Page 66 of The Precious Secret of a Loving Governess
“Wait, just a moment,” Victoria then said.
“What is it?” she asked.
“What sort of humor was the Earl in when he handed you this to give to me? Was he unhappy? Or was he joyful?” she asked.
Miss Franklin paused in thought.
“I should like to say that he seemed happy, but that was not the case. I think rather that he had a great deal on his mind. There was a part of him that seemed as though he were simply searching for peace. But I cannot guarantee you one way or the other. I deem it best that you seek him out. Perhaps he has not yet left,” Miss Franklin suggested, once more with a look that told Victoria that she understood.
It seemed the best decision, but Victoria was paralysed at the thought of searching for him and trying to speak to him before he left.
Nevertheless, the moment that Miss Franklin had departed from the room, Victoria stood and stretched, trying to calm herself before she, too, left the room and made her way down the stairs to try and seek out the Earl.
Once she was in the hallway outside of his study, she knocked at the door. Perhaps she could speak with him one last time. Perhaps she could understand what he thought of her and what his words truly meant.
But there was no answer at the other end of the door. She opened it ever so slightly and peeked in to find the room empty.
Victoria wondered if perhaps he was in his own room, or even the parlour or drawing room or the library. But she could not very well search them all without losing propriety in such actions, and that was not the sort of impression she wished to give on the day that he departed.
So she waited until one of the other maids came by and asked if he was still in the home.
“I believe he has departed,” she answered.
And that certainly made the most sense.
Victoria felt defeated, but she was able to push through it. The Earl had gone and she would have three days to wait for him, three days to hope for answers.
Making her way back through the estate, she felt a need to breathe in fresh air. The weight of the house, the weight of her decisions, they were too great.
Victoria exited the front door and walked toward the gardens, feeling that if she could be among their beauty for even a moment, she might recover herself. It would not make things right, but it would be something beautiful that she could depend on.
It was growing dark outside and a gentle breeze had come in. Victoria wished she had brought something to wrap over her shoulders, but there was no sense in going back inside for that now.
She sat on the bench just inside the gate of the gardens, knowing that she was protected from view by the topiaries and the high walls covered in vines and ivy. The solitude gave her freedom.
And with that, Victoria buried her face in her hands to weep for what she was soon to lose. It had been terribly difficult to try and keep her strength around others for even a moment. All she wanted was to be free to cry for all she was giving up.
“Miss Jamison?” came the soft, familiar voice.
Victoria looked up, shocked to see him. The dark eyes, the scar upon his cheek, the concern that brought his brows to meet.
Stunned for a moment, she was silent. But gathering herself and wiping her cheeks, she managed to speak.
“Forgive me, I did not know that you were here. I thought you had departed,” she apologised.
“There is nothing to forgive. I could not leave just yet. I had to come out here for a walk, to clear my head,” the Earl confessed.
“I see…” she replied, feeling rather foolish.
He seated himself beside her, neither of them looking at one another directly, but staring at the sky as it darkened.
“Why do you weep?” he asked.
“For all that I am leaving behind,” she admitted.
He was quiet, but Victoria knew that the Earl was thinking, choosing his words carefully. She wondered if he was going to shame her for the confession she had made, if he would gently tell her not to be a fool and wish for his care.
“Did you receive my letter?” he asked, instead.
