Her phrase,our Charlotte, stuck out in my mind. How had she claimed me so soon? She hardly knew me. She did not know how very unkind and selfish I could be, or about all the lies I had told. If she did, then surely she would not want me here a moment longer. A pinch of guilt struck my heart.
James glanced at me one more time, and I gave him a weak smile, hoping he knew I was grateful too. He offered his bows and then strode out of the room.
I sat up straighter and turned to Clara, desperate to turn the attention to someone else. I remembered that she had fulfilled my duties that day at Brackenridge Hall. “How did you enjoy Sophia’s company?” I didn’t want to mention or think about Lord Trowbridge right now.
“She is a lovely little girl.” Clara’s eyes lit up. “She wondered where you had gone.”
I gave a soft smile.
“Didyougive her the crown made of twine?”
I nodded.
“She will not take it off.” Clara shook her head and laughed.
Once again, my heart ached. Why did I suddenly envy Clara’s position? I had only been Sophia’s governess for one day. Of all the things I had lost, that was the least significant. My emotions crashed down again, and my smile faded.
I tried to stand, but Mrs. Abbot rushed forward to stop me. “Where do you think you are going?”
“I would like to return home.” I looked up at her, my eyes stinging. I was feeling much less faint than before and had already trespassed on her hospitality the entire day. I needed to distance myself from the looming pianoforte that I knew I could never play again. Our cottage didn’t have one, so I could train myself to forget.
“Nonsense. The walk will exhaust you. Spend the night here. Clara and Miss Bentford will go to tend to your grandmother.”
Clara’s eyes met mine first before she nodded. I wanted to ask how Miss Bentford’s introduction had taken place with the Abbots, but it seemed that the ‘ill grandmother’ ruse was still ongoing. Clara could have introduced Miss Bentford as our cousin or chaperone without revealing the truth. Guilt stabbed at my conscience. Mrs. Abbot still didn’t know why we had really come here. She deserved to know every word. She had proven to me that she could be trusted, so why had I still kept the truth from her? I released my breath slowly, realizing that it was because I was ashamed.
I didn’t want her to think any less of me than she already did. I couldn’t afford it.
Clara was about to leave, and my eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. Mrs. Abbot was right. I needed to stay.
“I will see you tomorrow evening, then,” Clara said to me as she moved toward the door.
“Sleep well,” Miss Bentford stated with a grim look.
I trusted Clara to advise Miss Bentford against writing a letter to Mama about this situation. My stomach twisted. Mama could not find out what had happened. I didn’t dare imagine her reaction to the news.
“Thank you,” I said as my sister and Miss Bentford turned to leave. I was sure I had uttered those words more today than I had in my entire life.
Clara looked surprised, her gaze lingering on me just a little longer before she turned around and walked out the door.
“I have a room prepared for you upstairs.” Mrs. Abbot gripped my elbow and helped me stand. “I believe you will be comfortable there.”
When we reached the top of the stairs, a young lady’s maid, likely the one Lucy and Rachel shared, helped me wash and dress and darken the candles in my room. I had assumed my rest during the day would have been sufficient to keep me awake later, but my eyelids drooped as I climbed into bed. My hand throbbed with every beat of my heart, because today, both had been broken together.
The maid turned to leave and I uttered one last thank you before fading into sleep.
Chapter Twelve
“Love me or hate me, both are in my favor.
If you love me, I’ll always be in you heart . . .
If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.”
Mr. Watkins changed my bandages in the morning and I still didn’t look.
When he took his leave, Mrs. Abbot joined me in the sitting room. From my place on the sofa, I traced my weary gaze over the wooden, cracked edges of the pianoforte and the sheets of music perched on top. My heart ached just as deeply as it had the night before, and a lump still lingered in my throat. My inability to empty my emotions through music had forced me to endure every drop of pain and sorrow. I felt like a battered shell, swept up from a sea of heartache.
I felt Mrs. Abbot watching me, but I didn’t look away from the pianoforte until she spoke.
