Chapter 26
IT WAS ALL too much. Day by day, even hour by hour, Ella’s life was changing.
She started this symposium with the goal of discrediting phrenology and proving herself worthy of leading a girls school.
How had everything become so convoluted?
Now her best friend would barely look in her direction.
She had a suitor she did not want. Even more concerning was that her heart yearned for a man whom she was not entirely sure she could trust.
She needed peace.
Clarity.
Ella made her way to the conservatory. On her way, she decided to gather more of her mother’s journals, which were stored in her mother’s old study in the basement.
With a candle lamp in her hand and a shawl about her shoulders, Ella made her way down an ancient stone staircase just off the conservatory.
The candlelight flickered off the rough stone walls and cast long, odd shadows on the uneven steps.
As she moved from the last stair to the basement’s stone floor, a noise caught her attention.
Was that a giggle?
Curious, she inched toward the cellar—the source of the sound. She drew closer and rounded a corner, stopping just in front of the cellar door.
Whoever was in there should not be there at this hour. With so many additional servants in the house, she was concerned that something inappropriate might be afoot. But as Ella pushed the door open with her fingertips, she gasped.
Phoebe and Mr. Bauer were locked in an embrace, engaged in a passionate kiss.
“Phoebe!” Ella cried.
Phoebe jumped back and covered her mouth with her hands. “Ella! I—I—”
Ella’s glare shot to the unaffected Mr. Bauer, whose smug expression derailed her. She stomped toward her friend. “You shouldn’t be here. What are you thinking!”
“W-we were just talking,” blurted Phoebe, unblinking.
Mr. Bauer stepped between them, his towering posture intimidating. “This is not your concern, Miss Wilde.”
Ella forced all her attention on Mr. Bauer. “It certainly is my concern. This is my house! Phoebe, you need to go upstairs. At once.”
Phoebe made no argument. She sniffed, angled her shoulders to brush past Ella, and disappeared down the corridor.
Ella whirled back to Mr. Bauer, aware that she was, for the moment, alone with him. Her father’s plea for her to keep her composure raced through her mind, but what did that matter now?
She stepped toward him and said through gritted teeth, “You will consider her reputation.”
“Or what?” he snipped dismissively. “You’ll tell your father? Her father?”
Ella’s hands shook with the fiery indignation coursing through her. “You may think I don’t have a lot of influence, but do not underestimate me.”
“Trust me, Miss Wilde. I don’t underestimate you.
I don’t overestimate you. In fact, I don’t think of you at all.
What you think of me—or what you say of me—is of little consequence.
The only thing I want is for you to simply stay out of my way, or believe me, I have ways to make things very difficult for you and for this little school of yours.
After all, who is Miss Wilde?” His domineering words hung arrogantly in the thick cellar air.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me—” He brushed past her, and his elbow clipped her arm and knocked her back against the cellar’s stone wall.
She steadied herself, but when she spun to address him, he was gone. Heat flamed in her cheeks, and tears of pure frustration gathered.
How dare he speak to her that way?
How dare he endanger Phoebe’s reputation so recklessly?
But he was right on one count. Who was she to do anything? As much as Ella admired her mother, she was not Leonora Wilde. She was Ella Wilde. Small, relatively unimportant Ella Wilde.
She brushed off a bit of dirt that had clung to her sleeve when she’d fallen against the wall and adjusted her grip on her candle. She could not give in to self-pity. Not now. Not when everything was tilting and so many life changes loomed before her.
Suddenly aware of the darkness and silence around her, she drew a shuddery breath. What did one do after such an exchange? Should she go find Phoebe? But Ella’s heart was racing. What counsel would she give? She certainly could not condone the behavior, and Phoebe would likely be embarrassed.
No, Ella needed to gain control of her own composure before attempting any sort of conversation.
Remembering her original intent to gather more journals, she brushed her hair from her face, gripped her candle tighter, and made her way down the narrow corridor before arriving at the study.
During the daylight hours the northern light flooded the space from the small, high windows, or a fire lit the grate, but now it was completely dark.
She lifted her candle, and the light illuminated the full shelves of journals, shells and rocks, small statues and sculptures.
After her mother died Ella had attempted to organize this room, but it was so like her mother had been—wild and unpredictable. Bits and pieces of thoughts and ideas scribbled on paper and tucked in books and journals.
With fingers still trembling Ella sifted through the journals, grabbed a year that would be appropriate, tucked it under her arm, and readjusted her focus. If she was going to expose Mr. Bauer as a fraud, she needed to do so quickly—and now she had more motivation than ever.
With tears of anger and disbelief still burning in her eyes, the journals under one arm and her candle in her other hand, Ella climbed the narrow staircase and turned into the conservatory.
Had Mr. Bauer really said those things to her?
Humiliation fueled each unsteady step as she hurried inside her place of peace. The soles of her kid slippers tapping against the flagstone floor was the only sound that broke the silence until a male voice stopped her in her tracks.
