Before Henry could protest, Theobold had grabbed the bell guard and pulled the sword from his hand.
“It’s a left-handed foil,” Henry said, trying not to let doubt creep into his voice. What else could it be?
Theobold called for the fencing master, and Henry suddenly had a very bad feeling.
“What seems to be the problem?” the fencing master asked.
“Grim’s sword,” Theobold said, handing the weapon to the fencing master, who turned it over in his hands with a deep frown.
“What’s wrong with it?” Henry asked.
“For one thing, it doesn’t belong to this armory,” the fencing master said, indicating the stamp on the bell guard. “This is world standard, with the Ecks Caliber mark here.”
“So it’s stolen,” Theobold said with an enormous grin.
“No, it isn’t,” Henry said. “It’s borrowed. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize there was anything wrong. It’s just, the left-handed sword has been missing a lot of the time, and I didn’t know what to do, so I asked to borrow a spare.”
“From whom?” the fencing master asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Fra— I mean, Miss Winter,” Henry said.
“I find it hard to believe that Miss Winter would loan a schoolboy she hardly knew a sword of this quality.”
Henry bit his lip.
“Mr. Grim?” the fencing master pressed.
“We’re friends,” Henry said.
“Friends. Ah.” The fencing master didn’t believe him. Henry could see this at once.
“Mr. Archer,” the fencing master said. “Can you please run to the headmaster’s house and tell Miss Winter that I would like to see her in my office immediately?”
“Yes, sir,” Theobold said with a nasty smile.
Henry had never been to the fencing master’s office before. It turned out to be a tiny, cramped room located behind the armory, most of its space taken up by a large trunk bursting with equipment in need of repair.
Henry sat in the hard wooden chair across from the fencing master’s desk, still in his fencing kit. His leg bounced nervously.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” the fencing master called.
Frankie burst through the door, out of breath and carrying an embroidery sampler. “Yes, maestro?” she asked, bobbing a curtsy.
“Can you please describe the object that Mr. Grim has in his possession?” the fencing master inquired, waving Frankie into the empty chair.
A beat too late, Henry wondered if he ought to have stood in Frankie’s presence to make a better impression.
“He’s just borrowed a foil,” Frankie said with a frown. “A left-handed foil.”
“From your father’s private stores?” the fencing master asked mildly.
“Yes,” Frankie said.
“I see.”
“Is something the matter?” Frankie asked.
“Are you often in the habit of loaning out world standard Ecks Caliber foils with platinum inlay and custom maker’s marks?” the fencing master asked.
“No one was using it,” Frankie said with a shrug.
“Are you aware of the cost of a sword like the one you so casually loaned Mr. Grim?”
Frankie ventured a guess.
The fencing master laughed and told her it was worth at least ten times that amount.
Henry nearly gasped. The sum seemed enormous. Enough to buy a house, perhaps. Certainly more than Professor Stratford made in a year.
“Um,” Frankie said. “Probably should have given you one with a worse balance, then.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Henry muttered.
“Actually,” the fencing master said, putting up a hand. “I’m not concerned about the sword, rather with what it implies.”
“And what might that be?” Frankie asked, daring the fencing master to say it.
“That there are … improper relations between the two of you.”
Frankie snorted. “That’s ridiculous,” she said dismissively.
“We’re not having—erm, doing—anything like that,” Henry said, his face flushed with embarrassment.
“I am merely concerned for Miss Winter’s reputation,” the fencing master said. “After all, she is nearing marriageable age, possibly preparing for her first City Season.”
Frankie sighed, not wanting to be reminded. “Truly, Henry was helping me with my French. You can ask my grandmother all about it.”
“I have heard other rumors of your … improper behavior,” the fencing master continued as though Frankie had said nothing at all. “I seem to remember at the beginning of the term some of the boys voicing doubt about your … propriety.”
Henry cringed, remembering Valmont’s cruel taunts on the first day of fencing that an educated woman was a ruined woman. Had the fencing master overheard him? Apparently so.
