“An old...?” Slowly, recognition dawned on her face. “Of course! You always found me there—or anywhere else I happened to scurry off to.”
“Apparently I was drawn to you even then.” He grinned. It was true he’d always cared for Eva, even at a young age, though he’d been too naïve to admit it.
“Wait here.” He picked his way down the decline of a rocky path. It ended at a glass building so overgrown with ivy that if one didn’t know the greenhouse to be here, one would never find it. He pulled away some of the thick greenery, then scrubbed at the glass wall with the heel of his hand. Through the shadows, beyond a stack of old pots and a pile of rusted tools, he spied a girl-sized lump curled on a weathered bench, a counterpane wrapped tightly about her.
Thank You,God.
He climbed back to Eva and entwined his fingers with hers. “She is there. Come on.”
A small cry rushed past Eva’s lips. “You, sir, are a genius.”
“I just happen to have inside information on the Inman girls, that is all.”
He led her down the frosty trail to the front door, holding tightly to her hand to keep her upright. At the entrance to the greenhouse, just as he’d suspected, the ropey vines had been cleared, enough for a girl to crawl through. Bram yanked away a bit more, then pushed open the door. “I think it is best if you go in alone, for you two may have much to say. I’ll let the others know we found her, and I shall see you at church. Make sure you sneak in the rear door so you do not get the evil eye from Mr. Blackwood.” He winked.
Eva kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you.”
He turned away, lifting a heartfelt prayer that Eva would be able to manage whatever was troubling young Miss Penny.
Eva ducked inside the greenhouse, the air surprisingly warmer than outside, enough to notice her cheeks weren’t so prickly with cold. Nor did her breath steam out of her nose. She gingerly stepped over some broken pots to the wooden bench at the center, where her sister lay wrapped like a mummy in her counterpane. How many times as a young girl had Eva cried herself to sleep on this same lichen-covered slab of wood when she’d felt the world hadn’t treated her properly?
With careful steps, she approached the bench, mindful of the fragile shards beneath her feet. She settled beside Penny, heart heavy with a mix of frustration and affection. She wanted to throttle the girl for giving her such a scare—and yet, what had driven her little sister to brave the cold of a December morn to come out here in the first place?
“Poppet?” Gently, she nudged her sister’s shoulder. “It is time to wake.”
“Hmm?” The sound was a feather, nothing more.
Her gaze lingered on her sister’s rosy-cheeked face. How young—yet how grown—Penny looked. She was so childlike as she slept, but those thick lashes and full lips belonged to ayoung woman. A tender smile graced Eva’s lips as she brushed a stray lock of hair from Penny’s forehead. She would—she must—cherish every precious moment she shared with this girl, no matter how often the little mischief-maker irked her.
She nudged her again. “Sister, you must wake now.”
“Eva?” Penny’s head swiveled, but her eyes remained closed.
“Yes, I am here.” Working her arm beneath her sister’s shoulder, she eased her up. “But the real question is, What areyoudoing here?”
Penny yawned. “I guess I fell asleep.”
“That is what your bed is for, not this old bench.” Absently, she ran her fingers along the cold surface, the seafoam-coloured lichen rough beneath her touch. “Why did you leave the house?”
“I needed to think.”
“Well, next time could you please let someone know where you can be found? I was terribly worried.”
“I didn’t know you’d notice. I mean, you wouldn’t have if I’d not fallen asleep. It wasn’t my plan to be away for so long.” Another yawn stretched her sister’s jaw, and she covered it with the back of her hand while mumbling, “Have we missed Sunday service?”
“Not yet, but we may unless you tell me right now what was so important that you needed to steal away to think about it.”
“I had a decision to make—one I was going to tell you about after church ... after I had a word with Mrs. Mortimer.”
Mrs. Mortimer? Ah. “This is about that school in London.” Drat that woman for ever having mentioned anything to Penny in the first place. “And have you formulated some sort of conclusion about the matter?”
Penny swung one of her legs, the edge of the counterpane swiping a clean line in the dirt on the floor. “I should like to go. Mrs. Mortimer says there’s even a chorus I might join.”
“Are you so very unhappy here with me? You know the professors and their team will be leaving this week. Things will goback to normal then.” Hah! Not likely, not if she didn’t come up with the tax money by Friday—and she was still thirty pounds short. A shiver ran along the top of her shoulders—and not from the chill of the greenhouse. If she couldn’t pay that debt, the school Penny wanted to go to would be the best place for the girl, for she was out of options.
“I am not unhappy with you, Eva ... not anymore, at least.” The swoosh of Penny’s foot stopped. “I admit I have been jealous of how much time you’ve spent with Professor Webb.”
“Is that why you took this?” Eva pulled out the brooch she’d rescued from her sister’s room and pressed the relic against Penny’s fingers.
