We laughed hard, and I had to take ahold of his shoulder to keep upright.
Nineteenth century parties were fun. Or was it more the company I was enjoying?
The evening was going well; the rest of the guests had arrived, music and dancing had started, and thankfully no more surprise guests.
I hadn't seen Constable Doyle for a while and was glad of it, but was also a little suspicious of what he was up to.
Pushing Constable Doyle out of my mind, I was determined to enjoy myself, and Nicholas and I were having a great time.
"Ahem," a male voice cleared his throat beside us to get our attention.
Wiping a tear from the corner of my eye, I looked in the direction of the voice and found Mr. Valentine, mouth pursed and an eyebrow raised.
It seemed as though he disapproved of us having fun.
"Sir?" Nicholas asked him. "Is something the matter?"
"I believe you promised my daughter a Waltz."
"That is correct, sir. I have not forgotten."
"Well, it seems that you have. The Waltz is about to start and you're here while Isabella is over there," he stated, glancing over in the direction of Isabella and Robbie. "Talking to the stable boy! What's he- He's supposed to be outside to greet any late arrivals!"
Mr. Valentine stormed off in their direction, and we couldn't help but snicker at his outburst.
"Does Mr. Valentine seem more stressed tonight? He's usually so calm," I asked.
Nicholas nodded. "He prefers these events to go as smooth as possible, that's all. Doesn't want to be the talk of the town. Unless it's positive talk, of course." I nodded in understanding. "I'm sorry, but I have to-"
"It's all right," I interrupted. "You promised her a Waltz. We didn't do all that practising for nothing. Now go. I'll be fine." I faked a smile, a little disappointed he had to leave. But it was just one dance and we had all night.
"I hope you left a space on your card for my name," he casually said, resulting in me smiling for real.
"Of course."
Before he turned to leave, he added, "Remember what I said about being alone."
I nodded, and hoped Constable Doyle had taken Nicholas' advice about staying away from us.
He hesitated for a second before finally walking away, striding over to Isabella, who was now standing awkwardly by herself after her father had shooed Robbie away like some stray animal.
Her face lit up as he approached her, and she linked her arm with his as they made their way onto the dance floor.
As I watched them from afar, I tried to imagine them as husband and wife. Sure, Nicholas would have no problem supporting her and her children financially, but they were so different from each other. Being an arranged marriage, would they ever love each other deep down the way a husband and wife should love each other? Nicholas seemed open to it, but what about Isabella? She claimed she loved her first husband, so perhaps...
My thoughts were interrupted when I overheard Desmond talking rather loudly to some other guests behind me. Obviously on purpose so I would hear.
I continued to watch the dance, all ears on them.
"Well, look at that," I heard him say. "Clay finally managed to drag himself out from his cave. Living like a hermit since mummy and daddy kicked the bucket."
A couple of men bedside him chuckled at his remark.
My jaw dropped and my blood boiled. Spinning around to face them, I glared at Desmond. "You are a disgusting man!" I growled at him. "I hope you rot in hell!"
He scoffed at me, finding my insults rather amusing. After finishing off his glass of wine in one smooth gulp, he asked the men if they would like another drink before striding past me, ignoring my presence.
Fuming, I stormed off to find Robbie, ignoring the staring eyes that must have overheard my outburst.
As I rounded the corner of the house, I almost collided with someone, my quick reflexes stopping myself just in time.
"Sorry-" I started to say, until I realised who it was.
"Goodness, Miss Fletcher, where's the fire?" Constable Doyle said, standing a little too close for my liking.
"Get out of my way," I grumbled, not in the mood for his games.
"Now, now, no need to be like that. Why don't we try having a pleasant conversation like two adults, hm?"
I stepped backwards, distancing myself from the ogre, no longer in the line of fire of his breath. "What are you up to?" I asked him in a stern voice. "Where have you been most of the night?"
"I'm touched you even noticed I was gone," he replied, holding his right palm over his heart. "But I've been around... you know, patrolling the premises, doing a little reading."
I lifted an eyebrow. "You were reading at a party?"
"Yes. I stumbled across this very interesting novel and I just could not put it down. It talked about these futuristic items such as cars, computers (he pronounced it comp-ooters), and what else was there? Oh, TV?" At first I was gobsmacked that he knew all these words, seeing as they hadn't even been invented yet. What novel could he had possibly been reading? And then it hit me. He had been in my room reading my journal. I had started writing a novel based on my experience, where the character lives in the 21st century. "And then the character time-travelled, would you believe?" He chuckled. "Back to the 19th century." He laughed louder. "Ludicrous."
I was furious. "How dare you go into my room without permission. Not only that, you went through my things and read my private journal."
He calmed down before answering, crossing his arms across his chest. "So how do you know all these funny words? Do a little time-travelling yourself? Are you a witch or something?" He chuckled again.
"It's called an imagination, you idiot. You can't write a book without one. Now, I am tired of all this bullying. I am going to report you and I will get you fired. And I have lots of friends who will back me up. Now for the last time, get out of my way."
