Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Ayoung maid stood frozen in the corridor outside Hugo’s study, her face white as parchment, her hands pressed to her mouth as though holding back another scream. Mrs. Crawford had her arm around the girl’s trembling shoulders, murmuring soothing words that seemed to have little effect.
“What’s happened?” Hugo demanded, his voice sharp with authority.
“It’s Jenny, Your Grace,” Mrs. Crawford replied, her own composure slightly rattled. “She was cleaning Lady Leah’s chambers when she discovered… well, perhaps it’s better if you see for yourself.”
Hugo strode toward the staircase, Sybil close behind him, both of them taking the steps two at a time. The closer they got to Leah’s room, the more apparent the chaos became—overturned furniture, scattered books, and what sounded like frantic searching.
“Whiskers, where are you?” came Leah’s voice from within her chamber. “Here, boy! Don’t be frightened!”
Whiskers?
Hugo pushed open the door to find his fifteen-year-old daughter on her hands and knees beside her bed, peering underneath it with desperate intensity. Her usually neat brown hair had come loose from its pins, and there was a streak of dust across her cheek.
“Leah, what in God’s name—”
“Oh, Papa!” She scrambled to her feet, relief flooding her face. “Thank goodness you’re here. Whiskers has escaped, and Jenny started screaming, and now, I can’t find him anywhere.”
“Who is Whiskers?” Hugo asked with deliberate calm.
Leah’s expression grew defensive. “My grass snake. He’s perfectly harmless, Papa, truly. He’s never bitten anyone, and he’s actually quite gentle once you get to know him.”
Grass snake. In my house.
Hugo’s jaw tightened as he took in the scene—overturned furniture, his daughter’s guilty expression, and what appeared to be several glass jars lined up on her windowsill, each containing what looked suspiciously like specimens.
“And those?” he asked, gesturing toward the jars.
“My collection,” Leah said quickly. “Spiders, mostly. A few beetles. They’re fascinating creatures, Papa, if you’d only let me explain—”
“No.” The word came out sharper than he’d intended. “Absolutely not.”
“But Papa—”
“You will not keep wild animals in this house.” Hugo’s voice rose with each word. “Have you completely taken leave of your senses? What if that creature had bitten someone? What if one of the staff had been injured because of your foolish creatures?”
“They’re not foolish!” Leah’s own temper flared to match his. “They’re important! And whiskers isn’t dangerous—he’s a grass snake, not an adder!”
“I don’t care what manner of serpent it is!” Hugo turned toward the door, his patience exhausted. “Peters! Williams! Remove every one of these jars immediately and release their contents into the grounds.”
“No!” Leah lunged forward as two footmen appeared in the doorway. “Papa, please, you don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly.” Hugo’s voice dropped to that dangerously quiet tone his daughters knew to fear. “You have endangered the safety of this household for the sake of your morbid fascinations.”
“They’re not morbid!” Tears were streaming down Leah’s face now. “They’re beautiful, and they’re important, and you won’t even listen—”
“The discussion is finished.” Hugo fixed her with a look that could have frozen hellfire. “You will confine yourself to your room for the remainder of the day and consider whether your selfish desires are worth terrifying the staff and disrupting the entire household.”
Leah stared at him for a moment, her face a mixture of fury and heartbreak. Then, without another word, she pushed past the footmen and fled the room, her sobs echoing down the corridor.
Well done, Hugo. Another masterful display of paternal authority.
“Your Grace,” Peters ventured carefully, “shall we proceed with removing the specimens?”
“Yes. All of them. And search the room thoroughly for this… Whiskers. I want that creature found and removed immediately.”
As the footmen began carefully collecting the jars, Hugo became aware of Sybil standing in the doorway, her expression unreadable.
“Not a word,” he said curtly.
“I wasn’t planning to say anything,” she replied mildly. “Though I should probably go check on Leah.”
