“Is that why you left?” he asked, reaching her side. “Because of the lighthouse?”
She couldn’t answer. A fresh wave of sorrow spilled over her conscience at his clear attempt to understand her actions. The darkness hid her tears sliding down her cheeks, but she dared not look up at him.
He continued. “You should have told me. We could have left together. Even earlier, if you wished.”
Her temples pounded. Regret filled her every nerve. Though, she could not have told Gavin everything. That would mean admitting to Mrs. Stedman’s plan—and acknowledging Abigail’s humiliation at seeing it coming to fruition.
She felt something soft against her arm. Gavin extended her shawl—new from Mrs. Follett’s—toward her. She’d left in such a hurry, she’d forgotten it. She accepted the wrap, grasping the folds of fine fabric in her hand and allowing the rest to trail in the air behind her.
She needed to talk to him, to be honest. He would understand. He had to understand. “I did not leave early because I was worried about the lighthouse.”
He was silent for a moment. “Then why did you? The others were no doubt surprised by your abrupt departure.”
So he was embarrassed by her actions. The knowledge hammered another nail in the barrier surrounding her heart.
“Did you leave because you no longer wished to be there?” he asked.
“No, of course not. Well, perhaps a little. But I…I left because I do not belong there.”
“At Pryvly House? Why would you not?”
She struggled to find the right words to explain. Of course Gavin could not understand her feelings. How could he, when he belonged everywhere, with everyone?
“Abigail,” he said, a hint of frustration in his tone, “I am striving for patience, but I must confess, I cannot understand why you are so unkind to the Stedmans.”
Her feet stopped. Her eyes narrowed as she turned toward him.
She could barely see his face through the shadows. “Why I am unkind to them?”
“Well, yes. You spoke very little to either of them, you hardly touched your food, you refused to share a poem, denying their efforts to include you. And now you leave without a word to anyone, in the middle of Miss Stedman’s performance? It is bad form, Abigail. Surely you see this.”
Abigail couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Gavin was truly siding with the Stedmans? Her nostrils flared. “You have the audacity to say I have behaved badly…and mention nothing of how Mrs. Stedman has treated me?”
“How has she treated you, Abigail? Please, enlighten me, as I have found nothing adverse with her conduct at all.”
Her defenses doubled. Any guilt she had felt before over leaving early, over causing Gavin embarrassment, vanished and was quickly replaced with anger.
“Of course you did not see it,” she said, her tone low and biting. “You were far too occupied with Miss Stedman to notice anything else.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Why do you not return to the party and enjoy Miss Stedman’s presence while the night is young? You clearly prefer her well-bred elegance to anything I could ever be.”
“What do you mean?”
She could not deny his innocent tone, but she still backed away from him. “You and I both know Miss Stedman is vastly superior to me in every way. I see that now…and that I will never be enough for you.”
Her words tasted bitter, even to her own tongue, but she could not hold them back. With a final shake of her head, she raised her skirts and sailed across the grass, praying for swift, clean footing across the unstable land.
Tears burned her eyes, her side ached with pain, but she refused to stop. And as Golowduyn’s light appeared in the distance, she ran toward the safety of her home. Once inside, she climbed the stairs, her pace slowing step-by-step until finally, she reached the top of the tower.
With a deep breath, she opened the door.
Lieutenant Harris stood from the cot, his eyebrows drawn high in surprise. “Mrs. Kendricks? I did not expect you to…Has something happened, ma’am?”
She tried to catch her breath. “No, sir. I must thank you for your help this evening, but we will no longer need you to watch over the lamps. Tonight, or in future.”
“Have I done something wrong, Mrs. Kendricks?” he asked. His cheery countenance had disappeared. “I have only now just checked the lamps, and everything seems to be in proper order. I—”
“No,” she said. “This is in no way because of you. I will simply be remaining at Golowduyn from this point forth.”
She could feel his hesitation but could say nothing more. She was too overcome with guilt for dismissing him.
