by Sofia Daniel
She stared up at him with impatience in her eyes but didn’t speak. Maybe she was doing the same to him. I’d never had a father, and I couldn’t imagine any kind of a long-lost reunion.
Throughout this stand-off, I cast my gaze at Kendrick and Orlando, who gaped openly at my family drama. I clenched my teeth. Hadn’t either of them thought what kind of impact their actions would have on Mr. Burgh?
Orlando caught me watching him and frowned. I scowled at the asshole, wishing I could burn him with the power of my hatred. If the police found Maxwell’s fingerprints all over the fake cocaine, I hoped they would charge him on some trumped-up charge.
“I’m sorry you weren’t able to attend your mother’s funeral,” Mr. Burgh finally said.
Mother glanced away. “Morag Burgh wouldn’t have wanted me sullying her send-off.”
“She regretted her reaction—”
“That’s ancient history,” Mother snapped. “You two need to leave before one of Billy’s men comes and finds you.”
Mr. Burgh’s brows furrowed. “Abigail, will you be alright?”
“It’s too late to worry about my welfare.” She walked to the other side of the reception area and kept her back turned. “Just take care of her for me.”
A dull ache formed from the back of my throat, down my gullet and spread across my chest. She hadn’t once looked at me or even mentioned my name. But I was getting better. A year ago, that snub would have hurt like a knife in the chest.
Tugging on the sleeve of Mr. Burgh’s jacket, I said, “We’d better go.”
He watched Mother walk out of the door into the street and climb into an awaiting Bentley, a kaleidoscope of emotions flickering across his features. Sadness, regret, and finally heartbreak. I might have told him that it got better with time, but I wasn’t sure he would believe me.
“Mr. Burgh,” I murmured.
His jaw tightened. “We had better go.” He turned to Kendrick and Orlando. “The detective inspector in charge of the raid told me they would keep Mr. Deloraine the full thirty-six hours for questioning. You should return to pick him up tomorrow night.”
As we walked across the waiting room toward the exit, I turned around and met Orlando’s hazel eyes and then Kendrick’s gray ones and mouthed, “You’re dead.”
“You can sit up, now,” said Mr. Burgh as we reached the highway. “There’s no one following us.”
I raised my head from the back seat and glanced behind us for suspicious-looking black cars. Swathes of winter landscape bordered us on both sides of the road, and the only black car close by contained a bunch of children.
“Alright.”
“What on earth really happened?” he asked. “Someone knocked on my door in the early hours to tell me you’d been dragged naked out of your room by the police with Maxwell Deloraine.”
I smoothed down my hair, noting that for once, it wasn’t brittle. “They exaggerated. And Elizabeth set me up.”
“Again?” he said with disbelief in his voice. “What does that girl have against you?”
“She’s mentally unstable and shouldn’t have been allowed to return after attacking Miss Martin in tailoring club.”
Mr. Burgh blew out a long, weary breath. “Are you sure Elizabeth planted that package in your room?”
“Not a hundred percent,” I replied. “She might have gotten Maxwell, Orlando, or Kendrick to do the dirty work for her. But she definitely used her contacts in the police to organize the raid. Did you know she’s related to the Deputy Chief Constable of Police Scotland?”
“Camden is her uncle.” His knuckles tightened on the steering wheel.
I shook my head. “She has friends in high places.”
“Camden Lidell, Lady Lidell, and the Archbishop of Scotland are governors of the school. After an incident like this, I’ll be obliged to call an emergency meeting to discuss your future. I will try to fight in your corner, but it will be difficult to establish impartiality considering our familial relationship.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I muttered. “This is what she wanted all along. To get me expelled.”
Mr. Burgh’s shoulders slumped. “I don’t understand why she would take her animosity for you that far. But let’s hope the rest of her family will deal with you in an impartial and professional manner.”
Dread lined my stomach and pulled it down into my lap. There wasn’t a chance in hell of that happening.
Chapter 5
It was afternoon before we reached the academy’s gatehouses. Instead of the usual swell of pride that accompanied passing into the grounds, my chest shriveled with a mix of despair and impending doom.
