And yet, Jane could not hear the crunch of gravel underfoot for the echo of her name repeated in his voice. Nor could she see the sun shining on the oak trees for the memory of Mr. Dunkirk’s gaze when he assured her that she brought cheer to Robinsford Abbey.

Eighteen

Order and Disarray

When Jane and Mr. Dunkirk arrived at the door to Beth’s room, the enormity of the history that Mr. Dunkirk had just revealed to Jane returned and drove out all thoughts of his use of her name. It added to the weight of the knowledge Jane should not have, but now that she knew these elements of Beth’s past, she was required to conceal that knowledge within herself.

Jane bid adieu to Mr. Dunkirk as she was admitted to Beth’s rooms, and prepared herself to be cheerful and of service to her friend.

The disorder of the room almost undid her resolution, with gowns thrown over chairs, a tray of uneaten food sitting on the writing table, and books on the floor by the chair where their unhappy owner had dropped them. The glamour in the room conspired to shroud it in gloom, with heavy folds of darkness masking the corners. Beth lay in bed, the covers disarrayed around her. Her hair was down, in tangles, and her skin was as pale as fog.

Jane could not restrain a cry of dismay at the sight, which did little to stir the unhappy maiden. Surely Mr. Dunkirk had not been in his sister’s rooms, or he should know that there was more wrong with her than simple melancholia. This was depression, black, dark depression.

“Beth?” Jane went to the bed and sat beside her. “Dear Beth, tell me what is the matter.”

Beth rolled over and gazed at her listlessly. “Jane.”

Her cracked, faded voice pierced Jane’s heart, but Jane would not let tears fall. She brushed the hair back from Beth’s face. “Will you tell me? Do, please. It worries me to see you so distraught. Perhaps if I knew what the trouble was I might be able to help.”

Beth sighed. “Nothing can help. Henry is gone away and I shall never see him again.”

She burst into sobs, each cry tearing from her throat as if it would be her last. Jane exclaimed and did her best to console the girl. Gathering her up, Jane rocked her back and forth as she cried, incoherent, on Jane’s shoulder. “Hush, hush. It cannot be as bad as all that. The world is too small to never see someone again.”

With an inarticulate cry, Beth pulled away and flung herself back to the bed, hiding her face in the pillows. “You don’t know! You don’t understand. He’s leaving tomorrow. When a man leaves, he never comes back.”

Jane chilled. Oh, how wrong Mr. Dunkirk was to think that Beth did not have some guess as to the fate of her tutor. How could she not, and yet feel so sure that she would never see Captain Livingston again? “Forgive me. You are right; I cannot understand. You must tell me.”