“Very well,” he said after a moment. “Goodnight, ma’am.”
She ignored his dejected tone. She was right to relieve him of his service. She had every intention of remaining at the lighthouse forevermore, at least while the lamps required lighting. This was her home, the only thing she needed to be happy. If Gavin required more to be satisfied, then he was free to attend other parties. But she would no longer go with him.
She turned to the watch room window, dropping her shawl onto the cot and folding her arms as she watched Golowduyn’s light shining above the ocean.
Soon, loud footsteps echoed up the stairs, interrupting her solitude. “Abigail!”
Her courage nearly vanished, but she squared her shoulders. She had done nothing wrong. And Gavin would soon find that out.
He entered the room in the next moment, his eyes narrowed furiously and his jaw tight. “Abigail, did you dismiss Lieutenant Harris?”
“Yes.”
His voice boomed in the quiet room. “Why?”
“Because I will not be attending another dinner party.”
He took a step toward her, his broad chest heaving. “How can you say something so absurd?”
She whirled around to face him, his words striking a chord of pain within her. “Is it absurd to want to keep myself from cruel words and unkind actions?”
“I assume you refer to Mrs. Stedman again?”
“Of course I refer to her. You must have been blind, indeed, not to have noticed the woman throwing her daughter’s accomplishments at your feet throughout the evening. And you must be oblivious to have not heard their slights about my appearance and lack of accomplishments.”
Gavin stared at her, clearly confused before he held his hands in the air as if to secede.
“Very well. We need not quarrel over what was said or done any longer. I merely…Abigail, can you not move past these affronts? You will make yourself miserable by dwelling on them.”
“Miserable?” Angry tears sprouted in her eyes. Surely he did not mean what he said. Surely he spoke out of irritation. But then, even if he did, that did not stop the hurt and pain that spilled forth from her words. “You dare speak to me of misery when you know not what it is to experience it? You don’t know what the state of my life was before Golowduyn. At school, I was scolded, shamed, beaten, and scarred—physically and emotionally—simply because of my parents’ choices.”
She took a step toward him, whispering with vehemence, her tears spilling down her cheeks. “I am far happier alone at Golowduyn than I could ever be prancing about in front of others. Especially the Stedmans. They, just like everyone else, have treated me in a disgusting manner. And I refuse to fall prey to it any longer.”
Gavin was silent for a moment, staring at the floor. But when his eyes raised to meet hers, she could see his own hurt reflected in their dark depths.
“Do I treat you in the same manner, Abigail?” he asked. “Do you not see how I care for you?”
She looked away, too afraid to respond with what she prayed was the truth, fearing that it wasn’t.
“If you do not,” he continued, “then what are we doing here?”
She shook her head. “I do not know, Captain.”
She waited, hoping, praying he would say something more, something to breach the barricades around
her heart. But his footsteps retreated down the stairs, and she was left alone with an ache in her heart she was sure would never leave.
Chapter Ten
Abigail awoke the next morning with a dull ache in her temples. She had spent a restless night in the frigid watch room, waking up disoriented before memories of the previous night flooded her mind.
She extinguished the lamps and trimmed the wicks as light poured in through the windows of the lamp room. The sun warmed her cold, aching limbs, but she hardly felt it as regret consumed her. She knew Gavin would have understood her actions had he simply known the truth. But her fears and humiliation had prevented her from speaking clearly with him.
She took the stairs slowly, dreading the mere thought of facing Gavin when she reached the bottom. She would have to apologize for her behavior. She would have to be honest—even if knowing Mrs. Stedman’s words about Abigail caused Gavin to discover his mistake in marrying her. For not only was she unaccomplished and unbecoming, she was also unladylike.
She reached the bottom of the stairs and heard a rhythmic hammering coming from the sitting room. She moved slowly forward. She knew she must look a sorry sight. She had not changed last night out of her yellow gown, and her hair had all but fallen out of its pins.
