39. Chapter 39

Chapter 39

E velyn returned to her room in a dream-like state, as if her feet were floating. She dressed quickly, steeling herself for whatever the day might bring. As she made her way to the schoolroom, she resolved to focus solely on her charges and their lessons. It was the only way she could keep her thoughts from straying to the Baron and his reaction to her confession.

Augusta and Julia were already seated at their desks when Evelyn entered, their faces bright with anticipation for the day's lessons. Evelyn forced a smile, determined not to let her personal turmoil affect the girls.

"Good morning, ladies," she said, her voice steadier than she felt. "Today, we'll be continuing our study of French literature. Julia, I believe you were to present your analysis of Voltaire's 'Candide'?"

As Julia launched into her presentation, Evelyn felt grateful for the distraction. She listened intently, offering encouragement and gentle corrections where needed. The morning passed in a blur of conjugations, philosophical debates, and historical timelines.

After lunch, Evelyn led the girls in a botany lesson, taking them into the gardens to identify and sketch various plants. The fresh air and focused activity helped to calm her nerves, though she couldn't help but glance towards the manor house occasionally, wondering if the Baron was watching from his study window.

As the afternoon waned, Evelyn set the girls to work on their needlepoint while she reviewed their progress in arithmetic. She threw herself into the task with vigour, checking and rechecking their sums until her eyes ached from the strain.

Before she knew it, the dinner hour was upon them. Evelyn dismissed the girls to prepare for the meal, her stomach churning with a mix of hunger and apprehension. She took her time freshening up, her hands shaking slightly as she smoothed her hair and straightened her dress.

When she finally made her way to the dining room, Evelyn was surprised to find only Augusta and Julia seated at the table. Mrs Turnbell, the housekeeper, was supervising the footmen as they laid out the dishes.

"Where is your father?" Evelyn asked, trying to keep her voice light.

Nell, holding a platter of asparagus steamed in a tall pie crust, ventured an answer. "He departed, Miss Bane. I believe it was quite urgent." Her face was set into a grim expression, which made Evelyn pale.

Evelyn nodded, sinking into her chair. She couldn't decide if she felt relieved or disappointed by the Baron's absence. As she mechanically began to eat, she wondered how long this uncertainty would last; whether she would ever again feel at ease in this house that had so quickly become her home.

Evelyn's heart sank as she watched the girls' faces fall. Julia's lower lip trembled, while Augusta's brow furrowed in a deep scowl.

"He didn't even say goodbye," Julia whispered, her voice thick with hurt.

Augusta pushed her plate away. "He always tells us when he's leaving. Always."

Evelyn forced a reassuring smile, though it felt brittle on her face. "I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, girls. Your father is a busy man with many responsibilities. Perhaps something urgent came up that required his immediate attention."

"No," Augusta said firmly, her grey eyes—so like her father's—fixing on Evelyn with unsettling intensity. "Something's wrong. We can tell."

Julia nodded vigorously. "Ever since yesterday, things have felt... strange. Did you and Papa have a quarrel?"

Evelyn's breath caught in her throat. She hadn't realised the girls were so perceptive. "Of course not," she said, hoping her voice didn't betray her. "What makes you think that?"

Augusta and Julia exchanged a look.

"Is Papa going to send you away?" Julia asked in a small voice.

The question hit Evelyn like a physical blow. It was the very fear that had been gnawing at her since her confession, but hearing it spoken aloud made it suddenly, terrifyingly real.

Evelyn's heart clenched at the girls' words. She took a deep breath, trying to steady herself before speaking.

"Girls, I appreciate your concern, but we mustn't jump to conclusions," she said, her voice gentle but firm. "Your father is a fair and honourable man. Whatever decision he makes will be for the best."

Augusta's eyes flashed with determination. "If Papa tries to send you away, we'll refuse to let you go. We'll... we'll stage a rebellion!"

Julia nodded emphatically. "We'll barricade ourselves in the schoolroom and won't come out until he changes his mind!"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Evelyn couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth at their loyalty. She reached out, taking each girl's hand in her own.

