Chapter 51
ELLA WATCHED THE pastoral landscape flash past her from the carriage window.
Endless rolling meadows and fields and groves of alder and silver birch trees replaced the noisy, dusty ambience of London.
Gone was any trace of summer. In the past fortnight autumn had arrived to the countryside—and with it the scenery now boasted vibrant hues of amber and mahogany glittering beneath the brilliant blue sky.
In just a few miles she would be back home—back to Keatley Hall—where her father and Mrs. Chatterly would be waiting for her.
Keatley Hall—and all that it represented—had always been a beacon of stability and freedom for her, but she, admittedly, was no longer the same young woman who had left less than a week prior.
How could she be? Perilous and unbelievable circumstances had forced her to examine herself and had opened her eyes to a world far different from her sheltered existence at Keatley Hall.
And without doubt the most enthralling part of all was Gabriel.
She paused in her musings to glance over at him. He wore no hat, and how carelessly his dark umber hair fell over his face. How she hoped she’d never tire of smoothing it back into place and that his grin—easy, light, and hopelessly alluring—would make her feel this way forever.
Ella had always been too practical to think of romance.
Too practical to assume that happiness could indeed be found in anything beyond the walls of academia and duty.
Facts and empirical truths might offer security, steadiness, and predictability, but true felicity was found in opening her heart to what might lie outside of what was secure.
Now she realized that a true home did not reside in a place, but in loving another person wholeheartedly—and being loved in return.
Before long the carriage turned and jostled through Keatley Hall’s familiar iron gates, and a plethora of memories rushed over her.
The long, mirthful summers of her childhood.
The hopeless devastation of her mother’s death.
The disappointment of her failed engagement to Mr. Rawlston.
The sickening anticipation of the symposium.
Every experience had ushered her to this moment.
“You’re sure?” Gabriel tightened his grip on her hand. “You’re absolutely certain this is what you want to do?”
Their plan blazed clear and solid in her mind. She leaned closer to smooth his hair from his brow and let her hand linger on the side of his face. “I’ve never been so certain of anything, with the exception of knowing that I want to marry you.”
He smiled and pressed a kiss on her lips. “I will support you in whatever decision you make regarding Keatley Hall, you know this, but I want you to make the decision because it makes you happy. Not for any other reason.”
As the carriage drew closer and her father came into view, Ella’s heart leapt. Before the footman even opened the door, she pushed it open, jumped out, and ran to her father’s arms.
He laughed—his familiar, coarse laugh—and hugged her in his fatherly embrace. She pressed a kiss to his weathered cheek.
“My darling daughter,” he exclaimed upon releasing her, “how I’ve been worried for you.”
“Oh, Father,” she responded playfully, straightening his lopsided cravat. “You know better than to worry about me, don’t you?”
“I suppose by now I should. It does me no good, does it?” He looked up as Gabriel approached. “I hear you have had quite an adventure, young man.”
Gabriel extended his hand to shake her father’s. “Yes, sir. Quite an adventure.”
“Ella!”
She whirled at the sound of her name to see Mrs. Chatterly, skirt in hand, hurrying from the front door.
With tears in her eyes the older woman embraced her.
“Never do that to me again, child! I fear my heart simply cannot take it!” She released Ella and held her at arm’s length.
“There now, let me look at you. You look well enough. I don’t suppose that—”
“Come now, there’s time enough for that later,” her father interrupted good-naturedly. “Let’s get these young people inside. I’m sure they’re weary from the journey. They’ve a great many stories to tell us, I’d wager.”
Once they were settled in the parlor, Gabriel and Ella conveyed every detail of what had transpired in London—everything from Clancy’s plot for revenge for his sister’s death, to the Grenshaws’ acting, to the potential consequences for those who had swindled the Society.
Her father shook his head as their accounts concluded.
“In all the days I live, I will never understand why some people behave as they do. I have no recollection of Mr. Clancy. How can a man harbor such resentment for so long, and especially against Leonora? Anyone who knew your mother, truly knew and understood her, knew her to be vivacious, vastly inquisitive, and brimming with a zest for life. She exuded passion, yes, but never to the point to which she’d been accused, and never to such a dark level.
It pained me—and it pains me to this day—how her gift of wonderment at the world and her thirst for knowledge were reduced to an oddity.
But you are changing that, Ella. Your mother would be so proud of you.
And now,” exclaimed her father with a glint of youthful mischief in his eyes, “I have something I would like to show you. I’ve been up to something myself. ”
She exchanged amused glances with Gabriel. “It’s not like you to be secretive, Father.”
“When talk of having a phrenologist as the symposium speaker first started, months before the symposium, I knew you had reservations. So I wrote to a German gentleman and a scholar by the name of Edvard Reichardt.”
She frowned. “I’ve not heard that name.”
“I don’t doubt it. He was a friend of your grandfather’s, and he was a supporter of the school in those earlier years.
I lost touch with him many years ago, but he was one of the phrenologists who, like your mother, saw the error of phrenology and wanted to abandon the study.
He’s since gone on to both conduct and oversee several studies on brain development.
I wrote to him and shared that Thomas Bauer was to visit Keatley Hall.
I only received a response a few days ago, but his censure is indeed severe.
He knew that Thomas Bauer—the actual Thomas Bauer—had died, and he wanted to make sure we knew the truth.
