It had been a busy one with a good deal of new legislation pending now that the war was over... if, indeed, it was over. There were disturbing rumors circulating that Bonaparte had slipped away from the island of Elba. How on earth the Royal Navy had permitted that to happen, Rupert could not fathom. What confounded him even more was how few people seemed to regard the news as cause for alarm. He certainly did, though for the moment his thoughts turned to a potential conflict of more intimate scale.
It had not been easy to bid his daughters goodbye when he departed for London. Sophie had clung to him in tears, begging him not to go, while Charlotte had urged him to take them along. Only Phoebe seemed resigned to his departure, though she’d bid him farewell with a more affectionate embrace than she had given him in quite some time. He hoped Miss Ellerby hadn’t let the child run wild, while being too strict with her sisters. During his last week at Nethercross, she had seemed more tight-lipped and steely-eyed than ever.
Once again Rupert questioned whether it might have been a mistake to choose a governess for his daughters based principally on her being unmarriageable. Recalling how much attention the vicar had paid Miss Ellerby, it seemed he could not even rely upon that. Perhaps it was not romantic interest—the man was old enough to be her father. Yet all the more reason the vicar could not afford to be particular if he was looking for a wife.
Caution had urged Rupert to discourage any closer acquaintance between the two. If Miss Ellerby needed adult companionship, she would do better to cultivate Mrs. Cadmore, who seemed to have taken quite a liking to her.
As he stared out at the darkened countryside, a faint scowl tightened Rupert’s features. The Lords had been late to adjourn and one of the carriage horses had gotten a stone wedged in its hoof during the journey. Those delays had sunk his hope of reaching home in time to see the girls off to bed and hear all the news about their week.
Of course he could always visit with his daughters tomorrow. But he expected to have a busy day conferring with his steward about the spring planting and riding out to check on the progress of some improvements being made to the estate. Part of him envied his fellow peers, who could swan off to London for months at a time, leaving the management of their lands entirely to hirelings. That had never been his family’s practice.
When his carriage pulled up in front of Nethercross, Rupert could not help glancing toward the nursery windows, though he knew it was far too late. Perhaps the girls had begged to wait up past their usual bedtime to welcome him home.
But the nursery windows were dark.
Rupert stifled a pang of disappointment. Had his daughters doubted he would return home tonight? Had they gone to bed feeling he’d let them down? Dependability was a quality he prized in others and strove to cultivate in himself. It would grieve him if his daughters viewed him otherwise.
As he climbed out of the carriage and quietly entered the house, a more palatable possibility occurred to him. What if the girls had expected him to return tonight but Miss Ellerby had disregarded their pleas, sending them to bed at the usual hour? That seemed far more likely. The new governess struck him as strict and rigid, without a proper appreciation for the sensitive feelings of children. He would have to speak to her about that. At Nethercross, he expected healthy routine and discipline to be tempered with understanding and kindness.
Rupert mulled over those thoughts as he climbed the stairs and strode down the dim corridor to the nursery. He would not dream of disturbing his daughters if they were asleep, but he still felt compelled to look in on them.
With slow, patient stealth, he let himself into the nursery then stood silent, listening for the tranquil drone of the girls’ breathing to assure him all was well. Instead, the first sound he heard was a sniffle from the direction of Sophie’s bed. It seemed to reach into his chest and give his heart a hard squeeze.
But before he could fly to her bedside, another sound stopped him.
It was a low, comforting murmur. “I’m here, Sophie. Everything will be all right. You had a bad dream. I know they can be frightening, but I promise they are not real.”
Could that be the child’s stern governess?
“It f-felt real,” Sophie’s plaintive whimper made Rupert long to wrap her securely in his arms and never let her go.
But it sounded as if his daughter was being comforted quite well without him.
“Perhaps it would help if you tell me about your dream,” Miss Ellerby urged her. “Then you might see that it could not possibly be true.”
Sophie hesitated a moment then began to speak. Already her voice sounded less tearful, as if the effort to recall her dream helped release her from its dark thrall. “I was exploring the house, looking for everyone, but some of the rooms didn’t belong. What should have been the drawing room looked like the inside of the church and Papa’s study looked like a shop in the village. I didn’t know how they could have got into Nethercross.”
“They couldn’t, could they?” Miss Ellerby sounded nothing like Rupert had ever heard her before... except when she’d sung hymns on Sundays. “That means none of your dream could be real.”
“I called for Mamzell and Papa,” Sophie continued. “I thought I could hear their voices behind the doors. But when I opened them, the rooms were always empty.”
He’d had a dream like that. As Rupert listened while Sophie confided in her governess, the frustration and disappointment came flooding back to overwhelm him. Wandering through an empty house searching in vain for Annabelle, sometimes he caught a tantalizing whisper of her voice from behind a closed door. But when he opened it, she would always be gone, leaving only a distant echo of footsteps to beckon him onward.
“That must have frightened you.” Miss Ellerby’s voice held a note of deep understanding, as if she too had been lost in that kind of baffling, lonely dream. “No one wants to be all alone without the people we love.”
Again Rupert sensed the lady spoke from painful experience. She was all alone in the world and had been for many years. How old had she been when she lost her parents—Charlotte’s age? Sophie’s? Hard as it had been to endure his own bereavement, the loss had been compounded by his daughters’ grief for their mother. Rupert had faith enough not to fear death on his own account. But he could not bear the thought of leaving his girls orphaned. Even then, at least they would have each other. Grace Ellerby had no one.
Was it any wonder she seemed so secretive and solitary? Perhaps she was afraid to let anyone too close for fear of losing them. He could understand that self-protective instinct all too well. A pang of regret nagged at him when he recalled how he had discouraged her from visiting the vicarage.
“You are not alone, Sophie,” Miss Ellerby crooned. Rupert could vaguely make out her shape, hovering over his daughter, perhaps smoothing back her hair or caressing her cheek. “Your father will soon be home. Charlotte and Phoebe are asleep nearby and I am right here with you. I will stay for as long as you need me.”
“You will?” Sophie sniffled again. “Mamzell used to get cross with me when I woke her up at night.”
“I doubt she was truly angry with you,” Miss Ellerby assured the child. “Some people get out of sorts when they are woken suddenly.”