19. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

T he afternoon stretched on, long and quiet. Evelyn tried to occupy herself with reading, but found she couldn't focus on the words. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the Baron, to the fire, to the man he'd been before. She found herself watching the clock, waiting for the usual summons to dinner.

But as the hands of the clock ticked on and the sky outside her window darkened, no summons came. The realisation settled over her like a heavy blanket. Evelyn sat heavily on the edge of her bed, her shoulders slumping. She'd pushed too far, said too much. Now, it seemed, she was to be excluded from the family meal.

Evelyn's thoughts were interrupted by a gentle knock at the door. Her heart leapt, hoping for a moment that it might be the Baron, come to apologise or at least explain.

She sprang to her feet eagerly, but when she called out, "Come in," it was Nell who entered, bearing a tray of food. The sight of the tray confirmed Evelyn's fears. She was being excluded from the family dinner. Her stomach twisted, and she felt her eyes prick with unshed tears.

Nell set the tray down on the small table by the window, then turned to Evelyn with a concerned look. "Is everything all right, Miss Bane? You look quite upset."

Evelyn tried to smile, but it felt more like a grimace. "I'm fine, Nell. Thank you for bringing the tray."

Nell wasn't fooled. She stepped closer, her brow furrowed with worry. "Begging your pardon, Miss, but you don't look fine at all. Has something happened?"

Evelyn hesitated, torn between maintaining her composure and the desperate need to confide in someone. Nell's kind face and genuine concern broke through her resolve.

"Oh, Nell," Evelyn sighed, sinking onto the edge of her bed. "I fear I've made a terrible mistake. I spoke out of turn to the Baron, and now..." She gestured helplessly at the tray.

Nell's eyes widened in understanding. She sat down beside Evelyn, propriety forgotten in the face of the governess's distress. "There, there, Miss," she said softly, patting Evelyn's hand. "The Baron can be a difficult man, to be sure. But he's not unreasonable. Whatever's happened, I'm sure it'll blow over soon enough."

Evelyn shook her head, feeling the weight of her words pressing down on her. "I'm not so certain, Nell. I revealed things about myself that I shouldn't have. I challenged his authority over his own children. I..." She trailed off, unable to voice her deepest fear - that she'd ruined everything, that she'd be sent away.

Nell listened patiently, her face a picture of sympathy. When Evelyn finished speaking, the maid gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "Do you really feel that you've erred in your behaviour?"

Evelyn nodded, her eyes downcast. "Yes, I do," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I fear I've made a terrible mistake, not just in speaking up, but in coming to the Baron's house at all." The words tumbled out, heavy with regret and uncertainty.

As soon as the words left her lips, Evelyn saw something pass over Nell's face—a flicker of hurt, perhaps, or disappointment. Realising how her statement must have sounded, Evelyn hurriedly added, "Oh, but Nell, I could never regret meeting you, or the girls. Never that."

The maid's expression softened slightly, but a troubled look remained in her eyes. Nell stood up, smoothing her apron as if to leave. Evelyn felt a pang of loneliness at the thought of being left alone with her tumultuous thoughts.

But as Nell reached the door, she stopped, her hand resting on the handle. She turned back to face Evelyn, her forehead creased as he delved into deep thought.

Evelyn watched as Nell's expression shifted, her earlier sympathy giving way to a more serious demeanour. The maid's hand fell from the doorknob as she turned back to face Evelyn fully.

"Miss Bane," Nell began, her voice low and measured, "I've been a servant for a long time now. Seen a lot of people come and go, I have." She paused, her eyes searching Evelyn's face. "And dismissals, well, they tend to follow a pattern."

Evelyn felt her heart skip a beat at the word 'dismissals'. She swallowed hard, trying to maintain her composure as Nell continued.

"Have you ever been dismissed before, Miss?" Nell asked, her tone gentle but direct.

Evelyn shook her head, feeling her chest tightened, struggling to find her breath. She'd never imagined she'd be a servant, so she was utterly unprepared for this moment. It felt strange and terrible to have fallen so far from such a privileged upbringing, to be living so far outside of the gilded life she'd once enjoyed.

Nell nodded grimly, her lips pressed into a thin line. "I thought as much," she said softly. "Well, Miss, if you don't mind me saying so, it's best not to be taken by surprise in these situations. You should... prepare for the worst."

The words hit Evelyn like a physical blow. She felt the colour drain from her face as the full weight of Nell's warning settled over her. Prepare for the worst. The phrase echoed in her mind, each repetition bringing with it a fresh wave of anxiety.