"Listen to me, both of you," she said, her voice soft but earnest. "I'm touched by your devotion, truly I am. But you must always be true to yourselves, no matter what happens."

She squeezed their hands gently. "You are good girls, with kind hearts and bright minds. Never let anyone—not even your father or myself—make you act against your own conscience. Being true to yourselves is the most important thing you can do."

Augusta and Julia looked at her with wide eyes, seeming to absorb her words. Evelyn felt a lump form in her throat as she gazed at these two young ladies who had come to mean so much to her.

"Whatever happens," she continued, "I want you to remember that your father loves you very much, and he only wants what's best for you. And I... I care for you both deeply as well."

The days crept by at a glacial pace, each one heavier than the last. Evelyn found it increasingly difficult to maintain her usual composure around the girls, even as she strove to make their lessons a welcome distraction. Their eyes would dart towards the door at every unexpected sound, causing Evelyn's heart to lurch with a mixture of hope and dread.

On the third morning of the Baron's absence, a letter arrived bearing Amelia's familiar hand. Evelyn recognised the looping script immediately, but couldn't bring herself to break the seal. She set it aside on her desk, telling herself she would read it after lessons were through for the day.

Yet when that time came, the letter remained untouched, almost mocking her with its innocent presence. Evelyn found her gaze drawn to it again and again, until she finally swept it into a drawer, unable to bear its weight any longer.

That night, she tossed and turned, her mind whirling. What if the Baron had decided her secret was too much to forgive? What if he had ridden off, never to return? The thought of being dismissed, of having to leave this place that had so quickly become her sanctuary, was almost too much to bear.

And what of the girls? Evelyn's heart ached at the idea of abandoning them, of leaving them to grapple with their father's decree alone. They were so young, so full of potential—they deserved better than to have their lives upended once more.

Evelyn tossed and turned in her bed, the storm outside matching the tumult in her mind. Thunder crashed, shaking the very foundations of the manor, and flashes of lightning illuminated her room in brief, ghostly bursts. Sleep, it seemed, would continue to elude her.

With a sigh, she pushed back the covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she stood, the coolness of them making her shiver. She reached for her dressing gown, wrapping it tightly around herself as another thunderclap echoed through the night.

Her eyes were drawn to the wall that separated her room from the West Wing. In the storm's fury, she could hear the damaged structure groaning and creaking, as if it might collapse at any moment. The sound sent a chill through her, and she found herself backing away from the wall.

"This won't do at all," Evelyn muttered to herself, shaking her head as if to clear away the cobwebs of fear. She needed a distraction, something to occupy her mind until the storm passed or exhaustion finally claimed her.

The library, she decided. A good book would be just the thing to settle her nerves.

Evelyn lit a candle and made her way to the door, pausing with her hand on the knob. The hallway beyond would be dark and full of shadows, she knew. For a moment, she considered staying put, but another ominous creak from the West Wing spurred her into action.

She stepped out into the corridor, her candle casting a small circle of light around her. The flame flickered and danced with each gust of wind that found its way through the manor's old bones. Evelyn moved swiftly, her slippered feet barely making a sound on the thick carpet.

As she approached the library, a particularly loud crash of thunder made her jump, nearly extinguishing her candle. She steadied herself against the wall, her heart pounding in her chest.

Evelyn's fingers trailed along the spines of the books, seeking solace in their familiar textures. The library's musty scent enveloped her, a comforting embrace in the storm-tossed night. Her candle flickered, casting dancing shadows across the shelves.

A title caught her eye: "The Mysteries of Udolpho" by Ann Radcliffe. Evelyn smiled wryly, thinking perhaps a Gothic novel would be fitting for such a night. She plucked the book from its resting place, turning it over in her hands to read the spine.

As she pivoted to face the door, a gasp escaped her, her breath hitching suddenly. There, filling the doorway, loomed a massive silhouette. The figure was motionless, a dark spectre against the faint light from the hallway.

