Page 19 of Miss Davis and the Architect (Dazzling Debutantes #4)

Chapter Sixteen

"We have all a better guide in ourselves, if we would attend to it, than any other person can be."

Jane Austen

* * *

A fter her conversation with Dunsford, Jane’s head was pounding so hard she thought she might faint. Holding a hand to her temple in an attempt to push the pain back, she vaguely remembered her quest—Aurora had said a small amount of coffee could assist with the symptoms. Now that she was alone once more, she quickly headed to the coffee tray. With trembling hands, she poured out an ounce of the black brew, adding a few drops of cream before swirling it in the cup and downing it.

Dropping into a chair, she licked the coffee from her lips and leaned her head back while she waited for it to follow its course.

After several minutes, the pain receded to a dull ache. Raising her head, Jane opened her eyes and gently stretched out her neck. As Aurora had promised, the symptoms had dulled to a tolerable level, and for the first time since she had stopped drinking the evil beverage, Jane recovered the ability to think.

Quietly, she contemplated the situation with Barclay. If Emma were here, her sister would recommend she be honest about what she was feeling. Zounds. If their situations were reversed, she would recommend to Emma to confront her feelings. She had told her sister something to that effect during her strange courtship with Perry.

Staring sightlessly out the window, Jane admitted the truth she had been avoiding since the night Barclay had failed to come to the library. She had foolishly fallen in love with the man.

Yet … had it been foolish? Everything in her being yearned to spend more time with him. More time with Tatiana. They would have had a perfect life together. Her ideal life. But she could not force the gentleman to court her, and only he knew what was right for his little family.

Clearly, he had decided that she was not it. Mrs. Gordon had something to offer, which apparently Jane did not. Which was why she was now making plans for her future. She had no choice—she could hardly sit around in her room and the library lamenting what could have been with the brooding widower. What a pathetic situation.

Nay, she needed to make her future. She did not want to return home unwed.

Rather, she wanted to begin a new chapter in her life, which was why she had made the decision she had while talking to Mr. Dunsford. She did not know why Barclay had cautioned her to think about it, so she had decided on the spot. There was no need to delay her response. The time for hesitation was over because attempting to be thoughtful and procrastinating the other night had lost her a chance at a great love.

She should have demanded her right to be taken seriously then, rather than earlier when they had quarreled. Now Barclay was committed to a path with Mrs. Gordon. For all she knew, they had already come to an understanding and planned to wed.

It might be too late to turn back the clock, but Jane would proceed with more decisiveness so she did not miss out on any more opportunities.

With that, she was reminded that Tatiana was missing. She had grown to know Tatiana well over the past few days—having an inkling of how the little girl thought, Jane could help find her. Straightening up, she thought about places perhaps she could look, her qualms growing now that she had recovered her wits. Tatiana might need her, so Jane was going to find her.

* * *

When Barclay returned to the manor, he found several guests had congregated on the terrace. Waving to Mrs. Gordon, he headed over to talk to her. Perhaps she might have encountered Tatiana somewhere.

Drawing the widow away to the corner, he briefly thought of his intention to propose to her. That would have to wait until he located his child, but he admitted to himself he was experiencing a certain reluctance to take the next step with the woman.

Perhaps he was just tired. His sleeplessness had returned, and he was quite bored at night. Natalya never visited anymore, and he could not leave his rooms lest he encounter Jane in the middle of the night, so instead, he had been pacing his bedroom in the moonlight.

Perhaps Mrs. Gordon’s presence will ease my sleep?

It seemed probable.

The widow smiled up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet, and Barclay was reminded of his quest. “Mrs. Gordon, have you perchance seen Tatiana anywhere in the house or grounds?”

She looked confused for a moment, frowning slightly. “Tatiana?”

“My daughter.”

Mrs. Gordon’s face lit up. “Of course, the little imp with the silver hair.”

Barclay suppressed a surge of irritation. He was certain this woman was contemplating taking her place as his wife, but she did not know his child’s name? “Yes. Have you seen her this morning?”

The widow’s expression did not change, but something about how she spoke next made her cheerful countenance seem feigned. “Is she not in the nursery with the other children?”

Barclay sighed. “Tatiana has not been staying in the nursery.”

There was no mistaking it—the widow was appalled. “Why ever not?”

“My daughter is not accustomed to being parted from her family, so she has been staying with her grandmother in her room.”

“Well … that is hardly the way to teach her independence.”

“She is nine years old, and she lost her mother only two years ago. We are allowing her to grieve at her own pace.”

“Two years is a long time. I would say it is high time the young lady attend a ladies’ seminary to master her accomplishments.”

It was Barclay’s turn to look appalled. “I thought you were telling me how you were sent to school too young?”

“I was seven. Tiana is nine years old. She should have been sent off when she was eight.”

“Eight! Her mother had just died.”

Mrs. Gordon thought about it for a moment. “You are correct. If one factors in some time for mourning, then she is the perfect age to be sent off to school. Perhaps I could contact the headmistress of my school in Surrey?”

“Surrey!”