She would have changed before approaching Gavin, but she did not want things to remain strained between them any longer. She could not bear his unhappiness, or for him to think she didn’t appreciate the things he had done for them, so she made her way to the sitting room and stood in the doorway, unnoticed as he worked.
He hammered a new slab of wood into the floor near the back window. The old piece had been long since warped from rain water that spilled in during storms. She hadn’t mentioned it needed fixing, yet he had noticed it still.
His jacket lay on the back of a nearby chair, and his waistcoat was unfasted at the top, though it still stretched over his broad shoulders.
She cleared her throat. “Gavin?”
He stopped for a moment to look up at her with a blank stare. He hardly seemed aware of her unkempt appearance. She hesitated, unsure of where to begin. An apology? A confession? Begging for forgiveness?
Before she could even begin, a knock sounded at the door. “Are you expecting someone?”
He shook his head in silence.
She stared down the hallway, afraid to move. How could she answer the door looking in such a way? And even worse, what if the Stedmans were behind the door, coming to comfort Gavin after his wife’s rude departure? They would surely be there to show him that Miss Stedman, a true lady, would never have behaved in such a way.
Her blood boiled at the thought. She’d had just about enough of the Stedmans. Yes, she would tell Gavin everything—just as soon as she chased the women off of her property.
Images of her brandishing a broom overhead flashed in her mind just before she opened the door. But to her surprise, another woman stood before her.
“Mrs. Summerfield,” she greeted, pulling back in pleasant surprise. She much preferred a visit from this woman. She was not here to steal away her husband.
“Good morning, Mrs. Kendricks,” she greeted. Her cheeks were rosy from the cool morning air.
“Do come in.” She allowed the woman inside.
As Abigail led the way to the sitting room, she smoothed down her skirts self-consciously.
Gavin stood as they entered. “Good morning,” he greeted with a bow. “To what do we owe the pleasure?”
Mrs. Summerfield glanced between them. “Well, I have come to speak with Mrs. Kendricks, if I may.”
Abigail swallowed. She was going to be confronted about last night. Would Mrs. Summerfield tell her how displeased the whole party was with her behavior, as well?
She caught Gavin’s eyes upon her, as if he silently asked if she wished to be left alone. She gave a discreet nod before he gathered his jacket and excused himself.
When Gavin had left the house, Abigail motioned for Mrs. Summerfield to take a seat near the crackling fire.
“I must apologize for coming so early, Mrs. Kendricks, and with no notice,” Mrs. Summerfield began as she sat across from her. “I will not speak for long, as I know you are busy.”
A curl fell across Abigail’s brow, and she quickly smoothed it aside.
Mrs. Summerfield, in comparison to Abigail’s disheveled look, appeared very much like a painting. She sat with her hands folded in her lap, feet tucked to the side of her and back straight. Her hair was smooth, and she had a lively look to her eyes. However, she made no notion that she disapproved of Abigail’s appearance at all.
Still, Abigail fidgeted with the lace above her shoulder. “What did you wish to speak with me about?”
“Well, after you left in such a hurry, I wanted to look after you to ensure you were well.”
Abigail forced a pleasant look. “Oh, of course. I merely left to see to the light.” Her words were not entirely untrue.
“I see.” Mrs. Summerfield didn’t appear to be convinced. “I thought you might have left because of Mrs. Stedman’s words, during her daughter’s performance.”
Abigail’s ears burned. She did not know anyone else had heard.
“I’m sure I can hardly remember what was said.”
“Then you are a better woman than I am, Mrs. Kendricks,” Mrs. Summerfield stated, shaking her head. “She was cruel. Such things should never be spoken, especially concerning a guest in her own home. I really must apologize for her behavior, and for not standing up to her myself the moment it occurred.”
Abigail’s brow rose. “Oh, please, don’t apologize. You were the one person last night who made me forget about my miserable state in that awful home.”
