Chapter 27
“Oh,” Bridget gasped, looking in the door to Emma’s room.
She’d made it a habit, since coming here, to look in on Emma each night before she went to bed.
It was the same habit she’d had back at the orphanage, the same need to make sure everyone was where they were supposed to be before going to sleep herself.
And Emma was in bed, but she wasn’t the only one.
Reeves sat behind her, propped up against the headboard. He looked up at the sound of her gasp and pressed a finger to his lips, then pointed down at Emma.
Bridget nodded, seeing that the girl had fallen asleep. She couldn’t suppress a smile. Though she had seen Emma in sleep over the past few weeks, she had never seen her look this relaxed.
Carefully, moving as slowly as possible, Reeves shifted his daughter aside and laid her down in the bed so that he could rise to his feet.
He stood and regarded her for a moment, clearly waiting to see if she had been disrupted by his movement.
She didn’t falter in her slumber, though, and at length, he turned and made his way out into the hall.
Bridget followed, waiting until he had pulled the door softly closed before trying to speak. “I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she said. “I was just checking in on her.”
“No, I know that,” Reeves said. “You weren’t interrupting. Really. I got her to go to sleep, and that’s what matters most. She had an easy time of it tonight.” A smile flickered across his face. “She even spoke to me a little.”
“Did she?” Bridget clasped her hands together. “I knew it had to be coming soon. That’s so wonderful, Reeves. I’m so happy. Thank you for telling me.”
“Well, I have you to thank for it,” Reeves said.
He leaned back against the stone wall. Technically, that meant more distance between the two of them, but it was such a relaxed posture that Bridget somehow felt as if he had come closer to her.
It was as if he had let his guard down, and whatever had stood between them until now had disappeared.
She recalled the way it had felt to move in his arms on the dance floor, how she’d forgotten the fact that they were being watched altogether.
The same feeling overtook her here. It didn’t matter that, if people were to see them here, they would have things to say about it.
It didn’t matter that Prudence thought the two of them had feelings for one another.
All that mattered was the reality of the two of them standing in this hall, face-to-face, sharing their joy over Emma’s milestone. Confiding in one another.
The way he never confided in his wife, she couldn’t help thinking.
“I hope you got what you wanted out of the ball,” she said. “I think everyone had a good night.” She hesitated, then added, “I know I did.”
“You really did look wonderful in that gown,” he said. “You should keep it.”
Her face grew warm, and she laughed. “I’ve returned it to Agnes,” she said.
“It really suits her better than it does me. And besides, when I go back to the orphanage, I’ll have no use for ball gowns.
Tonight was special, but I don’t know when I’ll next be at a ball.
For all I know, that may never happen again. Tonight might have been my last one.”
“I don’t think that can be true,” Reeves objected.
“And why not?”
“It just… well, it seems such a waste,” he admitted. “You’re a charming lady, a good dancer, and a vision in a ball gown. And now you’re going to return to your cloistered life at the orphanage and never attend a ball again?”
“The children there need me,” Bridget said. “I have to go back, Reeves. You know that. We’ve talked about that.”
“But I know Emma would like you to stay,” he said. “If you might consider putting off your departure for even a little while longer, it would make all the difference in the world to her. I’m sure of it.”
Bridget sighed. “You know I wish I could stay,” she said quietly. “You know how I’ve come to adore Emma. But I can’t forget my responsibilities, Reeves. I’ve been here too long already. And if she’s beginning to talk now… You two don’t need me anymore.”
It hurt her to say it. She wanted him to need her. She wanted to feel as if she were important—not just important, but vital. And she wanted to believe that when she left, she would be missed.
But the truth was that she probably wouldn’t.
He’d miss her at first, maybe. He’d have moments, going about his day, when he wished she was there.
But he would adjust quickly, and soon enough, he would be back to the everyday affairs of his normal life.
He wouldn’t yearn for her. After a few weeks had gone by, he wouldn’t even think about her anymore.
Reeves folded his arms. “Maybe you could stay just a little while longer,” he suggested.
“Emma did speak tonight, but it wasn’t as if she were back to her old self.
She was hesitant and only had a few words to offer here and there.
If you were able to stay with us until she was really herself again, until she was communicating properly, it would make a world of difference to us both.
Maybe even until she’s able to tell us what happened? ”
Bridget closed her eyes. “We’re putting off the inevitable,” she told him. “You know it as well as I do, Reeves. There will always be a reason to stay, especially now that…”
She trailed off. She had been about to say now that you and I are close, but that wasn’t something she could admit to openly, and she knew it. Maybe he would laugh at her for thinking they had bonded.
