“I’ve a class to teach,” she said after a while.
Pen nodded and got up. At the door, she startled Lucy when she said, fiercely, “I would just go to him.”
“But he’s married.”
Pen shrugged. “Only love matters.”
She left, leaving Lucy wondering what exactly Pen knew about love. She was the youngest in their group, but sometimes, she seemed wise beyond her years.
Miss Hilversham had beenrelievedwhen Lucy showed up on her doorstep. She’d taken the girl into her arms and held her tightly. Her eyes brimmed with tears, but maybe it was just the spectacles glinting in the sun.
“I’ve been reproaching myself every day this last year, Lucy,” Miss Hilversham held onto Lucy’s hands as if afraid she’d lose her again. “I was so worried when I learned that you ran away from your position. I knew something must’ve happened. For a while, I told myself that maybe you’d run to your aunt. But then, I suspected that your aunt didn’t really exist. Why did you never tell me? All those years.” She shook the girl by the shoulders. “You should have told me.”
“I—I was afraid that you’d send me away. How did you discover that Aunt Jemima didn’t really exist?”
Miss Hilversham sighed. “There were so many signs. She never wrote. She never visited. That alone should have been a red flag. Then, the payments stopped.”
“But that means—that means—” She dropped her head in her hands. Hereyes widened as she understood. “All this time you didn’t receive any payment, but you let me stay on.”
Miss Hilversham had never revealed Lucy was a charity student.
She threw herself in Miss Hilversham’s arms again and cried. After she finished, Miss Hilversham tucked the wet strains of her hair behind her ear. “And now, Lucy. Tell me exactly what happened. Tell me your story from beginning to the end.”
Lucy wiped her nose. “The entire story?”
“The entire story.” Miss Hilversham looked her usual severe self again.
“So, you are Lucibelle Bellini.”Miss Hilversham shook her head in amazement. “You made it on the stage with Harriet Westington. Why didn’t you stay there? You could have had a successful career as an actress?”
Lucy, who was sitting on a footstool next to Miss Hilversham’s chair, leaned her head against her armrest. “Because I hated every minute of it,” she whispered. “Because fame really means nothing. I wasn’t meant to be for the stage. Joris and Jelly realised that. That is why they sent me here. Oh, Miss Hilversham, I was so homesick. All I wanted was to come back and—just be here. But I thought I needed the duke to write a letter so you’d take me back.”
“You silly child. I never needed any letter to convince me to take you on as a teacher. You can stay here for as long as you want, Lucy.”
“Thank you.” Lucy got up.
Lucy had gotten what she wanted. She was back at the Seminary. Yet things were not as they used to be. So much at the Seminary had changed. Arabella was in Ashmore Hall and wrote weekly letters, at first eagerly, then when Lucy didn’t reply, she gradually stopped. Birdie had moved on to a position as a governess. Pen was still here, watching Lucy with her troubled eyes, not speaking much.
It was good to be home, Lucy told herself.
“Miss Bell,Miss Hilversham is expecting you in her office.” Martha, the maid, interrupted Lucy’s reverie. She was supposed to be grading essays; however, she’d been staring a hole into the wall for the past half an hour.
“I’m not ready for visitors.” She wore a wrinkled afternoon dress, had ink stains on her fingers and her hair was dishevelled. “Who is it?”
“I don’t know, Miss. They said they’d wait if you were in class.”
Lucy sighed. It was probably some students’ parents. She’d had more than one meeting like that.
For one moment she allowed herself to daydream that it was Henry. Her heart pounded.
No. How could the mere thought of Henry put her in such physical agitation? It was time to forget him, once and for all.
She straightened her dress and tucked a loosened hair strand behind her ear. This was the best she could do for now.
Miss Hilversham,perched behind her desk, looked up, bespectacled and proper. “Lucy, come in. There is someone here to see you. Lord and Lady Sullivan, this is Lucy Bell.”
A lady, with a hat of white satin and ostrich feathers, sat in a chair by the window. A gentleman with iron grey hair stood next to her. Lucy didn’t recognise them.
“Good afternoon.”
