by Deborah Hale
“Good riddance to it,” Jasper growled. After the way Evangeline and her friends had been treated at that miserable excuse for a school, he would have liked to tear it down stone by stone, with his bare hands. “Surely it is good news that the place could be closed.”
“Don’t you see?” She shook the letter at him. “It is more vital than ever to prepare a place for those children who will have nowhere to go.”
A vast sigh gusted out of Evangeline, which seemed to deflate her entirely. She sank back onto the chair where she had often read bedtime stories to his children and cuddled them when they were ill. “If I had not thought so much about your convenience and your children’s feelings and my own selfish reluctance to leave Amberwood, the new school might have been built by now. And those poor girls would not have died cold and hungry and neglected, as I know they must have been.”
“Are you trying to say those deaths were your fault?” Jasper demanded. “Or mine? And that we must be punished for it?”
“I can only speak for myself,” Evangeline replied softly. Why did her sorrowful tone burden him with more guilt than any amount of sharp recrimination? “I do feel I must share responsibility with the staff and trustees of the Pendergast School. I do not blame you. I should have insisted on leaving here long ago.”
“You are not to blame!” Jasper fell to his knees beside her chair. “You were trying to do your best for my children. You did everything in your power to make me stop dragging my feet so you could go—even organizing this daft house party to find me a wife. But it did not turn out the way you expected, did it?”
“Not by half.” Evangeline made a brave attempt at a smile, which affected him more than tears would have done. “I promise you, I am not trying to punish anyone, Jasper, least of all your children. But I cannot bear to have any more deaths or misery on my conscience. You and your children have each other. It may not be easy at first, but I know you can manage without me. I cannot say the same about the girls who need the care a new school could provide.”
Much as the philanthropist of New Hope Mills sympathized with her mission, the father of her five young pupils and the man who had come to care for her could not let Evangeline go without a fight. “It may not be easy? A fine piece of understatement that is! Do you remember what it was like for the children and me after Susan died?”
She nodded. “Better than you do, perhaps. I remember answering Matthew’s endless questions about Heaven and why his mother could not have taken him along if it was such a lovely place. I remember how Emma cried at night after the others had gone to sleep and would not let me comfort her. I remember Alfie acting the f-fool trying to make the rest of us smile.”
Evangeline was right. He did not remember the aftermath of Susan’s death in the acute, aching detail she did. He had run away to Manchester to drown the pain of his loss in his work, leaving her to comfort his children and knit his fractured family back together. How could they bear to lose her?
“My leaving will not be like that,” Evangeline continued. The distracted manner in which she folded and unfolded her friend’s letter suggested she was less certain than she tried to sound. “I will write to the children often and visit when I am able if you will permit me.”
“Of course,” he muttered gruffly. “I will not forbid it, just to make you stay.”
Agreeing to letters and visits troubled him though, for it suggested he was giving up on trying to change her mind.
Evangeline seemed to take it that way. “I am certain it will be for the best. A marriage between us would never have worked out.”
Jasper shook his head vigorously. “I refuse to believe that. We are better matched than Susan and I, much as I loved her. You understand the importance of my work. You would support me in it and not try to distract me from it.”
Wasn’t that what he was trying to do to Evangeline? His conscience demanded.
She gave a bitter laugh. “If you think I would have sat patiently at Amberwood, being mother and father to your children so you could devote even more time to New Hope Mills, you are mistaken indeed. As your wife, I would have insisted you take the family with you to Manchester and let us share in your work.”
Was she only saying that to soften the blow of losing her? Jasper wanted to believe it, but he sensed Evangeline was perfectly sincere. “You know why that would not be possible. We have been all over it before.”
“So we have and quite heatedly if you will recall. That is also why we would do better not to wed. You want a wife who would agree with you all the time and I could not.”
“Why? Am I so unreasonable?”
“In most respects, no. But my feelings for you cannot blind me to the fact that you are not always right. We would either be bound to argue, which you could not abide, or I would have to suppress my true nature, which I could not bear.”
He hated the thought of them always rowing like his parents. Yet, the notion of a spiritless Evangeline who accepted his every edict without question disturbed him even more. “Is there nothing I can do that will persuade you to stay and marry me?”
“Would you promise to take the children and me to Manchester once we were married?” she asked. “If you could, then perhaps...”
All the reasons he could not consider such a thing flooded Jasper’s mind, challenging his past decisions, questioning his love for his children and stirring his indignation.
He sprang to his feet. “You don’t mean that! You are only demanding the impossible to shift the responsibility for your going onto me.”
“Am I?” She seemed to weigh his charge impartially, only to reject it. “I do not believe so. What I am trying to do is make you understand how difficult this is for me and how I wish I could find some other way. But I must do what I believe is right and so must you.”
Having dedicated his life to righting so many of society’s ills, how could he persuade Evangeline to do otherwise?
When Jasper turned and stalked away, it seemed to Evangeline that he was taking all the light, color, music and flavor out of her life with him. Her heart pounded against her ribs as if it wanted to batter its way out of her chest and follow him.
