26. Chapter 26

Chapter 26

A s he approached the house, James slowed his pace, considering the implications of his idea. Doubt crept in as he mounted the steps to the front door. Would Evelyn see this as the generous offer it was meant to be, or would her independent spirit be offended? James frowned, realising the delicacy of the situation.

He paused in the entrance hall, removing his hat and gloves as he pondered his next move. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he needed expert advice. This wasn't a matter to be handled lightly or without proper consideration of all potential outcomes.

"I'll need to speak with Jones," James muttered to himself, referring to his long-time solicitor. The man had a keen understanding of both legal matters and social niceties. He would know how to structure such an offer in a way that wouldn't cause offence or misunderstanding.

Decision made, James headed towards his study to pen a letter requesting an urgent meeting with Mr Jones. As he walked, he found himself both excited by the prospect of repaying his debt to Evelyn and oddly unsettled by the thought of her leaving Thornfield.

James paced the length of his study, his steps quick and purposeful. The late hour did nothing to dampen his enthusiasm. If anything, the quiet of the house only fuelled his anticipation. He felt a surge of energy coursing through him, a vitality he hadn't experienced in years.

He paused by the window, gazing out at the moonlit grounds. The prospect of settling his debt with Evelyn filled him with an unfamiliar excitement. He could already imagine the look of surprise on her face, the way her eyes would light up when he presented his offer.

James ran a hand through his hair, a restless gesture he'd thought long abandoned. He felt almost boyish in his eagerness, a feeling both thrilling and disconcerting. Part of him wanted to seek her out immediately, to share his plans and see her reaction.

But no, he reminded himself. This required finesse, proper planning. He couldn't rush in like an overeager schoolboy. Still, the thought of making Evelyn happy, of giving her a chance at a new life, sent a warm rush through him.

He moved to his desk, fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on the polished wood. Perhaps he could at least hint at his intentions, gauge her reaction. The idea of waiting until everything was perfectly arranged suddenly seemed unbearable.

Before he could talk himself out of it, James strode towards the door. He'd find Evelyn, just for a moment. A brief conversation to set the stage for what was to come. His heart raced as he stepped into the hallway, filled with an anticipation he hadn't felt in years.

James took the stairs two at a time, his heart pounding with a mixture of excitement and nervous energy. The quiet of the house at this late hour barely registered in his mind as he focused solely on reaching Evelyn's room. The impropriety of his actions never crossed his thoughts; all that mattered was sharing his plans with her.

As he reached the landing, James paused for a moment, catching his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, attempting to smooth it into some semblance of order. His fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar, but for once, he paid it no mind.

James continued up the stairs, his footsteps muffled by the thick carpet. As he rounded the corner, he stopped short, surprised to see Nell standing in the hallway. The maid was dusting the ornate frame of a portrait, her movements slow and almost reverent.

His gaze shifted to the painting itself, and James felt a familiar ache in his chest. The late Baroness Ayles looked down at him; her strawberry blonde hair cascading over her shoulders, her blue eyes seeming to sparkle even in the stillness of oil and canvas. It was the same hair that graced his daughters' heads, a constant reminder of what he'd lost.

Nell's face was turned towards the portrait, and even in the dim light of the hallway, James could see the sheen of unshed tears in her eyes. The maid's usual cheerful demeanour was absent, replaced by an expression of wistful melancholy.

Concern furrowed James's brow. He'd known Nell since she was a girl, and it was unlike her to appear so affected. "Nell," he said softly, not wanting to startle her. "Is all well?"

Nell turned, hastily wiping at her eyes. "Oh! My lord, I didn't hear you approach," she said, her voice slightly unsteady. She glanced back at the portrait, a sad smile tugging at her lips. "I was just... remembering, I suppose."

James nodded, understanding all too well the power of memories. He looked up at his late wife's face, feeling a complex mix of emotions swirling within him. "She had that effect on people," he murmured, more to himself than to Nell.

"Forgive me, my lord," Nell said with a watery smile. "I suppose she must never be far from your thoughts."

James felt a sudden jolt, as if the floor had shifted beneath his feet. The realisation struck him like a slap to the face: he hadn't thought of his late wife in... how long? Days? Weeks? The absence of her memory in his recent thoughts was a gaping void he hadn't even noticed until this moment.

