Leonard stood, or appeared to stand, on the steps leading to the entrance of Elmsly Manor, waiting impatiently for the steam carriage he had sent for Miss Johanna Bronte to arrive. It was a crisp autumn night, and much as Leanna had wanted to stay up to greet her new governess, he had sent her to bed. Rain was threatening, and he would not have his daughter catch her death in the cold and wet, not if he could prevent it.

He wasn’t sure what compelled him to stand outside waiting for Miss Bronte. It was late enough that she would surely wish to seek her bed as soon as possible, and his housekeeper, Mrs. Browne, was more than capable of seeing the woman to her room and directing his small staff to bring whatever possessions she had brought to her. And yet, he took a risk and stood on the steps, the wind blowing falling leaves around him. A careful observer might note that his clothing did not so much as twitch in the same wind that sent the leaves swirling so.

Leonard unconsciously began to reach for his pocket watch before remembering that it would not show the correct time. Surely, Miss Bronte should be here by now. Perhaps the train had been delayed for some reason?