Nell seemed to sense Evelyn's distress. She took a step forward, as if to offer comfort, but then thought better of it. Instead, she gave a small, sad smile. "I'm sorry, Miss. I don't mean to upset you. I just... well, I thought you ought to know."

With that, Nell turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind her. Evelyn remained frozen in place, staring at the spot where Nell had stood, her mind reeling from the maid's words.

Evelyn sat on the edge of her bed, Nell's warning echoing in her mind. The urge to push the thought away, to pretend everything would sort itself out, was overwhelming. It was how she'd always coped before, wasn't it? Letting life sweep her along, never taking control of her own fate.

With a start, Evelyn realised this was exactly how she'd ended up in that ill-fated affair with Richard, how she'd wound up marrying the Judge with no forethought. She'd drifted into it, never considering the consequences, never taking charge of her own choices. The memory of those days filled her with shame and regret.

No, Evelyn thought, straightening her spine. She wouldn't live like that again. She'd promised herself she would be different, stronger, more in control of her own destiny. Even if that destiny now included being a servant.

The thought struck her like a bolt of lightning. She was a servant now, wasn't she? Her life, her future, they were no longer entirely her own. She was at the mercy of others' whims, their decisions. Evelyn's hands clenched in her lap, her nails digging into her palms.

The realisation was bitter, but she forced herself to face it head-on. This was her reality now. She had to be prepared for whatever came next, even if that meant dismissal.

With a deep breath, Evelyn stood up. She would face this challenge as she should have faced so many others in her past - with clear eyes and a steady heart. She might be a servant, but that didn't mean she had to be passive. She could still make choices, still shape her path, even within the confines of her new station.

Evelyn stood, her movements measured and deliberate. She crossed the room to the large trunk that had been sitting at the foot of her bed since her arrival. For a moment, her hand hesitated on the lid, but she steeled herself and lifted it open.

The familiar scent of cedar wafted up, stirring memories she quickly pushed aside. Evelyn reached for her dresses, folding each one with precise, careful movements. She smoothed out every wrinkle, her fingers lingering on the fabric as if committing its texture to memory.

One by one, she placed her belongings into the trunk. Books were stacked neatly in one corner, their spines aligned perfectly. Her writing case, a gift from Aunt Agnes, was tucked safely between layers of clothing. Each item was a piece of her life, now being tidily packed away.

Evelyn worked methodically, her face a mask of concentration. She refused to let her mind wander, focusing solely on the task at hand. When her hands trembled as she folded a particular dress, she paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

She moved around the room, gathering her few possessions. The small trinkets she'd acquired since arriving at the manor were wrapped carefully in soft cloth before being nestled into the trunk: a seashell from Augusta, an uneven piece of tatted lace from Julia, a piece of sealing wax. Evelyn's movements were unhurried, almost ritualistic in their precision.

As she worked, Evelyn kept her thoughts firmly tethered to the present moment. She wouldn't allow herself to think of Julia's infectious laughter or Augusta's keen observations. She pushed away the image of the Baron's stern face softening into a rare smile. Instead, she counted each item as it went into the trunk, letting the numbers fill her mind.

Evelyn closed the trunk with a soft click, her fingers lingering on the brass latch for a moment. She straightened, surveying the room one last time. It looked bare now, stripped of her personal touches. The few items she'd decided to leave out—her nightgown, a change of clothes for the morning, her hairbrush—seemed lonely on the dresser.

With a deep breath, Evelyn turned and sat on the edge of her bed. Her hands, now idle, found each other in her lap, fingers interlacing. She felt oddly calm, a stark contrast to the tumult of emotions she'd experienced earlier.

The room was quiet, save for the gentle ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece. Evelyn let her gaze drift to the window, where the last vestiges of daylight were fading into dusk. She watched as the shadows lengthened, creeping across the floor towards her feet.

In the gathering darkness, Evelyn's mind was clear, her thoughts ordered. She'd done what she could to prepare for the worst, as Nell had advised. Now, all that remained was to face whatever tomorrow might bring.

Evelyn's spine straightened, her chin lifting slightly. She'd weathered storms before, hadn't she? Perhaps not quite like this, but she was no stranger to adversity. If dismissal came, she would face it with dignity. And if, by some chance, she was allowed to stay, she would embrace the opportunity with renewed determination.

A small smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Whatever happened, she would not be caught unawares again. She was ready—ready to stand on her own two feet, ready to carve out her own path, whatever form it might take.

As night settled fully over the manor, Evelyn remained seated, her posture straight, her gaze steady. She was prepared to meet her future head-on, come what may.