Page 39 of The Good Fortune of Miss Robbins

Thirteen

The next morning, I set out early for my walk. I’d slept very little, and although Millicent might be up and willing to go for a walk with me, I was afraid of her counsel. Besides the fact that I seemed to think more clearly when I was walking—perhaps it was the fresh air—I also couldn’t help hoping I’d run into Lord Brookhaven.

I’d been silently arguing with myself for several minutes, walking in the woods just west of the garden, when I heard a twig break behind me. I turned to find Lord Brookhaven standing several feet away, holding his unlit pipe.

“Lord Brookhaven.” I sounded out of breath again. “Good morning.”

“Good morning. People say the damp is bad for the lungs.”

“I have never suffered any ill effects. From the damp, I mean.” It was ridiculous how I was practically gasping for air.

The way he was staring at me made my heart thump hard against my chest.

“Are you sure you’re well, Miss Robbins?”

“Yes, very well, sir.”

“If I may ask, what were Mr. Merritt and Lord Markeley speaking with you about last evening?”

A lump formed in my throat.

“You seemed disturbed by their words.”

“No, sir, not ... that is, I-I don’t—I don’t recall everything we spoke about.” It was a true statement in substance if not in spirit.

Suddenly, I was on the verge of tears. I felt the betrayers damming up behind my eyes, pushing their way forward.

Lord Brookhaven turned half away from me as he gazed out at the trees.

I concentrated on breathing deeply in and out, blinking back the offending tears. I would not cry in front of Lord Brookhaven. I would not.

“Miss Robbins, do you remember the day you arrived here at Lowndesbury House? How you found me on the roof?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Do you know that I was feeling melancholy that day? More than melancholy. I was thinking of ... well, I was thinking of my nursemaid, Addy. I’d just learned of her death a month ago. I was also thinking of my own mother, whose treatment of me was rather cold and unfeeling. I have already confessed all this to you. But you may not know that a year ago I’d had a failed engagement. The girl I loved, whom I thought loved me, ran away with a marquess, the son of a duke. Did you know that?”

“I did, sir.” My breath came rushing back as I seemed to feel his pain deep inside me. How I wanted to be able to comfort him, to go to him and put my arms around him.

Foolish thought.

He cleared his throat. “Do you remember what you said to me, Miss Robbins, that evening as we stood on the roof?”

“No, sir.”

“You said you thought it was perfectly right and sensible to consider the feelings of others, especially of children. You said we should consider their feelings because they are vulnerable and have no power in society. It surprised me so much that it shook me right out of that moment of pain I was in, dwelling on the past as I was.”

“I admit, I thought you seemed very melancholy.”

“And you told me the truth, with great kindness and openness, as you always do. Do you see, Miss Robbins? You are like a ray of sunlight to me.” He was looking directly at me now, piercing me with those eyes.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak for the lump in my throat. “I am so very thankful that I happened to be there with you that day. Surely God wanted me to be.” I was back to sounding breathless.

“The house party will be over in three more days, and I believe the Allens are departing today.”

I was afraid to speak, so I nodded.

“I trust that you have enjoyed the activities,” he said.