It made no sense that he wouldn’t.
“Find me,” came a whisper.
Simon roamed about the room, looking under furniture, pulling back covers, saving the three-paneled fire screen for last. He poked his head under the cover and she squealed.
“Master Fancourt?”
Pulling Mercy into his arms, Simon stood and faced the doorway.
Mr. Wilkins entered, an arm looped around John, both grinning. “We quite succeeded, this young chap and I, in removing every painting from the turret room walls. They are packed in a trunk and ready to be carted away, sir.”
Bringing along his old life for remembrance was the last thing Simon wanted. But he could tell, by the faces of both, it was done to please him. He smiled. “Thank you.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Anything I can do to be of service.” The butler motioned to Mercy. “Now, have I two little ones I might persuade into helping me with dinner?”
Both chimed their enthusiasm, and the butler motioned them ahead with promises to join them in the kitchen. When they were alone, some of his cheeriness faltered. “Sir, I did wish to speak with you a moment, if I may.”
“And I with you.”
“Sir?”
“It is not right you should stay here. I cannot pay you and you owe me nothing—”
“It is only but a few days, Master Fancourt.” The butler glanced away bashfully. “I have been at Sowerby House for so many years that I somehow feel as if I must be here to the very last.”
“I could not have managed without you.” With the servants already dismissed, household responsibilities had fallen to the butler and Simon. Between watching over his shoulder for intruders, he had tried his best to go through each room and see the last of their family relics and personal belongings sold, as Mother had instructed in her goodbye letter.
But the three days were already up.
Tomorrow, they must all be gone.
Where, he did not know.
As if the butler sensed his thoughts, he cleared his throat in discomfort. “Sir, might I broach the delicate subject of future lodgings?”
“I have not forgotten your offer.”
“Then you will consider—”
“With the funds gained from selling the household items, I can afford to lodge us in town.” For now.
“But who shall care for the children while you are—”
“They stay with me. From this point on.”
“Very good, sir.” The butler nodded, as if that was a relief to him. “They are brilliant children. Quite as delightful as you always were as a child.”
Simon clapped a hand on the butler’s shoulder. “I shall be in the study if you need me. We have already sold the books, but I must rummage through Father’s correspondence and dispose of what I can.”
The butler nodded, a hint of moisture in his gaze. “It is a pity to see a home torn apart this way. To see it stripped of all its sentimentality in welcome of a stranger.”
“Yes.” Especially a stranger who likely wanted all of them dead.
The strangeness still simmered in his eyes.
Amid all his politeness, his pristine clothes, his shortened hair, and the eloquence which he used to address Mamma—the strain of insanity still emanated from his being.
Georgina dipped her needle in and out of the handkerchief. The parlor was soundless, as any room was upon Mamma’s departure.
