I stood in front of the door to Father's story, taking several deep breaths to try to calm my rising nerves. No amount of comforting words from George could help the knot in my stomach or my heart thumping in my chest. If Father didn't believe my story, then he would most likely send me off to live with family in the city. With the mystery of where Rebecca came from still unsolved, I couldn't risk that happening. He had to believe me and I hope my unkempt appearance might make it a touch more believable.

Silence settled over the house. Even Lucy appeared nervous at having to deliver Father's summons to me, a sign that everyone was wary of this meeting. It could end up being the largest argument that Father and I had ever had. I took a deep breath and knocked lightly on the door. The house held its breath.

"Enter." Father's voice was quieter than usual, a sign he was nursing a sore head.

I pushed the door open and stepped inside. "You wanted to see me?"

"Sit down, Nathaniel."

Father waved his hand towards the empty chair on the opposite side of this desk. I closed the door behind me and moved silently towards it, keeping my eyes trained on him. Father didn't look up from his desk as I sat down and instead massaged his temples and took a small sip from the water in front of him. I looked at him, noting the dark circles under his eyes and the paleness of his face against the midday sunlight that streamed in through the partially open window. If George thought I looked unwell, Father looked like he could have been at death's door.

I rested my hands on my thighs, trying to ignore my pounding heart, the roar of blood in my ears, and the headache that had decided to make a reappearance. After a few minutes of uneasy silence, Father looked up from his desk. He folded his hands together and pressed them into the wood, glaring at me. I had been on the receiving end of his glare many times before, but it never made me squirm as much as it had in his office. All I wanted to do was run from the room and disappear into the woods.

"I want you to explain your actions last night to me, Nathaniel. No excuses, no lies, the complete and honest truth. I am not in the mood for anything other than the facts," he said.

George had told me to keep it simple, to keep the details small, so they would be more believable. I thought it would be best to follow his advice. "I didn't feel well."

"And that is your explanation for everything that happened last night? From leaving the table to ignoring Miss Marlow?"

"Yes, sir." I cleared my throat. "The heat got to me a little more than I let on and I felt rather sick for most of the evening."

Father raised an eyebrow at me, and I uttered a silent prayer that he believed me. "Why did you not say anything sooner? You had all that time before they arrived and yet decided to stay silent."

"I thought I would be fine and the heat might dissipate as the evening went on."

"Are you still feeling unwell or have you made a miraculous recovery overnight?"

"No, sir. I have a slight headache and still feel a little queasy."

That wasn't a lie. The breakfast I had devoured that morning threatened to make an ugly reappearance the longer Father stared at me. My stomach churned, my chest tightened, and my heart threatened to jump from my chest and onto the desk. George's idea of having a plan worked in theory, but it did nothing to calm my nerves as I sat across from Father and tried to ignore his judgemental gaze.

His face showed no sign of whether he believed me or not. Instead, he continued to stare at me from across the desk, no doubt trying to make me squirm so that I would reveal the truth. I refused to give in to his gaze. Even though some of the story wasn't true, enough of it was for me to stick with it. If I said something different, he would know I had lied. I bit the inside of my cheek, piercing the skin with my teeth and tasting blood. A slight tremble started in my fingertips.

Father leant back in his chair. He glanced towards the window, squinting against the bright sunlight streaming in. With the midday sun still high in the sky, the heat had already reached near-unbearable levels. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead, and I could feel it running down my back as I waited for him to speak. The silence grew louder.

"Against my better judgement, I'm inclined to believe that you are telling me the truth. Mrs Marlow herself said that you looked a little off colour and I have already confirmed with the kitchen staff about how little you ate last night."

Relief flooded through me, and I let out a small breath. The knots in my stomach unravelled slightly, and my heartbeat slowed. Father continued to stare at me from across the desk, searching for some sort of reaction.

"However, that does not mean that I am happy with the way last night played out. I understand that how you were feeling could not be helped, but you made little to no attempt to talk with Miss Marlow, which was why we arranged the supper in the first place. You promised me that there would be no issues and yet you walked out mid-way through the meal."

"I know, sir."

"Do you, Nathaniel? This is important for your future, and yet you seem determined to throw it all away. Luckily for you, Mrs Marlow was understanding and Miss Marlow seemed to enjoy the little conversation the two of you did share." He raised an eyebrow. "We will be arranging a picnic here on the grounds with the Seabrooks and the Marlows in two days' time. I expect it to go better than last night."

"Yes, sir."

"This is your last chance, Nathaniel. You are no longer a child and it is time you start to act your age and focus on your future. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. You may leave." He paused. "Have some ginger sent up to your bedroom to settle your stomach. You still don't look right."

Father turned back to his desk, taking a swig of water as he did so. I watched him for a few seconds, confusion running through my mind at how well the conversation had unfolded. Not wanting to outstay my welcome, I stood up and slipped from the room as silently as I could manage. I pressed my back against the wood of the door and took a deep breath, allowing my heartbeat to return to normal. The knot in my stomach remained.

I had expected Father to yell at me, to blame me for the supper being a disaster and not going the way he wanted it to. Perhaps it had been the aftermath of all the wine he had, or he genuinely believed my excuse. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that I was not in as much trouble as I thought or expected. Father had a habit of blowing the smallest things out of proportion and yet he didn't blow up at me for ruining his important supper.

