“What a wonderful morning this is,” Miriam was saying. “I felt guilty about closing the school, but now I am very glad I did so.” Her voice seemed very far away.
“She needs to sit down,” another voice was saying, and strong hands were taking her by the arms and lowering her to a chair. And one of those hands cupped the back of her head and forced it down close to her knees. “It’s all over, Fleur. I told you you were safe.”
THEDUKE OFRIDGEWAYliked Miriam Booth. She appeared to be just the sort of friend Fleur needed. She was sensible, practical, cheerful, affectionate. Once Fleur had recovered from her partial fainting spell, Miriam took her off to her room for a while, despite her protests.
He was not so sure he liked Daniel Booth. The man was blond and handsome, quiet and gentle. Yes, all the qualities to make women fall in love with him. Combined with his clerical garb, they might well be irresistible to most women, his grace conceded.
And he cared about Fleur. As soon as the women had left the room, he asked detailed and perceptive questions until the whole story was told.
“Such a man ought not to be the social leader of a community,” he said. “He ought to be prosecuted. Unfortunately, to do so would be to cause Isabella further stress. One must accept the arrangement you have made as satisfactory, I suppose.”
“Those are my conclusions too,” his grace said. “Personally I would like to take the man apart limb from limb and bone from bone, but that, again, would not be in Miss Bradshaw’s best interests.”
The Reverend Booth looked at him with very direct eyes, which seemed to see through to his soul.
“Miss Bradshaw ought not to remain here,” the duke said,“though I am quite sure she is in no danger from her cousin. It would not be appropriate for a lady of her rank to return to my home as my daughter’s governess. I plan to find Brocklehurst and persuade him to release a sizable allowance to her until she gains control of all her fortune at the age of twenty-five. Failing that, I shall try to place her with an older lady as a companion.”
Again those eyes looked into his soul and saw everything.
“I believe you have done more than an employer is called upon to do for those dependent upon him,” the Reverend Booth said. “Isabella has been fortunate. But she is among friends again now. My sister and I have discussed plans for her future. Now that we know she will not be going to trial, we can present those plans to her for her approval.”
And one of those plans involved the curate’s marrying Fleur, his grace thought. And perhaps she would marry him, too, if she could somehow get past a certain event that had taken place in her life in London. And perhaps it would be the very best thing that could happen to her. She had been going to marry the man before the death of Brocklehurst’s valet had changed everything. She probably loved him, and he appeared to care for her.
The duke was not at all sure he liked Daniel Booth.
He should take his leave. There really was no further reason for staying, especially if her friends were willing to help her settle somewhere other than Heron House. He should wait until she reappeared, say a formal good-bye to her, and then begin his journey home.
He could be back at Willoughby less than a week after leaving. Back with Pamela. Back perhaps before Thomas left, in time to offer Sybil some sort of support in the agony she would suffer when he did so. Not that she would allow him near her, of course.
He should go back and try to begin the process of forgetting. It must be done soon. Why defer it?
And yet he accepted an invitation to luncheon and retold his story to an almost silent Fleur and a brightly curious Miss Booth. Fleur looked not nearly as relieved or excited as she should have looked. But of course, the stress of months had only just been lifted from her shoulders. It must be difficult to adjust her mind to the knowledge that it was over, that she was free.
And of course it was not over. The scars would remain for a long time. And one fact would remain with her for a lifetime. He met her eyes across the table as Miriam talked, and saw doubt there and pain. And he wanted to reach out a hand to her and ask her what it was, how he might help her.
But he could not help her. He returned his eyes to his plate. When all the events of the past months had been sorted through, it would be obvious to her that he was the only person who had done her permanent harm. Perhaps the thought had already struck her.
He should take his leave immediately after luncheon.
“So you will take the cottage that used to be Miss Galen’s, Isabella?” Miriam Booth was saying. “And help me at the school, as we originally planned? That will be splendid for a while, will it not? Until other arrangements can be made, that is. Perhaps under the circumstances Lord Brocklehurst can be persuaded to consent to…” She smiled. “Well, perhaps he will not act quite the tyrant he has always been.”
“I will have to think, Miriam,” Fleur said. “Yes, I think that would be a good idea. I always did love Miss Galen’s cottage. All those roses!”
“Can’t you see that Isabella’s mind is in a spin, Miriam?” the Reverend Booth asked quietly. “She needs time to think about her future. I have to return to the village. This is my afternoon for visiting the sick. Are you coming with me?”
Miriam pushed her chair back and got to her feet. “Yes,” she said. “Unless you would like me to stay with you, Isabella?”
Fleur shook her head and smiled.
The Reverend Booth too got to his feet and looked inquiringly at the duke.
“I will begin my journey home this afternoon, then,” his grace said. “Would you care for a stroll in the garden first, Miss Bradshaw?”
“Yes,” she said without looking at him.
The Reverend Booth looked full at him, and the duke knew that he did not like the man at all.
“IT WAS GOOD OF YOUto come,” Fleur said, “and to do what you have done. Thank you, your grace.”