“There’s nothing of the sort going on here,” Henry said firmly. “Fra— Miss Winter loaned me a sword and even admits that she had no idea of its value. It’s simply a misunderstanding.”
The fencing master looked back and forth between Henry and Frankie, and finally shook his head in defeat.
“From now on, Mr. Grim, in my class you will use swords from this armory, swords that I have given to you expressly for training purposes. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” Henry said.
“And Miss Winter,” the fencing master continued. “Really, do try and behave yourself. Or at least think of what impressions your actions might give.”
“I’ll try,” Frankie said doubtfully. But even Henry could tell she didn’t mean it.
WHAT SIR FREDERICK FOUND
Their midday meal was half finished by the time Henry changed back into his uniform and made it to the dining hall.
“Where were you, mate?” Adam asked, making room for Henry between himself and Edmund.
“Being lectured by the fencing master.” Henry sighed.
“Yeah, what was that about?” Adam asked.
“The foil Frankie loaned me,” Henry said. “Didn’t you notice anything unusual about it?”
“Besides it’s being bloody expensive?” Adam asked.
“You knew and you didn’t say anything?” Henry asked, nearly dropping his juice glass.
Adam shrugged. “Sorry. I mean, a foil’s a foil, right?”
Henry lowered his voice and told Adam what had happened. Adam burst out laughing.
“It’s not funny,” Henry said.
“Actually, mate, it kind of is.”
“Well, I don’t think so,” Edmund put in. “I mean, it must have seemed a bit suspicious to the fencing master, for him to call you into his office like that.”
“But no one thinks … I mean, no one’s said anything about it, right?” Henry pressed.
Adam was suddenly fascinated by a fleck of dirt on his juice glass.
Edmund coughed and looked away.
“Awwww, come on!” Henry said. “Really?”
“No one saw what happened,” Edmund said. “One moment you were fencing Theobold and the next moment the fencing master had sent him off to find Francesca and dragged you into his office.”
Henry winced.
He couldn’t win. Someone steals the left-handed foil to ruin him, but when he brings in one of his own, he gets in trouble anyway.
“Hey, Grim,” Theobold hooted. “Are you just after her money, or do you actually find that sort of girl attractive?”
Valmont laughed. “Or maybe Grim just likes it when she bosses him around,” Valmont put in with a nasty smile. “After all, he likes taking orders, what with being a servant and all.”
Henry gritted his teeth and forced himself not to respond.
He never should have borrowed that sword. It had seemed such a small favor at the time, but if Rohan had been there, he would have pointed out the impropriety or recognized the cost of the weapon.
But Rohan was gone. Expelled. And Henry was left to navigate hi
s friendship with Frankie by himself.
Valmont whispered something to Theobold and the two of them laughed uproariously and glanced in Henry’s direction.
Henry sighed.
Hopefully they’d have gotten over it by supper.
They hadn’t.
Finally unable to take any more teasing, Henry made his excuses and left his supper half-eaten on his plate.
Back in his room, Henry took out his new Latin exercise book and forced himself to slog through the homework, knowing that he’d have to help Adam with it later.
The exercise was ridiculously simple, as they’d just begun the Latin unit, and Henry, who had already studied this the year before, had a hard time paying attention.
He kept thinking of Lord Havelock’s triumphant sneer when he accused Rohan of stealing and about how he, Henry, was ever going to prove that all of the horrible things that had happened were part of Lord Havelock’s evil master plan.
Because they had to be.
Even Valmont had implied that Lord Havelock was willing to manipulate the results of the Knightley Exam back when he’d been chief examiner.
If Henry could just prove what Lord Havelock had done, then Rohan might be able to come back, and Headmaster Winter could keep his job, and then Frankie would stay, and they’d all get to remain at the academy for another year.
He banged his fist against his exercise book in frustration.
