Simply Magic

“If you see her again, Peter,” Edith said, “will you ask her if I may call on her? Or if she will call on me if she wishes to remain secretive about her exact whereabouts?”

“I will ask,” he promised. But he could not resist asking another question of his own.

“ Why did Osbourne kill himself?” He addressed himself to Lady Markham. “Did you ever find out?”

She hesitated noticeably.

“I am surprised,” she said, “that you did not even know of the suicide until Theo told you recently. You were fond of Mr. Osbourne, as I recall, and he of you. However, I suppose it was to be expected that Lady Whitleaf would want to protect you from such a harsh truth, and she would have sworn your sisters to secrecy. As for William Osbourne’s reason for doing what he did, that died with him, the poor man.”

“He did not leave a note for Lord Markham?” Peter asked.

She hesitated again.

“He did,” she said. But she did not elaborate, and he disliked intruding any further into a subject on which she was clearly reluctant to talk. It must, of course, have been a remarkably distressing episode in her life. He did, however, ask one more question.

“Did he also leave a note for Sus-For Miss Osbourne?” he asked.

“Yes, he did,” she said.

“Did she read it?”

“Both notes were folded neatly inside the final updated page of a ledger inside the drawer of his desk,” she told him, “and were understandably not discovered until after his burial. By then Susa

“Both, I believe,” he said.

He knew that he had made her very unhappy during the summer. Even now he liked to believe that the prospect of saying good-bye to him again saddened her. But honesty forced him to admit that she lived a life that brought her security and friendship and satisfaction and perhaps even happiness. He was not necessary to her life. She could live very well without him. He had not lied to Lady Markham.

It was a humbling thought-that Susa

As if she were the strong, secure one.

He took his leave of Lady Markham and Edith after promising to call upon them in Laura Place before he left Bath. A few minutes later he left the Pump Room and walked back to his hotel for breakfast.

18

Some days in November could still retain traces of the glory of autumn and even a hint of a lost summer, though the trees were bare of leaves and the plants of flowers. But usually such days came at a time when duty forced one to remain busy indoors, enjoying the weather only in the occasional glance through a window.

This particular Saturday was such a day. But this time Susa

And the morning exercise was not all. The afternoon offered a rare treat-a walk, perhaps in Sydney Gardens, which were close by but rarely visited because of the admission fee-and with a gentleman, no less.

She would not be quite human, Susa

Her exuberance was not even much diminished by the memory of the night before. Viscount Whitleaf had offered her marriage last evening and she had refused. In all probability she would never see him again after today. But it was by her own choice, was it not? She had refused to go away with him during the summer. Last evening she had refused to marry him. And she would say no again, to both offers, if they were repeated. And so she had no cause to complain or mope or weep-she had done altogether too much of all three. In fact, she had every reason to be proud of herself. She loved him, but she had refused to allow that fact to tempt her to cling, to hold on to him at all costs.

He did not love her, but that did not matter. He liked her. That was enough.

He had not mentioned a specific time for coming this afternoon. Susa

“I have been informed,” she told Susa

She looked as if she were enjoying herself enormously. Her eyes were twinkling-a characteristic expression with her.

Susa

“But the preparations for the Christmas concert are always a great deal of fun,” she said. “ And hard work.”

“How will this suit you, Miss Osbourne?” Mr. Upton called, beckoning her over to a table covered with sketches. He did not usually come in to school on a Saturday, but he probably would do so every week between now and the end of term.

But Susa

Viscount Whitleaf must have come.

Indeed he had. He was awaiting her in the hallway when she arrived there wearing her warm gray winter cloak and tying the ribbons of her green bo

“Miss Osbourne.” He bowed to her, but though all his usual jaunty charm was in the gesture and in his smile, it seemed to Susa

“Lord Whitleaf.” She approached him along the hall with an answering wariness.

Last evening stretched between them like a long shadow.

The weather had not changed in the hour or so she had been indoors, Susa

“Shall we go into Sydney Gardens?” he asked her, offering his arm. “I daresay the park is not at its best in November, but it will be quiet and rural.”

And despite the loveliness of the day, they would probably have it almost to themselves, she thought.