‘I am just an old fool, aren’t I?’ said Sir Michael as soon as Pamela entered his cabinet. He was dressed in his nightcap and powdering gown and looked so devastated, that the sight squeezed Pamela’s heart painfully. ‘How could I have ever thought that such a woman would ever love me? That anybody would?’ 

‘Sir Michael, do not be so harsh on yourself,’ said Pamela reassuringly. ‘No one could have guessed that events would take such a turn. And, if you allow me to say that, you are loved among your tenants and villagers. Have you not heard how respectfully they talk about you?’

‘Respectfully? Hm.’ She thought for a moment that she had found the right words, but then he just shook his head. ‘Respect and love are not the same, but I do not expect that you understand my feelings. No, no, no…’

Pamela swallowed the words she was ready to say and sighed. 

‘Perhaps. But that does not change the fact that people need you, your advice, your instructions, and your company. You cannot hide in your cabinet for so long.’ 

‘Cannot I?’ grumbled Sir Michael. ‘But I do not want to be where so much reminds me of her. The Blue Salon — you know, she said once she disliked the pattern of its wallpaper, and I was going to instruct you to make a renovation to that room.’

He shook his head again and then said unexpectedly. 

‘You know what? I just cannot stay here at the moment. I need a change of place. Send for Kevin and tell him to pack for a journey. I am going to Bath.’ 

‘To Bath?’ asked Pamela, stunned with his determination. ‘Should I write and rent a place for you?’

‘No, no, no, it will take too much time. I want to leave as soon as I can. I think I could stay in the White Hart, you know that inn, right? They always keep the chambers for special visitors and such occasions.’ 

‘But what about your guests?’ asked Pamela. ‘You could not go away and leave them without your company. It would violate any rules of hospitality.’ 

‘Do you think so?’ Sir Michael furrowed his brows. ‘Yes, it would not be polite. Well, they could leave with me or stay as long as they want. Perhaps, I have to have a word with Mr. Howard. Could you ask him to come over here?’ 

‘Of course, sir,’ said Pamela quietly. ‘But before, may I ask you about Miss Flax? She is ready to leave at your first request, but in truth, she has no place to go. I beg you to allow her to stay in Dunder Hall until she finds another occupation.’ 

‘Miss Flax, er? Another poor soul, deceived by Lady Levinson’s false generosity. She could stay. Actually, I would like to talk to her. Where is she?’ 

‘She is expected in the waiting room. Should I call her?’ 

‘Yes, please.’ 

Pamela left the cabinet and closed the door behind her. Miss Flax turned at the sound. 

‘Well?’ she asked, half-dreading, half-expecting.

‘Sir Michael wants to talk to you,’ Pamela said. ‘And I suppose he does not feel animosity towards you.’ 

‘I suppose it is your merit. I do not think I could ever pay you for your support and your concern about my person.’ 

‘If you know any other gossip about society, do tell me all of them. It would be your payment for my service.’ 

Miss Flax smiled, and Pamela returned the smile, but her heart was troubled with the suddenness of Sir Michael’s departure. 

It was agreed that Sir Michael would leave tomorrow after breakfast; he expected to arrive at Bath almost a week later. His guests were surprised with Sir Michael’s impromptu plan, but — as Mr. Howard said for all — they would be delighted to accompany him in his journey. The ladies could barely hide their excitement about leaving the provincial mansion and anticipation of all the pleasures Bath could provide. They mentioned that they would miss Pamela’s company, though she was sure they would forget about her existence as soon as the carriage crossed the front gate of Dunder Hall. Mr. Flenderson was taken aback with the necessity of leaving the next day, but, after the short consideration, he confessed to Pamela that his visit, for sure, lingered more than he expected. He was not going to Bath with the rest and planned to return to London; Mr. Flenderson expressed the hope to return to Yorkshire soon, and Pamela could not help but remember Miss Flax’s observation. What Mr. Howard, as well as Mr. Halpert, thought about the sudden leaving, remained obscure for Pamela. They were busy with Sir Michael while she was engulfed with preparations; they, unlike the rest, did not seek her company or service. 

