Chapter 41

Henry could not leave his study. It was Rebecca’s last day, and she was leaving in a few moments. She was leaving him, and he could not stand it. Days had passed since she informed him she was returning home to marry someone.

He had been too shocked to do anything but agree, even wishing her well. All this time, he had hoped she had some feelings for him, but she was thinking about someone else. Rebecca might as well have ripped out his heart, trampled on it, and left his body for the vultures.

Sighing, he bowed his head and massaged his temples. Not being able to sleep because he couldn’t imagine a life without her affected every area of his life. He wasn’t eating well, was forgetting things, and could barely follow conversations, and recently, he started snapping at everyone. Henry didn’t recognize himself.

He heard some commotion outside, prompting him to look out his window. He had left it open to hear when Rebecca was about to leave. He had already told everyone he was too busy for a personal goodbye, so he had sent a message wishing her a safe journey. He couldn’t see her while he was still so hurt.

She had even told him to marry Lady Ruth because she was perfect for him. Rebecca couldn’t be any more wrong. She was the perfect woman, the one who had his heart. Only, she had pretty much rejected him before he even had a chance to confess his feelings. It was a heavy blow.

His saving grace was throwing himself into finding the culprits intent on accusing her of witchcraft. Knowing that the rector and vicar were involved wasn’t enough. Henry needed to know everyone involved so he could expose them. It was amusing that he was working hard to clear her name, only to have her leave him. The joke was on him.

Leaning on his windowsill, he watched Rebecca say her goodbyes to his weeping sister and aunt. The servants were also crying, knowing they were losing a wonderful woman. Rebecca had managed to enter everyone’s heart, and now she would leave a hole. However, he doubted anyone was experiencing the stabbing pain in his heart.

Henry wanted to run down and stop her from leaving, but he couldn’t keep her where she didn’t want to be. Rebecca wanted to go home and marry a suitor, and as much as that hurt to know, it was her life.

Finally, it was time for her to enter the carriage, but Henry couldn’t watch. He left the window and slowly sank into his chair, closing his eyes when he heard the carriage leaving. He should just abandon the search for the accusers, but his heart would never let him.

Perhaps throwing himself into who was encouraging the rumour to spread like wildfire would help him forget that Rebecca had broken his heart. Albeit unknowingly, but his heart didn’t care. Unlike his mind, his heart didn’t need to make sense of the situation. It was painfully honest, even if that honesty might drive him mad.

***

Weeks later, Henry could finally trace the accusation down to two people. He wasn’t surprised about one of the culprits, but the other shocked him. He never guessed that Lady Ruth had conspired with the vicar to soil Rebecca’s name. It made no sense. Which was why he had unexpectedly called upon Mr Bartlett. Fortunately, the man was home alone. He and Lady Ruth were almost inseparable, but Henry had managed to find him on a rare day.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of this sudden visit, Your Grace?” Mr Bartlett asked. “You have never come to my home before. I wasn’t sure if I should believe the butler when he announced your arrival.”

“I can imagine,” Henry replied. “You have a lovely home.”

“But it’s nothing compared to yours,” Mr Bartlett said, smiling. “That stately mansion has been the envy of many people.”

Henry shrugged. “Yes, I suppose many people have complimented my home,” he replied.

“Yes,” the vicar agreed. “Brandy?” he asked, getting to his feet.

“No, thank you,” Henry replied. “I would just like to discuss an important matter if you do not mind.”

Mr Bartlett raised an eyebrow. “Oh? What is it about?”

The vicar continued to his drinks trolley, pouring himself a brandy. Henry waited for him to sit down, not wanting the man to miss a single word of what he had to say.

“Why did you and Lady Ruth conspire to accuse Miss Barnes of witchcraft?” he asked plainly.

Mr Bartlett stilled, barely able to veil his surprise. “I beg your pardon?” he said.

“You heard me, Mr Bartlett,” Henry told him. “Do not attempt to lie about this because you will regret it. I looked into your life while trying to find who pushed this ridiculous rumour. I’ve heard many rumours about you but have never had evidence to prove them. So, I dug around until I discovered many things. I’m sure many husbands would love to know the identity of their wives’ lover.”

Mr Bartlett grew visibly paler. He gulped his brandy and almost dropped the glass as he tried to place it on the table beside him.

“What do you want to know?” he finally asked, wiping the perspiration off his upper lip.

“Why is a good start,” said Henry.

Mr Bartlett nodded nervously. He knew he was cornered. If Henry said he had evidence of the man’s misdeeds, he certainly had it.

“Lady Ruth didn’t want to lose you to Miss Barnes,” the vicar revealed. “She wanted me to help her by using my religious power to convince people that the nursemaid was really a witch. Lady Ruth also threatened, saying she would make her life a living hell if she didn’t leave Dorchester Place. She said your family would also suffer because of this rumour.”

Henry drew his eyebrows together, not understanding anything. “What do you mean she didn’t want to lose me to Miss Barnes?”