“Whoa, take it easy,” Adam said, standing in the doorway. He put a napkin filled with sugar biscuits on the edge of Henry’s desk.
“Thanks,” Henry said.
“Don’t mention it. Although, I wouldn’t mind a favor in return.”
“Latin homework?” Henry asked knowingly.
“It’s really awful. Worse than French,” Adam complained, taking out his own exercise book.
“Don’t copy,” Henry snapped, and then he sighed. What did it matter, anyway? “You know what, go ahead.”
“Really?” Adam asked suspiciously. “Why?”
Henry shook his head.
“I hate this,” he said simply. “I hate that I hate this, but I do. Rohan’s gone and Lord Havelock’s after us and there’s a war coming that only Professor Stratford knows about, but what’s he going to do about it? I am just so sick of everything.”
“I know how you feel,” Adam said, putting down his pen. “But at least you’re good at school. I’ve got all of that, and I’m having to sit here and copy your bloody Latin.”
There was a knock at the door.
“Hello?” Henry called.
The door opened a crack. It was Frankie.
“Can I come in?” she asked.
Henry looked to Adam. Adam shrugged.
“We could be expelled, you know,” Henry reminded her.
“No one ever checks,” Frankie said. “And I don’t want to go to the library. Everyone’s staring at me funny.”
“At least all you’re getting are funny stares,” Henry said darkly.
Frankie shut the door behind her. “Who?” she demanded. “Valmont?”
Henry nodded.
“And Theobold,” Adam put in. “Mostly Theobold.”
“I detest Theobold,” Frankie said. “He’s exactly the type who spent his childhood burning ants with a magnifying glass and bragging about it to his tutors.”
“He is!” Adam hooted.
“Shhhh!” Henry cautioned. “Frankie, I really think you should go.”
“Fine.” Frankie pouted.
Henry sighed. “You’re not allowed to be in here. You know that.”
A knock at the door. Everyone froze.
“Who is it?” Henry called.
“It’s Sir Frederick. I’ve come to see how you’re getting on without your friend.”
Henry gulped. Frankie looked around wildly, as though she planned to hide, and Adam began to unlatch the window.
And then, as if in slow motion, the doorknob turned.
“Good heavens,” Sir Frederick said, standing in the doorframe in his tweeds, carrying that day’s newspaper under his arm and a pipe in his hand. “Francesca.”
“I was just leaving,” Frankie said, attempting to escape.
“Not so fast,” said Sir Frederick.
Henry exchanged a horrified glance with Adam. “Not so fast” was practically code for “not so good.”
“Is there a problem, sir?” Henry asked, hoping Sir Frederick would just laugh and pull out a tin of biscuits, or tell a story, or ruffle their hair in that absentminded way he had.
But Sir Frederick smiled sadly. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “You boys know the rules.”
Henry hung his head.
“They asked me not to come in,” Frankie said. “They told me it wasn’t allowed, but I ignored them. This isn’t their fault.”
“Whether this is your fault or theirs, girls are not allowed in students’ chambers,” Sir Frederick reminded them. “Now grab your coats. We’re paying a visit to the headmaster’s office.”
The walk down the corridor was excruciating; the other boys were on their way back from the dining hall and gave Henry and his friends curious glances as they streamed in the opposite direction.
“There goes your reputation,” Henry whispered to Frankie.
Adam, who’d overheard, snorted.
The door to the headmaster’s office, when they reached it, no longer seemed comically large. Instead, it seemed horribly looming.
Sir Frederick rapped smartly on the door, and Headmaster Winter opened it, clearly having just returned from supper himself—there was a wet splotch on his shirt where he’d been trying to rub out a food stain.
Headmaster Winter raised a ginger eyebrow at the crowd assembled outside his door and ushered them inside.
The office was just as messy and scatterbrained as ever, except instead of cheerful and welcoming, now the clutter appeared sad and neglected.
“What can I help you with?” Headmaster Winter asked, lowering himself into his imposing chair with an audible sigh.
