Page 72 of The Maid of Fairbourne Hall

What a mess he had made of it. He never should have suggested he was willing to marry her to protect her reputation.

How condescending he must have sounded. He wanted to marry Margaret with every ounce of his being.

He fought the urge to wallow in the sense of rejection that hovered over him like a wet wool blanket, foul and suffocating.

But was he fooling himself? Had he not all but begged her to marry him as he had two years before onlytoberejected again?

He tried to imagine himself in her situation. But it was difficult to guess what a woman might be thinking on the best of days, let alone in the midst of the strange muddle Margaret Macy had created for herself.

Nathaniel ran frustrated fingers over his face. Who could understand women? Perhaps another woman, he realized. He would ask his sister. But it was late and Helen had already gone to bed. He would ask her first thing in the morning.

Nathaniel awoke early. Perhaps one of the maids delivering hot water had awoken him, though he saw no one about.

More likely, it was his eagerness to right last night’s debacle that spurred him from bed.

He couldn’t wait until breakfast. He wanted to talk to his sister now and figure out what to do about Margaret.

Helen answered his knock and invited him in with a sleepy smile, sitting up in bed. “Well, well. You haven’t come to my room this early since we were children. What is it?”

“It’s Margaret, uh, Nora, um...”

“It’s all right, I know. I’ve known all along. Well, practically.”

“I wondered if you did. You always were the cleverest of our lot.”

She frowned. “Tell me she hasn’t thrown you over for Lewis again—that was my biggest fear. If she has, I promise I shall brain her.”

“No, it isn’t that.”

“Then what is it? Tell me everything.”

So he told her. Everything. Well, not quite everything. He didn’t exactly mention that kiss in his room....

Helen listened soberly to his recounting of events and his last conversation with Margaret. When he finished, she asked, “Did you tell her?”

“Tell her what?”

“That you love her?”

Nathaniel felt his cheeks heat to be speaking of such things with Helen. What had he been thinking to confess to her what had transpired between him and Margaret? But then her words penetrated his self-conscious embarrassment and echoed in his mind.

Had he? He racked his brain. She must know. All the things he had said. The way he had looked at her, touched her, offered to marry her... But had he ever said it?

“Not in so many words,” he admitted. What an imbecile he was.

Helen rolled her eyes, looking heavenward for patience. “Nathaniel Aaron Upchurch. What am I going to do with you?”

“I suppose you would have me write her a sonnet or some flowery nonsense.”

She shook her head. “Actually, I don’t care for poetry. Just tell her how you feel. Tell her the truth.”

He nodded, thinking of all he should have said.

“Well?” she asked, brows arched high.

Nathaniel hesitated. “Well, what?”

Helen chucked a pillow at him. “Go and tell her!”

Dodging it, Nathaniel turned toward the door.

“Oh,” Helen began, “and tell her I need her to...”

Nathaniel paused, hand on the latch.

Helen sighed. “I suppose I shall have to give her up in that regard. Such a pity. My hair has never looked so good.”

She winked and shooed him from the room.

———

Nathaniel first went downstairs and looked in the public rooms where Margaret usually worked that time of day but did not see her. So he mounted the taboo back stairs to the attic once more. If she wasn’t there, he would have to brave the servants’ hall.

Reaching her room, he knocked, but no one answered. The door creaked open from the pressure of his knuckles. She’d left it unlatched.

He gingerly pushed the door wide. “Margaret? It’s me.”

Silence.

He stepped inside and his heart plummeted. The bed had been stripped bare. No hand towel hung on the washstand, no spare apron on its peg. The room was empty. Lifeless.

She was gone.

He trudged back downstairs, then increased his pace, hoping he might yet catch her belowstairs.

Hudson hailed him as he crossed the passage toward the servery, his face lined with concern. “I was just coming to find you, sir. I have a note for you. From Nora.”

Hudson handed Nathaniel the sealed paper. “It was inside her letter to Mrs. Budgeon and me. Giving notice.”

“Dash it,” Nathaniel muttered and squeezed his eyes shut. He took the letter into the library to read it in private.

———

Dear Mr. Upchurch,

I hereby give you notice that I am leaving Fairbourne Hall and returning to London. I know this may confuse you after our recent conversations, but I hope, should you hear news of me that surprises you, that you will not think the worst of me.

I want to thank you for allowing me to stay under your roof even after you knew I had no business being there.

I learned a great deal from the experience.

I learned that my long list of faults includes the tendency to judge people by first appearances and to judge wrongly.

I learned much more as well. I learned to love your sister and understand your brother and, dare I say it, to admire you.

It was a foolish, shallow girl who turned down your offer two years ago, and a wiser young woman who has learned the meaning of regret.

There is nothing to be done about that mistake, nor that regret now, but I did want you to know.

I wish the best of health and happiness to all your family.

M.E.M.

P.S. Your Mr. Hudson is a gem. I hope you will give him and Miss Helen your blessing.

His heart beat hard. Erratic. What had she gone and done? What had he done, in not making his feelings and hopes clear? In not promising to do all in his power to help her, so she would not think she had to face Sterling Benton on her own?

He felt someone’s scrutiny and glanced up to find Robert Hudson hovering on the threshold, eyeing him cautiously.

Hudson held a second letter in his hand.

He raised it as though he were bidding at an auction.

“In her letter to me, she wrote that Betty Tidy deserves a rise in wages.” He glanced down at the lines.

“And that I should hire a Joan Hurdle from Hayfield to replace her.” Hudson looked up at him once more. “What did she tell you?”

Nathaniel blinked. “That I ought to allow you to marry my sister.”

Hudson’s eyebrows rose high. “Did she indeed?”

“Indeed.”

Nathaniel wanted nothing more than to call for his horse and give chase immediately, but he could not leave. Not yet.

Lord, please protect her from Benton. And don’t let her do anything foolish before I can get there.