Chapter 13

Henry didn’t know what to make of his evening. He already didn’t want to be part of the dinner, but he had no choice as the head of the family and owner of the house. Henry always did the right thing. It was the way he was raised and taught. His feelings and wants didn’t come into the equation when his family’s name was involved.

Aunt Hannah should have mentioned inviting Mr Cruikshanks instead of giving him time to know the man would be in his house. This was the same man his aunt was interested in, so his presence should have been mentioned before. He was going to ask Aunt Hannah about her silence on the matter as soon as the opportunity arose, but for now, he had to admit that Mr Cruikshanks was not as terrible as he initially assumed.

Henry rather liked the man but begrudgingly so. Still, Henry would keep an eye on him and ensure he didn’t hurt his aunt. His family was important to him, and he would do anything to protect them. Needless to say, he had not wanted to invite Lady Ruth and Mr Bartlett to dinner, but he had felt cornered.

After briefly speaking with the vicar several days ago, Henry agreed to host a dinner to appease the man. Mr Bartlett implied Henry had discarded all his social responsibilities, including the church. Henry could have just ignored him and stated he was merely concerned about his sister’s well-being, hence staying away from unnecessary social engagements.

However, the vicar had used the word failed. That word had triggered something within him, the part that always strove to do right and fulfill his responsibilities. The entire situation was worsened when Mr Bartlett mentioned speaking to Lady Ruth and revealing how neglected she felt after putting so much hope into the courtship.

That last part had been uncalled for and had angered Henry until he remembered that the vicar and Lady Ruth were loosely related, and the man was likely concerned about her. Guilt had crept in after that, making him question his reasoning for ending the courtship. Henry had done it to mourn his friend, but perhaps it hadn’t been necessary. Henry agreed to a dinner later that week, and now, as he observed his guests, he realized he regretted it.

Most of that regret was Miss Barnes’ fault. Between Lady Ruth’s ill-intended questions and comments and the vicar’s obvious interest in her, Miss Barnes must have felt bombarded. He said and did what he could without bringing much attention to himself, but he still felt he hadn’t done enough to defend her.

She wasn’t his to protect, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to keep her from harm. The woman must have cast a bewitching spell on him because he couldn’t recall feeling this strongly about Lady Ruth when he first showed interest in her.

The minx was an annoying mixture of intrigue and defiance, making him both angry and interested. Commoners were supposed to obey without question—that was how things were. She didn’t, yet he respected her for it. It was ludicrous!

She wasn’t even the most beautiful woman he had met, yet she seemed increasingly lovely to him whenever he saw her. Henry felt he was slowly losing his mind, and it was all Miss Barnes’ fault. He had even felt jealous when he saw how close the vicar had been, wondering what was happening between them.

Part of Henry had wanted to follow the nursemaid and demand she reveal if the vicar had mentioned an interest in her, but that would be foolish. Instead, he had returned to his companions, barely listening to the conversation flowing around him.

“I should be honest,” Lady Ruth said so suddenly that it drew his attention.

“About what, Lady Ruth?” his sister asked.

“Miss Barnes,” she revealed. “I have heard quite a few unsettling things about her, but I didn’t wish to speak of them for fear of offending her. And you, Lady Oakham, because you hired her.”

Henry sat up straighter in his chair. He had wanted to do a little more research into Miss Barnes’ background, but it had slipped the list of most important tasks to complete.

“What did you hear?” Henry asked.

Bearing in mind that he wouldn’t take her word for it, it would be helpful to know what others were saying about the woman under his roof.

“Well, it’s rather unsavoury,” said Lady Ruth apologetically. “I heard that many physicians call her a witch.”

The last word was whispered like it was something so scandalous. Henry almost laughed. The last word he expected to hear was ‘witch.’

“But that is ridiculous!” Juliana exclaimed, laughing. “Miss Barnes is far from being a witch. You saw her yourself, Lady Ruth. Does she strike you as a witch?”

