The Headmistress of Rosemere (35 page)
“I have decided to sell Rosemere to Rawdon Creighton, if he’ll have it.” William had expected the words to sound strange, but when he spoke them, they almost sounded reasonable. Responsible.
All sense of humor fled from Lewis’s expression. His eyes narrowed. “You’re serious?”
“With the mill deal fallen through, it is too risky to rely on only selling the horse. Even if Bley bought it, it would hardly cover my debt. At one point, after my father died, Edmund Creighton asked if I would be interested in selling. And I am. I don’t see any other way around it.”
William omitted the detail that he had a long-lost daughter. And he also left out the detail that the headmistress of the school had captivated him beyond explanation. “I am going to try to sell Rawdon Creighton the Rosemere land and Latham Hill.”
“Are you sure you have thought this through?”
“I’m sure.”
“I mean, are you sure you are doing it for the right reasons? You
aren’t letting your, er, feelings for a certain young woman play into your decision?”
William shot a warning glance at Lewis, who shrugged.
William fussed with his cravat—again. He’d not try to hide his regard for the headstrong headmistress. Not from a person who knew him as well as Lewis did. “Creighton told me of his desire to expand the school, and if his father had enough money to offer to buy the land, one would hope that money is still available. If Creighton is as eager to see to his father’s work as he claims, he should jump on the offer.”
“How much will you sell it for?”
“Enough to get out from under the debt. Buy a few more broodmares. Reinstate the staff.”
“Well then, I will be eager to hear what he says.”
“Ready yourself to travel, for if he agrees to the arrangement, I will have you go pay Rafertee as soon as the funds can switch hands.”
William arrived especially early to the dinner at Rosemere. With the clouds hanging thick in the sky, the night would be dark. Even the light from the full moon would not permeate their murky curtain.
With all the excuses he had used of late to visit Rosemere, both he and his horse knew the path over Wainslow Peak quite well. The letter with the offer to sell the Rosemere land and buildings was in his pocket. Rawdon Creighton was a sensible man. The price was reasonable, considering the value of the property. How his father had stubbornly fought to keep the estate intact. His father would likely say William had failed, for to his father, land meant security. But at least the money from this sale, should Creighton choose to
take him up on the offer, would fund so many things that could lead to Eastmore Hall’s prosperity once more. To future generations, he would either be regarded as the man who divided the property or the man who made it thrive.
After arriving at Rosemere, William stabled his own horse before turning his attention to the house. It was so alive. Yellow candlelight winked from the windows. Children’s voices wafted on the wind. Once inside, he handed his things to George and inquired after Rawdon Creighton.
George’s voice was as gravelly and raspy as ever. “He is in the study.”
“Is he alone?”
“I believe so.”
“Good. I will show myself in.”
George stepped back, allowing William space to move down the hall. William knocked on the door before pushing it open. Creighton was sitting at the desk that Patience frequently occupied.
“Ah, Sterling.” He closed the ledger on the desk and leaned back in the chair. “I was not expecting you until later.”
“I have business to discuss with you and thought it best to tend to it before the other guests arrive.”
He looked surprised. “Business? All is well, I hope?” He waved a hand toward a chair in front of the desk.
“Definitely. But knowing of your plans to expand the school, I have an offer to extend to you.” William sat down and adjusted his coat. “I have come up with a plan that I think will be beneficial to us both.”
William had thought the words would be harder to say, but the desire for his future burned stronger than his regret. “In the past, your father has inquired about purchasing the Rosemere property and Latham Hill. You yourself mentioned plans for improvements and a new building. I wondered if you would have any interest
in purchasing both the Rosemere and Latham Hill properties outright.”
Creighton sat up straighter. “Well, that is an idea. I thought you were set on building a mill on the land. Saw the men working there myself not two days past.”
“Turns out there were business practices afoot that I could not, in good conscience, align myself with. I realize the plot of land is not large, but it would include the property that abuts Rosemere and runs down to Thaughley River.”
Creighton studied his tented fingers. “That is a nice bit of land.”
“Knowing your intention to build, I thought it would be ideal. The hill will be an ideal setting for a cottage, and it is close enough to the school to be practical. I understand the strength of the tie your family has to this land. It is difficult to part with it, but at least parting with it to the Creightons seems more appropriate than selling it to a stranger. I’ve put my terms in here.” William slipped the letter from his pocket and placed it on the desk. “Give it thought. Since your name was transferred to the lease after your father’s death, legally, we should be able to settle such a matter quickly. If you do not purchase the land, I may be in a situation to sell it once your lease expires.”
Just then O’Connell, without knocking, entered the study. O’Connell’s pale eyes narrowed as Creighton and Sterling looked expectantly at him. “Good evening, Sterling.”
William cleared his throat. “You are well, I trust?”
“Tolerably.” He turned his attention back to Creighton. “The ladies are ready.”
“Then let us not keep them waiting.”
A
t dinner, Patience sat next to Mr. O’Connell. Again.
She didn’t want to, and yet he had managed to occupy the chair intended for Mr. Hammond.
Patience glanced up at Mr. Sterling. The desire to be by his side, to feel his strength support her, distracted her so much she barely noticed when Mr. O’Connell spoke to her. So many questions for Mr. Sterling made it impossible for her to concentrate on anything else.
