Chapter
Twenty-Six
Professor Comstock tapped his pen against the letter on his desk, and the rat-a-tat set Nora’s nerves on edge. He’d sent for her that morning, and when she entered his office, he’d waved a piece of paper at her. She saw Frederic’s restrained signature at the bottom and knew he’d told the professor everything.
Professor Comstock pinched the bridge of his nose beneath his wire-rimmed glasses and peered at her over his fingers. “You understand that sending you to India put my reputation at risk. Science is a difficult place for women, and I wanted you to have every benefit before you launched into your career. Your actions have called into question my professional opinion and work.”
She watched him from beneath lowered lashes, hoping he would misconstrue her anxiety for contrition. But he’d spent his entire life studying the smallest life-forms beneath microscopes. He wasn’t fooled.
He dropped the glasses back into place and rested his hands on the desk. “You don’t seem remorseful.”
“Everyone is telling me I should feel bad about what I did,” she said, “but I just can’t. I helped a child in need. Isn’t that what Christians are supposed to do?”
“But you weren’t there representing the Church. You were there representing Cornell. Me!”
Professor Comstock had been like an uncle to her, especially since her father had died. She hated that she’d inadvertently caused harm to his reputation or career. “What else could I have done? Ignore that a child was being sold into prostitution? What would you have done?”
Nora hated the desperation in her voice. Hated the way her hands fluttered around her waist, like a pair of butterflies fighting for territory. She hated even more that she’d had to choose between Sita’s good and her beloved teacher’s.
He rested his elbows on the desk. “Maybe sending you there was a bad idea. You are so sheltered. You have no experience with the world. Something like this was bound to happen.”
She shook her head. “I’m glad you sent me. Another student would have ignored Sita’s plight. Maybe, in the end, that’s why you sent me. Maybe there was a bigger reason than just advancing my career.”
He picked up the letter and scanned it. “Frederic says you were instrumental in helping him find a few species that will make the book stand out, and he’s grateful, but he suggests I never again recommend you to work with a team in the field. He also says you claim to have discovered a new species, but he’s sure you can’t be trusted in that area. However, despite your impulsivity, you’ve always been of sound mind. Will you tell me about it?”
Nora launched into an explanation of her butterfly, the habits and mimicry she had observed, the similarities but also differences between it and the Delias eucharis. “I have no doubt that it’s an undiscovered butterfly.”
The professor’s eyes had taken on a gleam that grew the longer Nora spoke. He rubbed his hands together and nearly bounced in his seat. “Well, where is it?”
“I lost the first one I collected. Sita’s father destroyed my others, along with all of my notes and illustrations, in a fire.” Nora’s eyes slid shut, and she once again smelled the smoke wafting through the air, heard the crackle and snap of the flames, saw her dreams disintegrate.
“That was rather unreasonable of him. I’m glad you suffered no harm. But a shame about the loss of your discovery.”
“Will you tell the scholarship board about Sita? I believe they would look upon my actions unfavorably.”
His fingers stilled. Professor Comstock was a good man. A fair one. But he also valued truth and responsibility. If he believed her actions wrong, he would not keep her behavior to himself. Her breath caught when he spoke.
“I will not bring it up—”
She reached across the table and grasped his hand.
“But,” he said, warning in his words, “if they hear anything about it and question me, I will have to tell them the entire story.”
“How would they hear anything? Frederic isn’t aware of the scholarship, and Owen won’t say a word. . . .” Nora’s mouth slackened and she blinked. He wouldn’t. No, of course not. But she recalled his despondency when he told her about his father’s plans to send him to law school. He’d hate law school. The only thing he seemed to enjoy was studying insects. Field research. Travel.
Her.
He wanted her to choose between him and the journal, though. And when she couldn’t, he’d shut the door in her face. If he knew he could jeopardize things for her and secure the scholarship for himself, he just might. Because Nora doubted he saw a future with her anymore.
And he couldn’t see a future in law.
