cannot go.
He said he loved me.
His mother rejected him, she cannot have him back.
But then, she had rejected him also.
Why had this happened? The pain grew unbearable and she pressed her fist into her chest hoping to ease it. God almighty. No, she couldn’t…surely not… Did she love Nathaniel West?
How could she care for him? How could she overlook his drinking and whoring, his uncharitable views on women? How could she respect such a man?
But she did love him. Somehow there must be something worth loving within him for she was not the only person who cared for him. Frances adored him. He couldn’t be all bad, could he?
She wanted to smile at the relief of finally being able to admit what she felt. A tear fell onto her hands, and then another. What a cruel twist of fate, for it was all too late.
The baby’s cry reached her, growing closer. Quickly she wiped her eyes and went to the bed for her fresh clothes. She had responsibilities, duties to carry out. People depended on her. In her mind, she listed all the good things about her professional life. Yet, in her heart, she cried for the fool that she was. Nathaniel would go and she would remain and it was no one’s fault but her own.
Chapter Fifteen
Excellent shot, Miss Clarke.” Nicola clapped before moving into position to hit her ball through the hoop. She hadn’t played croquet for some time and was delighted that the latest governess to arrive, Miss Clarke, had asked if it was possible for them to create a croquet lawn at the side of the house.
Nicola’s aim was off and the ball missed the hoop. She laughed softly. “I need to practise I think. You are far too good for me.”
Miss Clarke, a small dainty woman of twenty-eight years, looked bashful. “My previous employers enjoyed the game very much and encouraged me to let the children play as often as lessons allowed. I’m afraid I rather have the knack for it.”
“Then we shall have regular games of it. I think we all need the exercise.” Nicola gestured over to the other women seated on chairs around a table groaning under the weight of afternoon tea treats. Florence hovered around them, unable to sit still for a minute. Miss Barker was poring over the newspaper, reading out snippets to Miss Golding. Misses Shaw and Peacock were chatting, sipping their tea and Miss Bent was reading a book of poetry.
Smiling, Miss Clarke played another shot. “The women here are most kind. We are lucky to have such comfortable accommodation.”
“Indeed.” Nicola looked up at the bedroom windows of the upper floor and noticed Penny standing at her window, watching them. The Walkers had collected the baby boy four days ago without Penny even seeing the child. Nicola sighed, recalling how upset she was when the Walkers left the house, carrying their new son. Thankfully, they seemed nice people, but she couldn’t help feeling the loss of the baby.
“Miss Douglas, who is that man?” Miss Clarke nodded towards their visitor.
Nicola’s heart somersaulted as Nathaniel stopped to announce himself to the women at the table. “That is Mr West.” She drew in a laboured breath. “He is a friend of mine.” A friend? She groaned inwardly at the statement. Their kind of friendship was such unlike any she’d experienced before. How did one turn friendship into something else, especially when one has refused the other before?
While Nathaniel chatted with ease to the women, she watched him unobserved. Once again, he’d filled her with confusion. In equal turns he’d been able to anger, frustrate and irritate her, yet at the same time captivate and fascinate her. Now his presence brought out other emotions, concern, secret joy at his nearness and fear - fear of him leaving. At last he turned in her direction and lifted his hand in acknowledgment.
She waved back, placing the croquet mallet on the ground. “Excuse me, Miss Clarke.” Suppressing the urge to hurry, she walked sedately towards him and he met her halfway.
“Good day, Nicola.” His tender gaze nearly brought her to her knees.
For a moment she simply looked at him, absorbing his presence. “How are you, Mr West?”
“Well, and you?”
“Fine, as you see.” She wished she’d worn one of her better dresses today. Not expecting visitors she’d worn her plain grey and didn’t even have a lace collar on to brighten it. She despaired over her hair, which was bundled up into an unbecoming net because