I pushed past him, needing to get away before I was tempted to break his nose. I didn't want to give him a real reason to arrest me.
Stomping down the garden path, I made my way to the front of the house, eyes scanning the darkness for signs of Robbie.
"Tilly?" I heard Robbie's voice call out nearby, almost drowned out by the band music.
I turned in the direction where the sound came from and spotted his figure leaning up against a tree trunk.
"Oh, there you are," I said, as I stepped towards him, lifting my skirts up off the ground.
"What are you doing out here?" he asked, pushing himself off the trunk to stand upright.
"I just... I needed to get away from those people for a while."
"Some of them can be a bit much, can't they?" I nodded in agreement. "Treat you like you're just mud on their shoe." He kicked a stone in frustration. I sensed he was upset about something, and I was pretty sure I knew what it was.
"Mr. Valentine didn't just send you out here in case of any late arrivals, did he?"
As he stared at the stone, he shook his head. "He doesn't approve of me talking to his daughter."
I played dumb. "Oh, why not? He's usually fine with the servants talking to the family and vice versa."
"Yes. But not when he knows the servants are trying to court his daughter."
"I see. How long has this been going on for?" I wanted to hear it from him. All I'd heard so far was speculation from Mr. Valentine.
"Ten years. Since I was fourteen."
"Honestly, Mr. Valentine did mention to me about his suspicions of a teenage infatuation going on," I said.
He responded with a loud sigh. "We're not teenagers anymore, Tilly. And this is not an infatuation." He shifted his focus to me, staring deep into my eyes. He spoke with such seriousness and determination, and I hadn't heard him talk to me this way. "I have loved Isabella since the day I met her. My very first day here as a stable boy. She was sweet sixteen, with her long blonde hair glistening in the sunlight, blue eyes the colour of the ocean. She was always smiling and her laugh was contagious. Still is." He smiled gently, reminiscing. "My feelings were reciprocated; not at first, but on my fifteenth birthday she told me she loved me and we would get married as soon as I turned eighteen." He laughed. "You know Isabella. Not one to shy away from what's on her mind." I smiled. That was true. But I was surprised Isabella had never mentioned any of this to me. Probably because she knew her chances to be with Robbie were pretty slim. He continued, "But when she turned eighteen, her father forced her to marry William. She came crying to me the day she found out and begged me to run away with her. I told her we couldn't, that it would be disrespectful to her father to do so."
"You did the right thing."
"Letting her go was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, but I promised her we'd be together some day. All we had to do was wait for the right time, even if it was fifty years from now. And when that time came, it would be with her father's permission."
"There really needs to be more men like you in this world, Robbie." He smiled, shyly. "But you do know Mr. Valentine is arranging for Isabella to get married very soon? And he already has a husband in mind."
"Yes, Isabella told me. Which is why I need to get in first."
"What do you mean?" I had a pretty good idea of what he meant, but wanted him to confirm it.
There was a break in the music and he had to lower his voice.
"I'm going to ask Mr. Valentine for Isabella's hand in marriage. Tonight."
"Tonight?" I shrieked, a little too loudly. "Robbie, I really don't think-"
"It's perfect. As of today she is officially out of mourning, the setting is romantic with the music and candles, and all her friends and family are here so we can make an official announcement."
"You're making it sound like Mr. Valentine is going to agree to this."
"He thinks this is an infatuation, like you said. But once he knows it's so much more, he will change his mind. I missed out on being with her once, Tilly. I don't want to miss out again. It would break my heart."
I sighed. As much as I would love to see the two get married and live happily ever after, I couldn't let Robbie do this. At least, not tonight. Not while Mr. Valentine had so much going on. He was going to embarrass himself and possibly get himself fired.
"Have you thought this through? Are you sure tonight is-" I stopped and turned at the sound of crunching gravel nearby. I was praying it wasn't Mr. Valentine who had just overheard our whole conversation.
"There you are," Nicholas' voice resonated through the night air. I could just make out the figures of Nicholas and Isabella coming towards us. "I thought you would have stayed to watch us dance."
"Sorry," I replied. "I felt bad for Robbie being stuck out here all alone."
"Well, the auction's starting. I'm sure Mr. Valentine won't mind if you come watch," Nicholas said to Robbie. "It's an important part of the night."
At least there wouldn't be a moment while the auction's happening for Robbie to ask Mr. Valentine any questions. The further Robbie stayed away from him tonight the better.
"Maybe stay at the back of the crowd, though," I suggested.
The four of us made our way back through the garden path, adding ourselves to the crowd of guests who had gathered for the auction. We stuck to the back as I suggested, even though it would've been impossible to get any closer. It was hard to see, but I could hear Mr. Valentine talking all the way at the front, thanking everyone who donated an item for the charity auction.
As I peered through the sea of heads, I felt someone brush against my left arm. Knowing it wasn't Nicholas, as he was to my right, I turned my head to find myself staring into the eyes of Constable Doyle.