Unsure how to navigate the squashy sofa that bore the only empty seats in the room, Sir Frederick, Frankie, Adam, and Henry remained standing.
“Anthony, I’ll get straight to the point,” Sir Frederick said. “I stopped by Mr. Grim and Mr. Beckerman’s room after noticing that they’d left supper early, and I found your daughter inside.”
Headmaster Winter groaned. “Really, Francesca?”
Miserably, Frankie nodded. “They told me not to come in,” she said. “I just … didn’t listen.”
“You never do,” Headmaster Winter said plaintively. “But this time, no matter who’s to blame, I’m afraid it’s consequences all around.”
Henry and Adam hung their heads.
“Girls are not allowed,” Headmaster Winter continued, “in dormitory rooms. This is a clear rule, and there is a clear consequence.”
Henry and Adam exchanged a look of horror.
Henry’s heart clenched. This was it, there was nothing the headmaster could do or say to change the fact that he, Henry, had caused his own downfall. His own expulsion. The one thing he’d been worried about, the one thing he’d fought so hard to prevent, and he’d gone and brought it on himself. The irony was unbelievable.
“But, sir,” Adam began, “isn’t that rule supposed to be about, you know, kissing girls?”
Slowly, the headmaster nodded.
“Therein lies the problem,” Headmaster Winter said slowly. “There are not usually girls at Knightley Academy. If a boy were caught in a room alone with a girl, clearly her reputation would be scandalized. How had she gotten there? Where was her chaperone? What were her intentions allowing herself to go into a boy’s room? But none of the reasons surrounding this rule apply here, and I am loath to give a punishment that is meant for a different, and far more severe, offense just because the circumstances are similar.”
At this, Henry allowed himself a small hope that perhaps all was not lost.
; Headmaster Winter turned to Frankie. “Honestly, Francesca, you’ve given me no choice.”
“But, Papa—,” Frankie began.
“I’ll have to tell your grandmother what has happened and let her punish you as she sees fit,” Headmaster Winter finished.
Frankie went pale. “No, please. I promise, I’ll be good.”
“It’s too late,” Headmaster Winter said, holding up a hand. “I don’t enjoy my mother’s company either, but she’s a good influence on you and seems to be the only one who can keep your behavior in check.”
Frankie pouted. “I’m not going back to Maiden Manor,” she said. “She’ll make Headmistress Hardwicke take me back, but I’m not going. I’d rather run away and join an acting troupe. Or the circus. It’s not fair. They only teach poetry and painting and French, no matter what we want to learn. All I want is to be a—”
“You’re not a boy, Francesca,” Headmaster Winter said tiredly. “No matter how persistently you try to be one. You are a lady, and you’d better start acting like one. Now go to your room until I send for you.”
“Yes, Father,” Frankie said, all of the fight gone out of her. “And by the way, if you expel my friends, I shall never speak to you again.”
Satisfied, Frankie flounced out of the room.
The headmaster sighed and raked a hand through his hair.
“What am I going to do with you?” he said, half to himself and half to Henry and Adam.
“Overlook this one, sir?” Adam asked, and Henry promptly elbowed him.
A smile flickered over the headmaster’s lips.
“I think the three of us are all right here,” Headmaster Winter said to Sir Frederick.
Sir Frederick inclined his head and left.
“Take a seat,” Headmaster Winter said, indicating the squashy sofa. Henry and Adam sank into it, peering at the headmaster from between their knees.
“It’s unfortunate that the evidence against your friend was so compelling,” Headmaster Winter said. “There was no choice but to expel him, you know.”
Henry and Adam said nothing. What was the headmaster going on about?
“I like this job,” Headmaster Winter continued. “I truly believe in this school, and I’m hoping to do some good here, to update Knightley’s long-standing traditions. But I can’t do much good if I’m no longer headmaster, which is exactly what would happen were I to expel the two of you—and which might very well happen anyway, what with the events of this evening.
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