Tears sprung to Hannah’s eyes, and she looked to the ceiling, blinking fiercely to keep her emotions at bay.
“The moment you arrived in Cornwall, though,” he continued, “we saw a glimpse of your blue eyes shining like they used to. We finally felt as if our little Hannah had come home to us.”
She looked at him and saw the moisture brimming in his own eyes, the color the same shade of blue as hers.
“And I cannot help but wonder,” Mr. Summerfield said, “if the light returning to your eyes is due to you being in Cornwall…or because you have finally been reunited with Thomas.”
Tears spilled down Hannah’s cheeks, her voice breaking as she spoke. “Both. It has always been both.” Her chin quivered. “Oh, Grandpapa, I don’t know what to do. I’m certain Thomas thinks there is something between Mr. Hawkins and I, and Mr. Hawkins might believe the very same. But I cannot marry him, no matter how greatly Mother pressures me to do so.” Her stomach churned. “Oh, but how is she to stand the gossip that will arise when we do not marry? All of London will surely know. And what if your names are tarnished here, as well, for having such a fickle granddaughter? But then, if I do accept—”
“My dear,” her grandfather interrupted softly, “to put others before yourself is a noble cause, but when the deed prevents one’s own happiness, nothing but misery follows for everyone involved.” He withdrew a handkerchief from his jacket and wiped away her tears. “Tell me now. What is it you want?”
Hannah paused. What did she want? What did she want? For so long, she had done what her mother had expected, and she had lost herself in the process. She had not truly considered her own desires in three years.
Images of her mother’s disapproving frown and Mr. Hawkins’s hurt expression bounced around in her mind until she finally managed to clear her thoughts. And when she did, all that was left behind were Thomas’s hazel eyes and ready smile.
Her chest swelled. She raised her chin and nodded. She knew exactly what she wanted.
“I want to be with Thomas.”
Mr. Summerfield smiled, his wrinkles deepening. “There you are.” He patted her hand. “Now, you know what must be done.”
She nodded, wiping away her remaining tears, courage replacing any lingering fears. “Yes, I must speak with him, tell him the truth.”
A breathlessness rose up within her, her chest filling with hope. Finally, she felt like the person she was before she had left, only more confident and determined in her desire to be with Thomas.
“I will go to him now.” She stood, but her grandfather softly grasped her wrist to prevent her from leaving.
“There is someone else who also deserves the truth, Hannah,” he whispered as he stood, “even before Thomas.”
His eyes motioned behind her, and she glanced back to see Mr. Hawkins emerge at the top of the stairs, dark circles beneath his eyes.
Her heart dropped, and she turned back to her grandfather. “Now?”
He nodded. “Now, flower.”
With an encouraging smile, he disappeared down the side hallway, and Hannah turned around to face Mr. Hawkins, willing herself to remember who she was…and who she loved.
Chapter Ten
Mr. Hawkins bowed when he reached the bottom of the stairs. “Miss Summerfield.”
“Good morning, Mr. Hawkins,” she said. “I trust you slept well?”
“I did, thank you,” he responded with strained politeness. “Your grandparents were generous enough to offer me a room.”
Hannah nodded, noting the dismal curve of his lips, the lines creasing his brow. Her stomach churned. Mr. Hawkins’s friendship had been a welcome distraction to the misery she had felt in London, and for that, she would be forever grateful. She did not wish to hurt him, but her grandfather was right. The man deserved the truth.
She faced him squarely. “Mr. Hawkins, I must apologize for last night. You rode a great distance to seek after my well-being, and I did not express to you my gratitude for you doing so. I am sorry.”
Mr. Hawkins shook his head. “All is well. I could see you were…preoccupied.”
“I was. And I admit, I am still. And I now beg your forgiveness for what I am about to say, as it—”
“Please,” Mr. Hawkins interrupted, “you must allow me to speak first. I have come here to make my intentions known concerning the future of our relationship.”
“Mr. Hawkins, don’t,” she gently pleaded.
“But I must, Miss Summerfield,” he continued, his dark blue eyes focusing on the chandelier, the flooring, the banister, anywhere but her. “This is why I have come all the way from London, to ask for your hand in marriage.”
Hannah winced. Why did he have to say it? Could he not see how she wished him to remain silent? She perused his face, wondering how to refuse the man gently, before she noticed the color of his cheeks turning slightly gray.
“Mr. Hawkins, are…are you ill?”
“I am well. I merely await your reply.”
Confusion swirled within her. Why did he appear so woeful? Was he not happy to propose? Perhaps he knew she meant to reject him, but how?
“Forgive me,” she began delicately. “I am quite flattered at your proposal, but I fear I must refuse you.”
He took a step back with a puzzled brow. “Refuse me? May I ask why?”
Her tone was firm, but she spoke the words carefully. “Because I love another.”
“You do?” Mr. Hawkins blanched before his eyes rounded. “Your friend, Mr. Causey?”
She blushed. “Yes.”
“Ah,” he managed to mutter. “May I ask how long you have loved him?”
“Since long before I came to London.”
He silently nodded. The poor man. He must be so very distraught. After all, to have one’s love unreturned and a marriage proposal rejected would be dreadful.
