Phoebe stood and, without another word, stomped from the chamber.
With an exhausted sigh Ella dropped atop her bed and stared at the deep blue canopy above her. Even though she was now alone, Phoebe’s harsh words still echoed in the silence.
And they hurt.
Ella loved Phoebe, but her friend was unrecognizable.
A few minutes later Mrs. Chatterly appeared in the doorway with her round face drawn in confusion. “I just passed Miss Hawthorne in the corridor. Was she crying?”
She nodded, and as Mrs. Chatterly stepped farther into the room and closed the door behind her, Ella’s words poured out. She could not have stopped them if she wanted to. She shared everything that she knew about Phoebe’s romance, from when Phoebe told her about their attachment, to seeing them in an embrace, to Mr. Bauer’s threat, to Gabriel’s suggestion to inform Mr. Hawthorne of their suspicions. “Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe everything she is saying is right about me, but this entire situation is not right.”
After listening silently, Mrs. Chatterly sat next to Ella, just like she had dozens of times over the last decade. She smoothed a piece of hair away from Ella’s face in a maternal sort of affection. “People fall in love all the time, don’t they? Maybe what Miss Hawthorne feels for Mr. Bauer is genuine, but I do find it odd that she would have affections for a person capable of speaking to someone the way he spoke to you.”
“Phoebe has always been trusting and naive, but how can she not see the truth about him? It’s so obvious.”
“People see what they want to see. Phoebe is telling herself that his perceived attributes outweigh anything negative.”
With a sigh Ella lay back against the bed and propped her head on her hand. “Did you ever meet Mr. Bauer when you traveled with my mother?”
Mrs. Chatterly moved to draw the curtains over one of the windows. “It’s possible I encountered him at one point or another, but I can’t remember for certain. Your mother was always so fascinated by those sorts of people, but they were a strange lot.”
It was odd to hear Mrs. Chatterly speak any criticism whatsoever of her mother. “Strange? How so?”
Mrs. Chatterly shook her head. “They just thought and spoke differently than other people—as if in a world all their own.”
“So what doyouthink of Mr. Bauer? You’ve seen him several times now. Do you agree with me?”
Mrs. Chatterly drew the curtains over the second window. “I haven’t interacted with him at all, but I know you, and I trust your judgment. Your father is a good man, but he can be blind to certain details when his mind is fixed on a particular outcome. But here we are spending all this time speaking of Miss Hawthorne and Mr. Bauer when you are the one I’m concerned about.”
“Me?” Ella blinked, straightening. “Whatever for?”
“You speak of the matters of Phoebe’s heart, yet I don’t want you to neglect your own.” Mrs. Chatterly smiled softly and returned to sit again with Ella on the bed. “I saw you and Mr. Rowe out walking today. You looked happy.”
At the memory of her hand in his while they were in the conservatory, warmth suffused her face. Her practical side wanted to conceal the giddiness bubbling within her at the mere mention of his name. But why should she hide it from Mrs. Chatterly?
“How did I never know that someone like him could exist? It seems like all of a sudden everyone is trying to tell me what to think and do, but he is different. He asks what I think. He’s only been at Keatley Hall for a few days, yet I already feel a closeness with him unlike I have ever felt before. It defies logic, but I ammore like myself around him than any other person here. Is that absurd? Perhaps I am the one misreading a situation and only seeing attributes that I want to see, not Phoebe.”
“Oh, my darling.” Mrs. Chatterly chuckled and patted Ella’s hand. “That is the great mystery of romantic love, is it not? That is the unexplainable element that no amount of reasoning or research or practicality can prepare you for. It is elusive, and so many spend their entire lives searching for it. Or worse yet, some encounter it and are unwilling to embrace it. If Mr. Rowe is as supportive as you say, if he captures your imagination and makes you feel alive, then do not resist it. There is no greater respect a man can give a woman than to encourage her to be the person she truly is, not what society tells her she should be. Come now. Let’s get you to bed.”
After the bed was prepared, the fire was stoked, and Mrs. Chatterly departed for the night, Ella retrieved one of the journals and leaned closer to the candles on the side of her bed to read. She could almost hear her mother’s steady, measured voice reading aloud.
Until something caught her eye.
The name Thomas Bauer.
Ella sat up straight at the discovery. Had she never read this volume? She double-checked the dates. It was from an earlier year, from before her mother’s opinions on phrenology began to change.
Mr. Bauer is the most unusual man, with a strange propensity to smack his lips when he is anxious or drum his fingers on the table. But it is his eyes that make him seem the most intense—they are the most unique shade of blue.
Ella froze.
Blue.
How had she not noticed this detail before?
Thomas Bauer—Phoebe’s suitor and the current phrenological expert—had dark, coffee-hued eyes and dark hair.
Her heart thudded as her thoughts dashed to draw conclusions.
