“But he wasn’t. He forced himself to do so in order to keep me from going for help alone. What if that made it worse? What if he injured something inside? He hit the ground hard when he landed.” Priscilla wrung her hands.
Chloe studied her and then leaned forward. “You like him,” she whispered. “You genuinely like him.” And then she closed her eyes. “This is a disaster.”
Chloe was right! And that made all of this so much worse. Priscilla inhaled, reminding herself that Primm was counting on them—on her.
As were the other teachers and all those students.
“I don’t,” Priscilla said. “Well, I do, but only a little. And only because he’s been so kind to me. What if it’s putrefied? What if the doctor wants to saw it off?” Her brother had nearly met with such a fate—because of her.
But by the grace of God and a forward-thinking physician, he’d kept his leg.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Chloe said. “Where were you going just now, then?”
“To collect my shawl,” Priscilla answered automatically. “And perhaps lie down for a few moments. I didn’t sleep much last night.”
“Miss Fortune?” One of the elderly ladies beckoned Chloe back to the table. “It’s your play.”
“I’ll be right there.” She waved and then leaned into Priscilla. “Don’t do anything improper. If his mother isn’t worried, you oughtn’t to be worried either.”
The fact that his mother wasn’t worried was of little help.
“The ladies are waiting for you,” Priscilla answered, a little insulted that Chloe would suggest she’d do anything improper.
Walking through the corridors alone, she felt as though she were carrying the world on her shoulders. Two weeks. It suddenly felt like a lifetime.
She thought she’d feel better away from the party. She could lie down for half an hour and perhaps pen a letter to Olivia. Then, if she decided to be ambitious, she could also write to Victoria.
Priscilla rubbed her forehead.
The morning’s adventure must have tired her more than she’d realized. Or perhaps it was all the introductions. She was accustomed to being surrounded by others, but as a teacher, in her own classroom, she could demand silence if she wished.
Chloe and his mother were right. It was only a twisted ankle!
Or was it?
Any injury could take a turn for the worse without warning. Her brother had nearly died after being shot.
Priscilla glanced down the long corridor and rubbed her chin thoughtfully.
She was a guest in this house. Lady Hardwood had already assured her that his injury was not life-threatening.
Even so… an idea began to take shape.
If only one of the chambermaids were lurking about…
And as if the fates approved, a young woman stepped out of one of the doors. She wore a pressed apron over her gray dress and carried a tall stack of linens.
“Pardon, miss.” Priscilla stopped her. As a lady, she had no business seeking out Hardwood’s chamber, and so…
Priscilla found herself lying, yet again.
Perhaps she wasn’t so horrible at dissembling after all.
“I’m to deliver a message to Lord Hardwood immediately—from my father. Would you be so kind as to direct me to his chamber?”
“But that wouldn’t be proper, Miss Meadowbrook.” The maid frowned. looking torn between the duties awaiting her and the troublesome nature of Priscilla’s request. “Won’t you allow me to have his valet convey it instead? Mr. Evans can be trusted to ensure his Lordship receives it.”
“I’m to deliver it into his hands directly.” Priscilla assumed an authoritative voice. The one she relied on whenever one of her students questioned an assignment or mark. “The master chambers are on this floor. Now, if you’d just be so kind as to point me in the right direction?”
