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Once again, a single candle burned on the mantel, and Mr. Selwood stood staring out the window. He turned when she entered.
“I didn’t think you’d come,” he said.
She crossed the room. “I know I said I would stay, but I cannot. It is impossible now.”
“Because of that man. Charlie Crump?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love him?”
“That rake Charlie Crump? Ha!” She would have spat if they weren’t indoors. “No. I hate him. I hate him more than I’ve ever hated anything in my life. More than scooping coal dust, more than Mr. Ruddiman, even more than Mrs. Fogerty who rapped my knuckles daily for whatever reason she could invent. Charlie is worse than all of them.”
“What did he do to you?” Mr. Selwood was standing closer to her than he’d ever done before. Leastways without stepping away immediately.
“He . . . he . . .” Should she tell him? Whatever good opinion he had of her would vanish if he knew her greatest humiliation. But then, she was leaving anyway, so she might as well put as much dirt on that horrid Charlie Crump’s shoes as she could before she left. He deserved it.
“We were to marry.”
A short intake of air came from Mr. Selwood.
“I thought he loved me, but it turns out he loved another woman. He lied to me, he told me he cared for me, but everyone knew he had a mistress already. One foot in sea and one on shore. It wasn’t until I was standing in the church in my mother’s wedding dress—a pale blue silk with ivory roses stitched along the neck and hem—that I learned the truth.
“Everyone knew I was being played the fool and that the scoundrel Charlie Crump was a devious, lying, misbegotten blackguard. Everyone except me. Even though you’re not as pretty as most, he told me, you’re the only one I love. He made me believe I was lucky to have him. But he made a mistake. He let the other woman come to the wedding. I know I’m a fool, Mr. Selwood, and I’m not clever and well-bred like other women, but I only had to take one look to know that he loved the other woman and that I was the laughingstock of Millthrop.”
Mr. Selwood cursed under his breath. “You need not worry, Miss Woolsey. I’ve already told him the position of groomsman is no longer available.”
“He won’t be working here?”
“No. I may be messy,” he said, “and I may leave my clothes strewn about waiting for fairies to clean them up, but I only had to take one look at you to know you had bad blood with that man.”
Sarah couldn’t help a little laugh. “I’m sorry I said that, about the fairies. It was not my place.”
It seemed for a moment that Mr. Selwood was going to come closer. His hand reached out but then fell away. “It is safe for you to stay,” he said.
Perhaps. Charlie had been sent away, but he knew where to find her now. As she’d fled the church that horrid day, he’d vowed she could only be his. Would he leave her alone? Certainly, he didn’t really care for her, but would he let her go on living as Rose’s governess? Sarah could not be sure. But now that she knew Rose’s true history, perhaps it was worth the risk.
“Do you know why this is called the Selwood room?” he asked.
It was an odd question for the moment, but Sarah nodded. “I heard it is because a person of that name died in this room.” At first she thought it was his mother or father, but after seeing the children’s decor, she was uncertain.
“It was my brother.” Mr. Selwood left the window and paced the room. It was in disarray at the moment, as he was having the walls repapered. He picked up a strip of old paper that had been torn from the plaster and stared at it. “I was the one who killed him.”
He’d said he had a secret, but she’d never guessed something like this.
“Peter was seven years old and I was twelve. I was a fool too, Miss Woolsey. Of the worst kind.” He stood still, staring at the torn wallpaper as if on it was recorded the story of his brother’s death. “He loved me, idolized me. But I hated the way he followed me around like a stray puppy. The other boys—the ones my age—teased me about it. And I, being the fool, let it get to me. One day I’d had enough. My friend’s father had offered to take us shooting, and Peter tried to follow. He wouldn’t leave and I was so annoyed I turned around and pushed him.
“He stumbled back, tripping over a root. He fell. There was a . . . a stone, partially buried in the ground. Anyway, his head hit it. I carried him home, but he died within a few hours.”
He had told this whole story facing away, looking at nothing but probably seeing everything all over again. Sarah stared at his back. What could she say? That it was an accident? He’d likely heard those words a hundred times. As unintentional as it had been, he still blamed himself. Fifteen years later and he still hated himself.
“Mr. Selwood.” She took a step toward him, ready to comfort him. But this must be why he avoided any interaction with people. His touch had killed his brother—so Rose had been left stranded in the nettles. That was his fear. That his touch might hurt another. It all made sense now, why this man retreated when anyone got close. And why he couldn’t stay in the sick room with Rose. “I am sorry. You must be so alone.”
He turned. His eyes were on hers for what felt like a full minute. Then he gave her a labored smile. “Now we are even. We both know each other’s darkest secrets.” He raised his eyebrows. “Unless you have another one you’d like to tell.”
“No. I just have the one. And you?”
“No. Just the one.” He gave her another forced smile, then turned to leave the room.
“Sir.”
He paused.
“It’s all right to forgive yourself.”
He nodded once and left.
Sarah waited a few moments, for him to be gone from the corridor, before creeping back to her own room. What a pair they made. Nay, what a trio. Rose with her unthinkable childhood, Mr. Selwood causing the death of his own brother, and herself with that awful Charlie Crump. She’d thought nothing could be worse than what had happened to her, but now she realized that was a very selfish notion.
Who could say the sorrows that lay in a person’s heart? Who was she to assume her trials were harder when the people she cared about most had even more pain hidden deep within? Mr. Selwood’s life had changed forever because of a simple accident years ago. Rose had lived horrors Sarah could not believe possible. She was young still, and her memories might fade.
And what about Miss Lynn? Sarah had thought her supercilious, but all she’d wanted was to be looked on favorably by a man she admired. She, too, might have some great sorrow pawing at her from behind.
Probably everyone did. Even that rogue Charlie Crump. She hoped she would never find out what it was because she would give her right arm to never feel sorry for him. She groaned out loud just thinking of it. Rose rolled over in her sleep and flopped her arm on Sarah’s chest. They had a bed wide as the sky, and the child always slept right next to her.