Before the week was out, Mary would be en route to a promising post with a respectable family in Cornwall. Likely her pallor and tear-tracked cheeks were nothing more than a bout of cold feet. Still, when she’d begged for a word in private, Phoebe hadn’t hesitated to grant it. She’d gathered her bonnet and gloves and bid them step outside. Expression anguished, Mary shook her head. “I shouldn’t have brought you into it. Please, milady, forget I ever mentioned it.” Shoulders bowed, she turned to go back inside, but Phoebe laid a staying hand upon her shoulder. “Brought me into what, my dear? You’re speaking in riddles.” Turning her gently back around, she searched the misery-laden face for clues. “I wish you would tell me plainly what’s troubling you. Whatever it is, you have my word it shall remain between us.” Mary kept mum. Very well, a fishing expedition it was to be. “Does it have to do with your leaving?” Eyes welling, Mary nodded. “In a way…”