She blushed at her blunt words, but Mrs. Summerfield’s expression softened.
“I understand,” she said. “After you left, the party dispersed, and I was very grateful. Mrs. Stedman is fine in smaller doses, I have come to discover.”
Abigail’s defenses lowered, relieved the woman was not there to chastise her. They sat in silence before Mrs. Summerfield stood.
“Well, as I said, I do not wish to take too much of your time.” She paused, hesitating only a moment before saying, “Mrs. Kendricks, if ever you need a friend, know that you have one in me. And my granddaughter, as well.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Summerfield, for your kindness. I admit, it has been much needed today.”
At the woman’s caring smile, Abigail cleared her throat before any of the tears welling in her eyes could be shed. And all thoughts of her untidiness vanished as she led Mrs. Summerfield from the lighthouse.
* * *
Gavin wished he could have stayed in the sitting room to hear the conversation that had taken place between Abigail and Mrs. Summerfield, especially when he saw the two women embracing outside of the house before Mrs. Summerfield rode away in her carriage.
He stood at the side of the lighthouse, his progress in painting the door of the oil hutch halted as he watched Abigail wave goodbye to the carriage before she turned back to the house. Their eyes met, and Gavin pulled his attention back to the door. Sliding the paintbrush up and down in smooth strokes, he waited as she walked up to him in silence.
“How was your visit?” he asked with a glance in her direction. She did not look angry, nor happy. In fact, she looked surprisingly placid as she leaned against the house with her fingers interlaced before her. Though her hair hung to the side and her ribbon was missing from around her waist, she was still appealing. Just as she always was.
“It was pleasant,” Abigail replied.
“And how is Mrs. Summerfield?”
“She is well.” She said nothing more.
Gavin refused to be reeled into the conversation further. If Abigail wished to say something more, then she could do so on her own. He would not press her for more information.
“What did she wish to speak with you about?” Blast his curiosity.
“She wanted to see if I was well after
last night.”
“I see.”
“Gavin?”
He looked away from the oil hutch. Her soft tone threatened to ease the anger still simmering from the night before. “Yes?”
“I would like to apologize for last night,” she began. “I did not intend to leave Pryvly House in such a manner. But things escalated rather quickly, and I am sorry for it.”
Her apology instantly humbled him, and his own words spoken in anger promptly came to the forefront of his mind. He dropped his brush into the small tin of paint nearby and wiped his hands on a rag.
“I am sorry, as well,” he said, approaching her. “I should not have spoken so unkindly.”
“I understand why you did.”
He hesitated. “Yes, but, Abigail, I still do not understand why you did.”
“I know. Which is why I should like to explain now, if you have a moment.”
He tossed the rag across his shoulder and folded his arms comfortably across his chest. “Of course, I am happy to listen.”
Her blue eyes dropped as she moved the grass back and forth nearby with the tip of her boot. “I fear the dinner party was fated to end in such a way. My defenses were on the rise the moment they delivered the invitation. You see, I overheard Mrs. Stedman speaking to her daughter before I answered the door. She said that…” A redness slowly crept across her cheeks. “She said that you would one day grow tired of me as your wife, and that you would seek comfort in the arms of another. Namely, her daughter.”
Gavin’s arms fell to his sides, his eyebrows low. “She said that?”
“Yes. She did.”
Her words were firm, and Gavin knew at once that she spoke the truth. And yet, he could hardly believe it. How could the woman dare to speak such things? To even think such things? “I…I had no idea.”
Abigail cast him a dubious look. “You mean you did not take notice of Mrs. Stedman’s marked comments about her daughter’s accomplishments, simply to outshine my own abilities—or lack thereof?”
“Well, most mothers behave in the same regard,” he said, still trying to make sense of her words. “I thought she merely spoke in such a way for Mr. Burke to take notice of Miss Stedman.”
Behind The Light 0f Golowduyn (A Cornish Romance Book 1) Page 19