Nora sat in the middle of Library Hall behind a woman wearing a high-crowned hat bedecked with silk flowers, ribbons, and a stuffed hummingbird. Nora could hardly see over it to the podium where one of her classmates had just finished speaking. Owen made his way up the stairs and looked out over the crowd. Nora ducked. Surely he couldn’t see her.
She’d considered not attending his lecture, positive he’d find her presence obnoxious after their argument three days prior, but in the end, she couldn’t stay away. She wanted to see him, to support him . . . to appraise the competition.
She’d already sat through two presentations—both men she’d attended school with and who had done field research with Professor Comstock in Illinois over the summer break. Next week she’d present with the other two students vying for the scholarship. Six people, but only she and Owen had a real chance. Both top of their class and having studied overseas.
She wouldn’t present on her butterfly, of course. Without proof of its existence, without notes and field reports, no one would take her seriously. So she’d discuss gynandromorphism in the Vindula erota. It wasn’t as exciting as the discovery of a new species, but it would do.
Owen crossed the stage and took his place behind the podium. He cleared his throat, rustled through some papers, and began his speech.
He spoke about the symbiotic relationship between the ants and the Cigaritis lohita. He spoke well. His confidence and excitement for the subject projected, and with charm, he drew the audience in. He peppered his entomological research with personal stories that drew laughter from the crowd. She had no chance.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Lucius walk into the hall. She frowned. She hadn’t seen him at Cornell since his embarrassing “resignation.”
The audience erupted with clapping, and Nora looked at Owen, who had gathered his papers and was stepping off the stage. When she looked back toward Lucius, he was gone. The lady with the hat stood and stepped aside, revealing Owen talking with President White near the front of the room.
Nora tugged on her earring. She should find out what they were talking about. Clutching her reticule, she stood, but then President White motioned Professor Comstock over, and two of the men on the scholarship board joined the circle.
“Nora!” Rose skipped toward her, Bitsy following at a more sedate pace. “We thought you weren’t coming. You could have sat with us. We had seats in the front row. Owen did magnificently, didn’t he? I’d be surprised if he didn’t get the scholarship.” Bitsy elbowed Rose, drawing a sharp gasp. “Why’d you—oh. Well, you know what I mean, don’t you, Nora? Of course you’re brilliant and they’ll give you the scholarship. I don’t think for—”
“Stop prattling.” Bitsy rolled her eyes heavenward.
Nora waved her hand to quiet them both, and they followed her gaze to the tight huddle at the front of the room. Lucius gestured with his hands, prodding at the sky and shaking his head like an excited ornithologist.
“What do you think they’re discussing?” Nora asked.
“Maybe how well Owen did.” Rose yelped, and Nora assumed Bitsy had jabbed her again.
“But why is Lucius here?” Nora wiped a slick of sweat from her upper lip. Professor Comstock glanced at her, his expression sad, and nausea unfurled in her stomach, sending grasping talons into her chest and throat and head. No.
President White searched the hall, his eyes coming to rest on her. In his stiff frown and narrowed eyes, she saw censure.
The scholarship vanished, and she groaned. “I’m moving to Long Island.”
She tried to make words out of Owen’s moving lips. She caught her name, maybe the word save, but nothing else. Lucius clapped him on the back, and Nora’s fists curled. She dug her nails into the tender flesh of her palms. Lucius turned and caught her eye, and her legs went numb. She sank onto the chair behind her and pressed her lips together.
“He wants to ruin my life.” Nora had always known Lucius disliked her. But this . . . this was more than a personality conflict. Lucius had a personal vendetta against her. She didn’t know why. Couldn’t fathom what would cause someone to destroy their stepdaughter’s every happiness. But when he sauntered toward the door with light steps, Nora knew he’d somehow found out what had happened in India and realized it would influence their decision. And he wanted her gone.
Rose glanced down at her with a worried expression. “You don’t know that. Don’t borrow trouble.”
Bitsy grabbed Nora’s arm and hauled her up. “You need to find out what happened.”
Nora craned her neck to see Owen shaking President White’s hand, then the donors’. He swiveled his head, eyes raking the crowd, then stepped out of the circle, traced Lucius’s steps, and pushed his way through the throng.
