“My next apprentice!” Hewitt said with a jollity so unmatched to my mood that I was nearly disarmed.

“You see, I was his apprentice when I was quite young,” said John Arden. “He allowed that I might serve him, doing nearly nothing of value, in exchange for hours at liberty with his microscope. We still meet once a week merely to trade observations of the natural world.”

The old man’s face brightened, looking at his friend. “I do think my young apprentice keeps the world alive for me. It was a bargain well worth making.”

He allowed that he must be on his way, shook my hand again, and offered to show himself out. When he was gone, I pulled the letter from my pocket. It was shaking like a dry leaf in my hand.

“If you would … give this to Jane for me?”

“Of course.” He took the letter. “You mustn’t overworry. I’m sure it’s just the whirling prospect of Whitsuntide. It brings out—”

“The worst in everyone,” I cut in. “In me, anyway.”

I could tell he didn’t know what to say. How could he? Instead, he cleared his throat, picked up a book from his desk, and handed it to me.

“Essays on Friendship?” I said.

“I brought it down from the dusty shelves for Jane. But you’re a faster reader.”

I knew then that Jane had shared our encounter with him. I held the book to my chest. “Do you think I’ve lost her forever?”

He gazed over the mantel at the portrait of his wife, then looked at me.

“In my experience there are few things in life that are irrevocable. What one feels today, however awful, will not be the same tomorrow, or next week, or next year. Given time, everything changes. Usually for the better.”

I nodded.

“I’m sure by the ball next week, all will be forgotten.”

I looked down at my shoes. “I’m afraid, that is … Well, Mama isn’t feeling herself just now. We have no chaperone.”

“Oh. I see,” he said. “Is there anything I might do?”

I couldn’t tell him that Mama had retreated to her bed, that my brother Henry was hanging on by a thread. That I was ashamed of my family, my life.

“There’ll always be another Whitsuntide,” I said.

To my relief there was no school the week it began, as its various festivities captured Beverley’s imagination. No one could sit still, or speak of anything else. I froze when I caught sight of Jane in the street, surprised that she waved to me and crossed to my side. She even squeezed my hand.