by Bree Wolf
Glancing down at her grandmother, Jo sighed, “I tried not to think about him.” Only too well did she remember the way her heart used to clench painfully whenever her thoughts had strayed to the boy with the easy smile and brilliant blue eyes. Too many days she had spent crying over his loss, reminding herself that nothing would ever bring him back.
“I’ve tried that, too,” her grandmother remarked dryly, “but it was no use.”
Swallowing, Jo bowed her head.
“Do you ever think of Colin?” her grandmother asked, her watchful eyes back on Johanna’s face. “Or have you banned him from your thoughts as well?”
Again, Johanna’s heart clenched, and yet, not in the same way as it did when she thought of Owen. “I tried not to think of either one of them.”
“I see,” her grandmother mumbled. “I admit I’d hoped you two would write to each other. Shared loss is easier to bear.”
Colin Grenville was the only son and heir of Viscount Attington, a man who had all but lost his mind when his wife had died, giving him the son he had always wanted. With his mother gone and his father all but lost to him as well, Colin had come to spend all his time with Owen and his family as their mothers had been distant cousins.
From the very first, it had been the three of them against the world. Together, they had slain dragons, climbed the highest mountains and sought treasures. Always had they stood as one against the often-disapproving looks of their parents. Always had they found joy and laughter in all their endeavours. Always had they walked hand in hand, never leaving one behind.
And so, one afternoon four years ago when Johanna had been locked in her room for running wild yet again, her brave knights Sir Owen and Sir Colin had ridden to the rescue, climbing the tower to Lady Johanna’s chamber in an attempt to free her from the clutches of the evil queen.
If only Sir Owen had not lost his footing as he had attempted to climb in through her window, they could all have lived happily ever after.
“Perhaps that is true,” Jo mumbled, unable to look at her grandmother, “but I think Colin and I would merely remind each other of what happened. I do not think we would be of any comfort to one another.”
“Loss should never be faced alone,” her grandmother stated, a hint of disapproval hardening her voice.
Turning around, Jo grasped her grandmother’s hands. “I was not alone, Grandmamma. I found wonderful friends at school and they helped me see that I cannot live in the past.” She swallowed, forcing a smile onto her face. “I must look to the future and move on. I’m certain Colin has come to realise the same. He has his father and Owen’s family to…” Frowning, Jo broke off when she saw her grandmother’s eyes widen. “What is it?”
Her grandmother sighed, “You know as well as I do that his father is nothing but a shell. He knew not how to grieve his wife then, and he certainly is no help to his son now.”
“But Lord and Lady Sawford, Owen’s parents, they−”
“They blame him.”
Jo’s jaw dropped, and she stared at her grandmother with wide eyes. “W-what?” she stammered, feeling all warmth suddenly drain from her, leaving her cold and shivering.
Squeezing her hands, her grandmother nodded sadly. “I know, it is not fair, but everyone has their own way of handling grief.”
“But how can they?” Jo demanded, anger mixing with sadness and guilt as she remembered that fateful day four years ago. “Colin did nothing wrong. He was not the reason they climbed that tree. I…I was.” Tears welled up in Jo’s eyes. “If I hadn’t run off with them, Mother would not have been so angry and locked me in my room, and then they wouldn’t have…”
“Hush, child,” her grandmother cooed, pulling Johanna into her arms. “What happened was no one’s fault, do you hear? You couldn’t have known what would happen, and neither could they. Owen’s parents do not blame Colin because he was at fault, but because,” she sighed, “because anger is easier to bear than pain and loss. It’s not fair, but it helps them. Perhaps without their anger, they are afraid they’d lose their minds like Colin’s father.”
Clinging to her grandmother, Jo cried four years' worth of tears as all her bottled-up pain and guilt came rushing forward. Deep down, she knew that it had not been her fault that Owen had died. And yet, her traitorous heart often tortured her, reminding her of her wrongdoings, of her selfishness, of her disregard for others.
Always had she done as she had pleased.
But no more.
If the past four years had taught Jo anything, it was that she was not alone in the world, that what she did mattered to others, influenced their lives as much as her own. No, she could no longer be selfish and ignore the way her acts harmed others. All these years, her mother had asked no more of her than to act according to society’s rules. Perhaps it had not been too much to ask after all.
“What happened to Colin?” Jo asked, lifting her head, her grandmother’s image blurred through the curtain of tears clouding her eyes. “Did he return home? To his father?”
Her grandmother shook her head. “As far as I know, he left England.”
“Left England?” Jo’s heart slammed to a halt. “To go where? To do what?”
The touch of a smirk came to her grandmother’s face. “To travel. To see the world. Is that not what the three of you talked about for days on end?”
The three of you.
For as long as Jo could remember, people had always referred to them as the three of them, and she had been proud to be a part of them. To be one of the three. Today, she was only Johanna. Now, she stood alone, and yet, even on the drive up to the house, a part of her had silently expected to see her two childhood friends rush up to greet her and ask to hear tales of the journey she had undertaken.
