Page 61 of The Enigmatic Governess of Buford Manor
Rose could see there would be no warmth, not until she knew if her prayers were answered and that everyone had returned to Rosecliff safely.
“Miss Rose,” Trudy announced, entering the front room where John paced about nervously. “Here is your tea.”
Rose accepted the cup but she did not take a sip, lest she become sick. The idea of putting anything in her gullet while she was in such a state was inconceivable. There was no doubt to her mind that she would expel anything which attempted to go down. Her hands were trembling noticeably and she was forced to put the saucer aside and rise from the wing chair near the fireplace.
“I should join the search,” she murmured aloud. The Boyles protested simultaneously. “I cannot sit here a moment longer and wait!”
“Nonsense!” the cried.
“It is your duty to tend to the children and the household,” Bridget reminded her. “There need be someone here lest the children wake and no one has returned.”
“They will return!” Rose gasped, aghast at the idea that all would be lost that night. “They must!”
“I only mean that they may be out there for some time, Rose. Please, child, you must keep your wits about you. Without the duke or duchess present, you cannot permit yourself to unravel.”
“I will not!” Rose retorted hotly although she was not certain how accurate were her words. With every second that ticked aside, her breaths seemed to quicken.
You must not faint,she told herself sternly, a swooning sensation creeping upon her.Bridget is correct. You cannot allow yourself to falter when the children may depend on you.
“How many hours have they been gone?” Rose asked after what seemed to be an incomprehensible amount of time. Beyond the window, she could not see a cubit before the house, the snow driving heavily and relentlessly against the glass mercilessly.
“I have never seen such a storm,” John muttered, his eyes growing wider. “Tis not this way in the south.”
“Tis strange for Buford also, Mr. Boyle,” Trudy explained. “A rare storm indeed.”
The words did not comfort Rose in the least, but she reasoned that if it was odd, it might cease as quickly as it had come.
“John, how long has it been since their departure?” Rose asked again, glancing about for a clock but nothing made sense in her distress.What time had they left?She could not recall.
“You should eat, Miss Rose,” Trudy said quietly. “I had quite a supper prepared for the men prior to…”
She needed not finish her thought and Rose shook her head.
“Keep it warm for their return,” she instructed. “They will be starved and cold.”
If they return.
Oh, how she longed for the fatalistic thoughts to cease overwhelming her, but it was as if she was home in Dartford, watching Captain Balfour riding toward her to deliver news of Philip’s demise.
“And now he is in the center of yet another tragedy,” Rose muttered aloud.
“Rose?”
She had barely realized she had spoken but Bridget’s face appeared, her brow furrowed.
“What say you?”
“Captain Balfour, once more ensnared in a tragedy,” she muttered, uncaring of who overheard. Nothing mattered with Nicholas braving the bitter weather.
“Rose, you do not know that there is a tragedy,” John told her softly. “You are permitting your mind to take you over. You must not.”
“What else am I to think?” she retorted. “Am I to assume they have found shelter and that it is only a coincidence that Captain Balfour is among the group? Why must calamity surround that man? First Philip – “
“Rose, that is quite enough!” John said sharply, looking toward Trudy nervously. The servant bowed her head and ducked from the room discretely, leaving the Boyles to their distraught friend.
“Why?” Rose demanded, raising her red-rimmed eyes. “You said yourself that you suspect–”
“Lower your voice at once!” John snapped, and Rose was taken aback by his tone. Rarely did the mild-mannered farmer raise his tone and certainly not to her. Yet Rose would not be silenced, not when she was beside herself with worry.