“Yes. It is quite lovely. And the weather is mild like here in Somerset.”

As his mind tried to follow the shift of conversation, he became aware of the sound of birdcalls and the chattering of the guests behind them. He took it all in while he came to the realization that he had been wrong. Very, very wrong. And Tatiana had been right.

Barclay could not help himself. He raised his hands to rake them through his hair. If only he had listened to Tatiana. She had warned him that the widow did not like children, and now he knew his daughter’s instincts had been correct. Who would send such a young child away? A young child who suffered from night terrors and missed her mother like the devil?

He opened his mouth to argue these points, then shut it. He knew, without a doubt, that Mrs. Gordon would brush those issues aside as so much distraction from the main topic.

Composing his thoughts, he prepared to speak again. “Would you like to have children?”

The widow’s face was aghast. “Goodness, no! I hoped that you would be done with all that since you already have a child.”

“Tatiana.”

“Of course, Tiana.”

“Tatiana.”

“That is what I said. Tiana.”

Barclay accepted that he had made a grave error. Tatiana had said that Jane was the new mother she needed. The new wife he needed. He had brushed his daughter’s assertions aside and pursued a woman utterly unsuitable while the perfect wife and mother had been before him. Jane had lovingly read Aladdin to his daughter. They had partaken in activities together. She had even taught his daughter how to play cricket. With a smile on her face and tireless patience in her heart.

And Barclay had cruelly rejected her affections. Admonished her for her age, for her lack of experience. Effectively given her the cut direct.

Now his daughter was missing, and he knew it was because he would not heed her advice to pursue Jane.

If only the ground would open and swallow him up. His behavior had been horrible. As horrible as this charming but shallow woman who watched him with a quizzical expression on her face, attempting to make sense of the familial bond he shared with his child.

It had been a horrible mistake when he had walked away from Jane. He now knew he had fallen in love with her that night in the library, and fear had driven him to run from her. All the rest had been excuses he could have overcome. But fear had driven him to run. He had been afraid to love, as Tatiana had observed. Afraid to love and lose again, as he had with Natalya.

Barclay could not fathom his behavior. He had uncovered a deep fondness for a woman for the second time in his life, and he had thrown it away, giving in to his fear.

Even now, Jane could be agreeing to marry a disloyal little worm because Barclay had hurt her by denying their closeness. Which was his own fault, and there was nothing he could do to address it until he found Tatiana.

“Mrs. Gordon, I am afraid I must leave you to find my daughter. Who will be staying at my side where she belongs for as long as she so desires.”

Her face fell. “I… see.”

He brushed any feelings of culpability aside. Mrs. Gordon had a different vision of the future than himself, and there was nothing to be done about it. If there was any possibility of making matters right with Jane, he would, but the widow was not an option now that he knew her philosophy about the rearing of children. Considering he was a single father, he should have been more assiduous in his assessment of her as a prospective match.

Barclay bowed, having said everything he wanted to say, and turned to walk away. He had wasted enough time. He needed to find the earl to request his help in the search.

* * *

Jane raced through the family wing, checking each bedroom before climbing the stairs at the end of the hall. Reaching the nursery, she took a moment to catch her breath before stepping inside. Several children greeted her eagerly, clamoring to tell their stories of the day, their small hands tugging at her skirts to gain her attention.

Ethan held up his arms, his little face beaming with delight. Jane scooped him up, settling him on her hip as she made her way around the nursery. She marveled at how much her young cousin had grown; carrying him now was not as easy as it had been even a year earlier. His weight rested solidly against her side, and she hugged him closer, comforted by his innocent affection.

Only when he became distracted by a game that the other children had started did Jane finally set him down. He wobbled a bit before regaining his balance, then turned back to her with a grin. “You will meet me later for chess, yes?” he asked, eyes wide with expectation.

Jane smiled. “Of course. I promise.”

After extracting her word, Ethan dashed off to join his friends, and Jane left the family wing to head up to the attic level. She searched through the maze of storage rooms filled with old furniture, trunks of forgotten clothes, and dusty toys. Her voice rang out as she called for Tatiana, the sound swallowed up by the thick air and stacks of belongings. But there was no reply.

Her steps grew quicker as she weaved through the clutter, dust motes swirling in the sunlight streaming through the small, grimy windows. Tatiana was nowhere to be found.

It was now midday, which meant the child had been missing for some hours, and Jane’s anxiety twisted tighter with each passing minute. She descended the stairs, the ache in her head pulsing with her mounting worry. Reaching the landing outside the library, she paused, pressing her fingers to her temples. Where could the girl be?

Her mind drifted back to their last conversation. Tatiana had wanted her to read Aladdin , and Jane had vaguely agreed to do so once she was feeling better. Guilt prickled at her memory. She had only promised because it had seemed like the right thing to say—deep down, she had intended to avoid it, unwilling to endure Barclay’s presence. But the little girl had been so excited at the idea.

Drat this ache in her head. It had improved, but it still dulled her thoughts. Tatiana had mentioned something about Aladdin before that, but Jane could not think what it was. Something that could be a clue to where the girl had gone, if only Jane could remember it.

