Beacham’s eyes actually rounded. “I assure you, my lady, that we are absolutely dedicated to you.”
“And, I must say, much happier to serve you than the late Lady Ferncroft. May she rest in peace.” Mrs. Torbett made the sign of the cross.
Ellie crossed her arms over her chest. “Then why is it that you have both lied to me?”
Mrs. Torbett’s brow furrowed, her confusion complete.
Beacham stared at Ellie for the longest time before something flickered in his gaze and he looked away. The man was astute.
“Beacham?”
He returned his gaze to hers, straightening his posture a bit more. “You must know, my lady, that our loyalty to you is only superseded by our loyalty to Lord Ferncroft.”
Ah, so her butlerdidunderstand.
Mrs. Torbett nodded her head vigorously. “Absolutely. I swear on my dear grandmother’s grave that—”
Beacham stopped Mrs. Torbett in mid-sentence with a squeeze to her forearm. “We are sworn to Lord Ferncroft.”
Mrs. Torbett’s eyes widened as she looked at him. She closed her mouth, pursing her lips as if it were the only way to avoid saying the wrong words.
Ellie studied them both. While she applauded their loyalty to Darius, she wanted answers. “So, what you are telling me is that he made you swear not to reveal to me that he is hiding even now in the bathhouse in the northern wood.”
“Oh no, my lady.” Mrs. Torbett faced her. “We swore not to tell anyone.”
Beacham’s shoulders slumped.
Ellie knew she shouldn’t feel good that the two servants were miserable at the moment, caught between their lord and lady, but she was far too hurt to care. “As I now know, then perhaps you can tell me why he is there.”
Mrs. Torbett appeared ready to explain, sitting up straight as if to launch into a dialogue that would be most edifying, but Beacham’s hand on her arm still remained, and if Ellie guessed correctly, he squeezed again. The housekeeper sank back in her chair.
“So, I am to understand that neither of you will explain why my husband hides away for a week or longer once a month?”
There was a slight frown on Beacham’s forehead for a moment before his face relaxed into his usual formal position.
“And you do both understand that with my husband supposedly away, it would be my decision which servantsremain at Hawthorne Park and which are dismissed. I find I can no longer trust either of you.”
Mrs. Torbett clasped her hands tightly in her lap, but Beacham remained as usual.
Ellie continued, becoming more frustrated. “I must admit to being angry at the moment at the lie perpetrated upon my person. But unlike the former lady of this house, I will not hide away and spread rumors among the neighbors and force the children to be hurt. One person doing that in this family is quite enough. Instead, all shall know the force of my will in the next few days. Now go. I cannot have you in my presence any longer.” She flung her arm toward the door, knocking the quill from the ink, causing it to flip end over end across the desk to land on the floor.
“I’ll have a maid clean that up right away.” Mrs. Torbett rose.
“No! Leave it. Let it stain. Just go.”
Beacham, who still held Mrs. Torbett’s arm, guided her out of the room quickly.
Ellie watched them leave then turned her gaze to the inkwell. The need to tip it over on purpose was strong, her hurt and frustration growing. Instead, she curled her fingers into her palms. Despite what Sophie had said, she needed to know why Darius had lied. Her heart kept hoping for a reasonable explanation, even if her head said nothing would make the feeling of betrayal go away.
She slumped down in the chair, not sure where to turn next. Maybe the gamekeeper? But if it was dangerous, that wouldn’t be a good tack. Back to Darius? Even at the thought of seeing him again, she felt her eyes itching with tears.
She would not cry any more over a man who would purposely lead her to falling in love with him only to betray her. No, crying accomplished nothing. She needed to learn the truth of the matter.
Surprised the top-right drawer of the desk was unlocked, she opened it and found the estate ledger. Quickly, she pulled the leather-bound book out and skimmed down the rows of neat penmanship. Was that Darius’s writing or his steward’s? The fact that she didn’t know just proved that in the two months she’d been married, she’d learned very little about Lord Ferncroft.
The items appeared normal, and if there were any mistakes or glaring issues with the sums, she wouldn’t know it. Her mathematical skills weren’t up to par. She flipped through the pages to see if there were any other papers tucked away. Though she’d told Sophie there was no mistress, it was the only plausible explanation she could imagine, and she dreaded finding a love note buried in large volume.
When no perfumed paper could be found, she sighed with relief then checked the drawer to see if anything else resided there. Two extra quills sat at the back, but otherwise it was quite empty.