“Now that Emma has come to care for you,” Reeves said, rescuing her, whether he realized it or not.
“That makes it much harder to ever think of leaving,” Bridget agreed, grateful to him for framing the issue as having to do with her feelings for Emma instead of her feelings for him.
That was a much easier thing to admit to.
“And it’s only going to get more difficult as time goes on.
I will never want to bid Emma farewell. I’ll always want to stay with her. ”
“I’m not asking you to leave her,” Reeves pointed out. “You could stay. You could stay as long as you wanted to.”
She sighed. “You’re making it harder, Reeves. You know I must go back. You know I have my responsibilities. If there were any way I could stay, I would do it, but I can’t. The children at the orphanage need me at their side. I have to go back to them.”
“She needs you, too,” Reeves said. “She’s a child, too. How can you leave her for them?”
“Because she doesn’t need me.” Bridget wasn’t angry with Reeves for the accusation.
He wanted the best for his daughter. If anything, she felt flattered that she was what he wanted.
It meant he finally saw the work she had been putting in, that he acknowledged everything she had been doing to help make Emma comfortable.
He thought having her here had been worthwhile.
After the way they had argued in the beginning of knowing one another, it was a big change, and it meant a great deal to her.
And that’s also going to make it harder for me to leave, she thought dismally. Every day I spend with them—with him—is going to make this more difficult for me, and yet I know it’s what has to be done.
“I hope you’ll write to me once I go,” she said, knowing it was an audacious request. “I’d like to hear how… how Emma is doing. And I hope she’ll write to me too.”
“Well, she won’t,” Reeves said, his voice tight.
“The best thing she can possibly do is start to move on from this. I won’t have her up every night, mourning and asking me when you’re going to come back, and me trying to explain that you never will.
She’s had enough hardship in her life already.
It will hurt her when you go, but children recover from these things.
She’ll get back to herself quickly. If she has to write you letters every week, though, she’ll never stop thinking about you. And that won’t be good for her.”
Bridget sighed. “You’re probably right,” she admitted. “But will you write to me?”
His jaw clenched. “It might not be the best thing for me either.”
What did he mean by that? Was he saying he was eager to forget about her?
She couldn’t ask the question, for she was afraid that she wouldn’t like the answer.
She let out a deep sigh instead. “I think we might just have to accept the fact that our time in one another’s lives has been brief, then,” she said, surprised by how much it pained her to admit that.
He nodded. “If you’re determined to leave now, I think that’s the way it’s going to have to be.”
How she wished she could stay! Despite her dedication to the orphanage, Bridget knew in her heart that this was where she wanted to be, and that she would stay with him as long as he would have her.
But that was just it. She couldn’t know how long he would want her here, and to make decisions about her life without any idea of where they might lead her was too reckless.
What if she did stay? What if she gave up her work at the orphanage, and in a month’s time, he decided he no longer wanted her here?
Vicar John would never turn her out into the streets.
She’d have a place to go back to; she was sure of that.
But she didn’t want to be a burden on him.
No, the only choice was to either go back as soon as possible or else not at all. And Reeves wasn’t offering her the second option. He was saying delay. Don’t go yet.
She couldn’t do it.
“I should pack my things,” she said. “It’s best if we do this quickly, now that we’ve decided.”
“Do you mean you want to leave tomorrow?” His eyebrows shot up.
That hadn’t been her original intention, but now that they’d had this conversation, maybe it was what made the most sense. “We aren’t doing ourselves any favors by waiting,” she said. “We’ve both agreed it’s for the best that I go, so… I should probably just do it.”
He closed his eyes briefly.
She wondered what he was thinking. Was it sadness? Or perhaps it was relief that she wasn’t planning on dragging this out, that she would be gone soon, and he could stop worrying about it?
He opened his eyes. “Come with me.”
“Where?”
“My bedroom.”
She felt her whole body grow hot. “Excuse me?”
To his credit, he blushed as well. “No, I meant—I’m sorry. Forgive me. I said that very poorly. I meant, will you come with me to my room, because there’s something I’d like you to have before you go. Something I’d like you to take with you.”
“Oh.” She blinked, wondering what this might mean. “Well… yes, of course I will.”
It was a harmless request, she now understood. But even so, her heart pounded a rapid staccato as, for the first time since coming to Greystone, she followed Reeves in the direction of his private chambers.