The Governess of Highland Hall (22 page)

“You’re most welcome.” He turned to Julia. “Please send word and let us know how your father is doing tomorrow.”

Julia nodded. “I will.”

“Good night.” He nodded to the other women, replaced his hat, and walked out the door.

The cool evening air chilled his face as he stepped off the small front porch and followed the moonlit path back to the car. Though the reason for his visit to the Fosters’ home was not a happy one, he had been impressed by his time there. As soon as he had stepped through the door, he’d sensed the kind affection and warm family ties enjoyed by the Foster family.

How very different from his home in London, where strict rules and cool detachment were always the order of the day. He had spent very little time with his parents. His father traveled for months at a time on business, and his mother had given over his care to nannies and nursery maids, then tutors. How different his life might have been if his family had been close and loving like the Fosters.

Soft morning light streamed through the curtains of Julia’s parents’ bedroom. Julia yawned and stretched, then rubbed her tired shoulders. She had watched over her father since midnight, when she had finally convinced her mother to go and lie down for a few hours. For Julia, it had been a long night filled with tears and prayers, but with the new day had come acceptance and peace. She prayed God’s grace would carry them through whatever lay ahead.

She rose from her chair at her father’s bedside and scanned his face, searching for any signs of change. His cough and difficulty breathing had made it a restless night for him, but the last few hours he had seemed to sleep more peacefully, giving her renewed hope.

Her father slowly opened his eyes. “Morning, daughter.” His voice was no more than a soft whisper, but it filled her heart with joy.

“Oh, Father.” She leaned down and kissed his forehead.

“I didn’t know you’d come.”

His comment jolted her, since she had spoken to him several times during the night. She supposed the illness was causing his confusion. “I arrived last evening. Sir William brought me in his motorcar.”

“Sounds exciting.”

Julia smiled. “It was. I only wish we had come in the daylight. I would’ve loved to see the countryside speeding past.”

He slowly reached for her hand. “It’s good to have you here.”

She squeezed his fingers. “Thank you, Father. It’s good to be home.”

His smile faded as he searched her face. “You look tired.”

“I’m fine. Please, don’t worry about me.”

“I’m always concerned about you. I am your father.” Fondness filled his eyes.

Her throat tightened, and she forced a smile for his sake. “And I am grateful for your concern. Now let me go and tell Mother you’re awake.” She started to pull away.

“Wait … There’s something I must say.”

She sat by his bedside again and tried to swallow away the lump lodged in her throat, but it was useless.

“I know you feel a responsibility to stay in England and watch out for your mother and me.”

She gave a slight nod. “We’re family. Love binds us together.”

“Well said. But we do not want to be a burden to you.”

“Please don’t say such a thing. You are not a burden.”

“Nor do we want to keep you from God’s calling.”

Julia sighed. “I am sure God’s calling for me today is to spend time here, with you and Mother.”

“Yes, and I am grateful you’ve come. But when I’m gone, you and Mother must return to India and continue our work.”

“Father, please, don’t—”

He gripped her hand more tightly. “I’m not afraid to speak of my death.
It opens the doorway to my heavenly home and the reward Christ has won for me.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she reached for his hand again.

“I have followed the Lord faithfully for over fifty years, and I intend to remain faithful to Him until the end.”

She leaned down and laid her head on his shoulder. “Oh, Father.” It was all she could manage to say as her tears overflowed and coursed down her cheeks.

FOURTEEN

William pushed his breakfast plate away with a heavy sigh and stared out the dining-room window. A gray gloom seemed to have settled over the house since the calendar had turned to December. The days had grown shorter and the weather less agreeable. That must be the reason for his sagging spirits.

Lawrence entered the room carrying a small silver tray. “The morning post, sir.”

“Thank you.” William took the letter opener and three envelopes from the tray. He quickly scanned the return address of the first, and his stomach tensed.

Sarah set her teacup aside. “Who is it from, William?”

“Bixby, my solicitor.” He put the letter aside to open last, since he was in no mood to read more about death duties or other legal affairs. He slit the second envelope and quickly scanned the brief paragraph. “This is from Mr. Henshaw.”

“The art dealer you told me about?”

“Yes, he says he can take the train from London on the eighteenth to do the appraisal.”

Sarah nodded. “And the final letter?”

William opened the third envelope. “This one is from David.”

Sarah’s eyes lit up at the mention of their younger brother. “Perhaps he’s responding to our invitation to join us for Christmas.”

William glanced at the first few sentences. “He says he’ll arrive on the twenty-first and stay through the New Year.” William shifted in his chair and read the rest of the brief letter, but it failed to lift his spirits.

He and David had never been close, at least not as close as William had been to Nathaniel. The four-year age difference between David and William may have been part of the reason. There were only two years between him and Nathaniel. David was eight when William had been sent away to school, so most of their childhood had been spent apart. As they grew older, a subtle rivalry developed between them, mainly spurred on by David’s desire to prove that he was stronger, smarter, and more talented than William.

