Chapter 20
Tobias walked beside Viola, but he might as well have been alone.
His steps matched hers out of habit, but his attention was nowhere near the path they followed.
He tried to force his thoughts toward the present, but nothing around him held his focus.
The familiar grounds felt distant, as though he were walking through a place he no longer recognized.
He kept his gaze low, hoping the movement itself would bring some order to his mind, yet every step only reminded him of what he had lost.
His eyes stayed fixed on the grass ahead of them, the long sweep of green losing its shape as his thoughts pulled him inward.
The morning light caught on the blades, but he barely registered it.
His mind kept circling the same painful places, returning to them again and again, no matter how he tried to push forward.
Viola’s voice drifted beside him, smooth and insistent, rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
She spoke of their future. She spoke of what was sensible.
She spoke of the affection she claimed had always been there.
Her words filled the air between them, but they reached him only as sound, not meaning.
He could not hold on to a single sentence long enough to answer it.
He knew she expected him to respond, to offer some acknowledgment that he was listening, but he could not form a single word.
Her voice blended into the background, a sound without shape.
He felt a quiet frustration at himself for being unable to engage, yet he could not force his thoughts away from the grove.
All he could see was Miss Marwood standing so still that it had frightened him.
Her face pale with hurt. The way she had stepped back from him as if she needed distance to breathe.
The way she had refused to meet his eyes, no matter how he tried to catch them.
The way she had slipped away from him without a word, her retreat quiet but final.
He had kissed her. He had wanted to tell her it was not a mistake. He had wanted to tell her what it had meant to him. And then he had failed her in every possible way, each failure clearer now than it had been in the moment.
He replayed every choice he had made, searching for the point where he might have changed the outcome.
Each memory felt sharper than the last. He wished he had spoken sooner, wished he had found the courage to tell her the truth before Viola had twisted it.
The regret pressed on him, leaving him unsure how to move forward.
Viola continued speaking, her tone growing firmer as she pressed whatever point she believed mattered.
Tobias heard the firmness but not the words.
His mind stayed fixed on Miss Marwood’s silence, on how she had looked at him as though he had broken something fragile and precious, something with which she had trusted him.
Once again, he felt the sting of the fear that had been growing in him for days.
She will quit. She will leave this house, and I will never see her again.
He tried to dismiss the thought. He tried to steady his breath and focus on the path. He tried to listen to Viola’s voice beside him. But the fear stayed exactly where it was, unmoving and certain, and he could not push it away.
Viola said his name sharply, as if expecting a response. He blinked, realizing she had asked him something, but he had no idea what she had said.
He nodded vaguely, eyes still on the grass.
He did not know how to fix any of it. The thought stayed with him, no matter how many times he tried to reason his way through it.
He walked beside Viola, heard the faint rustle of her dress, felt the light brush of her arm against his, but nothing in him responded.
His body kept moving, but his mind stayed locked on the same point.
I do not know how to reach her.
He tried to imagine approaching her again, but every possibility ended with her turning away. He feared that anything he said now would only deepen the distance between them. He found himself wishing for even a small sign that she might listen if he tried.
The words repeated themselves, quiet and relentless.I do not know how to reach Miss Marwood when she will not look at me, will not speak to me, and will not let me near her.
He tried to imagine what he could say that would matter.
He tried to imagine approaching her again, tried to imagine her turning toward him instead of away.
None of it felt possible. Every attempt in his mind ended the same way: with her silence, with her distance, and with the memory of the hurt in her eyes.
He only knew one thing with painful clarity.
I am losing her.
The truth of it settled in him. He felt it in the tightness of his breath, in the way his steps faltered for a moment before he forced them steady again.
Viola spoke beside him, her tone smooth and certain, but he could not hear her.
He could not hear anything beyond the single fear that had taken hold of him.
I am losing her.
And beneath that, quieter but sharper, came the thought he had been trying to avoid.
I already have.
The words settled in him, final and cold, and he could not push them away.
