Panic sliced. He’d never received a letter from Briarton while at the mill.
He snatched the letter and ripped open the seal and read it.
Maria injured. Fell from tree. Fear arm is broken . . . Surgeon’s been called.
James pushed the letter toward Milton by way of explanation, snatched his own coat, and ran out the door. Within minutes his horse was saddled and they were galloping down the road toward Briarton.
He soothed himself with the thought that the injury could be small. He clung to this as his horse raced over the grounds. He had to. He could not allow his imagination to run away with him.
No one met him once he arrived at Briarton—only an eerie silence bid him a grim welcome. He quickly located a stable boy to take his horse, and he took the main steps two at a time, up two floors until he reached the nursery.
“Papa!” Rose, who had been sitting outside the nursery door alone, rushed toward him and jumped into his arms.
He embraced her, kissed her cheek, and smoothed her loose flaxen hair from her face. “Why are you sitting out here?”
“Grandmother told me to. Maria hurt her arm.”
“I’ve heard.” He lowered her back to the ground. “Wait here just a little longer, all right?”
A fire had been built in the grate in the nursery. Its glow flickered on the walls and fell on the people within. Mrs. Towler and the surgeon, Mr. Gardinar, both turned as he entered. Rachel, who was sitting by the window, stood. But Maria captured his immediate attention. She slumbered on her bed. A white bandage swathed her arm, and another white cloth bound it to her chest.
He stepped closer to her. She seemed peaceful. Her dark hair splayed over the pillow. Her long eyelashes fanned over her pale, slightly freckled cheeks.
He wanted to snatch Maria up. Hold her tight. Never let her go. But his hands remained still at his sides.
What would have happened if she’d been injured more? The possible scenarios struck him hard and fast, and fear wound tightly in his mind. He reached down to lift the fingers on her uninjured hand. So delicate.
The surgeon wiped his hands on a cloth. “She’ll recover, Mr. Warrington. She broke her arm, but it’s a clean break. Painful, but it’ll heal.”
He struggled to believe the words. “Which tree did she fall from?”
“One of the trees in the apple orchard, or so I’ve been told. ’Tis fortunate it was not a leg or an injury more complicated than her forearm. I’ve set the bone and given her something to ease the pain and help her sleep. I’ll be by tomorrow to check on her, but I have left my instructions for recovery with your housekeeper and Mrs. Towler.”
The surgeon’s voice sounded muffled, as though it was coming from the next room. James could not look away from his daughter. He managed to mutter, “I thank you for coming.”
The surgeon departed, leaving them all in the quiet and slight confusion that accompanied such an accident. James looked to Rachel, wide-eyed and uncharacteristically taciturn, whose face paled to as white as the linen swathing Maria’s arm. “Will you sit with her a moment, please? If she stirs or wakes, call me.”
Rachel nodded, and James motioned for his mother-in-law to join him in the small chamber adjoining the nursery.
Admittedly, there was much James didn’t know about feminine etiquette, but he did know that ladies should not be climbing trees. Frustration mounting, he drew a deep breath. Once they were alone, he whispered, “What was she doing climbing a tree? She could have broken her neck!”
“I don’t know what she was doing.” Mrs. Towler’s voice shrilled defensively. “She was out in the garden. I had no idea she’d climb a tree. The idea!”
“But why was she out there alone?” There had to be answers.
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous.” Mrs. Towler fussed with the black fichu at her throat. “Maria is a child of eight years. She’s absolutely capable of being out in the garden alone.”
He refused to let her avoid responsibility. “I thought you said that if we waited for the specific governess, then you’d be personally responsible for the girls until the governess’s arrival. Is that not what we agreed?”
Mrs. Towler tilted her head to the side. “Are you suggesting that this is somehow my fault?”
“I’m saying that you promised me that if we delayed engaging a governess, then you would see to both Maria’s and Rose’s education and safety. Furthermore, I’ve made it clear that the children are not to be left alone outdoors. Not while this weaver business and violence is a threat.”
“I’m not one of your hired servants that you can order about,” she hissed, disgust emphasizing every word. “In fact, I insist you adjust your tone. This is hardly acceptable.”
“Hardly acceptable? What’s not acceptable is my child breaking her arm because she climbed a tree unsupervised.”
Mrs. Towler’s lips quivered. “I am Maria’s grandmother. I will not be talked down to.”
With every word she uttered, fresh anger raced through him. Anger that his daughter was hurt. Anger that his mother-in-law was not doing as she had promised. Anger with himself for not knowing exactly how to deal with it. And anger that Elizabeth was dead.
How had all of this become so complicated?
“We will no longer wait for a governess,” James declared.
“Oh, the idea! Of course we will,” she shot back.
“No, we will not.” Miss Hale’s offer flashed in his mind. “I’ll see to the arrangements myself.” He stomped from the small room to the main corridor and turned to walk downstairs.
Mrs. Towler trailed him. “But that was not our agreement! That is not what we—”
“I’m their father.” He did not break his stride as he descended the stairs. “I make the decisions—let me be abundantly clear about that.”
“And I’m here as a voice for Elizabeth.” Her voice cracked as she called from the upper-level landing. “She would have wanted us to wait. She would have wanted—”
“Elizabeth is dead!” His bellowed words echoed from the plaster walls. He stopped short on the stair’s landing and turned to look up the stairwell to face her. “She’s not here, and she never will be again.”
He spoke more harshly than he intended. But it was a truth they all needed to accept. Himself included.
Mrs. Towler’s face blanched to ashen. She suddenly looked very small. Very frail. The assumed authority, the poignant sharpness of her voice, taunted. “How dare you speak to me in such a tone. After all I have done for you. For this family.”
When he did not respond, she shouted even louder. “Pick your governess then. We’ll see what happens. If you are determined to ruin your daughters’ chances at success in society, then there is naught I can do.”
Chapter 21
James glanced at his pocket watch, then returned it to his pocket. He needed to be off to the Kents’.
He was hardly in the mood for a social gathering. It had only been one day since Maria’s fall, and today mill business had kept him away from Briarton Park. As much as he wanted to stay home tonight, he knew how important these monthly meetings could be—for so many different reasons.