18. Chapter 18

Chapter 18

O ver the next few days, Evelyn noticed a marked change in the Baron's demeanour. His customary gruffness seemed to have softened, replaced by a gentler manner that caught her off guard.

When they passed in the hallways, he no longer averted his gaze but offered a nod of acknowledgement. He invited Evelyn to dine with him and the girls, a shocking thing for a servant, but a welcome change to eating alone in her room.

This shift both pleased and puzzled Evelyn. She found herself warming to his newfound kindness, though a part of her remained wary, unsure of its permanence. Still, she decided to seize the opportunity to bridge the gap between them.

One afternoon, as she prepared for her literature lesson with Julia and Augusta, Evelyn took a deep breath and approached the Baron in his study.

"My lord," she began, her voice steady despite her nerves, "I wondered if you might like to observe our lesson today. We're studying Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'."

The Baron looked up from his papers, surprise evident in his grey eyes. After a moment's hesitation, he nodded. "I'd be... interested to see how you conduct your lessons, Miss Bane."

In the music room, Julia and Augusta's eyes widened at the sight of their father. Evelyn gave them an encouraging smile as she began the lesson.

"Now, girls, let's continue where we left off. Augusta, would you read Brutus's soliloquy?"

As Augusta's clear voice filled the room, Evelyn glanced at the Baron. His face was impassive, but his eyes were fixed intently on his daughter.

Julia, ever the performer, threw herself into the dramatic scenes with gusto. When it came time to act out Caesar's assassination, she brandished an imaginary dagger with such enthusiasm that Evelyn couldn't help but laugh.

"Et tu, Brute?" Julia cried, collapsing to the floor with theatrical flair.

Even the Baron's lips twitched in amusement.

Augusta, for her part, seemed more interested in the historical aspects. "Miss Bane, is it true that the real Caesar was stabbed twenty-three times?"

"Indeed it is," Evelyn replied, impressed by Augusta's curiosity. "The play takes some liberties with history, but that detail is accurate."

As the lesson progressed, Evelyn found herself stealing glances at the Baron. His presence, once intimidating, now felt almost... comfortable. When their eyes met, she saw something warm and approving in his gaze that made her heart skip a beat.

Evelyn couldn't help but notice the Baron leaning towards her, his voice low as he spoke. "I've always admired Roman history," he confided, a rare spark of enthusiasm lighting his eyes.

She turned to him, one eyebrow arched in amusement. A wry smile tugged at the corners of her mouth as she regarded him. "I never would have guessed, my lord," she replied, her tone dry as dust. "Your daughters are named Julia and Augusta, your dogs are Brutus and Caesar, and I have it on good authority that your favourite stallion is named Nero."

The Baron blinked, taken aback by her astute observation. For a moment, Evelyn feared she'd overstepped, but then a low chuckle rumbled from his chest. It was a rich, warm sound that sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.

"You're more observant than I gave you credit for, Miss Bane," he said, his grey eyes twinkling with amusement. "I suppose I'm not as subtle as I thought."

"Perhaps not, my lord," she agreed, her own smile widening. "But it's refreshing to see such passion for history. It's a subject often overlooked in favour of more... fashionable pursuits."

The Baron nodded, his expression growing thoughtful. "Indeed. There's much to be learned from the past, Miss Bane. Triumphs and follies alike."

Their eyes met, and Evelyn felt a sudden spark of connection. For a brief moment, the barriers between them—of class, of circumstance, of their respective roles—seemed to fade away. They were simply two people sharing a mutual interest, a fleeting understanding. Strangely, Evelyn felt as if he were inviting her to confide something, to clear the murkiness of her own past. Even stranger was that Evelyn was sorely tempted to do so.

There was a sudden silence in the music room, which drew Evelyn back to reality. Turning her attention back to the girls, Evelyn clapped politely, and the Baron followed suit.

"Miss Bane," Julia chirped, her eyes bright with excitement, "we're still going to read Antony and Cleopatra next, aren't we? You promised!"

Evelyn's smile faltered as she felt the Baron's gaze boring into her. She turned to meet his eyes, her chin lifting slightly. "Of course," she said, her voice steady. "It's an important part of history, after all."

She hoped the emphasis on the historical aspect would appease the Baron, but his frown only deepened. Evelyn's heart sank, but she refused to show her discomfort.

Julia, oblivious to the tension, twirled around the room, her arms outstretched. "I've heard it's terribly romantic," she sighed dreamily. "Oh, I hope to have a great romance like that one day!"

