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And especially afraid to face her family’s dark past.

She’d always wondered why John had killed himself when he’d been such an enthusiastic and charming man who seemed to never stop smiling.

Looking at those dark ideas and thoughts was not the Rose way. Did not correspond well with folding the negative emotions neatly up and putting them into a basket.

And yet, here she was. Facing them straight on.

She hadn’t done the basket exercise since she’d found the doctor’s bill two days ago. And, surprisingly, it felt right.

Patience found herself in front of a house in the center of Oxford. Dr. Long’s office was supposedly on the first floor. However, she soon learned that the doctor had died five years earlier, and it was now the office of a solicitor. Disappointment ran through her.

She’d come to Oxford to speak with the physician who’d treated Dorian’s burns and lacerations on the same day her brother had died, to ask him if he thought there could be any connection between the two events. But now she’d never know.

On the ground floor was the student pub, its wooden sign, with a bear against a red background, creaking gently in the wind.

The Bear, she read.

It sounded familiar. John had mentioned this pub before, she was sure. As a six-year-old, she had wondered if there was a real bear inside.

The door stood ajar, inviting her into a world her brother had once known. It was early afternoon, and she heard no signs of one of the loud, drunken debaucheries her brother had mentioned. As a child, she’d wondered if such a reckless crowd of people would have bothered a real bear… If there had been one.

Needles prickled her skin as she stood watching the pub, the stained-glass windows dark. It was half-timbered, with a wooden frame, white plaster filling the spaces between the beams. She wondered if this was one of the last places John may have been in his life. And if Dorian had frequented the pub, too.

A woman in her early thirties came out of the pub and began slapping out some wet cloths. She was dressed like a servant, with a grayish cap and an apron. She had beautiful red hair under her cap and a tired face with more wrinkles than she should have at her age.

Patience stepped back so that the wind wouldn’t blow crumbs and dust on her, and the woman stopped, looking at her.

“Oh, I am so sorry, my lady,” she said with a genuine expression of regret. “I thought you were just passing by. Ladies don’t come here, so I didn’t think you were waiting…”

“Oh,” said Patience, suddenly feeling out of place since someone called her “my lady.”

She should be used to this by now. And yet…

“No, I can’t walk in anyway,” she said with a thankful smile. “I was just thinking of my brother.”

“Your brother, my lady?” asked the woman. “Does he study here?”

“He used to. A long time ago. And he talked about The Bear many times.”

“Ah, I see. Yes, well, most students do come here for some ale and some trouble.”

Patience chuckled. “Some trouble. That was what John was after, no doubt.”

“John?” she asked and frowned, thinking. “Mayhap I know him, even from a long time ago. I’ve been working here my entire life. My father owned this public house, and I’ve always been the maid here. I’m now the owner. Never married, you see.”

Patience smiled sadly and shook her head. “I doubt it. It was twelve years ago.”

The woman nodded. “My name is Christine, by the way. And you are?”

“I’m Lady… Ahem, forgive me, I still can’t get used to my title. I’m the Duchess of Rath.”

“Oh, Your Grace,” said Christine and curtsied. “We do have some dukes and their sort visiting, but never a duchess. Twelve years ago, you say… Yes, I was the maid here then. Where’s your brother now? Is he a solicitor? That’s what most young men become when they graduate. Or perhaps a vicar?”

Patience’s chest ached painfully. “He would have been a solicitor. He died twelve years ago.”

Christine’s face changed, a shadow of alerted concern crossing it. “What was the name of your brother, did you say?”

“I doubt you knew him. There must have been so many students passing through your public house. His name was John Rose.”