They turned to trace their steps back to Keatley Hall. After several silent steps, Phoebe tilted her head playfully toward Ella. “So we have recently discussed my impending romantic prospects and my father’s, but we’ve not discussed yours. Mr. Rawlston behaved abominably and no doubt left you cautious, but surely you must have thought for your future.”
It was Ella’s turn to hesitate.
She’d have to apprise Phoebe of her father’s plan regarding Mr. Abernathy sooner or later. The teacher’s attention toward her would likely become obvious. Perhaps if Ella was forthright about it, she could avoid awkward conversations later.
“There’s something you should probably know,” Ella began slowly.
Phoebe squealed and tightened her arm still looped through Ella’s. “I knew it!”
“I would save your excitement, Phoebe, for I’m not sure you’ll be pleased with what I am about to tell you.”
In the privacy of the garden, Ella told her friend all about the decline of her father’s health and his plans regarding Mr. Abernathy.
“Oh, Ella.” Phoebe paused to face her as they approached thegarden’s gate, her wide-set eyes brimming with sympathy. “Mr. Abernathy! Are you sure there is nothing to be done?”
Her friend’s disheartening reaction dashed Ella’s hope for encouragement. “I’m not sure. You’ll see for yourself as you spend more time around my father. I really do fear for his health.”
“I could cry for you.”
Ella, however, straightened her shoulders. The entire situation with Mr. Rawlston had been embarrassing, but to Ella, it was far worse to be pitied. Humiliation she could handle. Pity she could not.
Ella forced a smile. “As I told you, that was my father’s plan. Nothing is certain until all is said and done. Who knows? Maybe a handsome stranger will show up at the symposium and change all of our minds.”
A misty rain began to drizzle as the women returned to Keatley Hall to dress for dinner, but even as talk of a handsome stranger crossed Ella’s lips, the image of Mr. Rowe floated through her mind. He’d be joining them soon, but it would be imprudent to allow thoughts to flow unfettered.
No, practicality and truth were more reliable than fantastical thoughts that risked disappointment. She needed to focus on discovering the truth about Mr. Bauer and leave thoughts of romance to the others.
Chapter 11
THE NEXT MORNING, the unmistakable sound of wheels crunching on the gravel drive below Ella’s south-facing window pulled her from slumber. As sleep’s effect cleared and the day’s significance dawned, Ella sat upright in bed, reached for her linen wrapper, and moved to peer from her window.
Already the Keatley Hall grounds buzzed with activity. The hour was early, yet two carriages conveying symposium guests stood in the drive. She’d been planning for this day ever since she’d spoken with Mr. Rowe in his office. Could this be the start of learning the truth about Mr. Bauer?
Ella had told her father that she’d encountered Mr. Rowe at the assembly rooms and he would be attending, and Mrs. Chatterly had assigned him a chamber, but Ella left every other aspect of his visit shrouded in secrecy. She’d omitted the fact that he’d be investigating the guest of honor. Each day her guilt intensified—she had, after all, lied to her father, and she’d be foolish to think Mr. Rowe’s arrival would not incite more questions.
How could she continue down this duplicitous path?
She wanted her father to trust her, just as he wanted her to trust him, but they were both extending trust in pieces and parts. Her father refused to relinquish any control regarding Keatley Hall’s future. She was keeping the entire topic of Mr. Rowe and Mr. Bauer close to her chest.
Ella’s bedchamber door opened, and Mrs. Chatterly appeared with a gown flowing over her arm.
“Good. You’re awake.” Mrs. Chatterly draped the gown over a chair and propped her hands on her hips. “We must hurry. Your father will want you to help greet the guests.”
The relationship between the two ladies, which had always been so positive and strong, had seemed strained ever since the visit to Mr. Rowe’s office. It was an odd dichotomy—Mrs. Chatterly was the only person at Keatley Hall who knew the details of Ella’s plans. Ella never doubted Mrs. Chatterly’s loyalty, but the fact that her most trusted ally doubted those plans heightened her insecurity.
What if Ella was wrong?
What if she had jeopardized her entire future by following her own stubborn pursuits?
Mrs. Chatterly assisted Ella into her stays and into a blush muslin gown with small cream and pale green flowers embroidered on the bodice and the cuffs of the long sleeves. A filmy, milky-white fichu was tucked in the square neckline, making the gown more appropriate and modest for daytime hours, and once she was dressed, Mrs. Chatterly brushed her light hair and pinned it into a simple chignon at the base of her neck.
Before long, Ella was swept away into the day’s activity. Concerns of trust and her future were replaced with the more practicaltasks of ensuring the guests had appropriate chambers and that there were sufficient refreshments, but as the hours flew by, Ella kept one eye on the carriages arriving. Whereas Ella was acutely aware that Mr. Rowe had not yet arrived, Phoebe was devastated that Mr. Bauer had yet to make an appearance.
As the afternoon waned, Phoebe and Ella retreated to the White Parlor on Keatley Hall’s ground floor, where the tall leaded windows overlooked the long gravel drive and grassy forecourt, allowing them to observe the arrivals without being seen.
In an abrupt lurch Phoebe jumped from where she was sitting near the window. “This might be him.”
Drawn by curiosity, Ella joined Phoebe at the window. Sure enough, an unmarked black carriage turned from the main road and passed through Keatley Hall’s open wrought-iron gates.