Guilt crashed over him like a wave, threatening to drag him under. How could he have forgotten her, even for a moment? And worse, he knew exactly what—or rather, who—had occupied his mind instead. Evelyn's face flashed before his eyes, and James felt a surge of shame so intense it made him physically recoil.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to meet Nell's gaze. "Yes," he said, his voice rougher than he'd intended. "Yes, of course. She's... she's never far from my thoughts."

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but James couldn't bring himself to admit the truth. Not to Nell, not to himself. He glanced up at the portrait again, willing himself to feel the familiar ache of loss, the constant companion he'd lived with for so long.

But even now, with his late wife's image before him, James found his thoughts drifting back to Evelyn. The contrast between the two women—one a cherished memory, the other a living, breathing presence that had somehow woven herself into the fabric of his daily life—left him feeling adrift and uncertain.

James felt a tightness in his chest as he looked at Nell, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. "Do you... do you think of her often, Nell?"

The maid's gaze softened, a wistful smile playing at her lips. "I do, my lord. It's hard not to, especially when I'm tending to the house." She paused, her fingers tracing the edge of her apron. "Sometimes I can't help but wonder what the Baroness would have thought of all the changes on the estate, and in the house itself."

James felt his stomach drop, guilt washing over him anew. He'd made so many changes in recent years, driven by necessity and his own restless desire to move forward. Had he inadvertently erased her presence from their home?

Nell sighed, her eyes drifting back to the portrait. "And I wonder..." she hesitated, as if unsure whether to continue. "I wonder what she would have thought of a stranger raising her children. The Baroness was such a devoted mother, after all."

That made James's veins turn to ice. He'd been so caught up in his plans for Evelyn, in the excitement of offering her a new life, that he'd forgotten the most important thing: his daughters. His late wife's daughters. How could he have even considered bringing in someone else to raise them, to shape their futures?

He stared at the portrait, at the familiar curve of his wife's smile, the sparkle in her painted eyes. For the first time in years, James felt truly lost, adrift in a sea of conflicting emotions and forgotten loyalties.

James stood rooted to the spot, his gaze fixed on the portrait of his late wife. The familiar ache in his chest had returned, but now it was tinged with a sharp edge of guilt. He felt torn between the past and the present, between duty and desire.

It's... comforting to know that you'll always be here, Nell," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "To remember her, to keep her memory alive in this house."

Nell smiled softly, her eyes still glistening. "Of course, my lord. The Baroness was... she was special to all of us." She paused, then added gently, "If you'll excuse me, I should finish my rounds."

James nodded absently, barely registering Nell's quiet departure. His attention remained fixed on the portrait, on the familiar features of the woman he'd loved and lost. He found himself searching her painted eyes, as if hoping to find some guidance, some answer to the turmoil in his heart.

The silence of the hallway pressed in around him, broken only by the soft ticking of a distant clock. James felt the weight of the years since her passing, the slow healing that had begun to take place without his even realising it. And now, faced with her image, he felt caught between two worlds.

He thought of Evelyn, of the plans he'd been so eager to share just moments ago. The excitement he'd felt now seemed distant, overshadowed by a renewed sense of loss and confusion. James ran a hand over his face, feeling the rough texture of his scar beneath his fingers.

What would you have me do?" he whispered to the portrait, knowing full well no answer would come. Yet he stood there, waiting, as if the painted canvas might somehow impart some wisdom, some direction for the path ahead.

James pulled out his pocket watch, the smooth gold case cool against his palm. The delicate hands pointed to just past eight o'clock. If he hurried, he might catch Evelyn in the hallway as she prepared the girls for bed.

His gaze drifted down the corridor towards Evelyn's room and the girls' chambers. He could almost hear the soft murmur of their voices, the gentle rustling of bedclothes being turned down. For a moment, he felt an overwhelming urge to join them, to be part of that quiet, domestic scene.

But then his eyes shifted to the opposite end of the hallway, where his own room lay in solitary silence. The portrait of his late wife seemed to watch him, her painted eyes holding a question he couldn't quite decipher.

James stood frozen, caught between two paths. His hand tightened around the watch, its steady ticking a counterpoint to his racing thoughts. He took a half-step towards Evelyn and the girls, then hesitated, glancing back at his own room.

The weight of his earlier guilt pressed down on him, making each potential step feel leaden. He wavered, indecision rooting him to the spot. The excitement that had propelled him up the stairs now felt distant, replaced by a confusing mix of longing and uncertainty.

James looked down at the watch again, watching the seconds tick by as he stood paralysed in the hallway, unable to choose which way to go.