Could it?
No. Of course not. Bram may have been a rascal in his younger years, but he’d changed. He’d said as much himself. Sucking in a deep breath, she continued pouring the steaming liquid into the teacups. “I was not aware of that information, sir.”
“I assure you it is true. Such an esteemed academician as Professor Grimwinkle would not be given to exaggeration. Mr. Webb was eventually acquitted of the crime—for miraculously the relic in question showed up unscathed—but even so, the tarnish on his reputation remains.”
She handed over a cup of Assam to Mrs. Mortimer, mulling on Mr. Blackwood’s words. She’d like to believe it wasn’t true, and yet why would a department chair take the time to pen a letter of falsities? But if Bram was so untrustworthy, why had Professor Grimwinkle not said anything when he’d been here that first day? Why had he allowed Bram to do the dig at all? She served the reverend his cup of tea, lost in thought as she poured one of her own.
“...are you, Miss Inman?”
She snapped her gaze to Mrs. Mortimer. “I beg your pardon, what were you saying?”
“I wondered if you are well, dear. Your face has taken on quite a pallor.”
“I am fine, thank you.” She returned to her seat, swallowing a stout drink.
“I daresay this is all too much. You shoulder burdens that are not meant for a young lady such as yourself.” Mrs. Mortimer rested her saucer on her ample lap and fanned her handkerchief at the side of her face. “Oh, my dear, I must insist you allow me to sponsor your sister for the Greenwell School for the Blind in London. It is for the best, you’ll see. I shall write to them at once.”
“Please do not, Mrs. Mortimer. I am grateful for your generosity, truly. And I have given this matter quite a bit of thoughtand prayer. The thing is, I feel Penny is not yet ready for such a big upheaval in her life. Her moods of late have been erratic.” Eva set her cup on the table, the angry episode her sister had displayed with Bram fresh in her mind. “I cannot imagine what moving to completely different surroundings would do to my sister at the moment. Might it be possible to revisit this possibility in a year or two?”
Mrs. Mortimer tucked away her piece of lace. “The opportunity may not be available then. There are others I can help—others who will welcome my intervention. My offer to you cannot stand indefinitely. I am sure you understand.”
Eva sank against the sofa cushion. She did understand. There were many others in Royston to whom Mrs. Mortimer could lend a philanthropic hand. The woman couldn’t be expected to continue offering her aid when being told no at every turn.
And yet as frustrated as Eva was with Penny’s recent behaviour, she couldn’t stand the thought of sending her away. The idea of her little sister going off to school felt like a cruel twist of fate, leaving Eva feeling more alone than ever. Without Penny and her sweet singing, this house would be a tomb.
15
A week. Seven solid days and still that brooch hadn’t turned up. Bram handed Eva the plan for today’s work, a latent anger crawling under his skin. He ought to be riding out into the glorious November morn with his crew instead of wasting time presenting a schedule to a woman who looked at him with mistrust clouding her gaze. If only Uncle Pendleton could remember where he put that relic!
“So”—he planted his hands on the worktable to keep from slamming his fist—“does today’s agenda meet with your approval?”
Eva pushed the paper across the table with one finger. “You make me sound like a harsh taskmaster.”
“The harshest one I know.”
Not to mention the most intriguing.For despite her wariness around him, he couldn’t help but continue to admire her. This was no woman to be so easily taken advantage of, a trait he could respect.
A sad smile brushed across her lips. “Have I truly been an ogre this past week?”
“Not at all.” He cracked his knuckles, working out his irritation. She had every right to be so vigilant. These were, after all, her antiquities. “Furthermore, I fully understand you wishing to tally our finds at the end of every day and going over the schedule each morn. Truth be told, I am growing rather fond of our time together.”
“You, sir, are a rogue.”
“I have been called worse.” He shrugged. “And by you, no less.”
She humphed, her gaze skimming along the line of relics they’d uncovered thus far. The room, with its grand chandelier now coated in dust, hung incongruously over the growing collection of Roman artifacts. The breakfast room had been transformed into a veritable nexus of history.
“We are compiling quite a lot of treasures in here.” Eva ran her finger along the table. “And while I enjoy their beauty, I do have taxes to pay, and I am thirty pounds short. Now that you have catalogued and priced the bulk of these items, I think it is time I see about selling some of them to make up that deficit.”
“Why not all of them?”
“Is it possible?” She rounded the table, eyes wide. “I do not mean to be greedy, but I really could use the funds.”
No doubt she could, if one judged by the mean state of the cottage he and the men were staying in, the missing shingles on the manor, and the repetitious meals they’d been served.
“These relics”—he swept out his hand—“would be perfect specimens to use in the classroom, for it is quite a varied collection. How long do you have?”
“Taxes are due on December thirteenth.”