“You should write to him,” her grandmother urged, her pale blue eyes shining warmly as she looked at her granddaughter. “You’re very much alike, and perhaps you can do for each other what no one has been able to do for you.”
“Perhaps,” Jo mumbled, knowing that she would not write to Colin even though her heart longed to see him. After all, no one, not even her beloved grandmother, knew the whole truth.
All their lives, they had been the three of them, a band of heroes, a group of adventurers until around her fourteenth birthday, not long before the tragedy, Jo had started to look at Colin differently.
Suddenly, she had noticed the way his dark auburn hair curl in the back of his neck or the way his emerald eyes shone on a warm summer’s day. Suddenly, the way he had always smiled at her, bringing out small dimples on the sides of his mouth, had stirred butterflies in her belly. Suddenly, he had not been Colin, one of the three.
From one day to another, he had been Colin, a young man like no other she had ever met.
And in rare moments, Jo had thought to see him look at her with the same bewildered surprise she herself felt every time their eyes met.
With that realisation, Jo had once more come to resent her betrothal to Owen. Certainly, he was her friend. Her best friend even. But not the man she wanted to marry. Still, the choice had been taken out of her hands years ago.
And then Owen had died.
Chapter Three − London Awaits
Three Weeks Later
“I hope you slept well, my dear,” Lady Rawdon said, buttering her roll. “We have a busy day ahead of us.” Her hawk-like eyes glided sideways, sweeping over her daughter with pointed perusal. “Now, that you’ve returned home a fine, young lady, it is imperative that you are seen as one wherever you go. Therefore, I have made an appointment with one of London’s most sought-after modistes.”
Maintaining a soft smile, Johanna looked at her mother, her back straight and her shoulders back. “Yes, Mother, of course.” Out of the corner of her eye, she thought to see a slight frown come to her grandmother’s face as though she somehow disapproved of Johanna’s answer. Her father in turn did not look up from the paper he was hiding behind. For as long as Johanna could remember, he ha
d been less of a family member and more of a constant fixture in the house−there, but easily overlooked.
Unlike her mother-in-law, Lady Rawdon looked particularly pleased with Johanna’s reply. “I must say, my dear, you seem to have become a proper lady after all. I admit I had my doubts when you sneaked into the house upon your return.” Heaving an exasperated sigh, she shook her head. “However, now I find myself wanting to compliment your manners. They’re a far reach from the wayward behaviour you portrayed before. Your time at school has obviously done you good.” A shadow fell over her face, and she inhaled a deep breath. “I should have sent you there sooner,” she mumbled more to herself than those seated around the breakfast table with her. “If only I had done so, that tragedy could have been prevented.”
Inwardly cringing at her mother’s words, Jo clenched her hand around the knife she held, willing herself to remain seated, to remain calm, to keep up appearances, to not portray the pain and guilt that currently assaulted her heart. Did her mother truly think her at fault for Owen’s death?
Don’t you? A familiar voice whispered, and for a moment, Jo closed her eyes, taking in a deep breath.
“No one could have seen that coming,” the dowager baroness said, her voice determined and her eyes compelling as she looked from her daughter-in-law to her granddaughter. “It was an accident, and no one was at fault there.” Her brows rose as she looked at Johanna, imploring her to disregard her mother’s words.
“You misunderstood me,” Lady Rawdon exclaimed, a touch of justification in her tone as she turned her attention from Johanna to her mother-in-law. “I never intended to suggest that Johanna caused poor Owen’s accident. However, the rules for proper conduct exist for a reason, and disregarding them may lead to unexpected and altogether disastrous consequences.”
Johanna tensed when she saw her grandmother’s gaze harden, silently pleading with the old woman to refrain from a reply. More than anything, Johanna wanted peace in her family and not be the cause for further argument and animosities. Unfortunately, her grandmother did not hear her. “Far be it from me to accuse anyone of anything. However, I cannot fail to notice that your words are contradicting. You say you don’t blame her, and then you point out how a lack of social graces affects the outcome of one’s life and the lives of others adversely.”
Clamping her lips shut, Lady Rawdon struggled to maintain her composure at such an open accusation from her mother-in-law. Her face remained still, and yet, her hand clenched around the teacup’s handle in a way that Johanna feared it might break off. “All I said,” she finally replied, her voice calm, and yet, there was a slight tremor to it, “was that nothing is without consequence. And while Johanna acted wrongly, she is no more to blame for poor Owen’s death than I am.” Turning her gaze to her husband−or rather the newspaper barrier he kept between himself and his family whenever possible−she said, “Do you not agree, my lord?”
“Huh?” Lord Rawdon said as he dared glimpse over the rim of his paper, clearly uncomfortable to find all eyes on him. Blinking, he turned to look at his wife. “Certainly, my lady,” he replied, his voice growing quieter as he retreated back behind his paper. “Whatever you say.”
