“And that makes you smile?” I asked. “Did you not find him very…severe?”
She stopped. “You had nothing but good things to say of him before. I find him very agreeable. And I base none of my opinion on his wealth or title.” The words were hard, but she quickly put on an apologetic expression. “I’m sorry, Charlotte. You may like to know that Sophia has asked to visit you. I gave her a poem to memorize and told her once she could recite it, then she would be allowed to come see you. It is serving as effective motivation.” She offered a small smile.
My lips turned up at the corners. At least now I had something to look forward to.
Clara grinned again. “Mr. Wortham was there today. He plans to stop by tonight to see how you are feeling. Very thoughtful of him, don’t you think?”
I jerked upright. “He cannot come here.”
She shrugged. “I have already invited him. And why not?”
“He is going to rummage through our things until he finds his love letter. He warned me of it before. He might have beenteasing, but I find it hard to tell.” I frowned, worry pulsing within me.
“Based on all you have learned of his character, you still assume he would do such a thing?” Clara raised a speculative eyebrow.
I considered her words. It was true. Hehadproven himself worthy of trust. He was safe. And why did I need the letter anyway? It was pointless to keep it now. My conscience would not allow me to use it against him, not after all he had done for me. But he didn’t know that. He could still view me as a threat, as a terrible, selfish person. The thought made my stomach turn. I did not want him to think badly of me. I halted my thoughts as quickly as they came. Why on earth did I care so much?
“No. I suppose you’re right.” I sighed, straightening my skirts over my lap. I thought of the note hiding in my room on the second floor. I could easily return it to him tonight, but curiosity was climbing steadily over me. What did the letter say? Who was the woman he had loved before? He must have loved her very much—enough to have his heart broken when she chose a man of wealth rather than him.
But how could he blame her for making a decision like that? Any woman of sense would have chosen the same path.
I moved my gaze to the stairs, itching to climb them and read the words he wrote to her. But I couldn’t do it. Surely James wouldn’t want me trespassing on such a personal thing. I owed him that privacy at the very least.
Clara recalled my attention by moving toward the kitchen. “You may expect Mr. Wortham’s visit after dinner. I would have invited him to dine with us, but we are running out of food.” She sighed. “Thankfully we’ll soon receive our wages from Lord Trowbridge.” Her words faded as she walked out of the room.
I remained on the sofa, confused by her jovial mood. Although my head ached, I welcomed it as a distraction fromthe pain in my hand. I couldn’t see Clara anymore but I could hear her humming as she worked in the kitchen. I leaned my head back as I tried to recognize the tune. Straining my ears, the familiar notes came together in my memory. It was a song our cook used to sing at home in Hampshire. The words played over and over in my head, coming back to my memory one at a time, until I remembered all the verses. Cook had only sang the song when we were young, and never when anyone else was around to hear it. I had never known if she intended for us to hear it, but she had sang the song while she worked and while we waited in the back corners of the kitchen to sneak leftover cakes or dough.
As Clara hummed, I sang the words softly, barely a whisper so she wouldn’t hear.
The sun arising after me
Flowers growing in the land
While dirt and flour stain my hand
‘Tis the place I am to be.
Care and thought preparing tea
Aslife demands my work for wage
Inside this cruel and bitter cage
There’s a place I’d rather be.
On the edge of peaceful seas
Where life seems a daily sport
My one true love I may court
‘Tis a place where I’d be free.
But through the ashes I soon see
Happiness indeed is found
Within a soft and humble sound