While they had argued about whether she could give up her plans and destiny to marry him, she had been able to resist. But the moment he stopped opposing her, she was deluged with second thoughts. Had she meant what she said about reconsidering her answer if Jasper promised to relocate the family to Manchester? Or had she only been trying to avoid responsibility for a decision that would hurt the people she cared for most in the world? She now realized that would be no easier to escape than her responsibility for those lonely little graves in the churchyard near the Pendergast School.
Was she truly turning her back on Jasper and the children for the noble, selfless reasons she had given him or because she was afraid, as he had accused her of being? Did she fear committing her heart to them for fear of losing them as she had her parents? Yet, knowing the pain such loss could inflict, how could she walk out of their lives?
Duty sternly reminded her that she could not sit there all day and mull over a problem that might well be insoluble. Drawing a shaky breath and contriving a smile, she rose and headed off to the garden, stuffing Grace’s letter into her pocket as she went. Considering how it weighed on her, that flimsy sheet of paper might have been a sack of bricks.
In her earlier foolish euphoria, her young pupils had felt especially dear to her. Now, as she faced the immediate prospect of leaving them, they all seemed dearer still. Even their little faults, which had sometimes annoyed her, took on a strange appeal.
Hard as she tried, she could not fool them. They sensed something was wrong. Matthew was clearly making an effort not to pester Evangeline with too many questions. Emma offered her a nosegay of flowers picked from the garden, while Alfie turned an impressive series of cartwheels. The younger children just stayed close and smiled up at Evangeline whenever they managed to catch her eye.
Their e
fforts to cheer her up had quite the opposite effect. How could she leave them and their dear father for a group of young strangers? Some of the orphan girls in need of care might be like her and her friends at that age, while others might be worse off, without a circle of love and loyalty to sustain them. But some might be like the bullying “great girls” she recalled with such distaste from her school days. They would require a kind but very firm hand to keep them in line and show them the error of their ways. Were they worth abandoning her chance to be a mother to these five precious young ones and wife to a fine man?
Hope and fear, resolution and doubts swirled and tumbled in Evangeline’s mind as she fetched the children in from the garden and gave them something to eat.
They were just finishing when Abigail Brookes appeared at the nursery door. “Miss Webster asks if the children might come down to practice their concert pieces.”
“Yes, of course,” Evangeline replied. “I shall bring them as soon as we finish here.”
“We are all done.” Matthew indicated the children’s empty plates and hers, which she had barely touched. “You are the one who still needs to eat.”
“I haven’t much appetite today.” Evangeline rose from her place. “Let’s not keep Miss Webster waiting.”
“You should not leave food on your plate,” Owen said in a respectful yet strangely authoritative tone that was difficult to disregard. “There are plenty of people who would be glad to have a full belly. That’s what you always tell us.”
What could she say to that?
Miss Brookes came to her rescue. “Why don’t the children come down with me while you clean your plate?”
Evangeline nodded. “That is an excellent idea, thank you. Go along, children. I know I can rely on you to behave well for Miss Brookes and Miss Webster.”
Her pupils trooped away with a subdued air. When they had gone, Evangeline forced forkful after forkful of food between her lips until her skittish stomach rebelled. Duty urged her to join her pupils as soon as possible, but the prospect of playing accompaniment to Jasper and Miss Webster’s love ballad duet was too painful to contemplate.
At last, she knew she could delay no longer without raising awkward questions. Inhaling several slow breaths to gather her composure, she practiced her facial expression in the looking glass. Clearly her miserable attempt at a smile was not fooling anyone. Perhaps a placid, sober countenance would raise less suspicion. She fixed one in place like a mask and headed off to the great parlor.
As she descended the stairs, she met Mr. Webster on his way up.
“How fortunate we should meet, Miss Fairfax,” the big mill owner declared, though Evangeline suspected he had been watching for her. “I would be grateful for a word with you, if I may.”
“Of course, sir.” Drawing on the harsh lessons of her girlhood, Evangeline refused to let him intimidate her. “First, I must join the children at their concert practice. But as soon as they finish—”
Mr. Webster cut her off without ceremony. “The children are in excellent hands with my daughter. She is very fond of them all and they get on well with her, wouldn’t you say?”
“I would indeed, sir,” she answered truthfully.
If she heeded reason rather than her rebellious, selfish heart, she knew Margaret Webster would make a far better wife and mother to the Chases than she ever could.
Mr. Webster softened his tone. “I will not take much of your time, Miss Fairfax. There is just a thing or two I wish to say.”
“Very well, then.” She continued down the stairs. “The small sitting room should be empty. I will be able to hear the children from there if they need me.”
A moment later, she turned to face Mr. Webster, who had shut the sitting room door behind them. “What is it you wish to discuss with me, sir?”
He planted his feet wide and clasped his hands behind his back. “I won’t beat about the bush. It’s you and Mr. Chase I want to talk about. What does he mean to you and you to him?”
“I am his children’s governess.” Her guilty blush surely contradicted her prim reply. “I have worked for him these past six years.”
