Chapter 25
Atlas
Ihad evaded my mother before she had gone to town, but now that everyone had disappeared to bed, there was no avoiding her.
I pushed away from my desk and relaxed back into my chair. “Miss Lewis and I were not holding hands at the party, Mother.”
This morning was another matter entirely. But if I admitted to even those few short moments at our front door, Mother would probably raise up an army to dispel Miss Lewis.
She folded her arms across her ample bosom. “I know what I saw.”
I shrugged, trying to keep my sudden amusement from showing. When Miss Lewis had reached for my wrist, I had felt a surge of rightness. I wanted to be the one she turned to—even if it meant nearly drowning in the pond. “Mother, for the tenth time, you saw wrong.”
“As a baron,” she said, huffing, “you have a reputation to uphold. You cannot have a love tryst with your sister’s companion.”
I straightened, all amusement gone. “Love tryst?”
“You must know, no one would think you would consider marrying her. She is practically a servant, and we know nothing about her.”
I ran my hand down my jaw. “Those are rash accusations over two people holding hands.”
She shot me a withering glare. “So, you were holding hands.”
I groaned. “No, we were not. Please. I can tell you are overtired. You have been pushing yourself too hard, trying to take care of everyone as you always do. There is nothing to worry about.”
Mother set her hands on the back of the chair pushed into the opposite side of the desk from me. “Can you honestly tell me you do not care for her?”
This question was harder to refute. I fumbled for something to say. “Miss Lewis . . .” I started again. “She has been a godsend. Augusta is finally applying herself with her studies and is happier than I’ve seen her in years.”
“This isn’t about Augusta,” Mother reminded.
I sighed. “I admit, Miss Lewis has made me happy as well. She has a good heart and is quite a beautiful woman. I am attracted to her—drawn to her even. I am not, however, ready to propose marriage. I still have much I must sort through on my own.”
Mother’s face crumpled. She pulled out the chair and sunk into it. “This is absolutely terrible.”
I pulled out my handkerchief and handed it to her.
“What about Miss Klein? Will you not think of her now?”
I shook my head. “That notion sailed long before Miss Lewis came to work for us, and it will never again find port.”
She moaned. “First Augusta and now this. Your father should never have left me alone.”
“He died,” I said, reaching for her hand. “He did not leave on purpose.”
“Oh, Atlas. You have been true to your namesake and carried this family on your shoulders. But I fear you will fall in love with Miss Lewis and all you have worked for will disappear.”
If she was this upset about the mere idea of me and Miss Lewis, I could only imagine that the news of giving away half my inheritance to invest in cottage hospitals would send her to her bed.
For the first time, I felt a wave of guilt for my secrecy.
To spare her, I was likely creating an even greater problem than a fear of someone being after her son.
Although, that was valid too.
I rested my arms on my desk, trying to think of the best way to console her.
“Let me assure you, Mother. Nothing has happened between us that you need be concerned about. I am leaving town tomorrow, and I would hate to think you are here upset. Please put this from your mind, and we’ll discuss it when I return. ”
Now I had two conversations to look forward to.
Or dread . . . I was not certain which. With Mary Anne, we always danced around conversations about the future, and it led to too many misunderstandings between us.
In the end, I had thought we were getting married, and she had not been interested in committing.
She wanted both my complete attention and her freedom.
If I was to let my heart grow attached to someone again—which I feared had already happened—I wanted to make my motives clear and to hear hers in return. I would do it right this time, or not at all.
I took the last train home from Warwick Monday night and collapsed on my bed.
I had cut my trip short when our promising lead, Miss Palmer, had disappeared without a trace.
Now it was morning, and the disappointment from the day before hit hard.
I had lost my stranger again. Miss Palmer was no longer employed by Mr. Radley.
And worst of all, she had not left a forwarding address.
I forced my bleary eyes to open and rolled out of bed, ringing for my valet.
I stretched my arms, the conversation with the Radley’s repeating in my mind, while I shuffled to my washstand.
If only the Radleys had been able to tell us anything of Miss Palmer’s family or past—any detail that would provide answers in our investigation.
Mr. Radley had called Miss Palmer dependable.
A notable quality, but not helpful in finding her.
Mrs. Radley had said she was a pretty little thing who was good with children.
No surprise on the latter; I already knew her to be the nurturing type.
But I had wondered about her appearance a thousand times.
So, she was pretty.