Yet, did his stance straighten? Why did he appear more confused than upset?
“Mr. Hawkins, I am truly sorry if I have ever done anything to lead you to believe that I might love you more than as my friend.”
His eyes narrowed. “So…to be perfectly clear, you do not love me?”
“I am sorry. No.”
“Then why did my mother, and yours, say that you did? Is this not why you came to Cornwall? Because you feared I might not return your love?”
Her hand flew to her mouth to stifle the laughter escaping her lips. Leaving London for fear of Mr. Hawkins not proposing? What an idea! “Forgive me, but that is quite the opposite of why I fled.” Her smile soon faded away, replaced with a disbelieving scowl. “My mother said I was in love with you?”
He nodded in earnest. “Yes.”
She shook her head, her lips pressed tightly together. When would she ever stop being surprised at her mother’s trickery? “My mother told me that your mother said that you loved me.” She could see him attempting to work out her words as she continued, her mind whirling. “Indeed, I left for fear of her urging me to accept your proposal because a rejection might hurt you.”
His jaw twitched, realization lighting in his eyes. “My mother. Will she ever stop her meddling?” He sighed heavily. “Hannah, you must forgive me. For all of this.”
A weight began to lift from around her shoulders, a warm sensation kindling in her chest. Before she could allow herself to hope, however, she pulled back. “Mr. Hawkins, do you love me?”
A light smile stretched across his lips. “No, I do not.”
Her mouth parted with a sigh of relief before she shook her head. “Then why on earth are you here, proposing?”
With a sigh, Mr. Hawkins adjusted his cravat, looking very much as if he wished to remove the tight fabric from around his neck. “As I said, I was told your departure from London was evidence that you wished to marry me. Our mothers said that all of London believed an understanding existed between us, and if I did not follow you, your reputation would be ruined. Not to mention, both of our mothers would skin me alive.”
He
sighed, reaching for her hand and kissing the back of her fingers. The familiar confidence and kindness she had always associated with Mr. Hawkins returned, as did the color in his cheeks. “Miss Summerfield, I enjoy your company immensely. You were my one friend in London whose mind was filled with more than what to wear to the next ball and how to style your hair in the latest fashion. However, I cannot tell you how very relieved I am—please, do not be offended—that you are not in love with me.”
Hannah laughed, relief washing over her. “Mr. Hawkins, I am so pleased to hear you say that! Oh, what a mess our mothers have made for us.”
“Yes, and I will return straightaway to tell them what their interfering has done. Perhaps I ought to force them to inform all of London about their meddlesome actions. I fear their mouths have run away with them since my departure. I sincerely apologize if this does taint your reputation.”
“Oh,” she said, brushing aside his words with a wave of her hand, “worry not. That does not matter to me. Not out here, at any rate. But what of yours?”
He shrugged, appearing thoughtful. “Perhaps this is just the sort of thing that needed to happen for me to finally leave London behind. You know, I never cared for it. We have that in common, at the very least.” He smiled. “Well, I am certainly happy this has all been resolved for the better.”
Hannah dipped her head down, frowning. “I fear not everything has been resolved. Thomas—Mr. Causey…I believe he might suspect you and I are engaged.”
“Oh, that is not right,” Mr. Hawkins said, frowning. “No. Shall I speak with him? Tell him the truth of the matter?”
“That is very kind of you,” she said, “but I must speak with him myself.”
“Of course,” he said with a quick nod. “I shall not keep you a moment longer then. I will leave for London as soon as I can.”
He turned on his heel and made to return upstairs before she called after him. “Oh, Mr. Hawkins?” He paused on the first step. “I was meaning to ask, was my mother so very upset with my departure?”
“She was worried, yes. She sent for me the moment she discovered your absence, asking me to ride after you. I believe she knew, though, that your determination would see you arrive in Cornwall safely.”
Hannah bit her lip. “Will you wait just one moment for me?”
He quirked a curious brow but nodded, and Hannah darted from the room to the nearby study.
Quickly, she scribbled out a note.
Mother,
Please forgive me for leaving Town without speaking to you first. I know you wished me to marry Mr. Hawkins, but I do not love him. I did not have the opportunity to forge a relationship with Father before he died, but I still long for one with you. I hope my actions do not damage our chance. Just as I hope the deceit you have used to keep me in London does not destroy the future I have chosen for myself. I pray we may one day forgive each other.
I can only trust now that you wish for my happiness. If you do, Mother, please know that I am happy, as I always have been in Cornwall. And I always will be. I am happy here amidst the wildflowers and moors, near the sea and the cliffsides.
And I am happy here with those I love. I hope you will one day understand.
With all my love,
Hannah
Quickly, she folded, sealed, and addressed the letter to her mother before returning to Mr. Hawkins.
“Please, will you give this to my mother?” she asked. “And, if you are to tell her about what has occurred…would you mind so very much leaving out any mention of Mr. Causey? She may not react favorably to his name, and I should like to see her reaction in person.”
With an amused grin, Mr. Hawkins accepted the letter and tucked it into his jacket. “It would be my pleasure, Miss Summerfield.” And he tipped his head to her before making his way upstairs.