Buying out William’s interest in the family business had been a boost to David’s ego. But in his brother’s eyes, it still didn’t make up for the fact that William had been the one to inherit the title of baronet and Highland.

“I’m glad David is coming.” Sarah sent William a pointed look. “It’s important to be with family at Christmastime.”

“Yes … I suppose that’s true.” He set his brother’s letter aside and stared toward the window again.

“Really, William, I don’t see why that should make you scowl.”

“What?” He squinted across the table at Sarah. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking of David. I was wondering why Miss Foster hasn’t written.”

His sister tipped her head. “We just received her letter on Wednesday.”

“But she’s been gone more than a week!”

“You’re the one who told her she might stay as long as she was needed.”

He huffed. “I had no idea she would stay away this long. And now that her father is improving, I thought she would set a date for her return.”

She sent him a puzzled look. “I’m sure the children miss her, but they seem to be doing well.”

“They are missing out on their schooling, and Andrew was caught in the pantry yesterday, helping himself to a slice of apple tart.”

Sarah grinned. “I can see why he was tempted. That’s my favorite as well. Why don’t we invite the children to have luncheon with us? It would be a nice treat for them, and I’m sure the nursery maid would appreciate the break.”

He nodded, still frowning. “I suppose.”

“And after that, perhaps I should go to the village and visit the Fosters.”

William straightened. “Yes. That’s a splendid idea. And while you’re there you can urge Miss Foster to return to Highland as soon as possible.”

“I’ll do nothing of the kind. I’ll take them some provisions and let them know how relieved we are to hear that Dr. Foster is improving.”

“Of course. That’s what I meant. But if the opportunity presents itself, you might let her know we are anxious for her return.”

Sarah’s eyes glowed. “All right. I’ll tell her, but only if I can do it without making her overly concerned about the children.”

“Yes, of course.” William tapped his finger on the table. Sarah was very tender-hearted and not likely to urge Miss Foster to leave her family any time soon. If he wanted that message delivered, he would have to do it himself. He laid his napkin on the table. “I have an idea. Why don’t I drive you to the village, and we can both visit the Fosters?”

She rose from her chair. “That would be nice, but you must promise not to make Julia feel guilty for staying with her family.”

“I shall be the perfect gentleman.” William stood. “Oh, wait. Dalton asked to meet with me this afternoon.”

Sarah froze and gripped the back of the chair. “Mr. Dalton?” Her voice had suddenly gone light and breathless.

“Yes, he said something about discussing plans for the future. I certainly hope he’s not planning to leave us. I rather like the man. He seems to have a sensible head on his shoulders, and I don’t—” William stopped and studied his sister. “Sarah, are you all right?”

“Yes … I’m just feeling a little lightheaded. Perhaps I should go lie down.”

“By all means. And if you’re not up to visiting the Fosters, I can go on my own.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“All right.” He stepped closer and kissed her forehead. “You do look pale. Shall I send for Mrs. Emmitt?”

“No. Please don’t bother her.” She turned away.

William watched her go, his thoughts even more unsettled than they
had been at the beginning of the meal. Something was definitely wrong. Sarah had not been herself lately. He hoped she wasn’t seriously ill.

But if that were the case, he would take care of her. He had always watched out for her. Even when they were young children, he made sure no one taunted her about her limp or hand. And Sarah had always looked up to him and depended on him. They were as close as any brother and sister could be—or at least they had been until they’d come to Highland.

Sarah hurried down the backstairs and slipped past the kitchen. She could hear Chef Lagarde scolding one of the kitchen maids, first in English and then in French. The translation flew through her mind and sent a rush of heat to her cheeks.
Poor girl
. She hoped the maid did not speak French.

Mr. Lawrence stepped around the corner. “Miss Ramsey, is there something I can do for you?”

Sarah stifled a gasp. “No. I’m just … on my way to the greenhouse.”

Mr. Lawrence’s dark eyebrows dipped. “The greenhouse?”

“Yes, I want to speak to Mr. Dalton about … some flowers … for the dining room.”

“I’d be happy to send a message with one of the footmen.”

“No, thank you. I’d like to speak to him myself.” She swallowed and nodded to him. “Please excuse me.”

Mr. Lawrence narrowed his eyes but nodded. “Of course, miss.”

Sarah fled out the back door and hurried across the courtyard. She glanced over her shoulder, then slipped under the arched entrance to the garden and ran down the gravel path.

With her heartbeat pounding in her ears, she pulled open the greenhouse door. “Clark? Are you in here?” No one answered, so she hurried down the center aisle, checking to the right and left, but she didn’t see him working among the plants and flowers. When she reached the far end, she pushed open the back door and ran directly into Harry, one of the young under gardeners.