commit the matter to prayer before such a hasty rejection.”
Eva stood, unwilling to allow him such intimidation. “I shall consider your words, Mr. Blackwood.”
“Of course you shall. My brother is right, as usual.” Mrs. Mortimer chuckled as she rose, a cloud of violet toilette water wafting about her. “Do think on it, my dear. I shouldn’t like to take no as an answer.”
Eva assembled what she hoped was a smile and not a grimace. As much as she didn’t wish to, she set the offer on a shelf in the corner of her mind—for if she failed to pay the taxes and lost the house, she wouldn’t have a choice but to accept. There were no other relatives to care for Penny, or herself, for that matter. Her trusted friend Lottie yet lived beneath her parents’ roof, and the walls of that house were practically bulging at the seams. No one in Royston that was suitable could take on a blind twelve-year-old. She nibbled on her index finger.
Was this offer from Mrs. Mortimer a providence of God?
There was nothing more glorious than sifting through dirt on a brisk October morn. The sun on his shoulders. The wind in his hair. Bram hefted another shovelful of soil onto the screen, smirking as he did so. If ol’ Grimwinkle were here to witness such an unorthodox method—the screen Bram had fashioned being far too wide for conventional filtering—the man would no doubt blister them all with a fiery lecture. Thankfully, Uncle Pendleton was open to innovations. Employing a smaller sieve was far too time consuming at this stage. And time was the one luxury they didn’t have, not if they hoped to find evidence this was Caelum Academia before the deadline.
“Hey, Professor! Over here.” Jonathan Barker waved at him from across the field. “Look what I’ve found.”
Bram chunked the tip of the shovel into the ground, standing the tool upright before setting off. Beyond Barker, Charles Wimble and Nathaniel Hammet dropped their trowels and advanced on him as well.
“Let’s see what you’ve got.” Bram crouched next to Barker, the other students already huddled near him.
“Right there.”
Sure enough, what appeared to be a nozzle or some sortof spout poked from the soil where the young man had been digging.
Bram pulled out a metal rod he kept looped to his belt and poked tentatively around the area. Whenever the tip met with resistance, he eased it out. Eventually, he outlined the shape of the item, then held out his palm. “A trowel please, Mr. Barker.”
The curly-headed young man handed over the tool, and with a few precise gouges into the dirt, Bram unloosed a chunk of pottery with globs of dirt clinging to it. Removing a stiff brush from his pocket, he knocked off most of them, revealing an ancient oil lamp.
“Well, well. This is quite a find. Looks like this is the area we need to focus on.” Rising, he eyed the other men. “Take care the deeper you go, fellows. If there was indeed a settlement of some sort here—which is very likely—then you’re bound to hit a foundation. And that will be a key discovery.”
“We’re on it, Professor!”
Bram grinned at his students’ enthusiasm while trudging toward the tent at the edge of the field. Were he in their shoes, he’d be just as animated. Working on a dig was a far better prospect than sitting through Grimwinkle’s dull monologues.
He ducked beneath the canvas roof, bypassing a table with the other antiquities they’d unearthed thus far. All were shards or fragments, mere hints of an ancient habitation, not bad for only two days’ work but could’ve been better if Grimwinkle had allowed him more students. He was thankful for the three fellows he had been able to snag, but with more hands the work would go faster.
Bram set the lamp on the old desk Eva’s steward had rummaged up for them. “Our first whole relic, Uncle.”
“You don’t say!” Uncle Pendleton whipped out a magnifying glass. “Yes, yes. Very good! End of the second century. Definitely of Roman origin. Amazing it is in one piece. Now...”He set down the magnifier and fingered about on the tabletop, shoving aside papers and making quite a mess of things.
Bram stopped his hand. “Perhaps I can help. What are you looking for?”
“My cleaning kit. Ah, here we are.” Completely bypassing the desktop, Uncle Pendleton grabbed a small bag sitting near his feet. Opening the clasp, he poked about inside with one finger. “But it appears my bottle of cleaning solution must’ve fallen out in the wagon.”
Bram swiped up a rag, then carefully retrieved the lamp. “I’ll go clean it, then wrap the piece up and leave it on the wagon seat. You can show it to Miss Inman when you ride back for your afternoon break.”
His uncle scowled. “Pah! I’m no nursling who needs a nap.”
True, but if the man didn’t rest his mind periodically, his memory lapses grew worse. “Of course you aren’t. I was merely hoping you’d make the drive to the house and show this piece to Miss Inman so I wouldn’t have to. You know, give her some tangible evidence we are making progress.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, I suppose I shall finish up logging these field notes and ride over there. Off with you, then.” He ruffled his fingers in the air.
Bram retreated into the sunshine, a tiny bit ashamed he’d used such manipulation. Still, it was a necessary evil, what with Uncle Pendleton’s current state of fluctuating cognizance ... though admittedly the old fellow had seemed better the past few days. Now that Bram thought on it, he hadn’t noticed as many mental slips of late. Dare he hope things may be leveling off?
Nestling the little lamp tightly against his chest, he picked his way across the uneven ground to the wagon. He set the relic carefully in the back corner of the bed, then retrieved a burlap sack and began digging about for an amber bottle. The first thing he pulled out was an empty canteen. Apparently Wimble hadn’t thought to fill it, so he set that next to the relic and dugsome more. This time he pulled out a broken-handled trowel, which would do none of them any good until he fixed it. And he’d never remember to do so if it remained in the bag. He pitched it toward the front of the wagon and—
“Ow!”
