"Come along, my lady," Miss Roseberry said, already holding the door open. "It’s time to get you settled before dinner."
Hannah pushed back to her feet and collected Marmalade from the hearthrug, before turning to James with the formality she reserved for proper farewells. "Goodnight, Papa."
"Goodnight, sweetheart," he said.
Hannah went to Miss Roseberry without argument, Marmalade draped over her arm with the resignation of a cat who knew when an excursion had run its course.
At the threshold, she paused and turned back to look at James. "I’m going to tell Marmalade again tonight that he was wrong," she said. "Even if he won't listen."
"That is very thorough of you," James said.
She nodded, seemed satisfied with that response, and then followed her governess into the corridor
The door closed behind them.
James sat alone in the quiet library. The fire. The rain against the glass. The book of sonnets on the side table.
He thought about a governess who had obviously just spent some time not knowing where her charge had gone. She was patient and accomplished and she did try her best. He believed that, but Hannah needed someone who would meet her where she was rather than redirect her from it. It wasn’t Miss Roseberry's fault. She simply wasn’t the right fit, and he had known it for some time. After the house party came to an end, he would deal with the situation.
Of course, he'd ensure she received a good reference and a full quarter's wages to carry her through until she found a charge that would be a better fit. It wasn’t the happiest solution, but it was the right decision.
James heaved a sigh and the book of sonnets caught his eye once more. The memories from the night before flooded back to his memory all over again. Oh, he was a damned fool.
Chapter 13
If there was one thing Margaret Hythe was certain of after spending fifty years in society, it was that something had happened between Corinna Beckett and James Westham. What that something was she didn’t know, but Margaret was rather determined to learn exactly what that something was.
Subtly, of course.
She went in search of the girl and found her in a small sitting room at the end of the east corridor, at the window with a book open in her lap that she was obviously not reading. The book was, after all, upside down.
"The weather is dreary, is it not?” Margaret said in lieu of greeting.
Corinna looked up with a warm smile. “I do wish the rain would come to an end at some point. I’d much rather be out-of-doors.”
Yes, that was very much in her nature. Being cooped up inside was probably driving the girl half mad.
“You are, indeed, Bernard’s daughter through and through.” Margaret settled into the chair nearest the fire. "He would’ve been pacing the corridors after the last two days.”
“Papa didn’t like being stuck indoors,” Corinna agreed with a soft laugh.
“All of the rain aside, how are you finding Acklan?" Margaret asked, genuinely curious.
"Oh, I love it." Corinna’s face brightened. "I think I loved it within an hour of arriving.”
“Indeed?”
“That probably sounds foolish."
Margaret shook her head. "On the contrary, it sounds truthful. I think your father would’ve liked it too," she told her. "He had an eye for a place that had been lived in rather than merely kept."
A sad smile settled on the girl’s face. Not grief, exactly. But the loss of her father was still evident if one knew what they were looking for. "He'd have wanted to see the moors in every season."
Margaret nodded in agreement, wishing, not for the first time, that her old friend was still with them. But wishing wouldn’t bring him back, so she refocused on the matter at hand and was quiet for a moment while she decided the best way to broach the topic. She finally landed on… "Linthorpe loves it here, though he’s spent the last three years pretending otherwise."
It was a small thing to mention. A simple observation. But Margaret watched for Corinna’s reaction.
The girl didn't look away. She didn't shift in her seat or redirect the conversation. She simply held Margaret's gaze for a moment and said, "He does seem at home here. Moreso than in London."