Terror gripped Evelyn's heart. Her mind raced with visions of highwaymen and cutthroats, taking advantage of the storm to prey upon the manor. Without thinking, she let out a piercing scream, her free hand instinctively hurling the book at the intruder.

"The Mysteries of Udolpho" sailed through the air, its pages fluttering as it arced towards the shadowy figure.

The figure ducked swiftly, and Evelyn's heart leapt as she heard a familiar voice curse softly in the darkness.

"I didn't expect much of a welcome in the middle of the night, but throwing a book at me was a bit much, don't you think?"

Relief flooded through her as the Baron stepped closer, the candlelight illuminating his features as he removed his hat. His hair was dishevelled, and his clothes were damp from the storm, but his grey eyes held a glimmer of amusement.

Despite herself, Evelyn let out a laugh that was part relief, part hysteria. The tension of the past few days, coupled with the fright he'd just given her, bubbled up inside her chest and spilled out in a burst of giggles.

"I'm so sorry," she managed between breaths, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle her laughter. "I thought you were a highwayman or worse!"

The Baron's lips twitched, threatening a smile. "I suppose I should be flattered that you think me capable of such daring exploits."

Evelyn felt an overwhelming urge to run to him, to throw her arms around him and never let go. Her body seemed to move of its own accord, taking a step forward before she caught herself. She froze, suddenly acutely aware of her state of undress and the impropriety of their situation.

She clasped her hands tightly in front of her, willing them to stay still. "I... we didn't know when you'd return," she said, her voice softer now, uncertain.

The Baron's expression sobered, and he regarded her with an intensity that made her breath catch. "No, I don't suppose you did," he replied, his tone unreadable.

Evelyn's initial relief at seeing the Baron faded as quickly as it had come. Her heart, which had been racing with fright moments ago, now pounded for an entirely different reason.

The silence stretched between them, broken only by the occasional rumble of thunder outside. Evelyn waited for the Baron to say something, anything, to explain his sudden return or his prolonged absence. But he seemed content just to look at her for a moment, his grey eyes roaming over her face as if committing it to memory.

There was something strange in his expression, a sort of coyness that made Evelyn's skin prickle with anticipation. It was as if he knew something that she didn't, a secret dancing behind his eyes that he was barely containing.

Evelyn swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. She opened her mouth to speak, to break the tension that hung heavy in the air between them, but no words came. The Baron's lips quirked into the barest hint of a smile, and Evelyn felt her cheeks flush under his scrutiny.

She clutched her dressing gown tighter around herself, suddenly feeling exposed despite the layers of fabric. The candlelight flickered, casting shifting shadows across the Baron's face, making his expression even more difficult to read.

Evelyn's mind raced, trying to decipher the meaning behind his enigmatic gaze. Had he come to a decision about her future at the manor? Was he preparing to dismiss her, or had he found it in his heart to forgive her deception? The uncertainty was maddening, and she found herself wishing he would just speak, even if it was to deliver bad news.

Evelyn took a deep breath, steeling herself. The tension between them was unbearable, and she couldn't bear another moment of uncertainty.

"My lord," she began, swallowing around a lump in her throat, "where have you been? We've all been terribly worried about you."

The Baron's expression softened slightly at her words. He ran a hand through his rain-dampened hair, seeming to gather his thoughts before responding.

"I apologise for causing you concern," he said, his voice low and gravelly. "It was not my intention to worry anyone."

Evelyn nodded, feeling a small measure of relief at his words. She pressed on, needing to know more. "Is everything all right on the estate? Has there been some trouble?"

"No, no," the Baron replied, shaking his head. "The estate is fine. In fact, I haven't been here at all."

Evelyn's brow furrowed in confusion. "You haven't? Then where...?"

"I've been in London," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "I went to make some enquiries. And I've come to a conclusion."

Evelyn felt rooted to the spot, like a deer caught in a wolf's gaze. She stared back at the Baron, hardly daring to breathe.