An image of Estelle came to my mind, and a short, breathy laugh broke the silence of my bedchamber.
I splashed my rueful smile with water and scrubbed the sleep off my face.
Estelle was another matter entirely. For now, I had to make a new plan for finding Miss Palmer.
Mr. Gregory would meet with the neighbors in case they had heard of her whereabouts, and I’d asked him to meet with similar affluent families with governesses in the area.
I tapped my fingers on the side of the washstand.
We had missed Miss Palmer by one measly month.
Lifting my eyes, I absently watched in the mirror as the water dripped in rivulets down my face.
My thoughts, however, were back in Warwick, weighing the likelihood of finding someone after all this time.
I absently reached for a hand towel. Even if we struck lucky again and found her trail, we still were not positive she had been the one to rescue me.
We were only hoping. Everything was a gamble at this point, and I had a history of not folding until it was too late.
Was I wasting my time? I fingered the ruby ring at my chest. I had never been more anxious to return home and throw myself back into my life there.
There was only one explanation for it. I knew it was because I wanted to see Estelle again.
We had hardly spoken on Sunday, giving each other space, and I had departed before sunrise yesterday.
Had she missed me as I had her? Had she thought about us?
My valet knocked and entered, forcing me to hold my thoughts until later. After I was dressed and shaved, I found my way to the breakfast room. Mother was there, pacing. I gave an inward groan. I had hoped to speak to her after my conversation with Estelle, and not before.
“Good morning, Mother.”
She whirled around and set her hand to her chest. “I did not see you come in.”
I took in her twisted skirt and the limp curls by her face—an unusual sight. “You seemed lost in your thoughts.”
“Am I ever. You did not come home a moment too soon. We must speak. Now.” I opened my mouth to object, but she had her hand on my arm and was dragging me from the room. I let her steer me to my office. As soon as the door was shut, she started speaking so fast, she could hardly catch a breath.
“It’s all my fault.” She lifted her hands to the ceiling. “I was so exhausted by the failed interviews and all the governesses fleeing from our house. I accepted her word without question. I trusted her—blindly! What a fool. An idiotic fool!”
I pulled out a chair and directed her to sit. “You are not making any sense. What is this about trust and governesses fleeing the house?”
“It’s about Miss Lewis!” She massaged her temples. “My headache is back. And it has improved much these last few weeks. No matter how sweet that girl is, and everything she has done for us, she must leave.”
Sitting on the edge of my desk, I folded my arms across my chest. “You have worked yourself into a dither. I thought we agreed that you would not worry while I was gone. You cannot send Miss Lewis away. Everything will work out. You will see.”
“But she has no letters of reference. How can we trust her?”
I frowned. “But you were in communication with her. You probably misplaced it.”
“I thought so too. But I have kept all the correspondence in my writing desk in case I had to reach out to someone in a moment of desperation. It has happened before, you know.”
Oh, I believed it.
“But there was absolutely nothing from a Miss Lewis.”
I scratched his neck. “Did you ask her about it?”
“No, I did not. Normally, I would have dismissed her already, but now that you are entangled with her, I had to speak to you first.”
“Entangled? Mother, we have discussed this. There is no understanding with Miss Lewis . . . at present.” I had planned to court her first. These things took time.
Her head whipped up to meet mine. “Then you still intend to . . . to . . . follow through?”
I wanted to laugh, but her face was stricken as if I had announced I had a deadly disease.
“Don’t ring any wedding bells,” I said. “I have business matters to see to this morning, but I will speak to her as soon as an opportunity arises. In the meantime, it is not hurting anything to have a companion without references for Augusta. Nothing untoward has come of it. Indeed, I would say it has been very much the opposite.”
“Yes, but we do not know anything about her.” Her eyes were red-rimmed, while fatigue and stress lined her face. Indeed, she looked old. And she had never looked old to me before.
“Let’s return to the breakfast room and have something to eat. Then I must insist that you return to your bed for some much-needed rest.”
She worried her lip. “Rest?”
“Yes. You are going to leave this matter to me. I’m Atlas, remember, and I will carry our world on my shoulders so you do not have to.
” But even as I said the words, I knew that my promises to myself would force my mother to shoulder her portion in the near future.
Would her health be strong enough for it?
I had not worried about it before, but I did now.
“Alright, dear,” she said, moving slowly to the door. “But if you do not speak with her soon, I will.”