There was only one solution. One way to remove the ammunition Lady Crane was using against them.
Serena had to leave.
The thought was agony. The thought of leaving Rosie, who still clutched Marianne and asked for stories before bed. Of leaving Samuel, who had only just begun to speak again. Of leaving Ella, fierce and fragile and so desperately in need of someone who understood her.
Of leaving Nathaniel.
But what choice did she have?
If she stayed, she endangered them all. Her presence was the evidence Lady Crane needed, the scandal she was threatening to create. Without Serena, there was no inappropriate attachment,no improper influence, no governess who had forgotten her place.
Without Serena, the children might be safe.
She rose from her chair and crossed to the writing desk in the corner of the library. There was paper there, and ink, and everything she needed to write the letter that would break her heart.
She sat down. She picked up the pen. She stared at the blank page for a long moment, willing herself to find the words.
Then she began to write.
My Lord,
It is with the deepest regret that I must tender my resignation from the position of governess at Greystone Hall, effective immediately.
I have come, with much sorrow, to the conviction that my continued presence within your household can no longer serve its best interests. The doubts and insinuations now being raised—doubts which place the children’s security in jeopardy—derive from my remaining in your employ. So long as I do so, Lady Crane will possess a pretext, however slender, upon which to advance her objections to your guardianship.
I cannot, in conscience, permit that risk.
Please know that this resolution costs me more than I can readily express. The children have become exceedingly dear to me—dearer, perhaps, than prudence would have allowed—and the thought of leaving them grieves me beyond measure. And you…
She paused, her pen hovering over the paper. What could she say about Nathaniel that would not make everything worse? What words could possibly capture what he meant to her, what they might have been to each other, what she was sacrificing by walking away?
…have shown me a kindness and regard I shall never forget. You allowed me to believe myself valued not merely for my service, but for myself. That knowledge will remain with me always.
I beg you not to seek me out, nor to attempt to dissuade me from this course. I have weighed it carefully, and I am persuaded it is the only means by which I may safeguard the children and spare you further difficulty. Permit me, at least, this final act of duty toward a family I have come sincerely to love.
Yours, my lord, in gratitude and in grief,
Serena Collard
She set down the pen and stared at the letter, tears blurring the words she had written.
This was right. This was necessary. This was the only way.
She would leave tonight, while the household slept. She would take nothing but her small travelling case and the memories she would carry forever. She would disappear into the darkness and never look back.
It would destroy her. But it would save them.
And that, in the end, was all that mattered.
***
Nathaniel could not sleep.
He had tried—had lain in his bed for hours, staring at the ceiling, his mind churning with plans and contingencies that all seemed to lead nowhere. Elspeth’s threat hung over him like a sword, and he could see no way to deflect it that did not involve sacrificing something precious.
Finally, giving up on rest, he rose and pulled on his night-robe. Perhaps a book would help. Perhaps the familiar comfort of the library would quiet his racing thoughts.
He was halfway down the corridor when he saw the light.