No one knew that he loved her, least of all Lady Ruth. However, it didn’t seem possible for her to have based this entire matter on something she didn’t know, which meant she had seen something.

“Lady Ruth is aware of the relationship between you and Miss Barnes,” Mr Bartlett revealed. “She saw something brewing between you and panicked. She used Miss Barnes’ feelings for you against her by convincing her to leave you. Miss Barnes obviously cares about you, or she would never have left.”

Henry’s back connected hard with the chair as he fell against it. His mind wasn’t able to take in all the information at once. Firstly, Rebecca had feelings for him—that was why she left. Secondly, Ruth took it too far by threatening the woman he loved.

“Lady Ruth loves you, Your Grace,” Mr Bartlett revealed. “I admit it was wrong to go this far, but she is desperate. She doesn’t want to lose you.”

“So she tried to ruin Miss Barnes’ life?” Henry growled. “No, this is unacceptable. Are you willing to reveal this truth to others if I ask you to? I cannot let people believe something so terrible about Miss Barnes. This is her life, Mr Bartlett!”

The vicar winced. “You have to believe I never wanted to hurt Miss Barnes,” he said. I really like her and wanted to woo her the old-fashioned way. Unfortunately, Lady Ruth was impatient, and I could never say no to her.”

Henry curled his lips in distaste. “You clearly didn’t like her enough, or you never would have hurt her. She would have just been another woman in your history of lovers even if you had managed to woo her.”

The vicar said nothing because Henry was right. Unfortunately, Henry had been terribly wrong about letting Rebecca go. He should have said something, told her how he felt, and convinced her to stay. Perhaps she might have confided in him and even confessed her own feelings.

He frowned, his hands fisting as he recalled she had said she was going to marry someone else. Confronting Lady Ruth would just have to wait because he needed to see Rebecca. She needed to know how he felt about her. He hoped she had lied about the suitor, but he couldn’t be sure until he saw and spoke to her. Henry didn’t want to spend another week without her and hoped he could convince her. He didn’t want to imagine what would happen if she rejected him.

***

“That parsley will turn into nothing if you keep mincing it, dear,” Rebecca’s mother commented.

Rebecca frowned, looking down at the chopping board. Sure enough, the parsley was truly dead.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” she said, putting the knife down. “Is there anything else you’d like me to chop?”

Her mother shook her head. “No, dear,” she said. “Why don’t you sit down and have some lemonade? I don’t think it’s safe for anyone if you hold a knife.”

Rebecca nodded, moving to the kitchen table where her grandmother poured her a tall glass of lemonade and put a plate of biscuits before her.

“So, are you ready to tell us his name?” her grandmother asked.

Rebecca frowned. “Whose name?”

“The man you fell in love with,” her mother replied, pulling up a chair opposite her. “You’ve been pining away for weeks. We wanted to give you time to yourself and hoped you’d tell us, but we’ve realized that you probably won’t.”

Rebecca shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She didn’t want to talk about Henry, not when her heart was still aching.

“I do not know what you mean,” she said. “I’m just tired. I was supposed to go on holiday, but Alice fell ill, and she’s still recovering. We plan to go to Brighton as soon as she’s better.”

Alice had been angry at herself for falling ill, but it was inevitable since they usually spent time around sick people. Their driver had been coughing, so Alice likely caught the illness from him. Fortunately, they caught it quickly, so it never turned into consumption. Still, she was a little weak and needed bed rest.

“Dear, you’re lovesick,” her grandmother insisted. “This has nothing to do with being tired, although it can make one tired. You haven’t been sleeping or eating well and usually have a healthy appetite.”

Rebecca shook her head. Talking about Henry would not help her get over him. She just wanted to keep herself busy enough not to think about him.

“You’re wrong,” she lied. “I miss the Andrews family, especially their cute baby boy, but that is it.” She gulped her lemonade, coughing a little when it went down the wrong way. She stood up, grabbing a cloth to pat the sides of her mouth.

“Dear, you know you can tell us anything, yes?” her mother said, coming up and hugging her from behind. “We love you and only want the best for you.”

Rebecca leaned into her mother’s touch, appreciating the scent of jasmine from her mother’s homemade perfume.

“I know, Mama,” she said. “I’m fine. Really.” She turned around. “Why don’t we plan this year’s picnic? The duchess usually does it, but she’s currently busy with her family. We can offer to do it because we’ve done it before.”

She wanted to keep herself busy, so the annual village spring picnic would be the perfect diversion. Everyone in the area was invited to a picnic on the duchess’ estate. It was something people really looked forward to. Usually, Rebecca, her mother, and her grandmother baked pies, roasted the meat, and helped with flower arrangements.

“We can speak to her about it later,” her grandmother suggested. “We’re taking some calming tea to her. Her nephew is a bit of a troubled man and is giving everyone a headache.”

“How dreadful,” Rebecca replied, pouring another glass of lemonade.

But perfect for her because the duchess would wish to confide in Rebecca, which would keep her busy for hours. Hopefully, it would be enough to forget about her heartache for at least a little while.