Augusta rolled her eyes. "It's hardly romantic if everyone dies," she pointed out pragmatically.

Evelyn opened her mouth to respond, but the Baron's voice cut through the room, low and controlled. "Miss Bane, a word in the hall, if you please."

Evelyn's stomach clenched, but she nodded gracefully. "Of course, my lord," she said, following him out of the room.

As the door closed behind them, Evelyn steeled herself for the confrontation. She'd known this moment would come eventually, but she'd hoped to have more time to prove herself before facing the Baron's disapproval. Now, standing in the dim hallway, she felt acutely aware of the precariousness of her position.

Evelyn's heart raced as she faced the Baron in the dimly lit hallway. His grey eyes, which had been so warm mere moments ago, now held a steely glint that made her breath catch in her throat. She straightened her spine, determined not to show any weakness.

The Baron took a deep breath, his nostrils pinched. When he spoke, his voice was low and controlled. "Miss Bane, I must ask you: why do you feel the need to blatantly disregard my instructions on filling my daughters' heads with romantic nonsense?"

Evelyn felt her cheeks flush with indignation. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze squarely. "With all due respect, my lord, I am not filling their heads with anything. Your daughters are intelligent, thoughtful young women, fully capable of forming their own opinions."

The Baron's eyebrows shot up, clearly taken aback by her forthright response. Evelyn pressed on, her voice gaining strength. "I am merely providing them with a well-rounded education, which includes literature and history. It would be remiss of me to exclude such important works simply because they contain elements of romance."

She watched as the Baron's expression shifted, a mix of frustration and something else—perhaps grudging respect—flitting across his features. Evelyn held her ground, her heart pounding in her ears as she awaited his response.

Evelyn watched as the Baron's mouth opened, then closed again without a word. His brow furrowed, and she sensed his internal struggle. Seizing the moment of hesitation, she pressed on, her voice steady despite her racing heart.

"My lord, I fear you're fighting a losing battle. You cannot keep your daughters sheltered forever, nor can you protect them from the realities of life by simply withholding information."

The Baron's eyes narrowed, but Evelyn refused to back down. She took a deep breath and continued, her words measured and clear.

"The more rigid and controlling you are, the more likely you are to lose them entirely. They will forge their own paths when they're able, with or without your blessing."

She watched as surprise flickered across the Baron's face, his stern expression faltering. Evelyn felt a surge of courage, emboldened by his silence.

"Consider this, my lord: How will you stop your daughters from simply eloping when they decide that's the only way to get what they want?"

The Baron's eyes widened, and Evelyn pressed onward. "Listen to me," she said with her voice lowered, but a bit of a glint in her eye. "As the daughter of a strict father, I left home at the first opportunity that presented itself, and I regretted it bitterly very quickly. I had nowhere to turn because I'd burned my bridges."

Evelyn's heart pounded as she realised the weight of her words. She'd revealed far more than she'd intended, and now the Baron's piercing gaze seemed to see right through her carefully constructed fa?ade.

The Baron tilted his head, his grey eyes narrowing as he considered her words. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Evelyn felt her cheeks grow warm under his scrutiny, her earlier boldness evaporating like morning dew.

She pressed her lips together, determined not to let any more slip. The urge to explain herself, to justify her past actions, bubbled up within her, but she ruthlessly suppressed it. She'd already said too much.

The Baron's expression remained unreadable, but there was a new intensity in his gaze that made Evelyn's skin prickle. She felt exposed, as if he could see every secret she'd been trying so desperately to hide.

Evelyn shifted her weight from one foot to the other, fighting the urge to fidget under his unwavering stare. The hallway suddenly felt too small, too confining. She longed to flee, to retreat to the safety of her room and compose herself, but she knew she couldn't. Not without the Baron's dismissal.

As the silence stretched on, Evelyn found herself unable to meet his eyes any longer. She lowered her gaze to the floor, studying the intricate pattern of the carpet as if it held the answers to all her problems.

Evelyn held her breath, waiting for the Baron's response. The silence stretched on, each second feeling like an eternity. Just as she thought she might burst from the tension, the Baron finally spoke.

"Miss Bane," he said, his voice low and measured, "I thank you for speaking your mind, as always. Your opinion is... duly noted."

