Page 18 of Whispers of Shadowbrook House

Pearl blew out a frustrated breath. “There are dozens of public rooms in this house. Or someone else can deliver Maxwell to his grandfather for a nightly visit. If it’s me Mr. Ravenscroft objects to, there are plenty of solutions that will keep me out of his way.”

Pearl spoke plainly, but in her heart, she felt the tug of separateness, the inevitability of being alone in this house. Of course, she had Maxwell, but as a child who’d not yet had his second birthday, he was hardly a replacement for daily conversation.

The very next evening, Mrs. Randle knocked on the nursery door and gathered Maxwell into her arms, telling Pearl they’d return when his grandfather decided he’d seen enough of the boy.

On every night since, Maxwell had spent at least a few minutes with Mr. Ravenscroft.

In time, Pearl was allowed to bring Maxwell to the doorway of the meeting room, and after more than a year, she was occasionally invited to stay.

Mr. Ravenscroft rarely spoke directly to her, but that was his prerogative.

She understood these nightly visits were about Max and the time he was able to spend with his grandfather.

But tonight, their visit was abandoned, thanks to Oliver Waverley’s thoughtlessness. Pearl only wished she’d been able to whisk Maxwell away sooner so he wouldn’t have heard so much.

Maxwell seemed to have a gift for forgiveness. She knew he’d been hurt and angry at Oliver’s words, but he didn’t seem so now. If the worry he might be harming the house lingered, he made no sign of it.

Pearl turned away again, searching for something to do with her hands so it wouldn’t be painfully obvious that she once again found herself in a room with people who didn’t include her. Once again, she was the outsider.

When it was only Maxwell, she felt nothing of the kind.

Mr. Ravenscroft thought of her only as his grandson’s caretaker, and that was completely appropriate; that’s what she was hired to be.

The other staff seemed either too busy to be friendly or uninterested in forming relationships. The footmen looked past her as if she was invisible. Jenkinson certainly wasn’t going to start smiling any time soon. And Mrs. Randle jumped out of her skin every time Pearl spoke to her.

As she shifted the water pitcher half an inch to the right, she wondered why these thoughts were crowding into her mind tonight.

When she heard Max and Oliver laugh, she realized it was a new wave of a familiar loneliness.

At Oliver Waverley’s arrival, she thought she’d found a new friend.

His easy conversation and willingness to go along with Maxwell’s adventures promised a connection unlike any other in the household.

But tonight, he’d spoken so matter-of-factly, so casually about taking Maxwell away.

Sending the boy from his home for the convenience of some strangers in industry.

Putting Max at serious risk for the slight possibility of decent care in the city.

It was too cold, too selfish an act for Pearl to forgive. Maxwell’s care must be the first and highest priority at Shadowbrook. Nothing mattered as much as keeping the boy well.

Now that she better understood her feelings about her own solitude within the house, she put the sadness aside and turned to the reason for all her decisions: Maxwell’s comfort and safety.

She stepped over to his chair and put her hand on his arm. “I believe it’s time to say good night.”

Maxwell made a sound of discontent, but Oliver jumped up again from his seat in Pearl’s chair.

“Of course. I apologize if I’ve kept you too late. Thank you for the excellent conversation, and I do hope we can visit again tomorrow.”

He said this all while facing Maxwell, but Pearl couldn’t help but notice his eyes flicker to her no less than four times. Too many times to be accidental.

Oliver gave a low bow with a sweeping arm gesture, and Max laughed at the formality.

“Miss Ellicott, may I speak with you a moment? In the hallway?” Oliver gestured to the door, but Pearl was not interested in following him out of the room.

She shook her head and held out her hand to Maxwell, guiding him from his chair. “I will help Maxwell ready himself for sleep now. Good night.”

Oliver did not seem to hear the no in her response. “It will only take a moment of your time.”

Maxwell wrapped both his arms around Pearl’s waist and turned to look at Oliver. “Once Pearl decides it’s time to go to sleep, there’s no talking her out of it. Believe me, I’ve tried everything.”

Oliver grinned at Maxwell, but when he looked up to Pearl’s face, his smile lost its confident, arrogant edge and turned itself into a wordless apology.

“Perhaps you can find some free time for me tomorrow, then.”

Pearl refused to be softened by that admittedly humble expression on that admittedly handsome face.

He may be attractive and attentive and charming and pleasant, but he was too frustrating to be borne.

She turned away from Oliver and propelled Maxwell toward his bed. “Tomorrow is a very busy day for us.”

She tried not to look at him again, but as it happened, her eyes followed Oliver as he turned toward the door. Another, shorter bow was followed by the quietest comment he’d yet made. “I’ll be waiting if you find a moment.”

He pulled the door closed gently.

