“It’s ideal.” Ottilie opened the second serving dish. “We’re lucky. Since our family operates and funds the school, we make our own rules.”
“Don’t do that,” Henry said as Ottilie heaped bacon on his plate. “I am quite capable of dishing my own food. You need to hurry.”
“I know you are, but I like to do it.” Ottilie put the plate in front of him. “And I worry about you. You’ve grown too thin.”
“And you’ve turned into a proper mama,” Henry said affectionately.
Ottilie smiled and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You should take a walk today. The weather looks lovely, and the fresh air and exercise will do you good.”
“That sounds rather nice. I think I shall—now off with you!”
Ottilie kissed Henry again before leaving the dining room.
Once alone, Henry turned his full attention to the newspaper. No likeness of Leonard’s daughter accompanied the article, which made perfect sense to Henry. No doubt, Mr. Leonard wanted to avoid a public manhunt, which would lead to his being besieged by people, claiming they’d found his daughter and demanding a reward.
He sipped his tea. Had it been Annabel Leonard who’d collided with him in the garden that night? He supposed it must have been, since Craventhorp had said he was going to Lady Dawley’s expressly to meet his fiancée. Henry tried to remember the young lady’s face, but his mind had been blurry with drink that night, and his memory remained the same. All he could recall was the tension he’d felt in her petite frame, and Craventhorp’s shadowy figure watching her from a distance.
Yet the article alleged that Miss Leonard had eloped with her lover. Could it be true? Could that young, terrified woman have taken such a bold and defiant step? Or was the truth more nefarious? He certainly hoped not, but the thought of a young woman humiliating Craventhorp and getting away with it seemed unlikely. He’d bruised the harlot’s cheek and probably other parts of her body not visible as well, and he’d claimed she deserved it. Of course, he could not strike Miss Leonard in public; hence he’d let her run off that night. But things may have gone too far if he’d caught her alone in private.
When they’d been together at Eton, Craventhorp used to torture insects and small animals. He’d enjoyed watching them writhe in pain. And he had done the same to the junior boys once he got older. Not everyone realized his propensity for cruelty, however, for he also could be deceptively charming. And that, together with his status in society and striking features, had been enough to make most people dismiss his unsavory behavior. But these articles suggested that the viscount’s charm hadn’t wormed its way into the hearts and minds of reporters, who harped on Craventhorp’s financial problems and suggested that the young lady felt she deserved a better match. Henry chuckled.Craventhorp must be fuming.
A maid entered the dining room, and Henry saw her hovering about the table. Bastin and Ottilie kept servants out of necessity but did not follow society’s rules for their management. There weren’t any ranks amongst their servants. Aside from the nanny, coachmen, and cook, the housekeepers shared all duties, from answering the door to serving meals and cleaning. Ottilie had a lady’s maid, mostly because she was often in a rush, but Bastin continued to dress by himself as he always had.
Henry folded the paper and smiled at the maid.
“Can I get you anything else, sir? Some fresh eggs, perhaps?”
“No, these are delicious.” Henry picked up his fork and scooped up a mouthful of eggs to prove his point.
The maid curtseyed and disappeared. Henry forced himself to eat the rest of his now-cold breakfast, knowing his cousin would likely receive a report from her servants regarding his activities that day. He washed down his last bite with a swallow of tea and pushed back his chair. Tucking the newspaper under his arm, he retrieved his coat, hat, and umbrella before exiting the house.
Ottilie wanted him to get fresh air, so that is what he would do. Seeing his cousin happy was the one positive thing in Henry’s life, and he’d do all he could to ensure her continued contentment.
*
The ladies’ collegesat nestled on acres of private green land about a mile from the bustling market town of Canterbury. The area was quiet, undeveloped, and unaffected by the noise of steam engines since it was built far enough from the Crab and Winkle rail route which carried passengers between Whitstable and Canterbury daily. Annabel had made a point of rising an hour early each day since the start of the new term, so she could walk the mile from her home in Orange Street in time to watch the young ladies leave the residence halls and flood the green yard as they made their way to their morning lectures.
On this particular morning, she settled in her usual spot on the grassy hillside opposite the college and watched the day students arrive and converge with the boarders as they filtered from the left wing of the stone building onto the surrounding lawn. As happened every day she watched, some walked in groups and kept their books tucked under their arms, while others read as they walked. She’d never get tired of seeing them. In fact, she’d never seen anything quite like it before, and it energized her. These women were free and happy. They did not need to hide their books, hold conversations in secret, or fret about concealing their thirst for knowledge.
Quite the opposite.
A woman clad in black exited the right wing of the building and crossed the lawn, her black robe flying behind her like the feathers of a magnificent bird. She nodded at the girls as she passed them, and they waved in response.
The headmistress!
To think that awomancould don an academic robe and command respect like the headmasters’ of boys’ schools made Annabel want to weep with joy. It gave her hope. Who knew such a life existed for women? How had they managed it? Perhaps, all papas weren’t like hers—demanding their daughters marry titles. Perhaps their papas wanted them tolearn—even encouraged it.
She watched until the building had admitted the last of the students, shutting them inside its walls of knowledge, leaving the green lawn empty and silent. A yearning rose inside her. She envisioned herself racing across the grass to the heavy wooden door, which remained firmly shut despite her pounding. Such a school surely cost money she did not possess. Annabel opened the new copy ofWuthering Heightsshe’d recently managed to obtain and settled into reading, a ritual she followed every morning, weather permitting.
*
Approximately an hourand thirty minutes later, Annabel closed her book, marking her place with a scrap of silk that the seamstress with whom she lodged had given her. Then she stood and started down the slope to make her way back to Canterbury. From the hill, she could see the spires of Canterbury’s famous cathedral peeping through the clouds.
Annabel smiled. Although lacking the luxuries she’d been accustomed to all her life, she would not swap her new existence for her old. Life as a young widow in Canterbury had afforded her the freedom she’d craved, and that was worth more to her than a thousand luxuries.
Starting down the country path home, a route she preferred to the main road down which both pedestrians and carts trundled, Annabel thought about the possibilities that lay before her. She’d been in Canterbury a little over six weeks and had already started looking to her future. Although she’d paid three month’s rent in advance and had an additional month’s rent saved from the sale of her hair, she understood that she’d need a skill of some sort if she hoped to survive on her own indefinitely, so she’d offered herself up as an apprentice to Mrs. Taylor, who’d readily accepted the help. But her sewing proved so hopeless that she settled on assisting her by serving the customers, taking their sewing orders, tending to any complaints, and collecting the money due to Mrs. Taylor. Annabel hoped it would provide her with the experience she needed to get a paying job in a proper shop one day. She liked the idea of working in a shop like her mama had done before she’d met her papa. She’d also decided to attend the free evening classes offered to working women by the ladies’ college, which were to begin next week. Those were her plans for the near coming future, but she believed there was more to come—she didn’t know what exactly, but surely, there had to be something or someone special out there—just for her.
Annabel was so deep in thought that she didn’t see the gentleman coming up the path in the opposite direction until she collided with him, causing him to drop his newspaper in the mud.