Evelyn's heart leapt at his words, hope blossoming in her chest. Perhaps he had truly listened, perhaps he would—

"However," the Baron continued, his tone cooling, "I think we've all had quite enough learning for one day. Your services are not required further this afternoon. You are free to go."

The dismissal stung like a physical blow. Evelyn felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and disappointment. She had dared to hope, for one brief moment, that she had made a breakthrough. That the Baron had seen the wisdom in her words. But no—he was sending her away, brushing off her concerns as easily as one might swat away an irritating fly.

Evelyn swallowed hard, fighting to maintain her composure. She would not let him see how deeply his dismissal had affected her. With a stiff nod, she turned away, her back straight and her head held high.

As she walked down the hallway, each step echoing in the oppressive silence, Evelyn felt a weight settle in her chest. She had overstepped, revealed too much of herself, and for what? To be dismissed like a recalcitrant child? The urge to look back, to see if the Baron was watching her retreat, was almost overwhelming. Evelyn resisted, keeping her gaze fixed firmly ahead. She would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

Evelyn made her way to her room, her steps heavy and her mind in turmoil. The Baron's dismissal echoed in her ears, a stinging reminder of her precarious position. She felt off-kilter, as if the ground beneath her feet had suddenly shifted.

As she reached for the door handle, Evelyn took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She longed for the solitude of her room, a moment to gather her thoughts and steady her nerves.

The door swung open, and Evelyn nearly jumped out of her skin. There, perched on her bed like two inquisitive birds, sat Julia and Augusta. Evelyn blinked, momentarily stunned. How on earth had they managed to beat her here?

Before she could voice her surprise, Julia launched herself across the room. The girl's arms wrapped around Evelyn's waist, nearly knocking the wind out of her.

"Miss Bane!" Julia cried, her voice muffled against Evelyn's dress. "We were so worried!"

Evelyn instinctively brought her arms up to return the embrace, her heart warming despite her tumultuous emotions. She looked over Julia's head to Augusta, who remained seated on the bed, her grey eyes—so like her father's—fixed intently on Evelyn's face.

"Are you in trouble, Miss Bane?" Augusta asked, her voice quiet but direct.

Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat. She gently disentangled herself from Julia's embrace and moved further into the room, closing the door behind her. How could she answer Augusta's question when she wasn't entirely sure herself?

"I'm not certain," Evelyn admitted, sinking into the chair by her small writing desk. "Your father and I had a... disagreement about your education."

Evelyn watched as Julia and Augusta exchanged a meaningful glance, their young faces suddenly serious. She felt a flicker of unease at the shift in their demeanour.

Julia bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before speaking. "Miss Bane, Father... he's been different ever since the fire."

Evelyn blinked, taken aback by this unexpected turn in the conversation. Her mind raced, trying to process this new information. She leaned forward, lowering her voice instinctively. "How so?" she asked, her curiosity overriding her usual caution.

The twins shared another look, a silent communication passing between them. Evelyn felt a pang of envy at their closeness, even as she waited with bated breath for their response.

It was Augusta who finally spoke, her grey eyes - so like her father's - filled with a sadness that seemed far too old for her young face. "Before, he always smiled, especially at Mother. Now..." She trailed off, her brow furrowing as she searched for the right words.

"Now, Father is so serious. He has no time for stories or anything fun," Julia finished for her sister, her usually cheerful voice subdued.

Evelyn felt her heart constrict at the girls' words. The image of the stern, aloof man she'd come to know clashed with the one they described - a smiling, easy-going father.

Evelyn's heart ached for the girls, their words painting a vivid picture of the man their father had once been. She longed to know more, to unravel the mystery of what had changed him so dramatically. But as she opened her mouth to ask, she caught herself. It wouldn't be right to pry into such personal matters, especially not from the Baron's own children. Moreover, she didn't want them to relive anything traumatic.

Instead, she took a deep breath and smiled gently at Julia and Augusta. "Your father loves you both very much," she said softly, her voice filled with conviction. "Everything he does, every decision he makes, is because he wants what's best for you. Even if we don't always understand or agree with his methods."

The girls looked at her, their young faces a mixture of hope and uncertainty. Evelyn reached out, giving each of their hands a gentle squeeze. "Now, I think it's best if you two run along. I'm sure you have other lessons to attend to."

With a bit of reluctance, Julia and Augusta nodded and made their way out of the room. As the door closed behind them, Evelyn let out a long, weary sigh. She sank back into her chair, her mind whirling with all she'd learned.