“And you feel nothing more for him than any loyal worker feels for a good, fair employer?” Mr. Webster shook his head. “Do you think I am blind or daft, young lady? I saw the way you lit up when he danced with you last night. I’ve spotted the two of you out walking more than one early morning. Last night you stole away from the assembly to make him go after you. It will not do, you know. Jasper Chase is going to marry my daughter and I will not have you spoil it.”
As he spoke, Evangeline’s blazing blush cooled until her face felt as if it had been carved out of hard-packed snow. “I have no intention of spoiling anything, Mr. Webster, and I most certainly did not want Mr. Chase to follow me back from the assembly. If he wishes to marry your daughter, I will do nothing to stand in their way—quite the contrary, in fact.”
“Do you mean that?” Mr. Webster looked doubtful.
“This house party was my idea,” Evangeline replied. “Ask Mrs. Thorpe if you do not believe me. When you saw me walking with Mr. Chase, I was giving him advice about how to court your daughter.”
She savored the look of confusion on Mr. Webster’s beefy face. “What made you do all that?”
As briefly as possible, Evangeline explained her plan to find Jasper a wife so she would be free to start her charity school. When she finished, Mr. Webster looked as remorseful as Alfie after he had gotten into some serious mischief. “Well, I got the wrong end of that stick and no mistake. I beg your pardon, lass, for suspecting you of any impropriety. I just want to see Margaret married to a good, steady man like Jasper Chase who won’t tolerate any foolishness. Becoming a mother of his brood will settle her down soon enough.”
Though she wasn’t entirely certain what he meant, Evangeline nodded.
“So he was telling me the truth last night,” Mr. Webster continued, more to himself than to her.
“The truth about what?” The words burst from Evangeline before she could remind herself it was no business of hers.
“About wanting to marry Margaret. He asked my blessing to propose to her.”
Mr. Webster’s words seemed to freeze Evangeline’s whole body to match her face. Why had Jasper kissed her last night if he intended to propose to another woman? Why had he asked her to marry him only hours ago? Had he meant to hold Margaret Webster in reserve in case she refused him?
If that was the case, how dare he plead with her and urge her to abandon her life’s work, tearing her heart in two, while he had other marriage plans waiting in the wings?
Her outrage denounced Jasper in her thoughts so loudly that she almost missed Mr. Webster’s next words. “How soon will you need to leave Amberwood to start this school of yours?”
She explained how long Jasper had delayed her and told Mr. Webster of the recent need for haste.
“Bless me,” he replied. “It sounds as if there is not a moment to lose.”
It was good to hear someone else acknowledge that.
Evangeline nodded.
“Then you should go at once.”
“What, now?” she cried. “Today?”
“When better? There are plenty of others to look after the children until their father can make arrangements for a new governess. With the concert and all, they’ll hardly notice you’ve gone.” Mr. Webster meant to reassure her, Evangeline knew, but instead his words dealt her a cruel blow.
Could he be right? Much as she loved the children, was she not as indispensable to them as she liked to believe?
“I will do all I can to help you, my dear,” he offered with an air of fatherly solicitude she found hard to resist. “I owe you that and more after the way I misjudged you. Whenever you need to go, I shall put my coachman and carriage at your disposal.”
Where would she go to begin her mission and her new life? “Even as far as the Berkshire? I could not impose upon you so much.”
�
��Do not think of it.” Mr. Webster waved away her objections. He rummaged in his pockets and began unfolding banknotes. “My coachman can deliver you to the Berkshire and be back before I have any use for my carriage again. Here, you will need a bit of brass for inns and meals and such. What you do not spend, consider a donation to your school. Write to me when you get settled and I will arrange a more substantial contribution.”
Evangeline blinked at the value of the banknotes he pressed into her hand. “That is vastly generous of you, sir.”
“There are things worth a great deal more than money, Miss Fairfax. I shall sleep sounder at night knowing those poor orphaned girls are being properly cared for. Now, you will want to make a start while you still have a good bit of daylight to get on your way. You go pack while I tell the coachman to harness the horses.”
“But the children...” Evangeline knew she should not turn down this blessed opportunity. Yet the thought of leaving Emma, Matthew, Alfie, Owen and Rosie so abruptly was almost more than she could bear. “What will I tell them? Then there is the concert...”
“We will all manage, my dear.” Mr. Webster patted her arm. “It will likely be easier on the young ones if you go quick and don’t draw out your leave-taking.”
He was right, of course. Hadn’t she seen that with Jasper’s departures for Manchester? The children recovered sooner when his goodbye was swift and clean. The more he prolonged it, the more it upset them.
That was the last thing she wanted.
“What is all this?” Jasper surveyed his children, lined up outside the nursery in their best clothes with their faces scrubbed and their hair neatly brushed. “You look as if you’re going to a funeral not a concert. Where is Miss Fairfax? Perhaps she can tell me what ails you.”
No sooner had he spoken than Rosie’s lower lip began to quiver ominously and her eyes filled with tears. Emma rushed to comfort her little sister. Though she did not weep, her delicate face looked positively stricken. The boys’ eyes were all downcast and their lips pressed tightly together as if clinging to their composure by a thread. What had come over them all? And why were Abigail Brookes and Verity Dawson hovering nearby with guilty looks on the faces?