The last evening in Dunder Hall went quietly. Pamela, as well as Miss Flax, was not invited to join the company, but they did not expect the invitation after all that had happened. Pamela excused herself, giving her headache as reason, and went to her chamber, where she spent the night sleepless and fighting tears. 

She saw him and talked to him, witnessed his connection with another woman, and listened both to his quips and kind words. Pamela had buried her hopes years ago, and yet, the inevitability of their parting for the second time opened her old wounds and left her heart sore and bleeding. She wished he had never returned; Pamela had found the strength to live after being left alone once, and prayed to recover again, though she already knew it would be much harder than before. 

In the morning, Pamela dressed and combed her hair; cold water washed away the stains of tears and gave her cheeks a little colour. She was ready to play the role of obedient housekeeper a bit more. 

While Sir Michael and his guests had their breakfast, Pamela kept track of how luggage was loaded. 

‘Where is Sir Michael’s writing box?’ Kevin asked. 

‘It has to be in the library,’ said Pamela and, as the valet dropped a hatbox and turned to go inside, added, ‘I shall bring it. Finish with the rest meanwhile.’ 

Pamela went to the library and made a few steps inside the library room before realising she was not alone in there. Mr. Halpert was looking absentmindedly at the books; he turned to her as soon as doors were opened as if taken by surprise, and Pamela fought an urge to run away. 

‘I am sorry if I bothered you, I shall take Sir Michael’s belongings and leave,’ she said, looking anywhere but at him and reaching for the package quickly. 

‘No, please, wait,’ Mr. Halpert said. ‘You did not bother me at all. In fact, I hoped to talk to you.’ 

She froze in her tracks and raised her eyes to look at him; his gaze, though, traced the lines of the ornament on the carpet. 

‘About three years ago,’ he started, ‘I met Sir Michael in the city when he returned from the West Indies. Truth be told, I was seeking this meeting. He was glad to see me, and we were talking about many and many trivial issues before I dared to ask about you.’ 

‘Oh,’ was the only thing Pamela could manage to say. 

‘I asked him as if it was nothing instead of everything ‘How is Mrs. Anderson?’ and his answer,’ he stumbled for a moment as if the only memory of it caused him suffering, ‘and his answer was ‘I do not know for sure, but Pamela said she was happy.’'

Pamela gripped the writing box tighter. 

‘She was,’ she said at last, and finally, Mr. Halpert looked at her incredulously. ‘My younger sister, Penelope, had married Mr. Anderson and when Sir Michael asked me about the news in the village, I told him about her happiness without hesitation and second thoughts.’ 

He looked at her now. 

‘And you?’ Mr. Halpert asked. ‘Were you?..’

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘I was not.’ 

They stood five steps apart, watching each other and unable to say anything. And, before one of them spoke, another voice appeared. 

‘Pamela! Pamela, dear, where are you? I need your assistance.’ 

Pamela closed her eyes. As usual, Sir Michael chose the worst time for the intrusion. 

‘You should probably go,’ Mr. Halpert said quietly. ‘Sir Michael does not like to wait.’ 

‘I should,’ Pamela agreed, resigning. ‘Goodbye, Mr. Halpert.’ 

She curtsied, he bowed, and she went away, trembling inside and barely keeping her body from shaking as well. Luckily, Sir Michael gave her enough distraction. 

‘Ah, here you are! Is it my writing box? Capital! But I cannot find that walking stick with an elephant knob? Where could it be?’ 

She found the needed object, but when she did that, the time of departure came. She stood on the porch of the mansion with the rest of the servants while Sir Michael was saying his verbose farewells. His guests did not bother themselves with saying anything to domestics; only Mr. Flenderson gave Pamela a small smile, and Mr. Halpert looked at her wistfully before he mounted his horse. Finally, Sir Michael took his seat in the carriage; in a few minutes, they were gone. 