“Pearl, what will keep us so busy tomorrow?” Maxwell shrugged out of his dressing gown, a miniature version of Mr. Ravens-croft’s own wine-colored robe.

Instead of answering, she turned down the bedcovers. “Time for prayers.”

Obediently, Maxwell knelt at his bedside and closed his eyes, his hands clasped at his chest. “Dear God, please bless Grandfather and Pearl and all the household. Help me to be strong. Bless the souls of my parents and Pearl’s family that their spirits will be at peace.

And thank you for bringing Oliver to us.

Please make him and Pearl friends. Amen. ”

Pearl was not nearly as thankful for the arrival of Oliver Waverley as Maxwell was. Shadowbrook was an enormous house, but there wasn’t room for him here. Not when Pearl couldn’t decide how her heart should respond to him.

After a few moments, Maxwell’s eyes closed. He breathed easily. Pearl moved through the room, finding nothing that needed her attention. After several moments of hushed stalking about the room, she turned the doorknob and stepped into the hall, closing the door silently behind her.

Oliver leaned against the wall, his eyelids lowered, one hand rubbing his neck and the other behind his back. He looked no more ready for a fight than Pearl felt.

But she could not, would not let him think he was right about Maxwell.

“Will you allow me to apologize?” His voice floated across the small space between them, gentle and soft.

She could simply answer no. Her frustration had wound itself into a knot of hurt and anger—a stone in her heart she’d happily hold onto for days or years. It was enough to keep her head turned away from this infuriating man.

But then she recalled his way with Maxwell. His gentleness and playfulness. Such a companion could only do the boy good—and if he was willing to apologize, maybe he realized he’d been wrong.

Could she listen to his apology? For Max?

Her small nod felt like a great effort. She didn’t wish to argue, and there was no excuse Oliver could give that would make her think him right, but further tension in the house would only be difficult for everyone.

“If I could go back in time one hour,” he said, his back still against the wall, “I’d say everything differently. The substance of my suggestion wouldn’t change, but the words I used were inexcusable. I spoke in frustration and fear, and I wish to erase my comment about Maxwell from existence.”

Pearl looked at him and rubbed at the corner of her eye. “It doesn’t work that way.”

“I know.” With visible effort, Oliver peeled himself from the wall and stepped closer to her.

Her traitorous heart pounded at his nearness.

“And sometimes saying I’m sorry doesn’t work, either. But I am. So terribly sorry. I will spend my time and effort proving to you and Maxwell I can be a better friend.”

She felt his sincerity, but she heard his excuses. He regretted Max hearing him say what he said, but he didn’t seem to release his mistaken opinions about how to care for the boy. She knew this apology was no guarantee of a real, lasting change.

She watched him carefully, her heart warring with itself. This exasperating man: so sure of his flawed beliefs and so earnest in his care for the boy.

“Please, Pearl. Give me a chance to do better.”

How often had Pearl’s own heart wished an opportunity to say such words to her family? To offer such an apology, even though there was no chance for her to make new choices to change the course of their lives?

She wouldn’t deny him that chance. She looked at him. “Yes. We can both try harder to do better.”

His hands lifted to her shoulders, but she was not prepared for his touch. Too many feelings swirled around her, and being so close to Oliver only allowed her to focus on one or two. She needed to clear her mind and settle her heart.

She stepped back and shook her head.

He dropped his hands and put them behind his back again, almost as if he needed a barrier between his hands and her. “Thank you for accepting my apology.”

The power of those words crashed over her. It was so easy to use the words “I’m sorry” for a justification or validation of an opinion, but Pearl had never considered what an acceptance would mean.

Pearl looked up at Oliver and saw nothing but sincerity in his eyes. She moved closer to him.

“You’re so wrong about us, Oliver Waverley.”

He lifted his hand and used a single gentle finger to smooth an escaped lock of hair away from her cheek before his hand disappeared behind him. “Am I?”

Eyes closing in a moment of rest or resignation, Pearl nodded. “Wrong about Maxwell and what he needs to grow healthy and strong. Wrong about your uncle’s wishes.”

“And you? Am I wrong about your needs and your wishes as well?”

She tried not to touch the curl he’d just moved back into place, but her fingers were drawn there. “You know nothing about either.”

He no longer reached for her, but his eyes did not leave hers. “But I wish to know.”

Shaking her head, Pearl smiled sadly. “All I could ever want is there behind that door.”

Oliver watched her for a long moment. “It’s possible you believe that is true. And I may be mistaken about you. But Pearl, you are mistaken as well. About me. About what’s best for the boy. And about yourself.”

She worried he might say more, speak aloud words that would crumble the foundation beneath her beliefs as easily as the stones of Shadowbrook House seemed to be disintegrating.

Her words left her mouth without much thought. “Maybe we’re all wrong about everything.” The echo of her words and truth of the statement followed her into her room and into her dreams that night.