* * *

Barclay had informed Richard of the situation, who called on Radcliffe, his butler, to form a search party using the grooms and footmen. The duke himself had collected two gentlemen they thought could be useful, Ridley and Trafford, and they had gone to saddle their horses to search farther afield while the earl remained at the house to supervise the search parties.

Still worried but feeling infinitesimally better that the men were to search all the waterways as a top priority, he found Aurora in a drawing room to apprise her of what was happening. His mother was drawn with worry, sipping on tea and attempting to still her shaking hands.

“This is my fault,” she exclaimed.

“Why would you say that?” Barclay had taken a moment to sit with his mother while he tried to think of places to look. He had a nagging sensation that he knew where Tatiana would have gone based on something she had said. Realizing he had not eaten, he quickly downed some dainty biscuits and a cup of tea to help him collect his thoughts back together. Perhaps it would come to him if he got some food in his body.

“I should have woken up earlier.”

“Tatiana has never done this before, so it would have made no sense for you to do so.”

Aurora’s gaze dropped to her hands, where she was twisting her fingers together in her agitation. “I sensed something was wrong.”

“With Tatiana?”

His mother shot him a perplexed glance. “Yes, with Tatiana. Who else?”

Barclay cleared his throat, nervous he had revealed too much. “What about her?”

“She was gloomy last night, talking about her mother and how, if she were here, she would settle this muddle. I did my best to cheer her up, but she seemed fixated on something to do with you and Mrs. Gordon.”

Barclay leaned back to stare at the cornices. The ornate cornices that Tsar had especially designed for this manor, as part of his commission from the late earl. Barclay’s sire. Four generations of Thompsons had their lives entwined within the walls of this manor, this grand design, and it was time for Barclay to confess his sins.

“This is not your fault, Mother. It is mine.”

“Why would you say that?” Aurora asked in an echo of his earlier question.

“I had planned to propose to the widow. Tatiana was adamant I was making a mistake, but I did not listen. She insisted the widow does not like children, and I informed her that was stuff and nonsense. So it is my fault she has run away. Or is hiding. Or is lying somewhere injured.”

Barclay lowered his head into his hands, his fear of something happening to his child causing his breath to come out in pants. What was the thing Tatiana had said that nagged at him? If he could just recall …

“Was she correct?”

He hesitated before answering. “Mrs. Gordon thinks Tiana should be sent to a ladies’ seminary in Surrey.”

“Tiana?”

“That is what she repeatedly called her.”

“But … Tatiana is only nine years old. I know there are families that do such things, but I could never send a child away that young.”

“I informed the widow that I, too, would not consider it.”

Aurora was silent. Then she cleared her throat and asked the inevitable question. “What did she think of that?”

“It does not signify. Any woman who asks me to send my child away while she still mourns her mother’s death can … get hanged.”

Aurora chuckled. “I presume you were not so eloquent with the widow?”

“I was not. I did make it clear that there was no future for us.”

“Why were you pursuing her, Barclay? I sensed that there was something between you and Jane Davis. Why would you pursue another woman if your affection is engaged by someone else?”

“I thought … that given our situation, I should not inflict it on someone so young. Someone with such a promising future ahead of her.”

“You mean my recent situation with the charitable committee?”

Barclay’s shoulders slumped at the memory of his mother crying earlier that week. “I do.”

“Jane Davis strikes me as a sensible young woman with a good head on her shoulders. And her cousin is a by-blow, so she is aware of the difficulties associated with our situation. What were her thoughts on making a match? Is that why she was avoiding you?”

“No. She avoided me because I severed our connection.”

“Oh, Barclay.” Aurora covered her mouth with her hand, crestfallen.

He straightened up in his chair to defend himself, his gaze averted. “I thought I was doing the right thing. That Mrs. Gordon was the logical choice, given her maturity and social standing.”

When he glanced over at his mother, it surprised him to find pity on her face.

“Barclay, it is not about the logic of the match. It is about the person in question. Their integrity, their loyalty. Your loyalty. Natalya was not a match that made sense, but she stood by your side every day of your marriage. She did not care about the scandal in our family; she cared about us. As a family, we are strong. We can face adversity together.”

Barclay hesitated for several seconds before admitting the truth of it. “Jane would make a wonderful addition to our family.”

“I agree.”

“I think it is too late.”

Aurora stayed silent, waiting for him to explain.

“I hurt her, and I believe Mr. Dunsford intended to propose to her earlier in the library. Given how things are between us …”

Barclay let his words trail off. If Jane had accepted a proposal, it would cause a scandal for her to reverse her position.

Unburdening himself to Aurora had helped ease the tension in his mind. In doing so, he turned his attention back to Tatiana to run through their last few conversations so he might seek a clue to where she might be.

Inspiration hit. Jumping to his feet, Barclay hastened out the door for the one place he had not searched. This time he was certain he would find his child, but he hoped she would be safe, recalling the pond’s slippery edges covered in green algae that lay nearby to his destination.