Even though I found myself in little trouble, that didn't stop the nerves from continuing to bubble up under the surface. It shouldn't have been that easy. I should have been in more trouble. Part of me wondered whether Father had something hidden up his sleeve, a surprise that would explain his lack of anger. He may have played nice, but that didn't mean his heart was in it.

Not just that, but he failed to even mention the comments he had made that night before I left the table. He didn't feel the need to apologise and didn't own up to having made a mistake in what he said, which told me all I needed to know. Father had meant every word of it.

I pushed myself off the door and walked down the hallway, knotting my hands together in front of me. Every squeak of a floorboard or creak of a door hinge startled me, as if Father was going to come tearing out of his study to yell at me. A slight wave of anger coursed through my veins, but I pushed it down. The meeting had gone better than I could have imagined. I knew better than to go and put my foot in it.

Silence filled the house as I stepped into my room, closed the door behind me, and collapsed back onto my bed. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths. My stomach still felt a little unsettled, but it was far better than it had been just a few minutes before.

"Well, the house is still standing," George said, opening the door. "Can I consider that a good sign?"

I sat up. "He was surprisingly calm about the whole thing. He believed the story, at any rate."

"And you? You still look pale, but you seem a little more upbeat than you were earlier on."

"I'm fine." I shrugged, not entirely sure if I believed the words myself. "My breakfast threatened to make a reappearance, though. Father suggested I take some ginger to try to settle it."

"That might be a good idea, and perhaps just some plain toast for lunch, just to be on the safe side. You have worked yourself up so much you've practically made yourself unwell." He shook his head. "Did your father have anything else to say?"

"Just that I need to start acting more like an adult. There is also to be a picnic with the Seabrooks and the Marlows in just a few days. He expects it to go better than the supper did and for me to be on my best behaviour."

"Well, that might be a little easier to uphold with Master Seabrook around. It shall take a degree of pressure off at any rate."

"But what if the same thing happens? What if Father makes another off-hand comment or I cannot stand to eat anything for fear of chucking it all back up again?" I waved my hand in the air dismissively.

"You mustn't think of it like that. Just think of it as a picnic with your friends. It shall make things a little easier to cope with. As for any comments your father might make, you must ignore them. I know it is hard, but there is no other way around it. It won't be long until you are off to Cambridge and won't have to put up with the comments any longer. For now, you have to just grin and bear it."

"You make it seem so simple."

"Now you know as well as I do that it is anything but simple." George smiled. "Why don't I go and get you some plain toast and some ginger beer, see if it can help your stomach a little?"

"That would be great, thank you."

"In the meantime, your sister is outside and would like a word with you. Might I suggest you talk to her? It might help you."

"I suppose so."

With a smile, George opened the door a little wider to allow Alice in before he slipped into the hallway to go in search of my ginger beer and toast. The idea of eating anything still seemed like a long way off, but the idea of plain toast sounded good, and the ginger beer sounded even better.

Alice shuffled into the room, closing the door once George had disappeared. She made no attempt to make herself comfortable as she usually did and stood awkwardly in the centre of the room. I looked at her, unsure of how to respond. Since our confrontation a few days before, we hadn't said a word to one another, and I wondered just what Alice wanted.

I looked at her, raising an eyebrow and hoping she would be the first one to speak. It was she who had blown everything out of proportion when I told her I needed to step away from Rebecca for a while. She had created the division between us from nothing.

"Are you feeling any better after last night?" she asked, breaking the silence.

"A little."

"Good." She scratched her arm. "I, erm, wanted to apologise for the other day. I was out of line."

"Just a tad."

"I'm trying to be nice here, and it is a remarkably difficult feat, especially when it comes to you."

I laughed. "That goes both ways, little sister. That's why I am never nice to you. It takes far too much effort."

"You are so annoying." She shook her head but smiled a little. "I'm sorry for the way I behaved. I should have realised how stressed you were about the supper. My behaviour probably didn't help make things any easier."

"Nor particularly, but it is over with now."

Alice crossed the room and sat on the bed beside me. "I am sorry, Nate."

"I know you are." I paused. "That information you found out, the name of Miss Edwards' mother, might be helpful. You should pass it on to George."

"I already did, but he has yet to find anything. Miss Edwards is in better spirits, though. She talks a little more than she did before and she has been asking where you've been."

"Perhaps I should go and see her."

"She'd like that, as would Sooty. He's been making a mess of that room for days now. The servants aren't too happy about the black hairs all over the blankets."

"I can imagine."

Alice looked at me and smiled, the tension between us melting away as if it had never existed. After several days of feeling as though I had the weight of the world on my shoulders, they suddenly felt a lot lighter, and I hoped they would stay that way.

~~~

A/N - We are back with a brand new chapter! The countdown to the final chapter is on and I hope you're all strapped in for a wild ride! 

Questions!

Do you think Mr Thorpe cares more about Nate then he lets on? Is Nate out of the woods? Should he focus on Rebecca or the Marlow's?

Comment below!

First Published - April 4th, 2023