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“I find it most interesting.”
“What?”
“The fact Miss Stapleton knows who you are but makes no push for you to stay.”
“Why should she?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could, while his heart burned to hear a rebuttal.
“I just thought …”
“Thought what?”
“Oh, never mind. So when would you wish to move to Mannering?”
“As soon as the builders permit it. I shall speak with them tomorrow and determine things, so we can return as soon as possible after that.”
For besides not wishing to impair Theodosia’s reputation and feeling he had long outstayed his welcome, her lack of response reinforced her lack of interest. With so little encouragement, he was not about to uproot his life’s work and career for a young lady who cared not whether he left or stayed.
He was leaving. The day had been settled, after visits from Mannering’s chief builder and begrudging assent from the doctor. Captain Balfour and Lieutenant Musgrave were leaving Stapleton Court tomorrow. Becky had been informed by her uncle of the fact last night, and it seemed her exodus to London would occur the following week, should the captain’s leg have healed sufficiently to travel and the weather prove conducive.
Theo drew the curtain aside. A sparrow twittered in the nearby apple tree as it added twigs to rebuild its nest. She’d seen the pale speckled eggs that suggested she’d soon hear the little chirps of tiny birds as they begged for food.
She stroked Maisie, and the cat released a contented humming purr. She’d need to secure the window to ensure the curious feline did not venture outside to harm the little family. She had no wish to see a repeat of last year when Maisie had disrupted a starling’s nest, scaring the birds so that the eggs that fell and smashed on the ground remained unhatched, the little lives within never to breathe.
She felt like that. Perhaps it was ungrateful to say so, but she sometimes wondered if her life had stalled. Was she trapped inside this sphere and destined to die without ever having really lived? Was that self-pitying? Her lips quirked, but with no corresponding lift to her heart.
He was leaving. She was staying. And that was that.
Perhaps it was good the captain would leave. Then she wouldn’t have to be in this constant state of greedy anticipation to hear his voice, to smell his enticing scent, to see him, to yearn for his smile.
He would leave. She would be sad but then would recover, and that would be all. She had no place in letting the little foxes of ingratitude burrow into her heart. No place.
“But Lord,” she whispered, forehead against the window glass, “if You have more for me in this life, then please somehow make it so. And if You do not, then please help me be content. I do not wish to live with this constant seesaw of emotion anymore.”
She hoped she had hidden it well. She’d been proud of herself on Sunday when the captain had first mooted the idea of leaving. She’d even managed to convince Mama that his departure would mean nothing to her and expressed gladness that at least it would mean an end to Grandfather’s constant sniping about the ingratiating ways of those completely unrelated to them. Mama had been only too happy to agree, and further gentle steering along this path seemed to help Mama forget her original question about the state of Theo’s heart.
But to say her heart had been untouched would be a lie. The captain’s presence had brought a joy unlike any she’d known before, and she was loath to say goodbye.
She drew in a deep breath, released it. Squared her shoulders and moved downstairs.
“Good morning,” Becky greeted Theo as she reached the breakfast room.
There was no sign of Theo’s sister and brother-in-law, which released a knot within. She did not want this last day spoiled with complaining and inhospitable comments that expressed her sister’s relief at the men’s departure. Theo nodded to the gentlemen, taking care to not look at the captain, and moved to seat herself away from him, at the other end of the table, next to Becky.
“How did you sleep?” she asked their youngest guest.
Becky sighed. “Not too well.”
“I suppose you were thinking on your going-away,” Lieutenant Musgrave said, his face full of sympathy.
“I will miss my friends,” Becky said, voice wobbling.
“You will be missed,” Theo assured her, with a gentle pat on Becky’s arm. But Theo’s eyes refused to do what her mind commanded and glanced across in response to the weight of the captain’s gaze.
One brow lifted, as if he wished to know if his niece would be the only person whose absence Theo would note.
Such foolishness. She dropped her gaze. Concentrated on her food.
“Well, we are a somber little crowd, are we not?” cried the lieutenant. “We must see what we can do to enliven our last day here.”
