Chapter 8
Tobias paused outside the music room before entering. He stood still for a moment, his hand resting on the doorframe, the quiet of the corridor surrounding him. The guilt from the night before had followed him through breakfast, through his attempts at work, and through every quiet moment.
It had sat with him at his desk, had followed him from room to room, and had refused to loosen its hold.
It was a weight he could not lift, and he knew he had to try to do something to make amends.
He drew a slow breath, straightened his coat, and forced his shoulders back before finally pushing open the door.
He paused just inside the threshold, letting his eyes adjust to the room. Julian and Amabel were on the floor with a small collection of carved animals between them. The toys were scattered in a loose circle, some upright, some toppled, all clearly well-used.
They looked up at once. Julian scrambled to his feet, brushing his hands on his trousers as if to appear more dutiful. Amabel remained seated, entirely absorbed in arranging her horses in a neat line, carefully nudging each one into place.
Tobias folded his hands behind his back. “Julian,” he said, “have you attended to your studies for the day?”
Julian’s eyes flickered to the toys. “Not yet, Uncle.”
Tobias kept his tone even. “Toys are for young children. A man must attend to his responsibilities before leisure.”
Julian’s face fell. “Yes, Uncle.”
He stepped toward the writing desk with a small, resigned nod. Amabel continued arranging her horses as if she had not heard a word, but Tobias let it pass. He did not have the energy to correct them both.
He cleared his throat. “Where is Miss Marwood?”
At once the children brightened. Julian turned from the desk, and Amabel finally looked up.
“I am not sure where she is right now, but I would like to see her. She is very nice,” Julian said. “She makes the lessons interesting.”
Amabel nodded. “She makes piano fun.”
“That is well and good,” Tobias said. “And I am glad you are enjoying yourself. But you must remember that learning to play the piano is also a discipline.”
The children exchanged a look and said nothing.
Julian shifted his weight, glancing at Amabel as if hoping she might answer for him.
Amabel pressed her lips together and lowered her eyes back to her horses.
Tobias felt the awkwardness of his own words and tried again, clearing his throat and softening his stance.
“I only mean,” he said, “that enjoyment is important, of course. It is good that you like your lessons. But there are times when one must practice even when it is not enjoyable. That is all I intended.”
Julian nodded slowly, though his expression remained uncertain. Amabel tilted her head, studying Tobias with a small frown, as though trying to decide whether he was correcting them or correcting himself.
Tobias hesitated, searching for another way to explain, then let his hands fall to his sides. “It is simply a matter of balance,” he added, though even he seemed unsure whether the words helped.
The children still said nothing, the confused silence filling the room.
Tobias exhaled and decided to drop it. “In any case,” he said, straightening slightly, “I am glad the lessons are going well.
Get to the point of why you came, he thought, frustrated with his fumbled attempts at guiding his niece and nephew.
“Did Miss Marwood seem … well, today?” he asked, trying to make his voice sound casual.
Julian frowned. “Well?”
Tobias searched for a clearer way to ask without revealing more than he should. “I only mean … was she herself?”
Amabel blinked at him. “She taught us the new piece like she always does. Is that herself?”
Julian added, “And she helped me when I became upset.”
Tobias felt something tighten in his chest. “You were upset?”
Julian nodded. “I kept making mistakes, and I was upset. But she said she had trouble with it, too. She made me feel better and said that it was just part of learning. Then she helped me try again.”
“He did much better after that,” Amabel added proudly.
Tobias looked away for a moment.
Here she is helping your family, but there is no one to help her. She was crying last night. Alone. Because of what you allowed to happen.
The thought settled in his mind, and he found clarity. He had relied on her presence without considering the cost to her. The realization left him uneasy. He had responsibilities to the children, but he also had responsibilities to those who served under his roof.
He forced his voice to be steady. “I see. That is good. I am happy to know things are going well and that you are learning valuable lessons.”
The children returned to their tasks. Tobias stood in the doorway a moment longer, his guilt encompassing him even more than it had before. He had asked his question of the children, but he was no closer to feeling better or any sense of resolution about what had happened the night before.
He heard someone clear her throat in the doorway. Tobias looked over, expecting a maid, but felt his pulse quicken when he saw her instead.
Miss Marwood stood there, composed but clearly aware she had been the subject of conversation. She had heard her name.
Tobias took in her appearance before he could stop himself.
She had arranged her hair with particular care that morning, the braid smooth and precise, each section lying neatly against the next.
The ribbon at the end had been tied with deliberate attention, its placement exact.
The overall effect gave her a quiet, polished dignity.
Yet as he studied her more closely, he thought he detected a faint tightness around her eyes, a slight puffiness that suggested she had not slept well.