He also shared what he knew about the pamphlet that caused us so much trouble. Here is his response.”
Ella accepted the letter her father extended, opened it, and angled it so Gabriel could read it with her.
She could hardly believe what she was seeing. Her hand flew to her mouth as the words registered in her mind. “Father, am I reading this correctly?”
He exhaled a long, satisfied sigh and leaned back in his chair.
“Apparently, while at a gathering in the Netherlands a few years ago, he encountered one of the men who contributed to the pamphlet.
They spoke of their time studying phrenology, and the man confessed, in not so many words, that the damning details about your mother—and, by association, you—had indeed been fabricated.
“Those who wrote the pamphlet feared that if a person of your mother’s standing and outspoken personality cast doubt on phrenology, that would be the end of it.
According to Reichardt, some of the men had become very wealthy by conducting false assessments.
So they lied. The fire was, indeed, an accident.
Leonora’s gown did pass too close to the fire.
Two maids had been in the chamber with her and undoubtedly tried to assist, but the smoke overcame them.
The door had been locked, and in the confusion, the key had been dropped down one of the grates.
By the time their voices were heard and responded to, it was too late.
“The coroner deemed the three deaths smoke inhalation, but the rumors were embellished as they traveled from the Continent, as rumors tend to be. Reichardt said he was appalled that the topic is even still in question, and that he intended to write a letter to the head of the Society clarifying the matter.”
Gabriel took the letter from her to read it again.
“All of that plotting by Mr. Clancy for all of these years, all because of a lie.” He returned the letter and looked toward her father.
“You would have been proud of Ella and how she handled the situation at the docks. It really was quite impressive.”
“I’m not surprised,” her father responded. “Eleanor always did have a knack for finding unusual solutions.”
Gabriel cut his eyes toward Ella before refocusing on her father. “Speaking of Ella, there is a matter that I would like to discuss with you, sir. A matter that we would like to discuss with you.”
Philip Wilde shifted in his chair.
Gabriel continued, “I know I’m probably not the sort of man you had hoped would fall in love with your daughter, but as fate would have it, I have.
I’m no scholar, I’m no teacher, and I know very little about the world she’s from.
But I do love her for who she is—the person she has been every single day.
And that is why, sir, I would like to ask for your blessing for your daughter’s hand in marriage. ”
Her father sobered and fixed his eyes on Ella. “What of you, daughter? Do you share this affection?”
“I do, Father.” She beamed. “And I know what you are thinking.”
He chuckled. “I very much doubt that, my dear.”
“You are worried about the school, about Keatley Hall. And I—”
“Ella.”
She snapped her mouth shut at her father’s interruption.
“I worry about nothing. If marrying young Mr. Rowe will bring you happiness, then who am I to stop it?” Her father stood and stretched out his hand. “You have my blessing, young man. You both do.”
Gabriel shook her father’s hand, and then Ella pushed through and threw her arms around his neck.
“What have we always taught you?” her father asked.
“To be curious. To imagine new ways of thinking. To challenge expectations and ask questions that will lead to different and more impactful results. You have done that. You are doing that. Just look at where it is leading you. Yes, I had hoped you would continue the work here, but that was so I would know that you were safe, secure, and happy. I now see that you don’t need such things handed to you.
You are taking what you have learned and forging your own path. That is, in my opinion, success.”
Later in the evening, when the sun was setting over the cool meadows surrounding Keatley Hall and the last rays of sun reflected off the conservatory windows, Gabriel and Ella walked through the north garden.
The last of the sleepy morning glories had closed their amethyst petals for the night, and the nightingale’s tinkling song ushered in dusk’s gentle coolness.
“Who would have thought that this time next year there will be no classes starting this term?” Ella adjusted the position of her hand on the smooth wool sleeve of Gabriel’s coat.
“It’s odd to have everything so quiet this time of year.
Don’t you remember? This time of year the boys would still take their exercise in the garden after dinner. ”
“Yes, but they’ll be back after the Christmas holiday. Fortunately the disruption will be for just a few months, and then all should return to normal.”
Ella dragged her fingertips over a boxwood along the side of the path. “Normal? I’m not sure I would call it normal. Some of life here will be as it always has been, but my role will be lessening.”
“I heard your father say that Mr. Abernathy is returning next term as well?” he teased, playfully lifting a brow. “Will I have to worry about competing with him for your heart?”
She smiled as the image of the tall, lanky man came to mind. “Oh, I don’t think so. One day Father will need someone to run the school, and for all his dull mannerisms, he is even and will be able to take the helm one day. As for my heart, though, I have other plans.”
Gabriel slowed his steps and paused at a secluded area of the path not far from the oak tree. How easy it was to fall against him, to relax into his embrace, and to lift her face to receive his kiss. How easy it was to imagine a whole new future by his side.
“You’ll not miss it too much, will you?” he asked.
She inhaled and looked at the canopy of branches above them.
“I spent so many years holding on so tightly to the idea of this place and what it represented to me. Little did I know that it was simply preparing me.” She returned her attention to Gabriel.
“I will always value what I’ve learned here, but it’s time for me to do exactly what was expected of me .
. . to travel my own path, and that path, with its twist and turns, led me to you. ”
He kissed her again, and as she wrapped her arms around his neck, Ella knew that her heart had found its home.