The sun filtered through a lattice of bare branches from the trees that bordered the driveway. I tore my gaze from the unusual sight and tried to gauge Mr. Burgh’s mood. From where I sat in the back seat, the man remained stony-faced.
“What’s going to happen to me?” I cringed at what I’d become: hunted, running scared, and totally dependent on a man I barely knew. Things hadn’t changed since I’d moved in with Sammy to escape a shitty foster home.
“If you’re expelled, we’ll have to find you somewhere to continue your studies within driving distance of the academy.”
“Do you think the governors not attached to Elizabeth will want me out?”
Mr. Burgh drove past the entrance of the academy, the wheels of his jeep rumbling against the tarmac. “The academy’s Board of Governors consists of twelve people. Apart from Elizabeth’s three blood relatives, four are members of the Church of Scotland, and the remaining four are parents who can’t always attend the emergency meetings.”
“Right.” I was in deep shit and about to lose my place at the academy. All because an unbalanced twit decided to mess with my life. I dug the tips of my fingers into my thighs. If things went to shit, I’d stuff as much of it as I could down Elizabeth’s throat.
The clock tower chimed three, and I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle a yawn. The last time I’d slept this badly had been at the juvenile detention center, and I doubted I’d be able to sleep well tonight with the sword of uncertainty dangling over the back of my neck.
I glanced up at the headmaster’s quarters, which stood straight ahead in all its French mansion-style glory. Frost caught the winter sunlight, making the building twinkle like it was made of magic.
Slumping in my seat, I stared out of the side window as Mr. Burgh drove through tall, wrought-iron gates. In the fairytales, the heroine never got arrested and thrown into a dungeon. A bitter laugh huffed out of my throat. The girl in Rumpelstiltskin did, just before the king demanded that she spin straw into gold. If I didn’t spin up a good excuse for the academy’s Board of Governors, it would be me who lost everything.
Mr. Burgh stopped the engine and twisted around to fix me with a hard-eyed stare that made me stiffen. “Until you hear from the Board of Governors, you are not to re-enter the academy under any circumstances.”
“But my things are—”
“A staff member has already moved your books and clothing into my quarters. They can retrieve anything else you need.” Mr. Burgh stopped the car engine.
“Why can’t I go near the academy?” I whispered.
“The only thing saving you from a summary expulsion is the fact that the police found no evidence of your wrongdoing.” Mr. Burgh pulled the key out of the ignition and opened the car door, letting in a gust of chilly air. “Any more altercations with Elizabeth Liddell, and you’ll help her create even more ammunition against yourself in her personal vendetta.”
I scrambled out through my side and jogged to keep up with his long strides. “So, you believe me?”
He paused at the stone entrance steps and gave me a soft nod. “I always did, but what I don’t understand is why.”
“Why what?”
“Why the girl is hell-bent on making you leave, especially since you’ve done nothing to earn her animosity.” His blue eyes bore into mine.
&nbs
p; My mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. Included in that statement was an accusation that I was withholding some vital piece of information which would explain why Elizabeth hated me. A cool breeze swirled through the cobblestone courtyard, penetrating my woolen blazer and curling around my legs like a family cat.
I met Mr. Burgh’s gaze, trying to convey the truth in what I would say next. “Elizabeth doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t fawn over her. But apart from us liking the same boys, I can’t see why she’d go so far.”
“Mr. Nevis and the Deloraine twins,” Mr. Burgh growled. He descended to the top of the stairs and unlocked the door. “Why on earth did you jump in bed with Maxwell after you got him suspended for—”
“Maxwell disguised himself as Kendrick.”
The old man whirled around, his face falling. “What?”
“Let’s go inside,” I murmured.
Mr. Burgh pulled out a key from his suit pocket and unlocked the door, letting a gust of warm air engulf us like a hug. The scent of woodsmoke reminded me of all the Sunday evenings I had spent in this gorgeous mansion either sharing a meal or chatting with my grandfather. Grandfather. The word sent an intrusion of cockroaches skittering across the lining of my stomach. How would Mr. Burgh react to my account of last term’s debauchery?
