Поэзия – мелодия души. Михаил Бомбусов

him?” Susannah placed the envelope in Becky’s lap.

      Of course not.

      “His regiment was quartered in Tansley. We met by chance at the bakery one day.” A beautiful, sunny day, when the world was full of promise...

      “A soldier? How often did you meet him? Has he proposed? Does Nan know?” Susannah was losing her temper, and if she did, then nothing could be done. She must confess the awful truth of her humiliation.

      “Not much happened.” Funny. Looking back on it now, their friendship seemed so thin and insubstantial. Yet, at the time, it had meant the world. “We met a few times out on the moor and went for walks. I am sure it was nothing more than a pleasant diversion for him, for he wrote to tell me he has been wed. I’m such a fool, Susannah. I was so certain he was going to propose to me. I thought we both felt such a spark.” Her lips trembled violently and she pursed them for a moment to gather her wits. When it was safe to proceed, she continued. “I stayed with Nan and with the shop—even with things as bad as they had grown—because I was so sure I would soon be married. Then, when I received that letter, I found I just couldn’t bear it anymore.”

      “Oh, Becky.” Susannah took her hands in her own and squeezed them. “You were always such a romantic little thing.”

      “Well, I’m not any longer.” She straightened her spine and willed herself to stop shuddering and simpering like a ninny. “When Paul offered me the chance to be Juliet’s nursemaid, he opened my prison door. I can strike out on my own. I won’t have to be under Nan’s thumb anymore. I can learn to lead my own life.”

      “Don’t give up being who you are. Your dreaminess and passionate views about life make you the Becky we know and love.” Susannah gazed at her with eyes that had turned a stormy-gray. “When I needed to be released from caring about the shop and being mother to the two of you, you set me free. Do you remember that night?”

      Becky nodded, smiling a little at the memory. “Yes. Nan slept through our whole conversation.”

      Susannah laughed. “Yes, she did. A placid soul, our Nan. But you gave me the freedom to love and to create a life of my own. So I now return the favor. Becky, if this is what you want, then go ahead. Don’t worry about the shop or about Nan. All will be well.”

      “Thank you.” She would give up on love and romance. They nipped too deeply into her soul. From now on, despite Susannah’s well-meant warning, she would give them up and try to be useful. “I want to learn a trade. Now that I know I shan’t marry, I will become a nursemaid and a governess. When Juliet no longer needs me, I can find a job in another house.”

      Susannah shook her head, her mouth quirking gently. “Don’t let one man ruin your hopes and dreams. You may yet find love with someone else, you know. You’re so young.”

      “No, indeed.” Becky gave a defiant toss of her head. “I shall be an independent woman from now on.” And she would, too. She must prove—if to no one but herself—that she was of some value in this world. She was done with passion, tenderness and romance. No more walks on the moor for her. No more windswept moments with her long curls streaming behind her. There must be a reason for all of this. Perhaps this was God’s way of telling her that she needed a firmer foundation.

      If that were so, then from now on, she would be as practical as...as...as that willow basket in the corner. She seized the letter, unfolded it, and tore it across three times.

      Susannah watched her destruction of the missive, disapproval written plain across her pretty face. “If that’s what you wish.”

      Becky continued her massacre of the missive, tearing it into little bits, heaping the pieces into a pile on her lap. Each rip brought both pain and relief, like removing a bandage from a wound. “This is precisely what I want. I cannot wait to start my life anew.”

      * * *

      Paul walked to the library window and flicked the curtains aside for the fifteenth time, peering out onto the lawn as rain streamed down from the sky. He’d sent the carriage for Becky over a quarter of an hour ago. Even with this spring shower causing a slight delay, she should be here by now. If only she’d hurry and get here, he could get her settled.

      Then he could indulge in his baser habit, that of drink. He drank alone now that Daniel had disavowed liquor. Drinking helped dull the pain of an engagement that never came to fruition, of a marriage that never was, and of a partnership that was abruptly broken off, never to continue. And now, a drink would dull the pain of his failures as a brother, his complete inability to save Juliana from her willful, harmful path. But even when imbibing alone, he had a strict ritual. First, he must attend to business. Then, when his duties as master had been attended to, he could give himself some leeway.

      This interminable waiting strained his nerves. If only he could be done and shut the door on this particular responsibility.

      His brother, George, had helped arrange Juliet’s safe passage home, and now that Juliet’s itinerary was well planned, he needed to get Becky set up as governess. Then and only then, he could take himself off to London for a few months of self-indulgence.

      At last his carriage flashed into view, tracing an undulating path over the sodden gravel and drawing to a halt before the front steps. Paul bounded out of the library and down the hall. His butler was wrenching the front door open when Paul hastened into the vestibule.

      In fact, Wadsworth had already retrieved an umbrella and was preparing to shelter Miss Siddons with it. Perfect, just like clockwork. If he continued rushing about breathlessly, he’d seem ridiculously out of place in such a well-run household. He grabbed hold of his dignity and assumed the mask of cynical good humor that had served him so well for the past decade or so.

      “Miss Siddons.” He bowed as she scurried inside. “Where are your sisters? I had thought Susannah would be with you.”

      “No.” She gave him a brisk smile and allowed Wadsworth to take her wrap. “I come on my own, as you see.”

      Interesting. Was this his first glimpse of Becky’s independence? Yet, he couldn’t make too much of it, not with his butler standing right there. “Wadsworth, see to it that the library is set for tea. I shall show Miss Siddons her quarters and then we will meet in the library to discuss my niece’s schedule.”

      “Very good, sir.” His butler gave a respectful bow and headed off for the kitchen.

      “I thought your housekeeper would show me about,” Becky interjected as he led her toward the stairs. “This seems rather unusual.”

      “Mrs. Clairbourne will of course meet you later, but I always show my new help over the house. I like things to be well under my control, and I find it is communicated more easily by myself, at least the first time.” He looked down at her as they climbed the last step. Her brow was furrowed as though his words confused her. Bother. He had to explain it better, so he didn’t sound such a tyrant. “You see, Kellridge has been under my care for at least six years. More, if you count the decisions I made when I was a lad. It runs with precision and timing. This is how I keep the pendulum swaying, if that makes sense.”

      She nodded. “Of course. I understand.”

      He motioned for her to follow him to the east wing. It really was a nice part of the house. Mrs. Clairbourne had done amazing things with it since Juliet’s arrival was announced. The walls were painted a pretty shade of pale yellow, and the dour family portraits had been removed. Now a few gilded mirrors reflected their profiles as he took Becky to her new quarters.

      “This is your room.” He opened the door, freshly painted with a glossy coat of white. “You can see the connecting door there. That will lead you to Juliet’s room.”

      “Oh, it’s beautiful.” Becky stepped into the room and looked about her, her hands clasped over her chest. What was different about her today? She seemed...tamer. Perhaps it was her hair. Instead of streaming down her back in bouncy curls, it was tucked up high on her head. Shame that pretty hair wasn’t being shown in its full glory,