Of course, you should. Because you’ll know exactly what to say to her, won’t you? While I stand here looking like a tyrant who destroys children’s interests.
“Do what you like,” he said, turning away from her knowing gaze.
“I will.”
Sybil found Leah in the music room, curled up in the window seat with her face buried in her knees. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, and she didn’t look up when Sybil entered.
“May I sit with you?” Sybil asked gently.
Leah shrugged without lifting her head which Sybil took as permission. She settled onto the window seat beside the girl, close enough to offer comfort but not so close as to feel intrusive.
“He hates me,” Leah mumbled into her skirts.
“He doesn’t hate you.”
“Yes, he does.” Leah finally looked up, her face blotchy with tears. “He thinks I’m strange and unnatural and that my interests are improper. He said I was morbid.”
“He said the creatures were morbid. That’s not the same as saying you are.”
“Isn’t it?” Leah wiped her nose with her sleeve. “Normal girls my age are interested in music and drawing and preparing for their future debuts. I collect spiders and befriend snakes. What father wouldn’t be ashamed of such a daughter?”
Oh, sweetheart.
“Your father isn’t ashamed of you,” Sybil said firmly. “He’s frightened.”
“Frightened?” Leah looked genuinely surprised. “Of what?”
“Of you being hurt. Of something happening to you that he can’t prevent or fix.” Sybil chose her words carefully. “When Jenny screamed, his first thought wasn’t about the inconvenience to the household. It was about whether you were in danger.”
“But Whiskers would never hurt anyone,” Leah protested. “He’s the gentlest creature you could imagine.”
“I believe you. But your father doesn’t know Whiskers the way you do. All he knows is that there was a serpent loose in his house, and his daughter might be at risk.”
Leah was quiet for a moment, processing this. “He still shouldn’t have destroyed my collection. Those specimens took me months to collect.”
“You’re right. The way he handled it was rather harsh.” Sybil tucked a loose strand of hair behind Leah’s ear. “But perhaps there might be a way to pursue your interests without frightening the household staff.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what is it about these creatures that fascinates you so much?”
Leah’s face lit up despite her tears. “Everything! The way spiders weave their webs, the patterns on snake scales and how they survive in different conditions. Did you know that some spiders can live for many years? And that snakes shed their entire skin as they grow?”
There’s the spark. There’s the passionate young woman hiding beneath all that hurt.
“That is fascinating,” Sybil agreed. “Have you read much about these creatures? Perhaps in your father’s library?”
“Every book that mentions them. But it’s not the same as observing them myself.”
“No, I imagine it wouldn’t be. But there might be other ways to observe them safely.”
“What do you mean?”
Sybil considered carefully. “Well, I’ve heard there are places in London—private collections, exhibitions—where such creatures are kept properly.
Perhaps, once you’ve shown your father that you can be trusted to follow household rules, we might arrange a visit.
You could observe all the creatures you like and do so without terrifying the housemaids. ”
“You would do that? Take me to see them?”
“I would be delighted to. But…” Sybil held up a warning finger. “… only if you promise no more secret collections in your bedchamber. Your father has enough concerns without wondering what creatures might be lurking in his house.”
Leah considered this. “Could I still read about them? And make drawings?”
“As much as you like. In fact, I think your father would be impressed by detailed drawings. Many learned gentlemen make such illustrations.”
“Truly?”
“Truly.” Sybil stood and offered her hand. “Now, shall we go find your father? I think he’s feeling rather guilty about shouting at you.”
Leah took her hand, her tears finally stopping. “Do you really think he’ll listen?”
“I think your father loves you more than you realize. And I think he’ll do almost anything to see you happy, as long as he knows you’re safe.”
Including listening to his new wife’s counsel about his daughters if I present it carefully enough.
Hugo stood at his study window, watching the gardeners search the rose bushes for Whiskers, when a soft knock interrupted his brooding.
“Enter.”
