Page 52

“At first it was a way to pay off my father’s debts. But they’ve long since been settled.” He pauses, standing a couple of paces from me, and looking out at me from under shy lashes. When he speaks again his matter-of-fact tone has shifted into something almost eager, his words picking up speed. If I didn’t know better I would say that John Barrett is nervous.
“I don’t have extravagant needs and could live comfortably enough within my savings and investments. When your father wrote to me about backing a new milling venture in New Oldbury I decided that I would help see it off the ground and then bow out. But—” he gives me a nervous glance “—things have changed. I thought...” He makes a show of clearing his throat and compulsively straightens the stack of papers on his desk. “Well, if a man is to take a wife, he should have a way to provide for her. A bachelor can live well enough off less, but it isn’t fair to ask a woman to live below the means to which she might be accustomed.”
My body goes rigid. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know what he means, except that he must be referring to the mystery fiancée Mrs. Tidewell asked me about. The silence grows very loud and I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears.
“Oh,” I finally say. “I see.” If I were better spoken, politer, I might comment that it’s very gracious of him to anticipate the lady’s needs and comforts, and that I’m sure any woman would be lucky to be his wife and mistress of his house. I can’t bring myself to speak about her though, even if she is hypothetical.
He seems embarrassed and hastily shuffles the papers over and over, not meeting my eye. “Well,” he says, “I’ve taken advantage of your kindness to listen to me ramble on long enough.”
“You weren’t taking advantage of anything,” I assure him. But something in his expression closes, the animated look replaced with his usual cool mask. He’s done sharing.
I can’t put off my original errand any longer. “Actually, there was something else besides the book that brought me here.”
“Oh?”
I hesitate. “It’s Catherine. She... I was led to believe there was some sort of understanding between her and Mr. Pierce, and now it seems that he’s gone. She’s heartbroken, and I promised her I would try to find out anything I could. And that I would deliver this,” I add, holding out her note.
I hate lying to Mr. Barrett—Catherine isn’t heartbroken—but what choice do I have? I can’t very well tell him the real reason that she’s so desperate to get her would-be groom back.
“Did he tell you anything before he left? Give you any clue as to if he might come back?”
Mr. Barrett takes the letter and sighs. He doesn’t look surprised in the least about the charges laid against his friend. “The thing about August... Well, he’s incapable of taking responsibility for his actions. I’m sure he did feel for your sister, but he’s just as beholden to money and social opinion as his heart. In the end it was his inheritance and the threat of being cast out of his social circle that mattered most. He shouldn’t have been a clod about it though. I told him to let her know in person.”
It’s just as I expected, and I push aside all the unpleasant thoughts about what this means for Catherine and her child, as well as for the rest of the family. “Well, thank you anyway. I—”
There’s a knock at the front door, and before I can say anything else Mr. Barrett excuses himself to answer it. I wait while there’s a quick exchange in the hall and then the door closes and he comes back into the room, shrugging on his coat.
“Is everything all right?”
“Oh, yes, fine,” Mr. Barrett says waving off my concern as he searches for his hat. “There’s been some sort of fight at the mill between two of the boys. Something about a girl. It seems they nearly took down a loom in the process of establishing their manhood. I need to go make sure that everything is in order and the appropriate parties get a stern lecture.”
“Of course,” I say, disappointed that I have to leave the cozy study, but aware that I’ve probably stayed too long as it is.
Mr. Barrett accompanies me outside and looks around. “Did you come on foot?”
I hesitate, standing on the front steps behind him, desperately searching for some excuse to stay with him. But he’s looking at me expectantly, so I nod.
“Let me walk back with you to Willow Hall. It looks like rain and I don’t want you out here alone.”
“Oh,” I say, caught off guard. “I couldn’t let you do that. Aren’t you needed at the mill?”
“A few minutes won’t make a difference. Let me at least accompany you back as far as the fork to town.”
He saddles his horse, and then, leading it by the bridle, falls into step beside me.
I ought to be ashamed of myself, that I reprimanded Catherine for going off with Mr. Pierce unchaperoned and now am walking alone with Mr. Barrett. But this is different, I tell myself. Mr. Barrett isn’t like Mr. Pierce, and besides, there’s no one here to see us. My skin tingles at the thought.
After the conversation flowed so naturally in his study, now I find myself tongue-tied and slow-witted with Mr. Barrett walking so close beside me. I feel small next to him, coming just up to his shoulder, and the deep blue of his brushed wool coat fills my field of vision when I dare to glance sideways.
There’s a smile pulling at the corner of his lips and he looks like he wants to say something.
“What? What’s so funny?”
“No.” He shakes his head, but the smile wins out. “It’s nothing.”
“What is it?” I ask, unable to stop my own smile from spreading. “Tell me!”
He slants a sidelong glance down at me. “You’ll laugh.”