And still, he did not speak.
Judith bit her lips to keep her chin from trembling. Wrapping her arms around her, she turned away from him and fled the room.
Chapter 19
One could be forgiven for thinking it was January. Judith pulled her jacket tighter about her and gazed out at the dreary landscape. Though the snow had long faded from existence, the sun rarely gave any sign that it still existed. Titchley was not so very different from every other corner of the country and boasted its share of soothsayers with a talent for weather prognostication, and those with prophetic limbs bandied about that the summer would be as wet and miserable as the winter.
Tucking the edges of her scarf closer, Judith couldn’t believe her luck. One of the draws of this position had been the mild and luxurious southern weather, but Titchley’s had a bite at times that reminded Judith far too much of her youth in the frigid north. The air was more humid here, and it cut to the bone, as they were wont to say.
Judith topped the rise and gazed over the patchwork of fields. Stowell Cottage stared back, and she wondered how much longer she could avoid returning to the house. Could her toes withstand another half-hour tromping through the sodden landscape?
Good gracious. Was she truly thinking about the weather? To expend such time and energy on that subject was a bit of lunacy. Or a desperate distraction.
That was the precise problem with being a governess. When one had a problem one needed sorting out, there was no one with whom to speak about it. And the one person with whom Judith had formed any sort of friendship was the one person she wished to avoid. Judith forced her jaw to relax and ease the pressure that had built as she walked along.
As loath as she was to return to Stowell Cottage, there was little point in standing out in the cold when it provided no more solace than being trapped under the same roof as him. And so, Judith pointed her feet towards home.
No, not home. Her residence.
Had she truly allowed that kiss to happen? Though she’d replayed last night’s interlude many times, Judith could not believe how quickly her good sense had betrayed her. Mr. Byrnes may have initiated the kiss, but she had been an equal participant. For goodness sakes, she’d been practically praying for it to happen.
This was why such rules existed. Those barriers between master and servant seemed a wretched thing to outsiders, but they served to protect from such moments. Even the wisest people can have their heads turned in the firelight. They say familiarity breeds contempt, and Judith was all too disappointed to see it was true, even if that contempt was aimed more at herself than Mr. Byrnes.
Judith crossed the lawn and opened the front door. Kicking off the majority of the mud, she tip-toed across the foyer and moved to the staircase, but the sound of laughter drew Judith’s attention, and she inched towards the parlor entrance.
Standing out of view, Judith peered inside to see Mr. Byrnes seated with Leah, reading her a story. The child hadn’t given yesterday’s row much notice, so it was no wonder she was still enamored with her papa; a little attention and Leah was won over.
Griffith was proving far more resistant. Sitting on the other side of the room, he had his soldiers engaged in mock battles, though his gaze was more often on his father and sister than his toys. Mr. Byrnes read with great gusto, giving each of the characters their own voice and delivering the story with the animation and skill of a stage actor, and Leah let out another deep laugh. The sound grew as her papa tickled her stomach, his fingers finding that perfect spot to elicit even greater chortles.
For all his hesitation, Griffith smiled at the pair as Mr. Byrnes abandoned the book to launch a firmer assault on Leah’s ticklish spots, her cackles growing to shrieks as she batted at her papa’s hands. Mr. Byrnes paused for a moment, and her lungs heaved as she went limp across his lap. Her fingers were latched onto his hand, holding it at bay for a brief moment before he attacked once more.
Griffith charged across the parlor, bellowing a mighty battle cry as he joined the assault, though his loyalties were divided between aiding his papa and launching himself onto Mr. Byrnes’s back. Judith smiled, grateful to see Griffith’s animosity cast aside so quickly.
On the other hand, Helen sat as far from the ruckus as possible, curled up in an armchair with a book of her own. Judith sorted through all she might do or say to bring a smile back to Helen’s face, but there was nothing more to do. The fracture had been caused by Mr. Byrnes, and only he could mend it. Luckily for the child, he seemed determined to try.
The nursemaid sat not far from them, picking up Leah’s toys, and Judith imagined herself in Alice’s place. Not that she wished for the young woman’s position, but the scene was so very domestic. Husband and wife with children gathered round. Judith leaned against the doorframe, relying on its strength when her own failed her.
This was precisely what she’d feared from the first moment she’d laid eyes on Mr. Byrnes. Her heart constricted, the ache radiating through her as she considered just how foolish she was. Judith couldn’t decide if she was more angry or ashamed over what had happened, but at this moment, neither mattered, for her heart cracked under the weight of it all.
Turning away from the sight, Judith took hold of the handrail, relying on it to help her climb all the many stairs to her bedchamber. She sent out silent prayers of gratitude that fortune smiled on her for once, allowing her a day off to lick her wounds before she had to face the Byrnes family once more. Quiet and solitude were all she needed; those old companions would give her time to restore her reserves.
“Pardon me, miss.”
Judith paused on the stair, turning to face the maid who stood at the bottom.
“The post just arrived,” she said, nodding at the letter in her outstretched hand. The girl’s voice quivered a touch, and Judith’s gaze fell to the black edges of the envelope. “I’m so very sorry, Miss Delmonte.”
“It was not your doing, Beth,” she said with a feigned smile. The maid held the letter by the corner as though the foul news within would taint her by association, so Judith took it from her. Turning it over, the tell-tale black seal proclaimed for all the world of the letter’s mournful purpose. “My thanks.”
The maid bobbed and hurried away, and Judith stared at the envelope and wondered what well-meaning but simple person had thought such decorations would help soften the blow that would come. Knowing the letter contained the announcement of someone’s death only lengthened the pain, proclaiming to everyone who saw it that sadness was contained within. The only good it did was warn her to read it in the privacy of her bedchamber.
But she paused on the stair as the sounds from the parlor echoed through the hall. There was one place that had brought her so much solace over the passing weeks, and it wasn’t among the servants’ quarters. Judith’s heart tugged at her to go to the parlor. Surely, Mr. Byrnes would grant her a listening ear. Tucked away in their library together, she’d have more strength to face the wretched news. A sympathetic heart. A comforting shoulder.
All that awaited her in her bedchamber was emptiness.
Squeezing her eyes tight, Judith shook her head and clutched her middle, cursing those wayward thoughts for leading her down such a path. Hers was a solitary life, and wishing it different only brought more heartache. If she didn’t smother such feelings now, they would haunt her forever. Better to face reality and embrace that which was hers.
Judith clutched the letter and climbed the rest of the stairs, pondering over who had passed; the number of people she stood to lose was limited. Aunt Lavinia or Uncle Aldrich? They were both of an age where mortality was a more fragile thing, though she could not recall any news that hinted at ill health.