“Miss Wilde.”
She jumped at Mr. Rowe’s voice.
In her disgust over what had happened, she’d nearly forgotten about her hope of meeting him here, but now her emotions jumbled chaotically within her. She didn’t know what to say. What to do.
His easy smile faded as their eyes met. He jerked in apparent concern. “What’s wrong? What has happened?”
Unable to find the words, she shook her head and took a step away from him.
“You’re trembling! Here, let me help you with—”
He reached out to take the journals from her, but she held them tighter. “Thank you, but I’m quite all right.”
He pressed his lips together and studied her for several seconds.
Surely he must be confused by her behavior, but how could she explain what had just happened?
The glow from her candle glinted in his warm, dark eyes. If she wasn’t careful, she could get lost in them. Forget what had just happened. Forget so many things.
His gentle words recentered her. “At least permit me to take the candle so you don’t drop it. It’s dripping.”
She looked down. The candle had indeed tilted in the candlestick, and wax slid off the side. With a shaky breath she loosened her fingers around the handle. He took it, placed it on a nearby table, and then returned to her.
She forced her breathing to slow. Perhaps she was imagining it, but she could sense his concern. How she wanted to tell him everything—every detail of what had happened and every thought swirling through her head. It was the perfect opportunity, for they were completely alone.
He reached out a hand to her and placed it gently on her shoulder.
She should pull away. Abernathy’s judgmental warning of being alone with Mr. Rowe simmered. But his hand was so warm, and the longer it lingered on her shoulder, the more a calm enveloped her—a sense of connectedness that she had been longing for, for such a long time.
“Tell me what is wrong.” His whisper was soft.
Summoning bravery, she looked up to his entrancing eyes, which somehow were not that far away. The sincerity that met her there threatened to break her.
She had to be smart. Practical. Methodical.
In all her planning, nothing she’d ever experienced had prepared her for this weakening of her carefully constructed defenses. This realization that she needed someone’s support, and not just anyone’s support but that of a man who really cared for her despite her flaws, disarmed her.
She needed confirmation that she was interpreting his actions correctly. She had to hear him say it. “Can I trust you?”
Could she trust him?
Her straightforward question resonated within Gabriel.
It was painfully honest and real. Miss Wilde had presented herself as strong, and considering her past and the rumors circulating about her, she had to be, but judging by her alert expression and trembling lip, something had frightened her.
Something, he would guess, that was more impactful than a staged phrenological assessment.
Now she was seeking reassurance. From him.
“Miss Wilde. Ella.” A lock of golden hair clung to the tear that streaked down her flushed cheek.
He slowly smoothed it back into place before he returned his hand to her shoulder.
“This might not seem significant to you, but I’ve told you things about my family that I’ve told no one else.
Ever. And what’s more, I have shared my thoughts on my work with you, which is entirely new to me. ”
Gabriel slid his palm down her arm until his hand grazed her fingers. “All this is to say that I trust you. I hope I’ve proven myself worthy enough for that trust to be reciprocated.”
With a shuddery sigh Ella glanced down at their joined hands.
She did not pull away. Instead, she looked back up at him.
Her brilliant, lovely blue eyes met his with such directness and confidence.
Her breathing slowed. Her trembling ceased.
“I trust you, Gabriel. You may be the only person I trust right now, but I do.”
His Christian name on her lips bolstered him—this verbal confirmation of closeness affected him almost as much as any physical touch could.
Her words were slow. “I was just in the basement to retrieve more journals, and I encountered Mr. Bauer and Phoebe in a compromising moment. He threatened that if I said something, he’d make things difficult for me. I’m not scared of him, and I’m not intimidated. I’m just furious at his arrogance.”
Gabriel tensed. This entire situation would get out of hand soon.
He’d shown part of his hand to Bauer at the hunt, and now it sounded like Bauer was increasing his tactics.
Everything within him wanted to find Bauer, demand answers, and take care of the situation himself, but he doubted Ella was the sort of woman who would be happy having someone else solve her problems. It would be far more prudent to tackle this together.
“I think it’s time to take this to your father. ”
“No,” she blurted.
“Mr. Hawthorne, then,” he offered gently. “I’ve no problem at all exposing Bauer for what he is.”
She drew a quivery sigh and, after several seconds, nodded. “Perhaps you’re right.”
He looked from the golden strands of her hair to the sincerity in her eyes to the fullness of her lips.
Gabriel had always known he’d never be satisfied with a woman who lacked fortitude, and in a society that told women to be quiet and meek, such a lady was rare.
Ella’s convictions, wit, and determination were unlike any he’d encountered.
Her unique, vibrant energy captivated him every bit as much as her beauty did.
He ached to kiss her—to feel the softness of her lips against his and the warmth of her in his arms, but for now he refrained and stroked his thumb over the top of her hand instead.
“I know that you will not rest until everyone knows the truth about Thomas Bauer. I promise you, Ella, that I will be by your side until we see that he answers for his actions, one way or another.”