“You asked me why I came home.” Jenny picked her words carefully, aware of what an innocent her sister was. “It was because I’m determined you shall not marry him. I dislike Mr. Judd.”
Bella sat beside her. “That is why you left us, wasn’t it?”
“No, there was more to it than mere dislike, but I can’t explain it right now, dearest. You’ll have to trust me.”
Bella hugged her. “Of course, I do. I’m so relieved you’re here. You’ll find a way, Jenny,” she said with a smile. “You’re so clever.”
Their father’s voice carried up the stairs. “Time to go to sleep. Douse the candles!”
Bella kissed her cheek. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I am feeling so much more confident now that you’re here.”
Jenny’s fears tightened her ribcage. A woman had so little power against the strictures of men. How could she save her sister from that man? Bella had never been strong, a man like Judd would destroy her. She rose and opened the window. It had begun to rain. The damp night breeze wafted in smelling of drenched foliage, banishing the stale air. Jenny rubbed her arms. Her father didn’t light fires in the bedchambers until the worst of the winter weather was upon them. They were always suffering from colds. She shivered as she undressed to change into a nightgown, then poured water from the jug to wash. Her hair quickly braided, she climbed into bed and toasted her feet near the bedwarmer. She blew out the candle and closed her eyes. There was only one thing she could do. Bella and Beth relied on her. The boys too. For that reason if none other, she was glad to be home, but she was unable to prevent her thoughts from returning to Castlebridge, to William and Barbara, and a lump formed in her throat. She pictured the duke, walking into his library with that easy grace she’d come to admire, and discovering her letter. Would he be hurt, angry, or merely disgusted to find her gone?
She must not think of him, or the children, it hurt too much. Especially now that she had made up her mind what must be done.
*
It was latewhen Andrew arrived home. The butler had retired, and a footman opened the door to him. Tired, and looking forward to some peace at last, he went to bed, and slept deeply for the first time in months.
In the morning, his butler sought him out at the breakfast table. He looked up from sawing through a piece of ham. “What is it Forrester?”
“Miss Harrismith left yesterday, Your Grace.”
He put down his knife and fork and stared at his butler, fearing his reason. “What do you mean, left? Left Castlebridge?”
“She has gone home to York. Mr. Bishop has her letter. Jem drove her to the Black Lion in the gig where she bought a ticket on the stage-coach.”
Andrew sat back in his chair. What had drawn her home? Jenny would never have left in such a manner without an excellent reason. “Send Bishop to me, will you, Forrester.”
Andrew was drinking coffee when his secretary came in. “You have a letter from Miss Harrismith, Anthony?”
“Yes, Your Grace, I was about to bring it. There’s also a note for the children.” He held them out.
Andrew took them from him and scanned her letter. Jenny wrote that she was sorry, she had been called home, on a matter of urgency. She would not be returning to Castlebridge and wished him and the children every happiness for the future.
She wasn’t coming back. Andrew could hardly believe it. He pushed back his chair and rose. “What the devil? Couldn’t she have waited for my return?”
“Jem has been questioned, Your Grace,” Bishop said. “It appears Miss Harrismith was upset about something, but wouldn’t say what it was.”
“She wishes me success in finding another governess,” he said, raising his eyebrows as he struggled to get his mind around it. More fool him to believe that merely caring for someone brought contentment. He’d been proved wrong about that before.
Bitterly disappointed, he went up to the nursery, knowing how distressed the children would be. Before he entered, he took a moment to calm himself. William and Barbara were more important than anything else. Not a word against Jenny would he speak although he could not fathom how she could hurt them in this way.
He surveyed their tearful faces. William with his small shoulders stiff with sorrow, and Barbara crying in his arms. The hour he spent trying to make them understand why Jenny had abandoned them without a word, when he didn’t know himself, was one of the low points of his life. Helpless to provide an answer to the cruel disappointment served on them, he finally had to leave them in Miss Green’s care, after taking her aside and insisting she be gentle with them. He didn’t hold with her opinion that one had to face whatever life dealt one uncomplainingly and decided on the spot that he would replace her as soon as he could. Another change to unsettle the children, he thought, despairing.
When he reached the library, his curiosity pushed away his anger. It was totally unlike Jenny to abandon his children in such a manner. She explained in her letter that it was better if he told William and Barbara rather than herself. Then they would have their loving father there to support them. Had the young woman he’d so admired, who had managed to creep through the fortifications he’d built around his heart after Catherine died, be just someone who, on a whim, left unresolved issues behind her?
Andrew grimly crumpled the letter and tossed it down. It appeared she was not the woman he thought her.
He returned to his paperwork, but he couldn’t let the matter rest. Something had occurred of great significance to cause her to rush home. Perhaps her father was ill. But if so why not mention it? Her letter had been frustratingly brief and left him completely in the dark. Had the frightening business with Ivo left her more shaken than he’d supposed? Did she wish to put the whole sorry episode behind her? He thumped the desk. Then why not tell him, dammit? Was he such a tyrant that she feared to confide in him?
When he cooled down, he began to think more clearly. Retrieving Jenny’s letter, he smoothed it out. The last paragraph which he’d initially skipped over, leapt out at him.If I might ask one thing of you, Your Grace, Miss Green plans to prevent Barbara from visiting the stables. I do hope that doesn’t happen. The kittens have become important to Barbara and she will be greatly upset not to be able to watch them grow.
He shook his head. It was not the letter of someone who cared little for her charges. Jenny loved his children, he was convinced of it. Something had occurred to draw her home, and for whatever reason, she refused to tell him what it was. The least he could do would be to send a footman to inquire if she’d arrived safely. Good lord, she would have been traveling at night, alone without even a maid.
He had not given Jenny’s letter to the children. And would not until he was confident the matter was at an end. He picked up his pen and thoughtfully pared the quill with a small knife, then he dashed off a letter to her, blotted it, sealed it with a wafer and went to pull the bell cord.
When a footman entered, he handed him the missive. “Deliver this in person to Miss Harrismith at Wetherby Park in York. Wait for her reply.”
George bowed. “Yes, Your Grace.”