As he departed, a sudden urgency welled up within Hannah to find Thomas and explain. Gone was the constrained woman from before, her worries dissipating and mind clearing.
Darting through the doorway, she left the manor behind, hardly noticing the rumbling thunder in the distance and the falling rain speckling her dress as she ran across the fields in the direction of Leighton House.
Chapter Eleven
The gray waves crashed upon the shore and rushed toward Thomas, who stood just out of the reach of the water frothing white on the darkened sand. He hardly noticed his shirt soaked through with rain, too preoccupied were his thoughts.
After all, it was his fault he and Hannah would never be together. He could have done something—anything when she was in London. Urged her to return to Cornwall, expressed his love to her in writing, even gone after her himself. He had feared rejection when her letters had stopped, but he should have realized her mother was behind it. Even knowing as much then, however, did not stop the ache within his heart.
Raindrops ran down his skin, and the bitter wind whistled in his ears. The cold air of the storm numbed his senses, and he welcomed it.
“Thomas?”
He held his breath. Had he imagined her voice above the sound of the roaring sea? He must have. She would no doubt be eating breakfast with her betrothed.
If only to rid himself of the dreadful image of Hannah laughing and smiling with the man she truly loved, Thomas turned around. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the woman actually walking toward him. Her hair was plastered against the sides of her face, her pink dress dripping wet, but she smiled, her dimples deep.
He narrowed his eyes. Why did she appear so happy?
“What are you doing here, Hannah?” he asked.
She stopped a few paces away from him. “I was on my way to Leighton House when I remembered how you enjoyed the sea during a storm. So I came here first, hoping to find you.”
His throat constricted, making it hard for him to swallow. Hannah knew him as well as he knew her. But what was it all for if they were not to be together?
“You must be cold,” he said, noting her lack of gloves, bonnet, and covering.
A sheepish grin graced her pink lips. “Yes, I left rather hastily.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, water falling to his brow. “Why are you not with Mr. Hawkins?”
She took a step toward him. “Because he has returned to London to issue a rather stern reprimand to our mothers.”
Thomas frowned. Their mothers? What did she mean? “Are you not to return with him then?”
She shook her head, and a spark of hope ignited in his heart.
“Why?” he asked.
A slow smile spread across her lips, and a frenzy arose within Thomas at the sight, his chest billowing with unrestrained hope. He rushed toward her, grasping her upper arms and staring down into her wide, blue eyes.
“Why are you not going with him, Hannah?”
Hannah stared up at Thomas, blinking away the drops that fell upon her lashes. The fear, the hope in his eyes, caused her breath to catch in her throat.
“Because,” she began, smiling once more, “he does not love me, and I…I love someone else.”
His brow softened, lines near his eyes crinkling as a smile crossed his lips. “Do you?”
She nodded. “In London, I was but a mere shadow of myself. The only thing keeping me from floating away forever was the small thread that tethered me to Cornwall, and to you. I could not be who I really was amidst the fine dances and the parties I attended. I could not be whole, for I had left behind a part of myself in Cornwall. My heart, with you.”
She drew in a trembling breath, the love she had for him overpowering every thought.
He closed the distance between them, softly resting his forehead upon her own. She closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of his person as the rain dripped from his hair to slide down her temples.
His hands slipped around her face, her heart thumping against her chest as his thumb wiped away the rain and tears from her cheek. “You have been my dearest friend, Hannah, since we met upon this very beach as children. My feelings f
or you have only strengthened over the years, growing into a deep and lasting love. I can only hope that our childhood was merely the beginning of our lives together. That there will be many more races for me to win upon Tregalwen.”
She laughed, shaking her head at his teasing. He joined in with laughter of his own before sobering once more. “Will you marry me, my love? So our memories together along these shores might never end?”
Hannah could not contain her smile. “Of course I will marry you, Thomas.”
His lips found hers at once, firm yet gentle, and Hannah’s knees trembled. The wind and rain swirled around them, the waves pounded upon the sand, but she focused entirely on Thomas and the love they shared. She never thought she could be so happy or feel such peace again. But as Thomas held her in his arms, she knew she was where she belonged.
She pulled back for a moment, staring up at him with twinkling eyes. “You may rest assured, though, when we have children of our own, I will raise them to be splendid riders, just so they may beat you in a race and teach you a little humility.”
His deep laughter created a lightness within her she prayed would remain forever. “I would expect no less from you, Hannah.” He wrapped his arms around her. “Just so long as you do not raise them to torment our servants, as well.”
She laughed, locking her hands at the back of his neck as she pulled him in for another kiss. He responded with a sigh deep within his chest.
Hannah had thought she could not love the man any more than she did, but as each moment passed by, her love, born from years of waiting, of longing, expanded in her soul.
And she knew, with joy sailing throughout her body as powerful as the waves of the sea, that their love would last. For theirs was a love that could not be weakened by time nor distance. Theirs was a love that would remain strong forever.
Theirs was a love that was true.
THE END
Titles by Deborah M. Hathaway
On The Shores 0f Tregalwen (A Cornish Romance Book 0.5) Page 7
