Ella could fight it. She could cry out all the reasons why this wasn’t fair, but what good would come of it?
She lifted her gaze to the leaded glass that formed the conservatory’s ceiling and to the fading twilight overhead. Whether she liked it or not, she was bound to Keatley Hall by an inexplicable devotion that transcended her own personal aspirations and inclinations. She was destined to live the rest of her years here, and she’d make any sacrifice necessary to make that happen. “I cannot leave Keatley Hall.”
“And there’s no reason you should.” Mrs. Chatterly’s tone lifted optimistically, as if to signal a change in topic. “Soon we will depart for London, yes? There you shall see Miss Hawthorne. Perhaps chatting with her about this will help you find clarity.”
The mention of Phoebe Hawthorne bolstered Ella’s weary spirits. As Mr. Hawthorne’s only daughter, Phoebe often accompanied Ella to Society events. Phoebe had been her best, and only true female friend for as long as she could remember.
“The fear of a thing is sometimes worse than the actual event. We build things up in our minds, but rarely do they meet our expectations. Don’t stay down here too late.” Mrs. Chatterly offered awarm smile, but as she turned to quit the conservatory, she paused and retrieved a letter from the pocket in the folds of her gown. “Oh, and merciful me, I nearly forgot. The entire reason I came to find you! A letter arrived for you.”
Ella accepted the missive, and after the housekeeper had left, Ella turned the letter to identify the sender and frowned at the strong, unfamiliar handwriting. She wiped her free hand on her apron before she slipped her finger beneath the seal to pop it open.
Instinctively her gaze flicked to the signature to find out who it was from.
Gabriel Rowe.
She jerked, surprised. It was a name she’d not heard in a very long time—a man who had been a student at their school years ago.
She flipped open the letter.
Dear Miss Wilde,
I apologize for the intrusive nature of this letter, and I hope I do not offend. My only goal is to provide information that I hope may prove beneficial.
It has been a while since we last spoke, but currently I am a solicitor and work in law. I am aware that Mr. Bauer is to be the speaker at the symposium at Keatley Hall. I have reason to question Mr. Bauer’s credentials and his intentions, and I am concerned that his reputation might negatively affect the school and the Society. I do not wish to cause trouble, but because of my past relationship with the school and the Society, and my respect for your family, I want to share what I have learned.
If you would like the information, please contact me at the enclosed address and I will be happy to share it with you.
Shock slowed her thoughts.
Then her satisfaction roared to a flame.
This letter validated her concerns, did it not? And if Mr. Rowe made the effort to contact her after all this time, the information must be damning indeed.
Ella tapped the letter against her hand thoughtfully before she folded it again and put it in her apron pocket. She’d promised her father she’d not intervene or act on her suspicions, but the dubious nature of her situation left her no option: If Mr. Rowe had viable proof, then she had no choice but to investigate it.
Perhaps all hope was not lost after all.
Chapter 4
ELLA GLANCED UPat the elegant Hawthorne town house, with its four stories of uniformly paned sashed windows, its fresh white stucco facade, the impressive Corinthian columns on each side of the large black entry door, and the wrought-iron railings separating its front stairway from the street. She looked down the row of impressively elegant and uniform houses gleaming in the afternoon sun.
How different this home was from Keatley Hall, with its ancient stones and windswept grounds. How exciting and modern.
“You’re here at last!” cried Phoebe as she rushed from the front entrance, her nutmeg curls bouncing on each side of her fair face with each hurried step. Enthusiasm gleamed in her light brown eyes, and once she was close, she grabbed Ella’s gloved hand in her own. “It seemed you would never arrive.”
Ella stepped aside as a footman assisted Mrs. Chatterly from the carriage. “I’m sorry we are late. The road had flooded not far out of town.”
“You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Come with me,” Phoebe urged energetically, unaffected by their elegant surroundingsand the bevy of servants who’d appeared to welcome the carriage. “We’ve so much to catch up on!”
After parting ways with Mrs. Chatterly, who had accompanied her not only as a chaperone but also to speak with the Hawthorne staff regarding the symposium, Ella and Phoebe made their way to Phoebe’s first-floor bedchamber.
The instant the heavy paneled door to the bright, high-ceilinged bedchamber closed, Phoebe whirled and clasped her hands together, and her animated expression sobered. “Before either of us says a single word, I must tell you how terribly sorry I am about what happened with Mr. Rawlston. I’m just sick about it.”
Ella stiffened. This was the first time she’d seen Phoebe since Mr. Rawlston severed the engagement. Ella knew she’d have to discuss it, but sharing her private feelings had never been easy, not even with those close to her. “It was quite a shock, but I’m all right. Please, there’s no need to be upset.”
“Did he offer you an explanation?” Phoebe blinked. “An apology? Anything?”
The brief and painfully undetailed letter flashed in her mind’s eye. “Only that he no longer believed us to be compatible. He thought it cruel to continue with the arrangement when he knew we could never be truly happy as man and wife.”
