Page 61 of Daisy and the Duke
“When she was younger, Daisy attended a school called the Bloomfield Academy for Young Ladies of Quality.”
“Yes, she mentioned that,” Tristan said, remembering Daisy’s affectionate account of her days there, though he didn’t understand the relevance.
“The school was at an estate called Wildwood Hall,” she added.
“Wildwood,” Tristan echoed. That was the name Daisy had used for the masquerade. “You think she might have gone back there, years later?”
Bella rummaged through her lacy reticule and produced a folded letter. “She maintained steady correspondence with several of her schoolmates and with Mrs. Bloomfield, who owns the school. This letter is from Mrs. Bloomfield, from a few months ago, and it contains an offer of employment.”
“She left her home at Rutherford Grange to become a…a schoolteacher?” Tristan asked, befuddled.
The young lady’s expression grew morose. “I have come to realize—too late—that Rutherford Grange was less of a home than it should have been, while Wildwood Hall was more so than ordinary people would think. I believe that following the vicar’s very…harsh words, Daisy took a lifeline offered to her, fleeing the gossip here to take a position at the school. I can only hope she reached her destination.”
“May I?” Jack asked, gesturing to the letter.
Bella handed it over and he perused it silently. “How did you come into possession of this?” he asked Bella.
“I stole it from her bedroom,” the girl replied, her tone matter-of-fact, but her cheeks pink with shame. “When it became clear that she had truly gone missing, I thought I might find a clue among her letters.”
“Very enterprising, my lady,” Jack said, with a trace of a smile.
“It was necessary,” she replied, without looking at either of them. “The servants won’t say anything, and Mama hopes that Daisy never comes back—” She broke off, having said more than she intended to.
“Your mother does not care for Miss Daisy, does she?”
Bella winced. “I can’t understand why, because everyone loves Daisy so. But Mama has such…opinionssometimes.”
That was an understatement, Tristan thought. He asked, “And what is your opinion?”
“She is my sister by marriage,” Bella said, blinking in surprise at being asked her opinion on anything. “I have nothing but good thoughts for her, and a wish that she may be safe and well, wherever she is.” Then the young lady’s voice trembled. “But I fear she is neither safe nor well! No one has seen her since the ball, and she was all alone, at night, in the cold…I would have perished before dawn had it been me. Daisy is ever so much stronger, but why can no one find her?”
Jack reached out to offer the letter back to Bella. She took it, but he kept his hand over hers. “We will find her,” he promised.
Tristan nodded once, as his confidence returned. “Wildwood Hall is the clue we needed. I will inquire personally, and God willing, this Mrs. Bloomfield will have good news for us all.”
And if she did not…Tristan had no idea what he would do.
Chapter 17
At Wildwood Hall, Daisy hadfinished teaching French lessons for the day, and helping the younger students with their reading as well. It was a tenet of Bloomfield’s Academy for Young Ladies of Quality that everyone had a duty to serve to the best of her ability. Daisy took that tenet to heart perhaps more than any other, for she loved to see people smile when their burdens were lightened even for a little while. It soothed her own aching heart.
For just over a week now, Daisy had been employed as an instructor, primarily for the younger girls. She was grateful to have any position. She would have worked as a maid. Mrs. Bloomfield merely laughed at that notion, telling Daisy that teaching little girls to be young ladies was quite grueling enough.
“You’ll have your hands full,” Mrs. Bloomfield said. Which was true. Daisy worked as hard as possible, not just to prove herself to Mrs. Bloomfield, but also to try to forget why she was at Wildwood Hall in the first place.
That was a more difficult task, for whenever she closed her eyes, she saw Tristan. And every time she heard a footstep or an approaching voice, she worried it was someone come to find her and haul her back for questioning.
At dinner one night, when the instructors who lived at the school all gathered for blessedly grown-up conversation, Daisy asked what she ought to do next. She was well aware that she could not remain at the school forever.
“You could go to London,” suggested Mrs. Cannon, a gray-haired woman who taught mathematics, Latin, and Greek to the older girls. “Find a position as governess. But London is a terrible place.” She shuddered at the thought of living in the city.
“It’s not a terrible place,” Mrs. Bloomfield said with a chuckle. “And some of Daisy’s good friends live there, so she’d not be without company. But the life of a governess is perhaps not fulfilling enough for a young lady like Daisy, who has other interests and skills.”
“Not to mention that a letter of reference will be hard to come by,” Mrs. Cannon muttered.
“Really, dear,” Mrs. Bloomfield said, “it would be best if you returned to your home to sort this mess out. We know you’re innocent of any charges of theft—the whole idea is ludicrous—but the longer you stay away, the more difficult it will be to settle the matter.”
Daisy looked down at her plate, where most of her meal remained uneaten. “I know that would be the right thing to do, but I’m not brave enough to trust that I’ll get a fair hearing. My stepmother seemed to believe it, and the vicar is very influential, and the duke said nothing to support me…” That hurt worse than anything. Though Daisy had kept the full extent of her relationship with Tristan to herself, Mrs. Bloomfield certainly understood that she had fallen in love with him, and was worse off for it.
