It was his house, after all. Not hers. Why could she not leave well enough alone? And why could she not leavehimalone? Why, even now, did she feel the urge to run back? To fix him, or save him, or...
Even if he needed saving it would not be up to you to do so.
The night she’d found him in the library, she had admitted to herself that she liked and admired him. But now that seemed too easy an explanation, which did not even begin to define the pull she felt. The understanding, the connection.
As though...
As though he were a kindred spirit.
Leave well enough alone, Rebecca, she told herself as she passed the kitchens and gave everyone huddled there a glare, warning them to return to their work, and cease whispering about what had just occurred.
Cease trying to fix everything, and more importantly, cease trying to understand the master. Serve and obey.
Chapter Nine
Serve and obey.That is what Rebecca did to the best of her abilities in the days following her confrontation with Liam in the tower. She was careful to keep her distance again, keeping to the downstairs whenever she wasn’t continuing her work restoring more rooms, which she did as discreetly, and as far from any place Liam might stumble upon her, as she could.
The only sign of her presence in the house was the flowers she continued to bring to Hal’s room. She knew Liam had returned there since his first visit, but she found neither broken glass nor scattered flowers.
The day after their dispute she had stood there, flowers in hand, before the picture above the mantelpiece, for nearly an hour.
Am I wrong to do this?she had asked the forlorn Danish Princess, who seemed to peer out of the painting into her very soul.Am I wrong to continue thus when I know the pain it has brought him?
Ophelia had remained silent on her flowery riverbank, and Rebecca had not been able to find it within herself to relent.
It cannot be wrong to bring life into such a cold, dark place.
And so she had left the vase, and prayed that Liam might one day understand.
The others had kept their distance as well, attending to their duties as always, but careful to respect her need for solitude. They all sensed something important had passed between her and the Earl. Rebecca knew they all speculated as to what, but none dared ask. Not that they couldn’t surmise well enough; they all knew very well the significance of the East Tower.
Mr Brown had taken to watching her closely, as though fearful she might take it upon herself to make more of a mess. Often Rebecca caught him staring at her, wearing an unsettling expression of confused wariness. He and the others had warned her against such actions, and she had not heeded them. She had neither served, nor obeyed, and now she and Liam both had to pay the price for her stubbornness.
Though she might have preferred to ignore the staff altogether, take her meals alone in her office and meet them only when absolutely necessary, she knew she needed more than ever to show stalwartness.
But as the days passed, and the wet, blustery winds and gales of October gave way to the frozen harshness of November, so the tension in the household seemed to grow, until finally Rebecca could not endure one more second within the confines of Thornhallow. Having neglected Mrs Ffoulkes, she decided a trip to the old woman’s cottage would be just the thing. A cup of tea and a polite natter would do them both immense good, she posited.
She set off just after breakfast, with a basket of parkin and some supplies Mrs Murray had agreed to part with. Though Cook always fussed when Rebecca made the request, she always seemed to have a little stash set aside for that very purpose.
Yes, a long, solitary walk was just what Rebecca needed. Since she had arrived at Thornhallow, and particularly since the master had returned, it had felt harder and harder to keep her bearings.
In fifteen years of service, she thought as she set off through the park, deciding to take the longer path through the northern wood, not once had she felt so lost as to how to do her duty. Yes, there had been trying times. Failures, setbacks, disappointments. She was not perfect; no one was. But not once had she ever doubtedwhatshe was supposed to do. Never once had she felt so...confused. As though she’d forgotten who she was.
She stopped at the edge of the wood, and took a deep breath. The icy air stung her lungs but felt like a tonic. Marching onwards, careful to avoid the numerous puddles of mud and slush as she enjoyed the beauty of her surroundings, Rebecca wondered precisely what it was about Thornhallow that was making her doubt so.
An easy position. Simple. Quiet. That’s what this was meant to be.
Only, everything about her life here was proving to be anything but.
In every other house she had served, she had obeyed dutifully—though, yes, she’d been wilful, and contrary at times. But then she had given her opinions with grace and diplomacy, not marched around doing whatever she pleased. Perhaps something in her was rebelling against the hierarchy, the order of things. Perhaps, in the freedom she’d been given by the master’s absence, she had found...
What? Too much freedom?
As if there was such a thing.
In this world there is...
Rebecca slowed her pace when she realised that instead of enjoying her walk, she had taken to tramping like an ogre, crushing leaves and crunching twigs, scaring every living creature for miles. She knew what the truth was. She had let herself get attached to the master. She’d become invested in his life, and in his house. In the moments when she had seenhim, unguarded and true, she had let herself be interested. Where she should have run, or held fast behind the solid, invisible and impenetrable wall of propriety, she had instead opened herself to more. To knowing him.
