The Governess of White Stag Hall

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For the rest of the evening, Edith had to endure sly, sideways looks and prying questions from Lady Atwood. The woman meant well, of course. She was sure that every forceful, grandmotherly type did, whether or not they actually succeeded. Still, Edith was grateful when she eventually grew bored of teasing her.

Unfortunately, she and Rhys did not get another chance to talk alone. Even so, they never wandered far from each other's company and when they finally were preparing to leave sometime in the early morning hours just before dawn, he walked with them to the carriage and bid them goodnight with a promise to visit.

Once back at the townhouse, Edith laid awake in bed for at least another hour. Her mind was torn between doubt-filled trepidation and barely contained happiness and she alternated between the two until finally she simply couldn't keep her eyes open any more.

The next morning came very late indeed and it was almost noon when Edith finally joined Lady Atwood for breakfast on the veranda. For the first time, Lady Atwood appeared genuinely fatigued from the night before, which was the one true testament to the strength of last night's punch. Fortunately, they did not expect any callers. Half of Brighton had attended the party, so the city at large was too busy recovering from a severe case of morning fog.

"Are you well, my dear?" Lady Atwood asked. "You haven't touched anything."

Edith shook her head, but stopped quickly as even the motion was enough to make her feel nauseous, not to mention the awful pounding in her head. And she hadn't had half as much to drink as her esteemed patroness. "I'm fine, but I don't think I can stomach food just yet," she said. "I shouldn't have had that second glass of punch. I can still taste it."

Lady Atwood just chuckled. "Well, we shall have today and tomorrow to recover. Go back to bed and rest, if you wish."

It was an all-too tempting notion. "We aren't expected anywhere?" she asked, a little doubtfully. They hadn't had a single chance to breathe since arriving in Brighton.

"Oh, heavens no. No one plans anything just after one of Mary's parties." Lady Atwood took a sip of tea, which smelled strongly of gin even from where Edith sat across the table. "On Wednesday we are attending a picnic with my brothers and their families, but that's it until next week. I took the liberty of inviting your sister."

Edith looked up sharply at Lady Atwood. "I–thank you," she said, still a little stunned. "Still, you didn't need to bother yourself."

"Nonsense," Lady Atwood replied, waving a hand to brush off Edith's protests. "I may have hired you as my companion, but I valued your company long before that. I wish to meet your relations." She paused to consider this for a moment and then added, almost under her breath: "The tolerable ones anyway." She reached across the table to pluck a biscuit from the serving plate. "I also invited Mr. Rhys."

Edith tried not to react, since she knew that was what Lady Atwood was aiming for. Still, her thoughts and feelings were at war and pulling her in different directions–her heart desperate to see Rhys again even as her good sense warned her to be cautious. "That's a little short notice, isn't it?" she asked.

Lady Atwood snorted. "He didn't seem to mind. He accepted immediately when I asked him last night," she said dismissively. "Why so reluctant, my dear? You barely left each other's sides last night. You clearly care for him."

Edith couldn't argue with that and she didn't know where to begin to explain what she felt. It sounded insane to put to words. That she was afraid. That everything felt so fragile. Like if she asked for too much, it would all disappear.