“No, but that isn’t the opinion among many respected physicians,” Lady Ruth said. “They say that no woman should have so much knowledge about human anatomy or medicine. It’s unnatural.”

“And so they call her a witch because she has the same knowledge they do?” Henry asked incredulously.

He was waiting for something terrible, proof that Miss Barnes wasn’t as perfect as she seemed. However, Lady Ruth had just proven that men were jealous of Miss Barnes. It was pathetic.

“Being called a witch is a serious offence,” Lady Ruth insisted. “Women have been killed for dabbling in witchcraft.”

“Not in many years,” said Mr Cruikshanks. “It is heavily frowned upon to accuse women of witchcraft and kill them.”

“But people still do it,” Lady Ruth insisted. Henry could see she was growing annoyed that no one was supporting her. “Mr Bartlett, as a clergy member, surely you understand how serious this is?”

“Of course I do, My Lady,” the vicar replied. “Frankly speaking, if enough people believe a person of witchcraft, it wouldn’t matter that it was frowned upon. You could have yourself a witch hunt in mere seconds, and a person’s life could be in danger before the authorities could become involved in the matter.”

Henry gulped. The very thought of anyone harming Miss Barnes sent shivers up his spine, but more than that, it made him angry. The emotions within him were volatile, shocking him. He felt this way about a nursemaid, someone he had met mere days ago. The heavens had to be laughing at him.

Henry didn’t realize he had actually laughed until his sister frowned at him. However, she wasn’t the one who questioned his reaction.

“You find this amusing, Your Grace?” Mr Bartlett asked.

Henry didn’t care for his tone. The vicar may hold some power that could cause a few irritating challenges if the man wished, but Henry was a duke. Wealthy, powerful, with many acquaintances with significant influence. Mr Bartlett would lose, but he’d be a nuisance on his way to defeat.

“On the contrary, Mr Bartlett,” Henry replied. “I find this matter rather disturbing.”

“It is disturbing,” Lady Ruth agreed. “His Grace could have a woman of questionable morals under his roof.”

Henry didn’t like that—not one bit. “Jealousy often makes people say terrible things about others, Lady Ruth,” he said. “Surely, you know that?”

She looked at him in surprise, perhaps realizing he didn’t like her accusing another woman of witchcraft. She then chuckled, her expression changing so swiftly that one would never know his words had startled her.

“Of course, Your Grace,” she said. “Miss Barnes has proven herself to be a lovely person.”

“She is a delightful woman,” Mr Bartlett added. “I believe she would be a wonderful addition to the church.”

Henry frowned. He didn’t want the nursemaid anywhere near the vicar. The man’s intentions were abundantly clear.

“Miss Barnes is rather busy,” said Henry. “She will have to decide if she has the time to attend church.”

Mr Bartlett frowned. “But what of her spiritual growth and fellowship with other Believers? The Good Book tells us that we should not forsake the gathering of Believers. That is a commandment, Your Grace.”

Henry smiled. “Have you met a more loving, cheerful, and selfless woman before, Mr Bartlett? I assure you that Miss Barnes does not lack Christian attributes. She lives the Believer’s way every day.”

“She certainly does,” said Juliana. “Her purity and kindness have touched us all in this home.”

“Which is precisely why I need someone like her by my side,” said Mr Bartlett. “Surely you can convince her to spare me some of her time to help the poor and needy? Her expertise would be highly appreciated. We could visit the sick together, take alms to the poor—there is no limit.”

Oh, there certainly was a limit to how much Henry could take before he snapped. However, he couldn’t be too obvious about his dislike of the situation. Fortunately, the conversation was halted when his butler announced dinner. Miss Barnes likely hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and she usually ate her meal with them.

“Ask Miss Barnes to join us for dinner,” he told his butler, rising to his feet. “Miss Ayres, too, if she wishes.”

It would seem odd to only invite one woman and not the other. Henry didn’t want anyone to think he was showing favouritism. It oddly didn’t occur to him that the mere gesture of extending an invitation to a commoner to have dinner with aristocrats would raise eyebrows.