“I hope you are not unwell.”
She jumped at O’Connell’s voice, so close his breath tickled her ear and sent little shivers down her back. She inched away and put her fork down. “I am well.”
“You’ve barely eaten.”
“I’m not hungry.” And that was the truth.
“You should eat. You’ll fall ill.”
Patience shot him an annoyed glance, to which he seemed oblivious.
In a sudden action, Rawdon, at the head of the table, stood. “I have an announcement,” he said, his eyes bright and his smile broad. His words quieted the room. Patience leaned forward and looked at Lydia, who stared at her husband, eyes wide with excitement.
What could her brother possibly have to say in such a dramatic fashion? Across the table, Mr. Sterling shifted, glanced in her direction, and then turned his attention to Rawdon.
“I have news that I think will please everyone here.” Rawdon waited for the excited chatter to again dissipate before continuing. “Or, rather, I have arrived at a decision. Just this hour, prior to dinner, Mr. Sterling approached me with a most intriguing offer. Knowing that I wish to expand the school and that I am interested in building a cottage, Mr. Sterling has offered to sell Rosemere and the land extending over Latham Hill to me. I did not require much time to arrive at my decision, for it is already made. Mr. Sterling, I accept your offer and your generous terms.” He laughed, a merry laugh, the merriest that Patience had heard from him since his return.
Patience felt her jaw drop in the most unladylike of manners. All around her, voices chattered, but she fixed her eyes on William Sterling. He looked shocked at first, then a cautious smile curved his full lips, and he glanced at her. A strange expression replaced his normally confident grin. He looked at her almost as if to gain her approval on the decision.
Patience was pleased. Wasn’t she? But his change of heart confused her. Why, after all these years, would he sell? Her father had tried in vain for decades to purchase the land and building that had become their home. She turned expectant eyes toward him, trying to decipher the meaning she saw there.
She was finally distracted when her mother dissolved into tears. But for once, there was happiness in her tears. Margaret Creighton stood and rushed to embrace her son, as if their argument from earlier in the day had been forgotten.
Patience looked back at Mr. Sterling. His expression conveyed something . . . but what?
Ewan bounced eagerly at her shoulder, reminding her more of a zealous puppy than a grown man. “Isn’t it wonderful, Patience? This is it. This is what we have worked for. This is our dream!”
She was so flustered by his linking the two of them together that she barely noticed when Ewan stood up next to her.
Patience’s blood turned to ice. She sensed what he was about to say even before his pouty lips formed the words. She tugged at his sleeve as discreetly as possible, imploring him to sit back down, but with a shrug he pulled his arm away.
Heart racing, she sank back against the chair, wishing it would swallow her completely. She could not tear her eyes away from him. Seconds slipped by, slowed by dread.
“In the light of this good news, I have some of my own.” Ewan turned to her, latching his eyes on hers. She shook her head, trying to communicate the need to stop, but his smile was too wide, his intentions too plain.
He reached for her hand. Her legs wobbled as he pulled her to her feet. She looked at Lydia, silently pleading for an intervention, but her sister-in-law only stared at them with her mouth hanging open.
Once standing, Patience focused on the uneaten veal on her plate. Every ounce of blood in her body seemed to sink to her toes. She felt certain she would faint before this humiliation passed.
After all were once again quiet, Ewan said, “This is a day for news, is it not? You must all know that I asked dear, sweet Patience, friend of my youth, for her hand in marriage. She has not yet given me an answer, but in light of this excitement, I find I can wait no longer.”
He took her other hand in his and pulled her closer. “This news is a fresh start not only for the school but for us.”
Her mouth went dry, and she felt certain everyone could hear the thudding of her heart. She forced herself to look at him.
His eyes were eager, his chest puffed proudly. “Patience, dear. Give me your answer in the presence of our friends and family, once and for all. Will you do me the magnificent honor of becoming my wife?”
Her arms felt as if they were made of lead . . . as unmoving as the stone peaks that surrounded this land. She opened her mouth to speak, but her chin quivered. No sound would come. Every eye in the room was on her.
She dared not look at her brother.
Or Lydia.
Or, heaven help her, William Sterling.
Her foolish fairy-tale dreams. Why had he come into her life? Mere months ago she would have accepted O’Connell’s offer as a practical decision. She had given up the dream of ever finding romantic love. She would have accepted a loveless marriage in exchange for the stability a life with a man as constant as Ewan would have brought her. But since her heart had glimpsed the emotion, the anticipation of seeing him, the dream was once again alive.
And the man who incited such feelings in her, William Sterling, bore witness to the entire farce.
Ewan tugged her hand, as if to not only pull her closer but to extract an answer from her. Force her to say the words she was not ready to say because he had put her on the spot in such a public forum.
She stumbled back, nearly knocking her chair to the floor. Her cheek twitched. Tears blinded her vision. “Forgive me. I . . . I cannot.”
His expression of shocked disbelief was the last thing she saw before she turned and ran from the room.
And she did not stop.
P
atience ran up the stairs to the dark west wing and stumbled down the corridor. Tears streamed unchecked from her eyes. Uncontrollable sobs racked her body. It was as if the emotions of everything bad that she could not handle rushed at her with equal force.