He stood in the wood-paneled hallway, not making a move toward the kitchen or living room. The intensity of his glare made me and the cockroaches in my gut want to shrivel up and hide.
As I told Mr. Burgh the whole sorry story, starting with my suspicion that Kendrick had been the one to go home, leaving Maxwell at the academy to exact his revenge, Mr. Burgh’s entire posture sagged. “Oh, Delilah.” The old man croaked. “I’m so sorry.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I reached out and placed a hand on his arm. “It’s no one’s fault but theirs. When Maxwell takes off the contact lenses, fake tattoos and piercings, no one can tell them apart.”
Mr. Burgh led me up a stone staircase with an iron railing, and into a hallway of wooden floors the same color of the panels in the entrance hall. “Yours is the room next to mine.”
He opened the door to a room even more exquisite than the one assigned to me in the guest tower. An ivory and pale duck-egg blue interior reminded me of something out of Homes & Gardens magazine.
A four-poster bed with gauzy curtains stood on the far right of the room with a luxurious, quilted ottoman at its foot. At the other end, a sofa and two armchairs gathered around a low table. Light streamed in through floor-to-ceiling windows that opened into a wrought-iron balcony.
A breath caught in my throat. “This is for me?”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said in a tone that suggested Mother hadn’t enjoyed living here.
I would have asked, but pain flashed in his eyes. Perhaps her recent rejection of him still hurt. “Would you like me to go to church with you tomorrow morning?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them. “You don’t have to if—”
His face broke into a heartbreakingly warm smile. “I’d be delighted.”
The next morning, I opened the door to find breakfast outside on a tray like it was a hotel. My heart sank at the thought of not eating with Mr. Burgh, but I couldn’t expect him to stop having breakfast with the students just because of me. I brought it into the room and ate at my desk. After a shower, I changed into the camel dress and matching jacket I had made in tailoring club.
A distant thud told me that Mr. Burgh had returned, and I rushed out of the room and down the stairs. He stood by the tartan chair in the entrance hall, clad in a navy-blue tweed suit with a red tie and a matching waistcoat.
His eyes twinkled. “Did you sleep well?”
“Like I’d spent the entire night floating on clouds.”
He chuckled and pulled a shawl draped over the back of the chair. When I reached the bottom of the stairs, he wrapped it around my shoulders. “This will keep you warm and toasty during the walk.”
Tilting my head, I smiled back. “Thanks.”
Mr. Burgh opened the door, letting in a gust of freezing air. He placed a hand on the small of my back and guided me out of the mansion. “Are you sure you’re alright?”
I descended the stone steps and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“They brought sniffer dogs to your room, presumably not beagles.”
A shudder ran down my spine, and I stared into the driveway beyond the iron gates that surrounded the courtyard. “German shepherds. That was a nasty shock.”
He gave me a comforting pat on the back. “Do you need to talk about it?”
“I’ll be alright as long as I don’t have to confront a dog any time soon.”
Mr. Burgh guided me through the courtyard. “It might not be much, but I won’t let Elizabeth go unpunished.”
I stared up into his face. “What are you going to do?”
“That’s for the Board of Governors to discuss. We have rules against bullying, disorderly conduct, and disturbing the academy’s peace.”
“How about respecting the privacy of others?” I muttered as we crossed the gates.
Mr. Burgh hummed his agreement but didn’t respond. I wondered if he wanted to avoid a discussion about how Elizabeth hadn’t been punished for dredging up facts about my past. I walked alongside him down the driveway that led away from the academy building and turned left down a single-lane track that ran parallel to the gardens.
“Is this part of the academy?” he asked.
“This is the Laird’s estate.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a Scottish term used to describe a land-owner. The academy is only a small part of Lord Liddell’s estate.”
“Is the chapel part of the academy?”
Mr. Burgh shook his head.