Turning to Nicholas for moral support, I was disappointed to find he wasn't beside me, but had managed to push his way into the crowd, closer to the front.
Then looking behind me for the help of Isabella and Robbie, I found they had vanished, most likely seized the opportunity to sneak off for some alone time.
I felt the Constable's clammy hand grip my elbow, and when I snapped back to face him, gave him the dirtiest look I could muster.
"Get your hands off me or I'll scream," I growled at him, keeping my voice low so not to cause a scene.
"Go ahead," he replied, unfazed by my threat. "And I'll announce to everyone here what you stole."
"I'm tired of having this conversation with you. You know very well I didn't steal anything."
I tried to pull away but his grip tightened, and I winced from the pain. "No, no, Miss Fletcher. You misunderstand me. I'm talking about what you stole tonight."
"Oh? And what is this mysterious item that I supposedly stole?" I asked through clenched teeth.
"You'll see," he replied, facing the front and nodding once.
He had brought my attention to some sort of commotion happening at the front of the crowd.
"The lovely pocket watch donated by Mr. Clarke will be out shortly," I heard the voice of Mr. Valentine call out to the guests.
"Do you think somebody stole it?" An elderly woman standing nearby asked.
"Don't be ridiculous, Margaret," an elderly man standing beside her answered.
"Let's move on to the candlesticks donated by Mr. and Mrs. Harrington, shall we?" Mr. Valentine called out, a hint of nervousness in his voice.
I was catching on. "So the pocket watch isn't really inside, but supposedly stolen by me?" I asked him in a low voice, not wanting anyone to overhear.
"Oh, no, it's inside. He's right about that. And if they go looking for it, they may find it in one so-called perfect governess' desk drawer.
It all made sense now. That's why he was in my room. He was hiding the pocket watch in there.
I had never felt so much hate for one person before. "You bastard." I tried again to free my arm to no avail. "What do you want? Why are you so determined to get me into trouble for something? Are crimes slow at the moment?"
He chuckled. "Funny. Let's just say I'm seeking revenge."
"Revenge? What have I ever done to you?"
"Not you. Clay."
"Nicholas? What has he done?"
He sighed in frustration. "No, daddy Clay. We have history."
"But Thomas Clay is dead. Isn't that enough?"
"I can't seek revenge on a dead person, so the next best thing is to punish his son."
"So how am I involved in all of this?" I had never been so confused about anything before. Time-travelling back in time makes more sense than the gibberish that comes out of this lunatic's mouth.
"It's more fun this way. I'm punishing him by punishing the woman he loves. His heart will break all over again just like when his parents bit the dust."
"Firstly, sorry to disappoint you, but Nicholas does not love me. He is to wed somebody else. And secondly, are you actually planning on messing with a man's mental health? You are a sick and cruel person."
"You think he doesn't love you? Ever since his parents died, he has been a hard person, took no nonsense from anybody, withdrew himself from society. Then you come onto the scene and turn him all soft. He let you go after you broke into his home, and tonight he's dancing and you two are giggling like teenagers."
"But that's who he really is. He's showing his true self, which is a wonderful thing. And you would know that if you've known him since he was a child."
He shook his head, not wanting to hear it. "It's time to harden him up again. So you have two options. One, you can either go quietly; resign from your job here, go back to Hobart Town, leave all your friends and never see them again, or... Well, there's not really an option two. If you decide to stay, I'll announce right now that the pocket watch is hiding in your bedroom, everyone will think you're a thief, you'll either be gaoled or hanged, and what do you know? Either way you'll never see them again, and both options will break Clay's heart. I really hope you decide on the latter. But I'm not a complete monster, I'll give you a moment to decide."
This was a lot of information to take in all at once. What I really needed was an option three; dive straight into the cottage painting and land back in 2019. Yes, I would be leaving the friends I had made here, never to see them again, but I knew that all along. And Nicholas would be fine. We have become close and we have fun when we are together, but there's no way he loves me. He has agreed to marry Isabella. And if by some miracle Isabella convinces her father to choose her own husband, he will find someone else. He was ready.
"The first option," I said, and he let go of my elbow.
"You can say your goodbyes tonight and you'll leave tomorrow. I'll even do the honour of escorting you to Hobart Town myself."
"No need. I'll find my own way," I said, through clenched teeth.
"Suit yourself. But I'll be keeping an eye on you. So much, in fact, you'll be regretting not choosing option two."
I scanned the crowd for Nicholas, and spotted him weaving through the people back towards me. If he saw Constable Doyle talking to me, he'd be furious. The last thing we needed tonight was a fistfight.
His face lit up when he saw me, and seemed unbothered by the man standing beside me. When I glanced to my left, Constable Doyle had vanished, hopefully gone to return the pocket watch.
I smiled at Nicholas when he approached me, feeling so much safer with him by my side.
How would he react when I told him I was leaving? And so soon? How would anyone react? Isabella, Mr. Valentine... They were so happy to have me as their governess.
But I knew this day would come, with Constable Doyle's intervention or not.
And it wasn't going to be easy.