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“But I said I’d wait—or return at a more convenient time.”
“She doesn’t want ye to wait. And she doesn’t want ye to come back. She doesn’t want ye ’ere at all.”
“But if she’d only read my letter—”
“I told ye. She doesn’t want that either.”
“I see.” It couldn’t have been stated more clearly. Elspeth had joined the rest of Creswell and turned her back on Rachel.
With a nod, Rachel lit her lamp before recovering the ledgers she’d set aside.
Although impatient for her to be gone, the girl waited to see her off and, after glancing over one shoulder as if she feared someone might come upon them from inside the house at that moment, shoved another note into her hand.
“What’s—” Rachel started, but the girl pressed a finger to her lips to indicate silence and opened the door for her to go.
Obviously, Rachel was to leave without a second’s delay—and without another word.
Slipping the note into her pocket, she hugged the books against her body to help ward off the cold and started the long trek back.
She walked for at least a mile and didn’t stop until she felt quite alone on the deserted road. Then she put down the lamp and the ledgers, opened the sealed envelope and read Elspeth’s hastily scrawled message.
I do not have the answers you seek. Please stay away.
Elspeth wouldn’t have been able to write a single word of that if Rachel hadn’t taught her how. And now Elspeth was treating her like a pariah? It hardly seemed fair. But the fact that the town Madame, who had acted so knowledgeable and self-assured during Rachel’s last visit, was now frightened told Rachel something had shifted since she’d gone to Blackmoor Hall. Elspeth felt threatened, or felt as if she would be threatened if it became known that she’d had any contact with Rachel.
Why? And of whom was Elspeth frightened?
A loud rumble caused her to scramble to retrieve what she’d left in the middle of the road. Fearing she might meet up with a dangerous stranger—or, worse, Wythe—she was about to duck into the woods. But when she looked behind, she saw that it was a fancy coach, no doubt the earl’s, and simply stepped aside so she wouldn’t be run down.
When the driver didn’t slow the horses, Rachel assumed that Lord Druridge hadn’t noticed her. Or, if he had seen her light, he didn’t recognize who was carrying it. As the conveyance disappeared around the bend ahead, she almost wished she had made some attempt to gain his lordship’s attention. The books were growing heavy; she was cold and had miles yet to walk.
Fortunately, she didn’t have to regret her lack of action for very long. It was only a moment later when she heard the driver call out and could tell from the noise that he was bringing the carriage to a halt.
Lord Druridge opened the door as soon as she came around the bend. “Rachel? Is that you?”
“Aye, my lord.” Relieved to have trusted company, she hurried to catch up.
“What are you doing out here alone? You must know it isn’t safe.”
Harnesses jingling, the horses stamped the ground. The driver seemed just as eager to continue. No doubt he was cold. But he said nothing.
“I had errands in the village, my lord.” She didn’t need to see Lord Druridge’s face clearly to know he was scowling.
“I don’t like the idea of you going to Creswell during the day, much less at night. Especially alone. Why didn’t you alert me to your need?”
Because she hadn’t been sure how much she wanted to tell him about the ledgers and Elspeth. Neither provided a great deal of hope, and yet… there were odd inconsistencies. “I didn’t want to trouble you.”
“I could’ve at least provided you with a horse. Get in, out of the cold.”
At this, the driver scrambled down, took the ledgers and blew out her lantern for her while the earl extended his hand to help her up.
“You needed… books?” he asked when the driver handed them inside.
“They are the ledgers for the bookshop.”
The conveyance swayed as Timothy climbed up and clucked to the horses. Then they jerked forward.
“Are you very disappointed about losing the shop?” the earl asked when they were underway.
“I am disappointed. But I don’t blame you for what happened. There have been a lot of forces at play.” Ironically enough with the exception of Mrs.Tate and possibly Mary, the earl had proven himself to be her only friend. “I’m grateful for how you have helped Geordie. He is better off than before.”
“I wish the same could be said for you,” he muttered. “I would offer to buy the business, Rachel, to hire you to run the bookshop for me, but I fear you will not be safe working in Creswell.”
The possibility of returning to the familiar made her want to argue that she’d be fine. What if she could reclaim her independence? Managing the bookshop would be comfortable, and it would put an end to the constant temptation she faced when she was in such close proximity to him.
But she knew, after how she’d been received at Elspeth’s, he was right. The miners were not ready to forgive her and would not welcome her back just yet—if ever.
So what was to become of her? She couldn’t stay at Blackmoor Hall forever. As soon as the earl married, maybe even before, she would have to find a new home.
“I can’t go back.” She smiled when she said this, but it wasn’t easy. The betrayal of the villagers stung, especially after how she’d tried to help them.
“What would you like to do with the inventory?” he asked. “I have had the place locked up, but I am not sure there is any point in letting it sit forever. I can’t say when the climate in Creswell might change.”
She could see the gleam of his eyes beneath his top hat. He was watching her as closely as he could in the dark. But she was grateful he couldn’t see everything—like the tears that suddenly welled up. “There’s not much inventory left, at least inventory that hasn’t been destroyed.”
He leaned forward. “What are you talking about?”
A lone tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it for fear he’d notice. When she’d left the house, she’d surveyed the damage at the shop. “Someone broke a window, went in and spoiled everything. They broke open the door and did the same at my house.”
Reaching across the distance between them, he clasped her gloved hands in his. “I’m sorry.”
