take out a favorite volume of poetry to pass the time.

And that is exactly what Miss Penelope Lumley did.

She may have been young and alone, in a strange place

with no real home to return to and on her way to a job

interview, but she was also much, much more than her

current circumstances would indicate.

She was a Swanburne girl, through and through.

One of Agatha Swanburne’s sayings, which Penelope

had often heard (you may think of her as Penelope

from this point forward, for now you have made her

acquaintance), was this: “All books are judged by their

covers until they are read.”

She had never understood the true meaning of this

expression until now. Imagine: A studious-looking girl

of fifteen, primly dressed, perched on a large, battered

trunk and reading a well-thumbed volume of obscure

poetry—what tableau could more perfectly match what

any reasonable person might expect a young governess

to look like?

It was, as they say nowadays, perfect casting. Doubt-

less that is why the coachman from Ashton Place took

only a moment to recognize Penelope on the platform.

In spite of her youth, he addressed her with all the

deference due a professional educator. Nor did he offer

any complaint at the alarming weight of the trunk.

“Full a’ books, I take it?” He grunted as he hoisted

it into the carriage. Then he held the door open for her

to enter. Penelope hesitated.

“May I ride outside, next to you?” she asked. “The

weather is so fine, and I am curious to see what the

town of Ashton is like, in case I am asked to stay,” she

added, striking what she hoped was the right note of

humility. Swanburne girls were encouraged to be con-

fident and bold, but Miss Mortimer had also advised

Penelope to show some restraint when meeting new

people—“only until you get to know each other a bit,”

she explained. Penelope had always found Miss Mor-

timer’s advice to be well worth taking.

“Hmph,” the coachman said, but he helped Penel-

ope climb up next to him in the driver’s seat. Penelope

noted the horses’ gleaming coats with approval. Her

soft spot for animals was well known at Swanburne—

indeed, that is what had caught Miss Mortimer’s eye in

the advertisement for the position. Could it truly have

been only a week since that fateful day? If Penelope

closed her eyes, she could still hear Miss Mortimer’s

voice. . . .

“Listen to this, girls: ‘Wanted Immediately: Energetic

Governess for Three Lively Children.’” Miss Mortimer