Bitsy gave Nora a gentle shove. “Go figure this out.”
Nora took off after him. When she rounded the sand-colored brick walls of the hall, she saw Owen jogging to catch up with Lucius. They met beneath the clock tower, and their conversation was full of gesturing and interruption.
Nora started forward, but then Lucius laughed, and Nora halted and smashed her teeth together so hard, pain shot through her cheeks. She couldn’t see Owen’s face because he stood with his back to her, but she saw from his wide stance and the way he rocked back on his heels that he felt comfortable with Lucius.
Her throat closed, and she gasped, her breath coming in quick, shallow puffs. He couldn’t betray her like this. Her heart, which she’d kept protected behind a curtain of study and aloofness until Owen freed it, contracted, and she thought it might shatter into a million pieces.
And she knew, if Owen asked her again what was more important, him or the journal, she’d answer in a completely different way.
Nora walked away, her heels clicking against the stone pavers. Absorbed in her thoughts and heartbreak, she didn’t notice Anna until her mentor’s hand shot out and grasped Nora’s wrist.
“You’re in a hurry,” Anna said with a laugh. Happy lines wrinkled the corners of her eyes, and her cheeks rounded. She tugged Nora down beside her on an iron bench.
Nora sighed. “Everything I do ends in disaster.” She squinted up at the sky, tracking the clouds’ progress and seeing in them fanciful insects.
“Are you speaking about what happened in India?”
Nora looked at her and drew her lower lip between her teeth.
Anna smiled. “There’s very little Mr. Comstock keeps from me.”
“What happened in India, what happened with my father, what happened at the dinner party, what happened”—Nora’s voice cracked—“with Owen.”
Anna didn’t question her. She didn’t pry. She answered in her matter-of-fact way, cutting right to the core of the issue. “Sometimes the consequence is entirely too harsh for the action. In your case”—she winked at Nora—“I’d say most of the time.”
Nora groaned. She was cursed.
“I think you made the right decision regarding your Indian friend. An unpopular choice, for sure, but really, it was the only one you could have made. You knew she was worth the consequence, and in the end, knowing that child is safe makes almost anything worth it.”
Nora smiled. “She was worth it. I love her like a sister.”
Anna touched Nora’s arm, and her happy wrinkles disappeared. “And I love you like a sister, so I’m going to tell you something that will hurt you. But I want you to be prepared.”
Nora didn’t think anything could be worse than knowing the man she loved had colluded with the man she disliked most in the world to keep her from realizing her dreams, but she still considered bolting. Hiding in the cavern of Library Hall or beneath a nearby shrub. She didn’t want to hear more bad news.
“There has been talk about Lucius. About his financial situation.”
Nora lifted a shoulder. “I know about that. He’s already sold my jewelry. He said he’s had trouble paying bills since he lost his job.”
Anna shook her head, and a sad smile crept across her lips. “It’s more than that. He’s been seen gambling. A lot. It’s the reason Cornell fired him. He has significant debts, and he’s borrowed money from nearly every employee of the university.”
Nora stared at her. “My father left my mother comfortably provided for.”
“It’s gone, Nora. All of it. He’s mortgaged the house.”
Nora pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. He couldn’t have. What would they do?
Footsteps approached. “Nora, I have some dreadful news,” Professor Comstock said.
Nora removed her hands and blinked up at him. “What, more?” A bitter laugh fringed her question.
He carefully touched her arm, as though she might break. “Somehow, Lucius has heard enough about what happened in India that he was able to convince the board you are unfit for the scholarship. They’ve determined they don’t want a rabble-rouser benefiting from their largesse.”
“I figured as much.” Nora choked on the bile spilling into her mouth. She swallowed it, and it burned a path down her throat and into her chest.
Everything was gone.
They had nothing. She had nothing. No hope for continuing her education. No job prospects. No collection to remind her of her father. No new exotic butterfly to propel her to prominence. No Owen to love her.
Nothing.