“How so?”
“I thought I’d be spending the entire symposium searching for opportunities to prove Mr. Bauer wrong, but like you said, I’m not sure others are interested in the truth. They are here to be amused. If they’re not here for truth, then why bother? Now I’m focused on my family and what comes next for us. This school is so dependent upon the Society, and if Mr. Bauer makes the Society look foolish, then it reflects poorly on the school. It’s a vicious dilemma, and I’m not sure how to navigate it.”
Mr. Rowe lowered the pot to where she indicated and brushed his palms together. “I don’t have a legacy to protect like KeatleyHall, but I understand having something to prove. I won’t say I know how you feel, but I do know what it’s like to endure a scandal. You can’t change opinions, but you also can’t permit them to hold you captive.”
“You speak of scandal,” she began, emboldened by the sense of connection that surged through her. “Last night you said you were in law because of your sister. And I know it is not my business, but the ladies in the parlor were speaking about your family.”
He exhaled heavily and raked his fingers through his hair.
Had she upset him? “If you’d rather not discuss it, then I—”
“No, no. I’m actually surprised you aren’t already aware of it. It’s a sad tale, really. My father arranged a marriage for my sister, Mary, to a much older man. He was wealthy and influential, but the situation was horrible. She often told my mother of his cruelty, but what could be done? They were man and wife.
“After a few years of marriage, they were traveling, and her husband, while heavily intoxicated, became angry with an innkeeper in Scotland, and in a fit of rage he shot him. To clear his own name, he claimed Mary shot the man in a fit of delirium. He paid the witnesses to back up his story, and my sister was institutionalized.”
“That’s terrible! I had no idea.”
“Even worse, our own father sided with her husband. I was infuriated. This happened when I was at university, so I began to go daily to the professors to learn what could be done. Initially they ignored me, of course, so I started to gather information. I visited the place where it occurred and spoke with the supposed witnesses, and after a period my professor, either through interest or annoyance, began to pay me heed. Eventually we located a witness who was willing to speak the truth and ultimately changed thecourse of justice. Mary was released, and her husband—because of his power and influence—managed to avoid the noose. He was sent to Australia and will never return.”
“He’s still alive?” Ella’s mouth fell agape.
“Yes, he’s alive. Mary resides with me now. She’s my daily inspiration to help those who have no one else to fight for them or protect them.”
“And how is your sister now?”
“She’s as well as can be expected, I think, but there are aspects of it that she’ll never fully overcome.”
Remembering her mother’s journals, Ella turned to a small table behind her and retrieved another one. “This is for you if you are still interested. This one has to do with my mother’s first interactions with phrenology and meeting some of the others interested in it as well.”
He reached to accept it, and then sounds of movement reached her ear. She turned just as a shadow fell across the door.
Abraham Abernathy.
Never had she seen his long face so severe, his eyes so narrowed. A frown tugged downward on his thin lips, emphasizing the hard lines etched in his face. His chin tilted upward in presumed authority. “Miss Wilde. Mr. Rowe.”
Her stomach dropped. How would she explain this?
Mr. Rowe’s response was calm. “Mr. Abernathy.”
Mr. Abernathy ignored Mr. Rowe and fixed his eyes on her. “Your father was looking for you. I thought I might find you here, but I can see I’m interrupting.”
“You’re not interrupting anything,” she said lightly. “Mr. Rowe asked to read some of my mother’s journals.”
“Is that so?” Mr. Abernathy responded flatly and looked towardthe other man. “I had no idea your interest in phrenology extended so far, Mr. Rowe.”
If Mr. Rowe was the least bit uncomfortable, his manner gave no indication of it. He tapped the journal against his hand and smiled broadly.
“It’s an intriguing study, isn’t it?” Ella asked.
Mr. Rowe’s ability to stay cool and unreadable under any situation was uncanny—and a bit unnerving. “It is. Thank you. I’ll return this when I’m done.”
She nodded and turned back toward Mr. Abernathy. “And where is my father?”
“In the great hall. I’ll escort you if you like.”
Embarrassment flared. She had no choice but to accept. She bid farewell to Mr. Rowe, but even as she did, Mrs. Chatterly’s words about forging her own path echoed. At some point Ella would need to start taking the first steps. She might as well start those steps now.
Chapter 22
