Chapter 37
ELLA STOOD AT Phoebe’s bedchamber window.
Through the ancient, wavy glass, dawn was breaking, and the faintest blue light crept over the verdant landscape.
The pastoral view was the same as it always was—peaceful, lush, and calm—blissfully unaffected by the turmoil that churned within Keatley Hall’s walls.
Phoebe had not yet woken, and Mrs. Chatterly was asleep in the wingback chair by the waning fire.
Ella’s thoughts drifted to Gabriel. Comfort at the memory of his embrace enveloped her, and despite the seemingly unending difficulties, a robust flame of hope and optimism burned.
Gabriel cares about me.
He hadn’t needed to say the words aloud. The support of his arms around her, the tenderness of his touch, and his very presence emboldened and infused her with assurance she’d never imagined she could possess.
Ella had thought she knew exactly what she wanted out of life: She wanted to be at Keatley Hall.
She wanted to open a girls school. She wanted to follow in her mother’s footsteps.
It was her destiny. But what if she had been chasing the wrong path?
What if her future were to include love and marriage?
Not because those things furthered the family’s interest, but because they were right for her?
A moan sounded from the bed behind her, pulling Ella from her thoughts.
“Phoebe!” Ella cried.
Mrs. Chatterly jerked from her slumber and joined her at the bed.
Phoebe mumbled, and her eyes fluttered open. She touched her head. As she became more aware of her surroundings, she paled and then struggled to sit up. “Thomas, he—he—”
Ella placed her hand on Phoebe’s shoulder to keep her from trying to stand. “Please be calm. Stay in bed, dearest. You’ve had a fall.”
“What? How?” Panic twisted her face, and she tried again to sit up. “Thomas, where is he? What has happened?”
“Shhh,” soothed Ella, looking to Mrs. Chatterly for assistance. “He’s left. I don’t know where he’s gone.”
Fresh tears rushed Phoebe’s eyes. Unsure of what else to do, Ella embraced her friend and let her cry. Ella, too, struggled to keep the tears from flowing. She hated what this man had done to Phoebe—what he had done to her family.
“He lied to me, Ella,” Phoebe sobbed. “How could he do that?”
“I wish I had a good answer for that, but I don’t. He lied to many, many people.”
Phoebe jerked away from Ella’s embrace. Her brows furrowed. “What other lies did he tell?”
Ella hesitated, wishing she hadn’t said her last words, but even though Phoebe was weak, she deserved to know the truth.
After all, she was as much a victim in all of this as anyone else.
In a matter of hours everyone would know all the details, whether they liked it or not, and she would rather Phoebe hear the specifics from her in a calm and rational manner instead of Mr. Hawthorne’s angry recounting.
As gently as she could, Ella told Phoebe everything she knew—about her mother’s journals, Mr. Rowe’s investigation, the obituary, and what she knew about Mr. Gutt’s and Miss Sutton’s involvement.
Ella’s heart broke as pain shadowed Phoebe’s face.
“So he was not even a phrenologist?” whimpered Phoebe.
“No, dearest. He was not.”
“And Miss Sutton? She was playing a part all this time?”
Ella nodded. “I don’t know the details, but she’s gone from Keatley Hall. No one knows when or why she left. Not even the servants.”
Fresh sobs shook Phoebe’s shoulders. “I—I just can’t comprehend this.”
Ella held Phoebe’s hand in her own. “At the moment you don’t need to comprehend anything. The answers will come soon enough. Right now, you need sleep.”
Phoebe shook her head, then winced at the resulting pain. “How can I ever be all right again? How could I have been so stupid?”
“You’re not stupid, Phoebe. Don’t say that. Don’t even think that. You’re trusting. And why wouldn’t you be?”
“But you tried to warn me, Ella,” Phoebe protested. “Several times, and I’ve been so awful to you. How could you ever forgive me?”
“You are my dearest friend, Phoebe. Of course I can forgive you. I know you would forgive me in a heartbeat.”
Phoebe sat still for several moments. Then she sniffed. “Have you seen my father? What is his reaction?”
Ella looked toward Mrs. Chatterly again. “He’s understandably angry. But don’t worry about that now. I want you to rest.”
She stayed with Phoebe until she again drifted into a restless sleep, but as the morning’s gentle light stretched into the chamber, Ella knew it was only a matter of time until they would all need to face the harsh realities that were waiting.
The tall case clock just outside Ella’s father’s study door chimed the eight o’clock hour. Outside the window the clouds had begun to gather, and the sky grew quite ominous—perfectly matching her mood.
She had yet to go to bed. Her eyes burned with the need for rest, and her limbs and fingers felt heavy.
Even if she were to lie down and close her eyes, though, she knew she’d never be able to sleep.
Even in this exhausted state, her stomach churned with restlessness, and her heart raced as if danger was imminent.
Within the next half hour, her father and Mr. Hawthorne would inform the Society members about Mr. Bauer’s deception.
And she felt sick.
The members’ response might be one of outrage at Mr. Bauer for taking such advantage of them, but more likely they would be angry with Mr. Hawthorne since he was the Society’s leader and had reintroduced the topic to the group.
Regardless of how the members reacted, her father needed support, and she’d provide it.
Ella found her father in his study. He was seated behind his desk, staring blankly out the window to the quiet forecourt.
He appeared to have aged a decade in a matter of hours.
Dark shadows lingered under his red-rimmed eyes.
He needed a shave, and despite his fresh change of clothes, he looked in disarray.
What could she say in this instance that would bring any comfort?
There was no way the impending discussion with the members could result in a positive outcome. As soon as word of Bauer’s fraud spread, the situation would be out of their control. Even so, she owed it to her father to attempt to find a bright side.
After calling for a tray of tea, she carried it to her father and set it on his desk.
As she poured him a cup, she forced as much cheer to her tone as she could muster.
“Father, I was thinking. Perhaps the members will surprise us. Maybe when they hear the truth and learn how the Society will endeavor to recoup the money, they will understand that they were not the only ones deceived, but Mr. Hawthorne and you as well.”
He shook his head, exhaled loudly, and offered her a smile. “My darling, I do appreciate your optimism, but you know the personalities that will be in that room as well as I do. I’m only glad that your mother and grandfather are not here to witness what has befallen their beloved Society.”
“No, no. That sounds as if you are giving up!” She pulled a chair nearer to his with as much stamina as she could summon, sat down, and leaned in.
“What if Mr. Rowe spoke to them and shared what he knows? It might help them to understand that Mr. Bauer’s—or whatever his name is—deception went far beyond our event. Surely that way they would—”
“No, Ella. These members are our friends. Our colleagues. I will not stand in front of them and position this as something less serious and personal than it is.”
“What do you mean that you will not position it? Mr. Hawthorne is the Society’s leader. Surely he’ll be the one to address the members.”
Her father scoffed. “You saw Hawthorne. He’s in no state for such an undertaking.”
“Neither are you! Father, you’re taking too much responsibility for this. It was Mr. Hawthorne who—”
“Hawthorne is also our friend. At the end of the day, Keatley Hall—and everything that happens beneath its roof—is my responsibility. A responsibility I take very seriously. They will hear from me. It is decided.”
Her father stood and stepped to the looking glass opposite the window, where he smoothed his hair from his brow and attempted to straighten his crooked cravat.
Her heart ached as his hands trembled while adjusting the folds of the cravat. She sighed, stood, and moved to help him with the task. She then kissed him reassuringly on the cheek.
As they walked together to what was to be the final morning’s lecture, Ella held her breath, fearing what awaited them behind the door to the long gallery.