Pamela felt numb; emptiness filled her chest, and she could equally burst into tears or spend the rest of the day doing her duties. But before she did one or another, she needed to return to the library; the unfinished conversation bothered her like a sore tooth. One way or another, coming into the library felt like ending it. 

She stepped into the room quietly, as if she might bother the quietness of books and memories. Mr. Halpert had stood there, she recalled; she still had a vivid image of him before her eyes. What had he been going to say? Perhaps, she would never know. Pamela went to the table, where he had been less than half an hour ago; when she did that, her eyes fell on the small white envelope with her name on it. 

Her fingers trembled so badly it took her two attempts to open it. But when she managed to do that, she clutched a piece of paper, scribbled with the familiar handwriting. 

‘Miss Beesly, 

I have to go, but I cannot do that without speaking to you in the only possible way I have. 

I love you, Miss Beesly; I had loved you since the day we met and never stopped even in the days when I cursed myself for visiting Yorkshire in the first place. I tried to forget you, telling myself you made your choice and nursing my own bleeding heart, but refusing you is the same as refusing breathing. You became my everything; you fill every moment of my existence. 

I had no desire to return to Dunder Hall to watch your happiness without the slightest chance to be the man who shares it with you; I tried to harden my heart against you, reminding myself about all of your weaknesses, the real ones and those I have imagined. But since the first day, when I found out that you did not change your name, when I was watching the disregard you were treated with, my determination to ignore you turned into dust and became torture. I remember too well how distressed you were when I allowed myself to express my feelings the other time; for the sake of keeping your inner peace, I would remain silent. But that conversation I had overheard — I hope you will forgive me that my intrusion — resurrected the faint hope I had once. 

I shall return — as soon as I shall be allowed — and I shall say these words in person. But if my hope was born out of misinterpretation and wishful thinking, I shall read the sign and bother you no more with my presence. 

Devotedly yours, 

J.H.’

Pamela had to sit; her knees were so weak she would have fallen otherwise. She read the letter for the second, third time. Could it be possible that all she did not dare to think about might come true? Or was it just a cruel, merciless joke? But she read the letter again and again and believed every written word. And the meaning of it made her restless. 

He would return! In a week, a month, or a year, but he would return! Just this morning, she had sought the strength to humble herself with his eternal loss; but now she needed that strength to remain patient. Pamela felt as the walls of the library room squeezed around her, and the air tasted stale in her mouth. She had to have a walk; the fresh air and movement might help her to place her thoughts in order. 

The mansion was quiet and half-empty; the servants took the leaving of the master as an excuse to slack, and any other day Pamela would find each of them something to busy themselves with, but today she was the first one to leave, slipping through the garden gate and going toward the moorlands. 

Pamela did not know how long she was wandering among the hills; she barely noticed the blooming of undemanding moorland flowers or the warm wind on her face. The whole her world narrowed to the letter she still held tightly in her hand; she climbed the Heather Hill while not realising what she was doing. 

But then a little spot in the distance caught her attention. Her heart raced in her chest; could it be?.. She watched as it came closer, and she could recognise now the horse and the familiar stature of the rider. Her eyes widened in disbelief; she was unable to hide the genuine smile and had no intention to do that. Little by little, she went downhill to meet him. 

Mr. Halpert’s face was pale and expressed disturbance. But as soon as he recognised Pamela, noticed the letter in her hand and the smile on her face, his countenance changed into the hopeful one. A grin appeared on his face — the one Pamela did not know she had missed so much. 

‘Excuse me, miss,’ he said, ‘could you help me and show the way to Dunder Hall? I am afraid I am terribly late for meeting with my fiancée.’ 

‘I shall gladly show you the path, good sir,’ answered Pamela. ‘But are you sure you agreed to meet with her there? Not, say, in London or halfway to Bath?’ 

 ‘I am sure,’ he said as he dismounted his horse and took her hand in his. ‘I have never been more sure in my life.’