He felt a sense of resignation.
It is too late. She will never forgive you. Focus on what remains. Focus on Viola. Focus on duty.
. Tobias forced himself to shake his head, as if he could clear the last traces of Miss Marwood from his thoughts.
She is already lost to you.
He made himself listen. He made himself focus. He made himself turn fully toward the woman beside him.
Viola stopped walking and looked at him. Her hand brushed lightly against his arm, but he did not react.
“Tobias, I have always cared for you.”
“Yes, I believe you have,” he said.
She studied him, then continued, “I still do.”
He gave a quiet reply. “I know.”
Her gaze sharpened with purpose. “And I believe you know that marriage is the next right step. Don’t you agree?”
His chest tightened as he turned and looked at her.
She is right. This is sensible. This is expected. This is what Father would have wanted. Stop hesitating.
He tried to speak. He tried to form the words that would settle everything, the words Viola clearly expected.
But when he opened his mouth, nothing came.
The proposal stuck in his throat, and his heart refused to move.
He swallowed, forcing out the only thing he could manage. “I must return to the house. Perhaps we can walk again tomorrow.”
Viola blinked, startled. She parted her lips as if to protest, but Tobias had already stepped back, offering a stiff bow before turning toward the hall.
He walked quickly, hoping the distance would make him feel more at ease.
As he approached the house, Tobias was startled by a sudden movement coming from the direction of the stables. Weatherby appeared at a near run, his steps quick and uneven, his eyes scanning the grounds as if he had been searching for someone.
Tobias felt his pulse jump. “Weatherby,” he called out.
The steward’s head turned sharply at the sound. The moment he recognized Tobias, he broke into a faster run and closed the distance between them, urgency written in every line of his face.
“My Lord,” Weatherby said, his voice tight as he caught his breath. “There has been an accident at the mine.”
Tobias stopped short, then immediately stepped toward him. “What sort of accident?”
He braced himself for the answer, aware that any disruption to the mine would have consequences far beyond the immediate moment. The estate depended on its operation, and he had little margin for error.
Weatherby moved with him as they both turned toward the house, their strides quickening across the path. “A terrible one involving the lift. Everyone survived, but several workers were injured.”
Tobias’s pace increased, and Weatherby kept close beside him, speaking as they climbed the steps together.
“The cause is unclear,” Weatherby said. “But the mine will be out of operation for weeks, perhaps months.”
Tobias shook his head, feeling his shoulders tighten as he understood Weatherby’s words.
“Everyone survived?” he asked at once, the question sharp with fear he could not hide.
“Yes, My Lord,” Weatherby said. “There have been no reported deaths yet, but the injuries are extensive.”
Tobias closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, his expression was grave and controlled.
“How long did you say the mine will be out of operation?”
Weatherby hesitated. “Weeks, certainly. But very possibly months.”
Tobias nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as they reached the front door. He pushed it open, and both men stepped inside and headed toward his study.
The mine will be out of operation for weeks. Maybe even months.
He knew exactly what that meant.
The mine is the estate’s primary source of income. Without it, everything becomes precarious. Every account. Every wage. Every plan I have made to keep the estate steady.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes, trying to gain control of the situation.
But so far, no one has died. I pray this remains the case.
Still, the numbers pressed in on him.
The repairs. The lost production. The wages he would continue to pay. The obligations he could not postpone. The estate could survive a short interruption, but weeks, possibly months, would strain every part of it.
He entered the study first and crossed to his desk. Weatherby remained near the doorway, waiting for him to speak. Tobias pulled a notebook from the corner of the desk and opened it, quickly flipping through the pages.
“The last inspection of the lift was three weeks ago,” he said, scanning the notes. “There were no concerns reported. No structural issues. Nothing that should have caused a collapse.”
Weatherby stepped closer. “The foreman said the same. The supports were sound. The men checked them regularly.”
Tobias set the notebook down and looked up. “Then how could this have happened?”