“Not a fortune.” Miss Corvus took a sip of water before returning the glass to the tray beside her. “A small sum, only. It was the remainder of my inheritance from my mother. That, Compton and my brother didn’t manage to touch.” She dabbed at her lips with her handkerchief. “It was my father’s money they stole—in excess of fifty thousand pounds.”

Nell gasped at the figure. It was more than most people would see in a lifetime. “Why did you not go to the authorities?”

“And say what, pray?” Miss Corvus asked. “I had no proof. The documents were taken away by my brother before I fully realized what had happened—the entirety of my correspondence with Compton, the little tokens of esteem he’d given me, the copies of the papers he’d bid me sign. All that remained was my own accounting of the events. Had I come forward, it would have been reduced to my word against his.”

“You surely would have prevailed,” Nell said. “If he was found to be in possession of your money and property—”

Miss Corvus gave a derisive snort. “Do you have any idea of the scandal it would have caused? What it would have done to what remained of my reputation? At the time, that was all I had left to sustain me. But to go public…Me, a jilted young lady, claiming such things against a man who no longer wanted me? A spinster scorned? I was already considered odd. Isolated. Friendless. While Compton—he had gone to London. He had allies. Connections.”

“He went to London on your money,” Effie said angrily. “It’s how he was able to marry an heiress, making himself even richer and more powerful.”

“Do you imagine I don’t know it?” Miss Corvus’s face darkened with remembered fury. “I was obliged to flee, as if I were the one who had done wrong. To relinquish my home. To change my name. For a time, I thought only of avenging myself on him. Even when I returned from the continent, even when I started the school.” She looked at Effie with mingled bitterness and regret. “Even when I met you. I thought to forge you into a weapon. Not only against Compton, but against all men. You, Miss Trewlove, and Miss Sparrow—the three oldest of my girls. My formidable, intelligent army of women. No man could ever take advantage of any of you. You were too bright. Too dangerous. I gave you that.”

“You did,” Nell murmured. “Yet still you permit Compton to take advantage of you.”

“We are not the same,” Miss Corvus said.

“The devil we aren’t,” Effie retorted. “You made us in your image.”