I stalked the corridors with the sapphire ring still in my fist, slicing my way through the listless Saturday clusters of students and maids.
Winding up, finally, in front of Mrs. Westcliffe’s closed office door. My brooch sang from behind it.
Not good.
A pair of fifth-years by the turn in the hall spotted me and paused, curious. I bent down and began to work at the heel of my boot, as if it had come loose. They moved on, and I was alone.
I stood and tapped lightly at the door.
“Mrs. Westcliffe?”
No response. The door eased open.
“Ma’am?”
I took a step past the threshold.
“I just came by to ask if … you … knew …”
The office was empty. I tossed a quick glance back at the hallway, then tiptoed all the way in.
“… that you could use some bleeding locks in this school,” I finished.
Chloe’s perfume began a fresh assault upon my nose. I wrinkled it in distaste as I hurried toward the desk.
As I’d suspected, one of the drawers had been left conspicuously agape. There were papers and glass weights and a broken jeweler’s box inside, everything a mess. And there, right beneath it on the rug, was my brooch. The pin to secure it had been bent practically in two.
Amateur. Anyone wanting to wear it would have noticed if the pin was that damaged. She’d have been smarter to warp it just enough so it no longer met the hook.
Chloe Pemington was in sore need of a lesson in being smart.
I stuck the brooch in my pocket and straightened the contents of the drawer as best I could. I shoved the ring back into its box—there was nothing I could do about the broken hinge—and was closing it all up again when I heard an unmistakable castanet-clip of footsteps echoing down the hall.
I jumped up, looking wildly about for a place to hide: nothing. The curtains were useless, the bookcases too shallow, the secrétaire too exposed. If I went to smoke, I’d leave my clothes behind—and the brooch—and my cuff—
“… excused absence, of course,” Mrs. Westcliffe was saying. “I assume you will remain in contact with Miss Bashier during this time?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Sophia. Westcliffe and Sophia, right outside the door.
“Good. Good.” The door began to swing wide. “And may I rely upon you to convey our continued condolences to her and her family?”
I leapt behind the door. I flattened myself against the wall as the wooden panel bumped to a stop against the toes of my boots.
“You may, Headmistress.”
Westcliffe hadn’t noticed the bump. She entered the chamber, leaving Sophia to linger at the doorway. With just the long, vertical gap of the door and jamb between us, we stood only inches apart.
“I wired for flowers, naturally, but one does wish to offer a more personal touch in such times. Miss Bashier has been with us for many years. And she has, I believe, a younger sister nearly of school age …”
“I’m certain the Bashiers appreciate your sympathy, ma’am.” Sophia’s voice had that unctuous pitch; she shifted on her feet, clearly ready to be cut loose.
“Yes.” The headmistress had reached her desk and taken her seat. All she had to do was dismiss Sophia, who’d close the door and there I’d be.
“Very well. Good afternoon, Lady Sophia.”
“Good—”
Perhaps I moved. Probably I did. With the door practically to my nose, I’d been holding my breath, and what likely happened then is that I released it. Regardless, what happened next is that Sophia turned her head a fraction toward the gap. Toward me.
And she saw me. One pale-blue eye grew wide, then narrowed. I glared back at her.
“I say!”
Westcliffe spoke up. “I beg your pardon?”
“Ma’am—did you see it?” Sophia dashed into the room, leaving the door untouched. “There, at the sill?”
I peeked past the door’s edge. Sophia was pointing to the window behind the desk. Westcliffe rose to her feet, turning her back to me.
“What?”
“There—just there! It was a little bird pecking to come in!”
Westcliffe’s shoulders relaxed. “Is that all?”
I angled around the door. Sophia prattled on.
“Oh, but birds can become such a serious nuisance. I’m sure it was a mudlark, and they’re especially devious. One never knows what trouble they’ll get into next.”
“Mudlark? I don’t believe I’m familiar with …”
I was away! I took a few running steps from the office door before stopping, waiting for the inevitable. I stuck my hand in my pocket and ran my thumb over the golden roses, stroking a fresh song from their