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Scott stepped inside with her, keeping hold of her hand, then closed the door snugly.
“Did you tell her?” Mrs. Brownlow asked.
“There wasn’t privacy enough.” Scott looked to Mr. Phelps. “I believe you should explain, as most of the discussion needs to happen between the two of you.”
Gillian’s grip became almost vicelike. Scott raised their hands and kissed hers.
“Thimbleby needs an overseer,” Mr. Phelps said. “That’s to be Mr. Sarvol, as the place is his and he knows what’s needed for it to be a home to a family of the gentry, a gathering of members of theton,or a gentleman or two. Servants would have some idea but not necessarily about the small things, the subtle things. He’d be hiring on a butler to take charge of the staff, as that’s not something he knows or, as a gentleman, would bepermittedto do.”
Gillian nodded, watching her father with her brow drawn.
“It’s occurred to us that he’d not need to do that if he could find someone who understood both roles.”
“He’d not need to dowhatexactly?” Gillian asked.
“Act, in a sense, as the resident gentleman as well as hire a butler.”
Understanding pulled her eyes wide. “You know how to do both.”
Mr. Phelps nodded.
Gillian leaned in closer to Scott and, lowering her voice, said, “You wouldn’t have to live at Thimbleby.”
“No. But that would also mean I wouldn’t be as near to Houghton Manor while we wait for Thimbleby to turn a profit.”
She turned a bit, facing him more than the others. “But I could visit here, as I’m doing now, either with Mrs. Brownlow or perhaps with Artemis and Charlie when they make the journey to see family. It might only happen once or twice a year, but I cannot say visiting Thimbleby would have happened any more often than that.”
Once or twice a year. It was, at least, better than never for one or two years, which was what he’d resigned himself to.
“Under this arrangement,” Scott addressed them all at once, “would Mr. Walker still need to beMr. Walker, with all that entails?” He hoped not. He hoped Gillian could have her father back again, but he’d not pondered the complications as much as the others had and couldn’t be certain.
“Though my status would be a bit above a servant,” Mr. Phelps said, “I would still be employed in a capacity of which thetonwould not approve. Not as reprehensible to them, perhaps, as being a butler in the true sense, but it would come near enough. And there is the very real possibility that we would host temporary tenants who know me as Mr. Walker, the butler.”
Gillian was nodding her agreement of the assessment.
“I don’t know that there is any way for me to fully return to the person I was before,” Mr. Phelps said.
Scott held Gillian’s hand against his heart. “I am sorry, my dear. I had hoped . . .”
“But thereishope in this,” she countered. “He cannot ever be who he was, and we cannot go back to who we were to eachother. But the trusted overseer of an estate is something more to the owner of that estate than a butler would be. I suspect the staff would not find it suspicious should Mr. Walker, steward of Thimbleby, receive his employers as visitors and spend time in consultation with them. A friendlier connection would not seem so out of place as it might with a butler.”
“That is true,” Scott said.
Gillian watched her father now, her gaze intent and filled with fragile anticipation. “You would have to be Mr. Walker—I don’t think that can ever be changed—but with you asthisMr. Walker, you needn’t pretend indifference. We could build a new connection between us, one that doesn’t hurt so much.”
Her father stepped closer to her, pleading in his eyes. “Would it be enough for you? The last thing I want is to cause you more sorrow.” It was, without question, the most personal and tender thing Scott had ever heard the man say to his daughter.
“It wouldn’t be perfect,” she said, “but it would be better than what we have now.”
Mr. Phelps looked at Scott. “If you are truly willing, Mr. Sarvol, I vow to do the very best job I can at Thimbleby. And you would always find there a Mr. Walker who is eager to receive you and be part of your lives in whatever capacity is possible.”
“What do you think?” Gillian asked Scott.
He adjusted his hold on her hand so their fingers were woven through each other. “Too many decisions that impact you have been made without you. This one is yours.”
“It needs to beours, Scott.”
“Whether I oversee Thimbleby or Mr. Walker does, I will be happy if I have you in my life. The only thing that would mar that isyoubeing unhappy.”
