‘No?’ The wild expression returned to his face. ‘You don’t feel the same way?’
Serena breathed in deeply. ‘I ... I ... No.’
‘No?’ He repeated.
Regretful that he seemed unable to comprehend her denial, Serena bit her lip and shook her head. Mr King stared at her momentarily then left the room, banging the door behind him.
Serena hung her head. Part of her wished she could say yes. He exhibited countless wonderful qualities and she couldn’t deny the pull between them. But what did he see in her? He was her captor, her master, after all.
With a deep sigh, Serena trudged back to the laundry to complete her work. She was still frowning over the afternoon when she sat at the dining table for supper. Mrs Jones glanced at her with concern several times during the meal. As soon as the menfolk went off to smoke and drink, she beckoned Serena to join her in the parlour.
‘You seem troubled, my dear,’ she said as soon as they were comfortably seated opposite each other, with warm cups of tea.
Serena attempted a carefree smile and waved a hand in dismissal. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just homesickness, I suppose.’ She held the cup close to her nose to inhale the leafy aroma.
Mrs Jones studied her face as though trying to read the truth there. ‘Are you sure?’
Serena nodded, forcing another smile.
‘Because if my brother has made you uncomfortable, you may confide in me. I shall not accuse you of untoward behaviour, I promise. I’m well acquainted with Eddie’s…faults.’
Did Mrs Jones realise exactly what had been happening over the past week? Including the altercation with Mr Simon? Serena swallowed a gulp of tea, barely tasting the sweet brew. Should she mention Mr King’s fervent and impulsive behaviour? Not enough time had passed for Papa to receive and respond to her letter yet, and Serena remained confused to a certain extent. But what should she tell Mrs Jones? How much of the truth should she reveal?
‘He…he wrote me a sonnet.’ That was a beginning. Serena watched Mrs Jones’s face for her reaction, but not a muscle twitched. Instead, she nodded.
‘I thought as much.’ It seemed more of a murmur to herself than a confirmation to Serena. But then Mrs Jones made direct eye contact again. ‘I shall be blunt, Miss Bellingham. Has he made advances toward you?’
The woman’s forthrightness surprised Serena. She hadn’t expected such candour. She drew in a deep breath and, releasing it slowly, nodded. Serena’s hopes fell though. If Mrs Jones had the boldness to ask such a direct question, incidents like this must have happened previously. So then, Serena was not the first Mr King had proposed to, or propositioned, or kissed. What a deflating revelation.
Mrs Jones must have sensed her dismay for she shifted to the sofa next to her and clasped one of her hands. ‘Don’t you worry, Miss Bellingham. Eddie can be too familiar sometimes, but he is harmless. He would never actually do anything—never follow through with action. It’s mostly thoughtless words. His tongue is loose, if you know what I mean.’
Serena didn’t know whether to feel better or worse with that. Mr King didn’t want her at all? His mouth was just running away with him? It was a relief she’d had the presence of mind to refuse him. She glanced at her hands where she still imagined the feel of his lips burning on her fingers. But what about that? Serena would have defined those kisses as ‘following through’.
‘Eddie has a weakness for a pretty face.’ Mrs Jones sighed. ‘I suspect that’s why you’re still here. But like I said, don’t worry. I’ll sort him out. But, I do beg of you not to mention this to anyone else. He really is quite harmless.’
Better to keep the secret of his kiss to herself. If Mrs Jones intended to scold her brother, Serena did not wish her to mention that detail. It was a mortifying thought, and heat rose in her cheeks.
‘What is it, Miss Bellingham?’
Serena pressed her hands to her face to cool the flush. ‘How do you suggest I respond if he approaches me again?’
‘Well, my advice is to stay away from him, as I think I instructed you from the beginning.’
Hadn’t she been doing that? And yet, Mr King had ‘come across’ her too many times for coincidence sake. ‘And if he seeks me out?’
Mrs Jones shook her head. ‘Oh, he won’t seek you out anymore. You can trust me on that.’
17
Wednesday 25th May, 1842
…what a fool I am.
Blasted curse.
How to fix this. Serena will not wish to speak to me again. Not after bombarding her with affection twice within a week. And yet, I hardly know myself.
Serena. Serena. Serena.
Xavier knows it all now. I made him swear not to speak to Serena again. I daresay, he didn’t like it, but it can’t be helped. He’s a good lad.
And Judith must insist I not speak with Serena again, lest the curse be known and I am ruined.
How she suffocates me.
I must escape this house, these bounds. Feel the wind in my face. Feel free…
18
‘Miss Bellingham! Quickly, you must come.’ Mr Xavier’s somewhat breathless voice beckoned her from where she stood at the washing lines, pegging up linen.
‘What is it?’ She matched his expression of concern as she approached, wiping her damp hands on her apron.
‘Uncle Ed.’ Mr Xavier rolled his eyes. ‘He insists on going out to the lighthouse, even though it threatens to rain.’
Rain? She peered at the cloud-ridden sky, something she should have done before hanging washing out to dry. The dark, heaviness of the clouds testified to Mr Xavier’s words. With a sigh of frustration, Serena fell into step beside him as he hurried around the house toward the stables. The linen would not dry today.
‘I’m happy to go with him, but you are important to him and I sense you
