Corinne did not say out loud that she did not understand, but she did not have to. No one could understand. No one would. Hazel would be the wife who left Duncan behind. Everyone would assume it was because she could no longer tolerate his odd mannerisms. She would be Abigail, just as Delores had said.
Hazel looked away while blinking back the tears. “Thank you for all you have done, Corinne. You have taken excellent care of this house.”
“It has been a pleasure, ma’am.”
Corinne left, and only then did Hazel limp back to her room, close the door, cover her face with her hands, and finally cry. How could she live this life for three more weeks? The last five weeks, ever since she’d made her decision to pull away, had been horrible. How could she see Duncan every day, endure the loss of her students, and act like she was unaffected? The façade was miserable to keep in place.
She went about her nightly routine, but then laid in bed for hours—again—staring at the ceiling, listening to Duncan move about the house once he returned from his walk, then settle into silence. She couldn’t do this anymore. Everyone she’d come to care for here in Ipswich would hate her when she left, but she had lost them already. Why draw that out any longer than was necessary?
Elliott and Amelia had just come in from a walk when Brookie approached with a silver tray in hand.
“A letter for you, Your Lordship.”
“Thank you,” Elliott said, taking the envelope and looking it over. “It is from Hazel.”
“It is addressed to you?” Amelia said as she undid the ribbons of her bonnet.
“Indeed, it is,” Elliott said in a haughty tone. “And it is about time.”
Hazel had written primarily to Amelia all these months, and though Elliott was glad for their growing connection, he did feel left out at times. He began to take the stairs to the study.
“Wait for me, Elliott,” Amelia said, still unwinding herself from the bonnet and coat she’d worn into the cold autumn day. “This could be what we’ve been waiting for.”
Elliott took the stairs a bit faster for the joke of it, but not too fast to upset his knee, which still gave him trouble from time to time.
“Elliott!” she yelled, talking to the stairs behind him.
He looked over his shoulder to see her glaring at him, her skirts lifted so as to move more swiftly. He laughed, which elicited a smile from her.
He reached the study and stepped behind the door. When she entered, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her in for a loud kiss on the mouth. She put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him away as he’d known she would, but then she softened as he kissed her again, light and soft and lovely. She put her arms around his neck and let the kiss draw out, as he’d also known she would.
“What a woman you are, Amelia,” he said, when he drew back.
She smiled up at him, then turned in his loosened hold and snatched the letter from his hand. She stepped out of his arms before he could stop her and hurried to the desk, breaking the seal as quickly as she could.
“I have been expecting this letter,” she said excitedly. She unfolded the letter, and a slip of paper fluttered to the floor. She bent down to pick it up, her excited expression turning into a frown as she read.
“What is it?” Elliott asked.
She handed it across the desk toward him and turned her attention to the letter. “It is a banknote.”
“Why on earth would Hazel be sending me a banknote?” Elliott examined the slip of paper, which was, in fact, a note from Gurney’s bank in Norwich where he had helped Hazel set up an account for her fifty thousand pounds. The note was in the amount of £2,900.
Amelia, who was reading the letter, gasped and brought a hand to her mouth.
“She did not stay through the year,” Elliott said, calculating that the £2,900 was equal to approximately three weeks of the one-year contract which Hazel had agreed to live as Duncan’s wife.
Amelia lowered her hand from her mouth and handed the letter across the desk. “I was so sure this would work,” she said in a soft, sad tone. “They are so good for one another.”
Elliott scanned the letter in which Hazel thanked him for the opportunity, apologized for not seeing it through the full year, and explained the refund of the dowry. If he felt she owed him more than a flat rate determined by weeks, she asked that he let her know. She expressed her respect for Duncan and her hope for his future happiness, but she was needed at the school and felt she could not stay away any longer without risking her investment. She would not be coming to Howard House this Christmas, as they would be preparing for winter term, but hoped to be able to visit in the summer.
Amelia dropped into Elliott’s chair behind the desk, her shoulders slumped forward, her hands clasped together on her knees. She looked up at him, blinking back tears. “I was so sure.”
Elliott took a breath, then crumpled the letter and dropped it on the desk between them. He sat in the chair across from her. “So was I, my dear. So was I.”
Hazel stared out the window of the headmistress’s office as Sophie hurried in, startling Hazel from her woolgathering. “The Brackhams are going to enroll both of their daughters for the winter term!” She flopped into a chair and let out a deep breath.
Hazel smiled. “Excellent news. Will the girls share a room?”
“No,” Sophie said, raising her eyebrows to show her surprise. “Their parents want them in separate rooms so they will make friends with the other girls. How is that for a modern attitude?”
“Science or Classical curriculum?”
“Science for both. Apparently Mrs. Brackham always fancied things like chemistry and physics, but she was not educated past a governess and feels rather put out that she did not have a place such as the Stillman School where she could pursue her interests.” Sophie’s words brimmed with pride that Hazel tried to hold to for herself.
“I only hope the girls are as eager as their mother,” Hazel said.
“Each girl wrote a letter expressing her interest, and they sound sincere. The younger one, Constance, is also musical and wishes to pursue courses in music and Latin.” She fluttered her eyelashes at having interest in her field of expertise.
“That’s wonderful news. That gives us, what, thirty-eight boarded students for winter term?”
Their current capacity was sixty-four—fifteen more than Cordon Academy had housed before—with the option of expanding up to eighty if there was enough interest to warrant repairs on the third level of the east dormitories. It would take a year or two to sort out the many details that went into operating a school. The fact that Hazel could afford to ramp up slowly toward the desired enrollment was a blessing.