Ella found her father in his study. He was seated behind his desk, staring blankly out the window to the quiet forecourt. He appeared to have aged a decade in a matter of hours. Dark shadowslingered under his red-rimmed eyes. He needed a shave, and despite his fresh change of clothes, he looked in disarray.
What could she say in this instance that would bring any comfort?
There was no way the impending discussion with the members could result in a positive outcome. As soon as word of Bauer’s fraud spread, the situation would be out of their control. Even so, she owed it to her father to attempt to find a bright side.
After calling for a tray of tea, she carried it to her father and set it on his desk. As she poured him a cup, she forced as much cheer to her tone as she could muster. “Father, I was thinking. Perhaps the members will surprise us. Maybe when they hear the truth and learn how the Society will endeavor to recoup the money, they will understand that they were not the only ones deceived, but Mr. Hawthorne and you as well.”
He shook his head, exhaled loudly, and offered her a smile. “My darling, I do appreciate your optimism, but you know the personalities that will be in that room as well as I do. I’m only glad that your mother and grandfather are not here to witness what has befallen their beloved Society.”
“No, no. That sounds as if you are giving up!” She pulled a chair nearer to his with as much stamina as she could summon, sat down, and leaned in. “What if Mr. Rowe spoke to them and shared what he knows? It might help them to understand that Mr. Bauer’s—or whatever his name is—deception went far beyond our event. Surely that way they would—”
“No, Ella. These members are our friends. Our colleagues. I will not stand in front of them and position this as something less serious and personal than it is.”
“What do you mean thatyouwill not position it? Mr. Hawthorne is the Society’s leader. Surely he’ll be the one to address the members.”
Her father scoffed. “You saw Hawthorne. He’s in no state for such an undertaking.”
“Neither are you! Father, you’re taking too much responsibility for this. It was Mr. Hawthorne who—”
“Hawthorne is also our friend. At the end of the day, Keatley Hall—and everything that happens beneath its roof—is my responsibility. A responsibility I take very seriously. They will hear from me. It is decided.”
Her father stood and stepped to the looking glass opposite the window, where he smoothed his hair from his brow and attempted to straighten his crooked cravat.
Her heart ached as his hands trembled while adjusting the folds of the cravat. She sighed, stood, and moved to help him with the task. She then kissed him reassuringly on the cheek.
As they walked together to what was to be the final morning’s lecture, Ella held her breath, fearing what awaited them behind the door to the long gallery.
Chapter 38
SHOUTS ECHOED FROMthe plaster walls and ceiling. The sharp wail of scooting chairs and shuffling feet drowned out the tumultuous claps of thunder from the storm raging outside.
Ella stood at the back of the long gallery and watched hopelessly as Mr. Hawthorne and Mr. Shiveley—two educated, normally well-mannered gentlemen—engaged in a screaming match. Another less animated group of members demanded answers from her father. Across the chamber, Mr. Moore and Gabriel were both attempting to explain the details of what was happening to various clusters of men. Members who already tended to err on the side of drama and sensationalism were working themselves into a frenzy. As the volume increased, the tones became more pointed, the echoes escalated, and the general atmosphere grew more volatile. There was only one thing to do: Send all the members away from Keatley Hall as soon as possible.
While her father, Gabriel, and the others attempted to appease the crowd, Ella and Mrs. Chatterly organized the servants, including the valets and ladies’ maids who had traveled with the guests, andbegan preparations for the members to depart. While the confusion and mayhem continued in the long gallery, Ella worked methodically, instructing the stable hands to ready the carriages and horses, sending the footmen to town to arrange for public coaches, instructing the kitchens to prepare food for the guests to take as they traveled, and so forth. Normally such an undertaking would take the entire last day of the symposium, but somehow they had managed to accomplish it in a matter of hours.
Ella was so busy and her attentions were so divided that she didn’t have time to be tired. She fixed her sights on one goal: Clear the guests. Then once Keatley Hall was quiet, they could refocus and formulate a plan.
It wasn’t until late afternoon that the last carriage conveying the last guest pulled away from Keatley Hall, leaving behind it an odd, uncomfortable silence that, in many ways, was worse than the shouting. It was not until this point that she realized Mr. Abernathy, who had been so intent upon leading Keatley Hall, was gone. She’d been so engaged during the day that she hadn’t noticed his departure, and he’d not taken the initiative to bid her farewell.
While Phoebe continued to sleep in her chamber, Ella, her father, Mr. Hawthorne, and Gabriel gathered in the White Parlor.
“I will be going to the home office the minute I return to London,” stated Mr. Hawthorne, interrupting her thoughts. “I will be satisfied on this matter. I don’t care what that magistrate—what’s his name, Moore?—says. Bauer will pay for what he did to us. Miss Sutton and Gutt will pay as well. I don’t care if it’s midnight when we arrive—I will be heard.”
Ella winced as she thought of Phoebe’s weak state. “Surely you don’t mean to leave yet today.”
“Of course I do!” Mr. Hawthorne shot back.
“Well, then Phoebe will stay here, surely,” she stated. “She needs to recover. Her head—”
“My daughter can recover in London just as well as she can here. The journey is not that far.”
Ella stiffened at the harshness in his tone. “I wish you would recon—”
“Are you an expert on my family now?” he hurled. “She will come home. I think we’ve all had quite enough of Keatley Hall for the time being.”
Ella snapped her mouth shut and blinked away the forming tears. Everyone was tired and on edge. Was this what it had all come to?
As Mr. Hawthorne continued to spew his angry rhetoric, she looked over at Gabriel, who stood in front of the bank of east-facing windows. He was leaning back against the windowsill with his arms folded across his chest and was blankly staring at the rug covering the planked floor. He’d abandoned his coat at some point of the day, and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. Dried mud covered the toes of his calfskin Wellington boots, and the shadow of a beard hugged his jawline.
