That, he knew, would prove the most difficult task of all.
Ella, especially, would notice. She would observe the change in his manner toward Miss Collard, would demand explanations, would not be satisfied with vagueness or evasion. She was too perceptive, too intelligent, too determined to make sense of the adult world pressing in upon her.
What could he tell her? That her aunt and uncle were coming, and that they must all be on their best behaviour? It was true, as far as it went—but Ella would sense the omission. She would push. She always did.
He could not tell her the whole truth. Could not burden an eleven-year-old with the knowledge that her home, her security, her family might be imperilled. Could not tell her that the aunt who ought to love her was coming with the intention of taking her away.
Yet neither could he lie to her outright. Not after all they had endured. Not after the fragile trust they had built together.
Nathaniel lowered himself into his chair and covered his face with his hands.
Five days. Five days to prepare for a contest he was far from certain he could win.
And he would have to fight it alone.
No—not entirely alone. That was not true.
There was Mrs McConnor, who had served the family for decades and knew every hidden fault and strength of the house. There was Morrison, whose discretion was beyond question. There was a household whose loyalty had been earned through shared loss and slow rebuilding.
And there was Serena.
Even if he must not touch her, must not confide in her, must not allow his feelings to show—she was still there. Still choosing to stand with him. Still helping to protect the children, even at cost to herself.
That would have to suffice.
It must.
Chapter Eighteen
Serena found Ella in the schoolroom, reading a book with the particular intensity that suggested she was using literature to escape from something.
“Ella.” Serena kept her voice gentle. “May I speak with you for a moment?”
The girl looked up, and Serena saw at once that something had already shifted. Ella’s grey eyes—so like her uncle’s—were watchful now, guarded, as though bracing herself.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing is wrong, precisely.” Serena crossed to the table and sat opposite her. “But there is something you ought to know. Your aunt and uncle—Lady Crane and Sir Harold Crane—are coming to visit. They will arrive on Thursday.”
Ella’s expression closed. The open, curious child who had begun to re-emerge over recent weeks withdrew behind familiar defences, replaced by the composed, prematurely knowing girl Serena had first encountered.
“Aunt Elspeth,” Ella said flatly. “I see.”
“I see you remember her well.”
“I do.” Ella closed her book, her movements careful and controlled. “She and Mama were sisters, but they were not...they were not close. Aunt Elspeth thought Mama married beneath her. She never said so outright, but I could always tell. The way she looked at Papa. The way she spoke of our house. The way she—” She broke off, her jaw tightening.
Serena waited.
After a moment, Ella went on more quietly. “After the funeral, she wanted us to go to Bath and live with her. She said it would be better for us—that Uncle Nate was too young, too irresponsible, that we belonged withfamily. She said Mama would have wanted it.” Her hands curled into fists on the tabletop. “She said many things about Uncle Nate. None of them kind.”
A chill traced Serena’s spine. “What did your uncle say?”
“He showed her the will. Papa named him guardian, not her.” Ella looked up, and there was something unsettlingly adult in her gaze. “She was furious.” A beat. “She isn’t coming merely to visit, is she, Miss Collard? She’s coming to try to take us away.”
Serena longed to deny it—to offer easy reassurance, comforting falsehoods. But she had promised herself, and the children, that she would not lie to them.
“I cannot say for certain what her intentions are,” Serena replied carefully. “But your uncle is concerned. He wishes to ensure that everything here is beyond reproach while she is present—that the household runs smoothly, that you are well cared for, and that there is nothing she might seize upon.”
