“You exaggerate his feelings,” I say, “because you are so fond of me yourself.”
“No,” Betsy says. “I’m an old woman. And usually that is no commendation. But it does mean that I have seen much of life. The way Mr. Saintsbury looks at you—to me, there is no mystery in it. The only mystery is in what you will do with him.”
I can only shake my head. I find it impossible to say any more.
“Have I affronted you?” Betsy asks.
“No,” I say. “I am only surprised that you saw us together. I knew they must be talking in the village.”
The old woman reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“You are a good girl. Don’t let the past take from you what could be present happiness.”
Betsy then rises and walks out without further word.
The only mystery is in what you will do with him.
I sit in the study and contemplate whether I believe her.
Chapter 32
Annabelle
The visit from Betsy impresses upon me that Alfred and I will not be able to hide away in Trescott forever.
But I am not ready to give up our cloistered intimacy yet.
The day will come when I have no choice—and soon.
Nevertheless, my heart whispersnot yet,and I obey it.
I am unable to keep the conversation with Betsy from my mind.
It changes something for me that at least one person on this earth knows about me and Alfred—and does not regard the connection as a disgrace.
Even if that one person is an old cottager.
Not that I could seriously think of marrying Alfred.
For so many reasons.
But Betsy’s view of the situation sits in my mind nonetheless.
That same afternoon I find Alfred in the small sitting room that I gave him for his exclusive use. He sits on the sofa, a few letters spread out before him.
“Has someone written to you? Your father?”
My pulse quickens as I step towards him.
“Not my father,” Alfred says, although his brow is still knit.
“Then who?”
“My friends.”
I move towards the table and reach for a letter.
Dear Alfred,