Sybil appeared in the doorway carrying a tea tray, her expression carefully composed. “I thought you might like some refreshment.”
She’s come to lecture me about my handling of Leah. Wonderful.
“I’m not particularly thirsty,” he said without turning around.
“No, I don’t suppose you are.” She set the tray on a side table and began preparing cups with practiced efficiency. “You’re too busy berating yourself for being a harsh father.”
The accuracy of her observation made him turn around. “I beg your pardon?”
“You’re standing there thinking about how badly you managed the situation with Leah. About how you should have been calmer, more patient.” She handed him a cup of tea. “Am I wrong?”
Perceptive woman.
“My methods of discipline are not your concern.”
“Aren’t they?” She settled into the chair across from his desk, her blue eyes steady on his face. “Because it seems to me that you asked me to marry you specifically to help with your daughters. And helping generally requires some involvement in how they’re managed.”
Hugo accepted the tea reluctantly. “I don’t need you to tell me I was too harsh with her.”
“Good, because I wasn’t planning to.”
He blinked in surprise. “You weren’t?”
“No. I was planning to tell you that your instinct was correct—Leah shouldn’t be keeping dangerous creatures in her bedchamber.” Sybil sipped her tea calmly. “But perhaps there might be a better way to address such situations.”
“A better way.” He sat down heavily in his chair. “You mean I shouldn’t have raised my voice.”
“I mean, you might have asked her to explain before passing judgment. She’s fifteen, Hugo, not five. She has reasons for her actions, even if they seem incomprehensible to you.”
“She was endangering the household—”
“With a grass snake and some spiders.” Sybil’s voice remained patient. “Hardly the same as harboring wild boars.”
“A serpent is a serpent.”
“Is it? Because Leah seemed quite knowledgeable about the distinction between harmful and harmless species.”
Hugo stared at her. “You’re defending her hobby?”
“I’m suggesting that her interest in such creatures might be redirected rather than simply forbidden.” Sybil leaned forward slightly. “She’s passionate about learning, Hugo. That’s not something to discourage—it’s something to guide.”
Guide. Not control, not forbid but guide.
“And how exactly would you suggest I guide an obsession with reptiles and spiders?”
“By finding safer ways for her to pursue that interest. There are private collections in London, exhibitions, and even gentlemen who study such things. She could observe and learn without keeping dangerous creatures in your house.”
Private collections. Exhibitions. That sounds… reasonable.
“You spoke to her about this?”
“I did. She’s agreed to give up her bedroom… menagerie in exchange for properly supervised opportunities to study the creatures she finds fascinating.”
Of course, she did. Because you approached her with understanding instead of anger.
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is simple. The only way to reach her is through understanding and compromise.”
Hugo’s jaw tightened. “I am their father. I should not have to bargain and compromise with them. Especially considering their safety!”
There it is. The crux of the matter.
Sybil studied his face for a moment, noting the defensive set of his shoulders and the way his amber eyes had gone cold with stubborn paternal authority. She could see this was not a battle she would win today—perhaps not for some time.
He’s not ready to hear this. Not yet.
“You’re right,” she said quietly, rising from her chair. “You are their father. And their safety is paramount.”
Hugo looked surprised by her capitulation, as though he’d been prepared for further argument.
“I should return to my correspondence,” Sybil continued, smoothing her skirts. “But Hugo?”
“Yes?”
“Perhaps you might simply think about what I’ve said. Not act on it, just… consider it.”
And with that, she was gone, leaving him alone with his tea and the uncomfortable realization that his new wife understood his daughters in ways he was only beginning to grasp.
Think about it. As if the solution to eighteen years of fatherhood could be solved by simply thinking differently.
But even as he dismissed her words, Hugo found himself wondering if perhaps—just perhaps—there might be wisdom in what she’d said.
Understanding and compromise.
The words echoed in his mind as he returned to his ledgers, though he was too proud and too set in his ways to admit she might be right.