“An ambitious task, indeed,” Rachel said with a laugh. “He does not receive callers.”
“None? How peculiar.” My heart sank.
Mrs. Abbot nodded her agreement. “I would offer you an introduction if I could, but as I said, he chooses not to socialize. If the connection is important to you, I would suggest consulting with Mr. Wortham since you are already acquainted. Not a soul knows Lord Trowbridge like he does.”
My stomach turned. “Thank you. I suppose I will take my questions to him.” My teeth clenched as I glanced at the clock on the back wall. We had already stayed for an hour, and I had eaten my fill from the tea tray.
My eyes flitted deliberately from the clock to Mrs. Abbot. “I thank you for your hospitality, but we must be returning to our grandmother.”
She stood, smiling with that same warm glint in her hazel eyes. “You are welcome to call any time you would like. It is not often we have such amiable and talented guests. And please do plan to honor us with your music again. It was a delight.”
I thanked her and hooked my arm through Clara’s. After Clara offered her own words of gratitude, we walked toward the door. Lucy and Rachel bid their farewells, and I thought I must have mistaken the disdainful look I had seen in Lucy’s eyes before, for now they held nothing but kindness and smiles like her mother.
Mrs. Abbot grasped my hand as we were leaving. “Wish your dear grandmother well from me.”
I thanked her with a quick smile and stepped into the cold outside air. Large black birds soared through the sky. I was tempted to cover my hair from their potential droppings. I shook my head in an effort to clear it, and took a deep breath. The air smelled of salt and rain.
“What an agreeable woman,” Clara said, wrapping her arms around herself to keep warm. “But how do you plan to explain to Miss Bentford that we now have a nonexistent grandmother?”
I bit my lip. Miss Bentford had been upset that we had ventured to town without her that morning, but the sight of the tea and sugar had softened her reaction. “She may play the role of our grandmother. She prefers to stay at home, after all, so she won’t have to become acquainted with the Abbots at all.”
“She is not so very old, Charlotte.” Clara cast me a critical look. “And how do you know she prefers to stay at home? She accompanied us all the way here. We need our chaperone so we are not seen as improper.”
“I would much rather be adopted by Mrs. Abbot in any social interactions. We are much more likely to succeed that way.”
I turned my gaze back to Clearfield House. There had been something different there; the house was comfortable, not heavy with insurmountable expectations, or cold with stares and harsh judgment. There had been a genuine warmth about the afternoon that I couldn’t claim to have felt before. Mrs. Abbot was friendly and spoke without any obvious disdain. Her smile was contagious, and I found myself wanting to confide in her.
But I wasn’t ready to admit any of it to Clara.
“I am still wary of her, though,” I said. “I’m certain she only invited us today to uncover a new topic of gossip.”
Clara gave me a sharp look but didn’t continue on the subject. She was silent for several moments as we walked.“You played the pianoforte beautifully,” she said finally. “It was different. I had never heard you play like that before. What happened?”
I searched for a snappy retort, but the event felt too special to belittle. A piece of myself was still in that house, embedded in the walls and the keys and glass. My heart lifted at the thought. It scared me, yet I longed to go back and play the pianoforte even more. I wanted to call Clara’s question absurd, but I couldn’t. Instead I just shrugged one shoulder and squinted at the sun ahead, a dull, glowing circle behind the thick clouds. For once I didn’t bother to stop myself from squinting, knowing full well the wrinkles such an action could create.
“I don’t know,” I said. I crossed my arms tightly and tried not to think about everything I had lost, because the pain of it could come back—and I didn’t have a pianoforte at our cottage to untangle it from my heart.
“It was truly lovely,” Clara’s voice pulled me away from my thoughts.
My eyes shifted to her, but I said nothing.
“We should visit Clearfield House again tomorrow.”
I shook my head fast. “We don’t have time. I must meet Lord Trowbridge somehow, and that needs to be our only concern.”
“And finding work.”
Oh, yes. I grimaced.
Clara’s brow furrowed. “How are we going to ever meet Lord Trowbridge without Mr. Wortham’s help? Mrs. Abbot did say?—”
“I know what she said.” I took a breath to calm my frustration. If that man truly was our only hope, then I would have to change my tactics. There was no time to waste. I needed to meet with Mr. Wortham and take what I wanted…no matter the cost.
Chapter Seven
“Some Cupid kills with arrows, some with traps.”
Although I had tried my hardest to avoid falling into Mr. Wortham’s trap, there was no way around it. I didn’t have the time to find a ruining secret about the man, and even if I did, it would require getting to know him and spending time with him, which was not something I intended to do. Ever.
