“We’ll invite them all,” Mrs. Buckley said with finality. “Fill the table, and Mr. Lofton won’t have an opportunity to steal you away for a romantic moment.”
“That is an odd number. Should we invite Mrs. Rowley or another of your friends to even the table?”
“We would need a man if we truly cared about even numbers, Emma. Perhaps Owen will return in time. He could interfere any time Mr. Lofton appeared as though he desired a private word.”
Emma’s chest tightened. Since disappearing nearly a week before, she hadn’t heard much about Owen or where his mysterious errand had led him to. The longer he remained absent, the more certain she became that he was preparing to leave Briarstead for his school. “That isn’t necessary. If we are forced into a dinner with odd numbers, I do not think any members of this particular party will mind.”
“You are quite right. None of them are the particular sort. Let us plan for Thursday. It is close enough to Owen’s ball that he’ll certainly be home, and then he can join the fun.”
Owen’s ball. Emma had nearly finished Mrs. Buckley’s gown, but she had been postponing the final touches to delay the inevitable?—
“When will you begin working on your gown?” Mrs. Buckley asked.
Emma bit her cheek. “I was not planning on attending. It is unseemly, is it not? A companion giving herself airs.”
“You do no such thing, and no person of your acquaintance would believe it of you.”
The vivid image of Catherine Buckley sitting in her open barouche flashed in Emma’s mind. She had certainly believed her to be reaching above her station. But a small feeling deep within her rang like a warning bell that it would not do to inform Mrs. Buckley of her sister-in-law’s feelings. Their relationship was brittle enough without adding strain.
“Particularly if Mr. Lofton is in attendance. I’m not sure how I could refuse him a dance. It would be uncomfortable.”
“He will need to be told eventually,” Mrs. Buckley said carefully.
“Yes, I agree.”
“This ball will be the first held at Buckley Place since Edward’s death. I understand your hesitancy, I do.” She paused as the carriage rolled to a stop, likely in front of Primrose End. “So I do not make this request lightly, but it would mean a greatdeal to me to have you at my side. We have not spoken as plainly as we ought, but Edward told me on more than one occasion that he considered you the daughter he never was able to have, and I very much agree with him. You and Owen are my family. You mean the world to me, and it would be a great boon to my spirits to have both of you at my side that evening.”
Mr. Buckley had always been kind to her, his warmth and generosity reaching beyond the bounds of a typical employer. This revelation, while somewhat surprising, did not greatly shock Emma. It was more akin to pleasant news. She swallowed her reservations and pushed aside each of the reasons she did not wish to put herself out there.
How could she deny Mrs. Buckley now? “Very well, I will go with you.”
The carriage door swung open and the groom let down the step, waiting to help the women out. Mrs. Buckley took Emma’s hand, squeezing her fingers. Her eyes were warm. “In that case, you may cease dawdling and finish the trim on my gown so we may select a dress of yours to remake. Surely there issomethingin your trunk that will suit our purposes. Do not try to fool me into believing you are incapable of making yourself something beautiful. I know you can.”
“In so little time?”
Mrs. Buckley stared at her hard. Her hand did not soften its hold. The groom waiting in the doorway retreated a step, likely because of the stiffness of his employer’s glare.
“Very well,” Emma muttered. “I can probably pull something together. But itwillbe simple.”
“Hmm.”
“I do not want it to be anything else.”
Mrs. Buckley’s face transformed into a grin. “Oh, we shall start there.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Owen steppedthrough the stable doors of the Amherst estate and breathed in the fresh air, letting the warm sunbeams wash over him. Green land stretched out to the east, but the house was surrounded by trees to the north and west, which bled into a forest and bubbling stream. There was space for a vegetable garden and plenty of land to farm in order to make the property self-sufficient.
The house was a large square building with rooms aplenty and a gamekeeper’s cottage tucked into the woods that needed a good deal of updating before the Danvers family would find it hospitable. But none of the setbacks were insurmountable. Each thing Owen came up against with this property soon presented a solution.
The best feature thus far had been its proximity to Buckley Place—forty-five minutes by horseback, just under an hour in a carriage. Had Owen not stopped in Danesbrook last night to rest Philosopher and take his dinner, he would not have fallen into conversation with a local man about his school, and that man never would have been able to connect Owen with Mr. Penworth, an aging man who was selling his estate and going tolive with his daughter in Shropshire. Owen had been forced to sleep in Danesbrook that evening in order to meet with Mr. Penworth the following day, but it had been worth the wait. The house was everything he’d been looking for. The price was a little steep, but since the estate was larger, he could fill it with more students and offset the cost for those who couldn’t pay.
After dinner with Tom and his family, the Danvers agreed to run the school. Tom’s sons accepted positions as groundskeeper and stable master, and Annie agreed to consider the position of housekeeper—though she wanted time to consider whether she would prefer to cook instead. Everything was falling into place.
It could work. His plan—itcould work.
“What would the neighbors think about the house being used for a school?” Owen asked, walking side by side with Mr. Penworth back toward the front door. He’d been surprised when the man himself opted to show Owen around the estate instead of fobbing him off on a steward, but it proved how deeply he had cared for his property. He wanted to be sure it ended up in the right hands. Owen wanted to be certain he would not have townspeople lobbying against him. “I am sure the notion will not sit well in everyone’s minds.”
