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I have a strong suspicion, however.

Mrs. Crenshaw must’ve convinced the board and benefactors that she’d done something worth being dismissed over. But what? And Aston hadn’t come to implement his plan to save Chasity’s position. His scheme mightn’t have worked in any event. What had the missive contained that prompted him to leave yesterday afternoon suddenly?

Was that the reason he’d not arrived?

Couldn’t he have sent a note around at least, explaining? So she wouldn’t have waited for him? Wouldn’t have placed her hope in his fanciful machinations, whatever they might’ve been? Oh, God. Panic welled within her in undulating waves, and bile burned the back of her throat.

Chasity forced herself to remain composed—at least outwardly. She needed her wits about her for whatever this was.

Writing the letters to the board and benefactors late last night had been a colossal waste of time. There was no need to post them now.

“Allow me to elucidate.” Lady Balderbrook struck a dramatic pose. Her ladyship missed no opportunity to garner more attention even if her audience consisted of only four people.

“Mr. Bramblefink has detected several discrepancies in the accounting books.” She swept her critical gaze over Chasity and then veered her attention to Mrs. Crenshaw. “We are given to understand that you keep the accounts?”

Chasity speared Mrs. Crenshaw a look meant to pin her to the wall.

Something dark and sinister glinted in the headmistress’s gaze. She’d planned this all along. She’d set Chasity up to take the fall for her, and Chasity had blindly walked straight into the snare.

“At Mrs. Crenshaw’s behest, I do partially keep the academy’s bookkeeping ledgers updated,” Chasity said.

She made sure to emphasize the partially bit.

“Mrs. Crenshaw always reviews the ledgers after I’ve recorded the entries, and I provide her with a list of any inconsistencies I have found. Invariably, there would be several that I couldn’t account for.”

Mr. Potterburger drew his grizzled eyebrows together over the bridge of the most spectacularly bulbous nose—rather like an elephant seal she’d seen a drawing of in a book once. The furry things above his eyes seemed to have a life of their own, writhing and wriggling like ugly, gray caterpillars.

“Are you suggesting Mrs. Crenshaw has…that she…?” he stumbled about for the right words. “That is, that she has made inaccurate entries?”

Chasity folded her hands and gripped them together so tightly that her fingertips grew numb.

In for a penny, in for a pound.

“Yes. There are entries in Mrs. Crenshaw’s hand without a receipt or a bill. Often, a figure I recorded was altered without any documentation as to why it was changed. Mrs. Crenshaw recorded expenditures for goods and services that to my knowledge never were provided or delivered.”

Chasity drew in a steadying breath, feeling the hatred boring from Mrs. Crenshaw’s hostile gaze as surely as if she’d stabbed Chasity.

“When I questioned the expenses, Mrs. Crenshaw always had an excuse and promised to give me the documentation. Yet in the two months that I have been partly keeping the ledgers, I have not been provided a single validation for those funds.”

There. Chasity had said it. Laid the accusation bare. She’d all but called Mrs. Crenshaw an embezzler and a thief.

Studying their judgmental expressions, one after the other, Chasity detected no sympathy, no remorse, and most importantly and dishearteningly, no hint that they believed she spoke the truth. These people had already made up their minds. She could see it in the unyielding angles of their faces and in the condemnation in their hardened gazes.

“How convenient that you allege Mrs. Crenshaw guilty of the very crimes she has accused you of.” Mr. Bramblefink adjusted his monocle and took Chasity’s measure. “It is a good thing we arrived for the inspection a month early, or you might’ve had time to conceal your thievery. ’Tis an excellent thing indeed that Mrs. Crenshaw reviewed the books yesterday and discovered your subterfuge.”

“I am no thief, Mr. Bramblefink, and I resent your implication,” Chasity said. She speared Mrs. Crenshaw an accusatory glance. “I am not the person who modified the entries. At all times, I have conducted myself with integrity and honesty.”

Mrs. Crenshaw made a rude noise, nearly a snort of contempt, while Mr. Potterburger harrumphed his disapproval.

Chasity slowly rose. Once upright, she stiffened her spine and steeled her jaw. “I suggest you examine Mr. Aston Terramier’s personnel file. He is the dance master and music instructor. Mrs. Crenshaw drafted a private contract and is paying him ten pounds a month. Should she terminate him, she owes him the full year’s wages.”

Erring on the side of prudence, Chasity opted not to share Viscount Woolbury’s blackmailing Mrs. Crenshaw or the headmistress’s infatuation with Aston.

“Ten pounds?” Lady Balderbrook gasped and fluttered a hand around her scrawny throat. “That’s outrageous.”

“I say. That is excessive, and whyever would you include a clause to pay the man all of his wages if he was terminated?” A finger to his cheek, Mr. Potterburger leveled Mrs. Crenshaw a shrewd glance. “I should like to see Mr. Terramier’s employment file, if you please.”

“Of course, Mr. Potterburger. I don’t know what Miss Noble is referring to.” Mrs. Crenshaw sat at her desk and, after pulling a key on a chain from around her neck, unlocked one of the drawers. “Miss Noble is merely desperate to paint me the villain and has concocted a wholly unbelievable tale to do so.”