I wished I knew what else Mrs. Wilson had told him, but the fact that they had talked in private the whole evening was enough for me to know that she must have unburdened herself to him quite completely. “She seemed…quite fragile of mind,” I ventured. “She did not at first recognize her sister, and when Mrs. Wilson told her who she was and mentioned your name as well, she seemed not to know who you were—who John Wilson was. I am sorry that I could not have observed her further, but she was adamant that I leave. And when I returned, she was not in sight.”
He seemed increasingly frustrated at my responses. “And Mrs. Wilson said nothing about it on the return?”
“She did not, sir, nor did I think it my place to insist. She was quite distraught.”
He took a decisive bite of his toast and chewed it slowly.
I looked down at my plate. I was not used to being the bearer of such disheartening news. My egg was growing cold, the fat of the bacon congealing, but I could not think what else to say.
“This changes everything,” he said at last. “I shall have to write to your father.”
This brought my head up in alarm. Had Mrs. Wilson told him of my leaving Harrogate on my own?Oh God,I thought. Mr. Wilson was going to write to my father of my truancy. I could not imagine what would become of me—nearly sixteen years old and not even fit yet for any trade except for the meanest of them.
I didn’t know what to say, so I kept my silence and let my breakfast grow fully cold in front of me. Finally, he nodded at my plate and said curtly, “You’d better eat your breakfast, Rochester; there’s no telling what you’ll be getting henceforth.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, but I hadn’t the heart to eat now. All appetite had left me.
“You will not come to the mill today,” he said, as I by then suspected he would. “You must find other lodgings for yourself. I shall inform your father that you can no longer be accommodated here.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, just as if I understood what he was saying.
“One day will be sufficient, I should think.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You will be back tomorrow, then, as usual.”
“Sir?”
“At the mill. Tomorrow.”
“I don’t…I thought…I don’t quite…”
“Get it out, Rochester. I haven’t all day,” he snapped.
“It’s just that—if you’ve dismissed me—let me go, then why—”
“For heaven’s sakes, Rochester, I haven’t dismissed you.” His face softened, but only by a degree, as he understood my foolishness.
“But you said—”
“I said you no longer will stayhere. Mrs. Wilson has told me, and you have confirmed it: her sister must come here and live with us. God knows, it is not what I—well, not what anyone would choose.”
My breath caught in my throat. “Yes, sir,” I managed to say.
“You shall have to find other accommodations, and I will write to your father that our arrangement is, perforce, changed, and now that you are to be on your own, he and I shall have to work out who is responsible for your living expenses.” He gazed down at his plate for a moment. “Until Miss Little and Mrs. Brewer arrive, you may keep your room here. Unless you prefer to move out sooner.”
“I shall do the best I can,” I said, my head still reeling. For the first time in my life, I was to be on my own.
He rose to leave, but he turned back, his right hand gone to his pocket. “And I suppose it was necessary for you to pay for your lodgings in Harrogate from your own purse.”
“Well, sir—” I started, but he interrupted.
“Rochester,” he said, “some advice. If someone offers to give you payment, do not argue.” And he placed a note on the table.
“Yes, sir, I will remember that,” I said.
Chapter 9