We walked in silence alongside a tall hedgerow of mixed plants. On the other side was a meadow and then fenced paddocks. A figure in the distance clad in black rode a pale, white horse over increasingly tall jumps. I glanced at Mr. Burgh to see if he had noticed the rider, but he stared straight ahead.
Dogs barked in the distance, but the sound didn’t set my teeth on edge to my surprise. A monstrous hound crushing a girl’s lungs tended to put a few things in perspective. The dogs locked up in those kennels couldn’t hurt me. I wrapped the shawl tighter around my shoulders, hoping that neither of the twins had told Elizabeth of my phobia. If they had, I could look forward to a fuck-load of ferocious dogs running through the academy.
Several minutes later, we rounded a corner and approached the chapel from the back. A black, Lincoln Continental from the 1960’s was parked close to its door, alongside a silver Bentley. Mr. Burgh frowned at the vehicles but didn’t comment.
“Isn’t that the car from the Matrix?” I asked.
He smiled and opened the back door. “Those films were before your time.”
“My friend from home was obsessed with the trilogy.” I stepped through into a warm, white hallway with pristine pine floors, not bothering to tell him that this Matrix fan was Sammy.
At the end of the hallway was a heavy wooden door that led to the main part of the chapel. Excited chatter filled the air. This was probably everyone’s first sighting of me since I’d been dragged half-naked out of the academy by police and sniffer dogs. I tamped down the flutter of nausea in the pit of my belly and raised my chin.
“Are you alright?” asked Mr. Burgh.
I offered him what I hoped was a confident smile. “They’re acting like they’ve never seen me before.”
He grinned. “Let’s take a pew.”
Mrs. Campbell sat in the front next to the two Mr. McGarrs, with space on her left for Mr. Burgh and me. Elizabeth and her mother sat on the other side. My muscles clenched, and I snatched my gaze away from the malevolent pair. Didn’t Lady Liddell have her own church, or were she and her wretched daughter joined at the teat?
I sat on the bench between Mr. Burgh and Mrs. Campbell, clenching and unclenching my fi
sts. And dredging up memories of Religious Education class to remember if the bible had any stories about girls getting caught naked with a stash of blow. It didn’t matter that the police had discovered it was fake. People like Father Neapolitan tended to be selective with the facts.
“Miss Hancock,” whispered Mrs. Campbell. “I hope you have a bloody good explanation for recent events.”
Before I could reply, the organist played Morning Has Broken, and everybody stood. Father Neapolitan flounced in through the door, his mouth turned down as though he was trying not to react to a bad smell. The man’s shoulders hunched, and his hands curled into fists.
Apprehension wrung my stomach with the slow, jagged movements of a hand crank. I stared into the pages of Mr. Burgh’s hymn book, trying to focus on the words as I sang. Father Neapolitan was probably building himself up to a righteous fury.
After the song ended, the priest addressed the room in his usual, nasal voice. “Good morning, congregation. His Grace, the Archbishop, will deliver this morning’s service.”
Excited chatter spread through the chapel. Avoiding the sight of Elizabeth preening in her father’s reflected glory, I leaned into Mr. Burgh. “What’s he doing here?”
“His Grace agreed to an informal discussion of your situation.” Mr. Burgh squeezed my hand. “He also likes to deliver the sermons whenever he’s in Templar.”
The archbishop strolled in through the back door, clad in an elegant black suit that looked like it had been tailored to fit. Everything else—his silver hair, his silver-white clerical collar, the huge silver cross dangling from his neck—was coordinated to pop.
My stomach muscles tightened, and I held my breath. Mere days ago, police had raided his beautiful academy. It was clear from Elizabeth’s admiring sigh that she hadn’t been punished for her role in the entire mess, so it looked like the blame would fall on me.
The archbishop smiled, revealing a mouthful of whitened teeth. “It’s an honor to be here so close to the end of term when many of you are looking forward to the Christmas break.” He paused and glanced around the chapel with a beatific smile. “I expect you’re all wondering what kinds of presents you’ll receive this year. CDs, DVDs, and the like.”