The impression was so subtle he questioned whether he was imagining it, whether his own guilt was shaping what he believed he saw rather than what was truly there.
“My Lord,” she said. “Did you have a question for me?”
Tobias nodded, embarrassed that he had been staring at her. “Miss Marwood. Yes, a word, if you please.”
She stepped into the corridor with him and closed the door behind her. The quiet settled between them, neither of them speaking at first.
“What did you wish to discuss?” Miss Marwood said after a moment.
“I wanted to check on you,” Tobias said. “After the altercation with Lady Stanhope.”
Miss Marwood’s posture tightened. She lifted her chin slightly, her brows drawing together. “Altercation?” she asked, her tone controlled but unmistakably cool.
Tobias shifted his weight, clasping his hands behind his back. “At dinner last night,” he said. “I only meant the exchange that occurred. I thought it best to be certain you were not … unsettled by it.”
Miss Marwood regarded him for a moment, as though weighing whether to accept that explanation.
He waited for her response, aware that he had not expressed himself well. He wished he could speak plainly without sounding defensive. The distance between them felt worse than it had the day before, and he knew he had played a part in creating it.
Her shoulders straightened, and she folded her hands neatly in front of her.
“While I appreciate you checking on me,” she said, “I do not care about my own humiliation.”
Tobias opened his mouth as if to respond, then closed it again, uncertain how to proceed. He tried again, more carefully. “I did not intend to imply …”
She continued, her voice steady. “But I do not like the way she spoke to Julian.
Tobias took a deep breath. “Although what happened last night was unfortunate, Julian must learn to be careful. A young man should not spill food at the table.”
“He is a child,” Miss Marwood said. “Children spill things.”
“He must learn to control himself,” Tobias said.
Miss Marwood’s eyes sharpened. “Control himself?” she said, her tone steady. “How can you believe he needed to control himself? He bumped into a bowl. It was a mere accident. He was not acting out of control.”
Tobias felt his jaw tighten as he searched for a firmer explanation.
“He should have been more aware of his surroundings,” he said. “A young man must learn to carry himself with care.”
She held his gaze, her expression calm but unyielding. “He was not careless.”
“He needs to learn. There are expectations placed upon him,” he said.
Miss Marwood gave a slight shake of her head as she looked at him. “Expectations do not change his age. He is ten years old and recently lost his parents. He is still learning, and he is still trying to understand this house, all while he is grieving.”
“I know his age,” he said quietly. “And I know he lost his parents. I am not blind to that.”
She watched him, waiting.
“But he has more learning to do,” he continued, choosing his words with care. “More than most children his age. He was not taught the things he should have been taught. Not properly.”
He looked toward the far wall, unable to meet her eyes. He had seen the gaps in the children’s upbringing from the moment they arrived. He wanted to correct those gaps, but he often questioned whether he was going about it the right way.
Miss Marwood’s expression did not change, but she raised her eyebrows slightly.
Tobias looked away for a moment, his voice tightening. “His parents did not raise their children to be civilized. They let them run wild. I intend to make sure they are proper and respectable.”
Miss Marwood’s eyes sharpened. “It is good to make sure they are proper and respectable, but I would rather have Julian wild, happy, and loved than fearful and polite.”
Tobias straightened, feeling his face flush with anger. “That is not your place to decide. It is my duty now to raise these children. You must remember that it is your duty to teach music. Nothing more.”
She said nothing, and the words hung between them.
Finally, Miss Marwood nodded her head once, her expression unreadable. “Then I will return to my duties.”
She turned slightly, preparing to leave, but then paused. Her hand rested on the doorframe, her posture still composed. She looked back at him, her voice quiet but steady. “If you truly believe what you said,” she said, “then why were you checking on me at all?”
Tobias blinked, caught off guard. “I only meant to be certain you were not troubled by what occurred.”
She studied him, her gaze level. “But if you believe Julian must be corrected for every misstep, and if you believe Lady Stanhope was right to speak as she did, then she was only doing what you wanted done. Why check on me afterward?”
Tobias opened his mouth, then closed it again. His jaw shifted as he tried to form an answer. “That is not what I meant,” he said, though the words came slowly. “I only thought it proper to be sure you were not … affected.”
Miss Marwood waited, giving him space to continue.
He searched for something more, something clearer, but nothing came. The explanation he had reached for dissolved the moment he tried to speak it. He stood there, at a loss, the silence stretching between them.
Miss Marwood nodded her head again, the movement small and final. “I will return to my duties.”
She turned and walked back into the music room without another word.
Tobias remained in the corridor, clenching his jaw.