Ruby could not focus on her studies all that day. Everyone noticed. Effie was concerned, Molly was scornful, and the teachers were all cautiously worried.

She hadn’t really expected anything more from them. No one would want to favor the mad girl, the eccentric, the one who ought to either be locked up in an asylum or given to a doctor to treat her obvious hysteria but in either case simply sent away --

She forced herself to take a deep breath. It was what Malcolm had taught her, when she was much younger and her racing throughts frightened her. He’d held her hands the first few times, and she had to admit that was what had really calmed her. Nothing could ease her mind quite like knowing there was someone by her side who would always look after her. She would never be entirely alone. Even know, though he was home in London, Malcolm would do his best to look out for her. He would never abandon her.

Except when he did.

Another deep breath. She couldn’t think like that. She had always known that she would have to look after herself someday. There would come a time when she would have to face the world alone, her father had told her, and even though she didn’t know when it might be, she had trusted him. He would never lie to her.

He would never lie anymore. Any chance she had of finding out the veracity of any of his words was gone and buried.

Buried six feet deep.

This wasn’t working. Ruby shot up from her bed and began to pace the little room. Effie wasn’t there; she had wanted to spend her evening with Louisa, no doubt settled comfortably by a fire with a shawl over her shoulders and a cup of steaming tea or chocolate in her hands. Louisa almost certainly wouldn’t be wearing a shawl -- she said they made her look like a spinster aunt -- but Effie loved them and spent half her spare time making them. The first one she’d ever made at the Pendleton School for Girls had been for Ruby, and she still had it.

She picked it up now and slung it around her shoulders, not caring that it looked a little more worn than it had years ago or that it was obviously the work of an amateur. It had been made with love, and that mattered far more to her than how well it had been made.

The shawl did what breathing deeply hadn’t. As soon as it was around her shoulders, Ruby began to feel calmer. She settled on her bed once more, resting her head on the pillows.

Ordinarily, she would be in one of the parlors with the other girls, either with Effie and whichever friend she’d attached herself to lately or with Rebecca, whom she’d been neglecting. A pang hit Ruby at the thought of the thirteen-year-old she’d been meant to look after. Rebecca was no longer quite as new to Pendleton as she had been, but she still trailed around after Ruby like a little duckling following her mother. Effie had said that Rebecca was quite gone on Ruby, but that was only natural. Effie had been gone on the girl who had been her mentor, and Ruby herself was gone on Mlle. Bellerose.

And she had told her all about it.

Ruby groaned and rolled over, burying her face in her blanket. How could she have been so foolish? Ever since Mlle. Bellerose had come to Pendleton, almost a year ago, Ruby had nurtured her love for the new French teacher, raising it as though it were some delicate flower. As though it were a rose, she thought, but this time the image didn’t make her laugh. She had kept silent about it, making it her greatest secret, and now she had ruined it all by sharing it. Rebecca had never said a word about her rave for Ruby, if indeed she had one. Rebecca had far greater self-control. She would never dare to be so bold.

If ever Mlle. Bellerose had held any affection for Ruby, it must be gone now. She would turn her attention toward other students, those who showed more promise. Louisa would be her new favorite, or Rebecca. Rebecca would at least deserve it.

Someone knocked at the door, and Ruby raised her head. She was tempted to tell whoever it was to leave but lowered her head back to the pillow instead. There was no point in being rude, especially when she had already been so thoughtless in front of Mlle. Bellerose. Why should she add more sins to the constantly growing list?

Or perhaps she might as well. If she was already lost, there was no point in trying to save herself. There was no point in trying to do anything at all. She might as well write Malcolm and tell him to bring her home at once. She had disgraced herself utterly and could never show her face at Pendleton again.

The knock sounded again. Ruby laid her head on the pillows. It clearly wasn’t Effie, who would have simply come in, and everyone else Ruby could think of would have called out by now, but she had heard nothing. Perhaps it was Elaine? She would have noticed by now that Ruby wasn’t with the other girls, and she might worry, especially if Mlle. Bellerose had told the other teachers what Ruby had done. Word would easily have gotten to the housekeeper, who seemed to know everything that went on in the school.

But Mlle. Bellerose would never have told. She was far too good and kind for that.

Perhaps it was Rebecca, too timid to say a word.

Ruby shot to her feet at the thought, hurrying toward the door. If Rebecca was standing out there, she owed it to the girl to speak to her. She owed a great deal more to Rebecca than just words.

But when she opened the door, the hall was empty. A chill ran down her spine, and not only because there was no fire for her room. She felt as though she had looked out on an empty hall like this before, or that someone had, though she did not know who or when. It was the change of the seasons, she told herself, though she knew that wasn’t true. It was much more likely to be Pendleton’s ghost.

“Mina?” she whispered.

The word didn’t even echo, but she hadn’t expected it to. It did nothing but fall flat, seeming to land at her feet in the pile of yellow flowers there.

Those had definitely not been there before.

Ruby bent to pick up the flowers. Had Rebecca left these? She had brought flowers for Ruby before, but only in the spring, and then it had always been something ordinary, meant to brighten her room. Tiny heads of clover, or violets, or bindweed. Nothing like these minuscule yellow blossoms that could hardly be called flowers at all. Ruby retreated into her room, lifting them to her nose and trying to recall what they were.

Before she had a chance to breathe in, she knew.

Rue.

She was at the door again in a flash, looking about for any sign that someone was out there, watching from around a corner. The only person who called her Rue was Effie, but she had never left flowers for her. She had only left flowers for her own rave, and she couldn’t have left rue regardless. It was well past its flowering season. It shouldn’t have been there, so fresh, as though it had just been picked.

The hall was as empty as before. “Hello?” Ruby called, hoping her voice didn’t shake too badly.

This time the sound did not fall flat. This time it echoed again and again, until the very word turned into laughter.