Miss Grimsleys Oxford Career by Carla Kelly

the closely written sheets. She jabbed the offending papers with her fingers and thrust them under Ellen's nose.
    “My dear Miss Grimsley, I do not know why I ever allowed your dear aunt to enroll you here!”
    Mystified, Ellen took the sheets and stared at them, her cheeks growing rosy. From number fifty on, when her mind began to grow numb, she had written, “I will practice boredom as a virtue whilst I reside in Oxford.”
    Without a word, she accepted another sheet of paper and bent her head over her labors once more. Miss Dignam watched in silence for a moment. “And while you are at it, compose an essay on the folly of disobedience,” she said before she made her majestic progress from the room.
    The dinner hour came and went. As her stomach rumbled, Ellen breathed in the fragrance of beef roast and gravy, boiled mutton and the sharper odor of mint sauce. Never mind that she had always regarded boiled mutton as penance; she could have eaten a plateful and held out her dish for more.
    But no one else came to rescue her from her sentences. “Ellen Grimsley has been sentenced to starvation,” she said out loud and giggled, despite her misery.
    There was a tap at the door, scarcely audible, and Ellen stifled her laughter, fearful that too much enjoyment during punishment would lead to more sentences, and perhaps a thesis on the folly of mirth.
    “Yes?” she asked.
    A maid stuck her head in the doorway. She looked around, and seeing no one else in the room, whisked herself inside and closed the door behind her quickly. She held out a small package, done up in white paper and tied with a silver bow.
    “For you, miss, at least, if you are Miss Grimsley,” said the maid, when Ellen made no move to take the gift.
    “I am Miss Grimsley, but tell me, who is this from?” The maid looked about her again and came closer. “He was a tall gentleman, a student I am sure, but older than some. He came to call, but Miss Dignam had left word with the footman that you were in the middle of an ‘improving punishment.’ ” The maid leaned closer, cupping her mouth with her hand, in the event that the walls had ears. “At least, that is what she always calls it. I don't know that it ever improved anyone.”
    “Did he leave his name?” Ellen asked, thinking of Gordon. “Was he tall and blond, and rather fine to look at?”
    The maid shook her head. “No, miss, not a bit of it.” She perched herself on a desk. “But that's only the half of it. I shoved him out, and then who do I see poking about the kitchen door a half hour later but the same gentleman!”
    “And?” Ellen prompted.
    “And he handed me this package and told me to sneak it to you, and mind that I was not to let the dragon see it.”
    Ellen slid the ribbon off the package and opened it. Inside was a box of chocolates. “Wagoner's Chocolates,” she read and looked at the maid. “Tell me, is that a local emporium?”
    The maid nodded. “It's the best candy shop in Oxford.” Ellen opened the box, inhaling the comforting odor. With inkstained fingers, she picked up the small card.
    “‘Courage. Jim,’ ” she read out loud. She turned the card over. Nothing more.
    “How singular,” she said, as she popped a chocolate into her mouth. She held out the box to the maid, who protested at first and then took a piece. They sat in companionable silence in the room that had somehow become less depressing.
    Ellen sighed. “I am sure it is a mistake, but oh, how pleasant,” she said as she selected another piece. “I love nougat centers.” She wiped her fingers on the wrapping paper. “I suppose we should not eat any more. I am sure these are intended for one of the other students. If we do not stop soon, that will mean another hundred sentences.” She laughed out loud. “I will remember that gluttony is a deadly sin whilst I reside at Oxford.”
    The maid giggled and shook her head when Ellen offered her another candy. “It's no mistake, miss,” she