“Found beneath her bed.”
“By someone conducting a search at Mr. Vane's instruction.”
The steward stiffened.
“Are you suggesting impropriety?”
“I am suggesting we have not yet established what occurred.”
Julian looked between them.
He understood Clara's suspicion.
He also understood that a valuable jewel was missing, and that evidence had been found in the maid's room.
As master of the household, he could not simply dismiss the matter.
“Bess,” he said, “until we have discovered the truth, you must remain away from your duties.”
The maid stared at him.
“Your Grace?”
“I shall not accuse you without proof. But I cannot permit the matter to proceed as though nothing has happened.”
Bess's face crumpled.
“Please, sir. My family needs my wages.”
Clara turned toward Julian.
“Surely that is unnecessary.”
He felt the eyes of the household upon him.
Vane stood nearby.
Lady Honoria's jewels were missing.
His authority was being questioned in front of servants.
And some old, deeply ingrained part of him recoiled.
“Miss Langley,” he said stiffly, “I must manage my own household.”
Clara went very still.
The words were mild.
Their meaning was not.
She looked at him for several seconds.
Then said quietly, “Of course, Your Grace.”
Julian immediately regretted his tone.
But he had already spoken.
Bess lowered her head.
Mrs. Hartley reached toward her.
“Come, child.”
The maid allowed herself to be led away.
Clara remained motionless.
Julian waited until the door closed.
Then he said, “I did not dismiss her.”
“No.”
“She will be paid while the matter is investigated.”
“That is something.”
He looked at her.
“You cannot expect me to ignore evidence merely because you are fond of the girl.”
Clara drew a slow breath.
“I expect you to examine evidence before permitting a servant to be publicly disgraced.”
“I have done precisely that.”
“Have you?”
His jaw tightened.
“Clara.”
She shook her head.
“You know that Mr. Vane has altered accounts. You know he has issued notices without authority. You know documents bearing our signatures may have been forged. Yet when a pouch appears beneath the bed of a girl who might have overheard something inconvenient, you treat it as proof of her dishonesty.”
“I did not call her dishonest.”
“You allowed her to believe you thought it.”
Julian looked away.
Clara's voice softened.
“Do you understand how much power you possess over that girl?”
He said nothing.
“She has a father who cannot work, a mother who depends upon her wages, and a brother still too young to support them. One word from you could deprive them of their home.”
“I would never permit that.”
“Then you should have said so.”
Julian looked back at her.
“I was trying to be fair.”
“Fairness is not always achieved by standing in the middle.”
The words struck him.
Clara took a step backward.
He reached toward her.
“Clara, wait.”
She stopped.
For a moment, he thought she might soften.
Instead, she said, “Yesterday you told me that you wished to begin again.”
“I did.”
“And I believed you.”
“You may still believe me.”
Her expression filled with something more painful than anger.
Disappointment.
“I want to.”
She turned and left.
Julian remained beside the table.