“There you have it,” Lady Rawdon exclaimed, a hint of triumph in her eyes as she turned to look back at her mother-in-law. “Your son understands the concern I have for our daughter.” Inhaling a deep breath, she relaxed visibly, the smile returning to her face. “Well, then, with the season beginning,” she addressed Johanna, “we need to ensure that you make the best impression possible. You need new gowns for every occasion, bonnets, shoes, scarfs, accessories. We will ensure that you look the proper, young lady you have become, which will no doubt aid us in our search for a suitable husband for you.”
Nodding in agreement, Johanna felt a chill run up and down her back. Only too well did she remember the young girl she once had been. In fact, she had felt her echo grow stronger ever since her return home. The moment she had arrived at Holten Park, she had heard her loud and clear and without further thought had obeyed her demands to sneak into the house instead of acting the proper young lady her mother had expected to see. Would she be able to remain that young lady now that the whispers of her past had returned?
Sighing, Jo wondered who she was deep down. Of course, no one remained unchanged over time. Of course, she was no longer the girl she had once been, but neither−Jo began to suspect − was she the young lady her mother wanted her to be. Who was she then?
“Johanna.”
Blinking, Jo looked up and found her mother’s disapproving eyes on her. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled quickly. “I must have…” Words failed her, and she reached for her teacup, relieved to avert her eyes without being too obvious.
“I understand that it is not easy for you to be back home,” her mother said, a trace of compassion shining through the harsh insistence with which she spoke. “However, I feel the need to remind you that it is imperative you act according to your station. There is no second chance for a first impression, and many young gentlemen might be put off by a young lady without proper conduct. After all, once married, she will represent her husband’s family, and any misconduct on her account will reflect badly on them as well.”
Before Jo could reply−not that she had any reply at the ready−an amused chuckle drifting over from the other side of the table drew their attention.
“You seem awfully afraid,” the dowager baroness commented with a bit of a mischievously delighted twinkle in her pale blue eyes, “that our dear Johanna will be unable to control any or all childish impulses that might arise. Do you truly believe she would slide down the banister at a ball? Or slurp her tea and chew with her mouth open?”
While Jo could barely hide her amusement at her grandmother’s exaggerated predictions, her mother seemed far from amused. “Do not be ridiculous. Of course, I trust her to act with decorum. However, she has acted unreasonably before, and I simply want to ensure that she knows what is at stake.”
Meeting Johanna’s gaze, her grandmother winked at her before she turned her attention back to her daughter-in-law. “She was a child then if you will remember. Children are allowed to misbehave now and then. It builds character.”
“But she is a child no longer,” Lady Rawdon pointed out, the expression on her face tensing. “If she has any hope of finding a husband from a good family who possesses amiable qualities, then she will need to portray the kind of woman such a man would choose.”
“You mean lie to him?” the dowager baroness asked with stunning frankness.
Jo’s eyes widened, and her teeth sank into her lower lip as she stared at her grandmother. Although the argument between the two women in her family upset her, causing her no small amount of unease, Jo could not deny that another part of her loved the way her grandmother voiced her own thoughts with utter honesty and no regard for who disagreed. Was that where Jo’s wild side had come from? Had her parents’ calm demeanours been unable to conquer the powerful exuberance that her grandmother had passed down to her? Had she been much like Jo in her youth?
Staring at her mother-in-law, Lady Rawdon seemed utterly speechless for the moment.
The dowager baroness chuckled at the sight like a little girl. “Has the cat got your tongue?” she demanded before she leaned back in her chair, her pale eyes suddenly serious as she looked at her daughter-in-law. “I’m certain our Johanna will have no trouble finding a good match, one that makes her happy. I’m pleased to say that she told me that,” with a smile on her face, the dowager baroness looked at Johanna, “she and her friends have made a pact to marry for love alone.”
“Oh, good heavens!” Lady Rawdon exclaimed, turning accusing eyes on Johanna. “That is a foolish thing to do. Suitability is more important. Trust me, eventually you will come to care for someone who is a good match for you in other ways. You are a grown woman now and must abandon your school girl fantasies.” Her eyes narrowed in thought. “Perhaps I ought to have had a clos
er eye on those with whom you socialised.”
While her grandmother shook her head, Jo heaved a deep sigh, realising after years of trying, that no matter what she did, her mother would most likely always find fault in her.
Chapter Four − The Far Reaches of the Past
Venice, Italy
A few weeks later
Standing on the balcony of the apartment he had rented in Venice, Colin Grenville, only son to Viscount Attington, gazed at the streaks of red and orange that hung like brush strokes on a blue canvas. The air held a certain chill, and yet, lately he had begun to feel the promise of spring when stepping out onto his balcony early in the morning.
These early moments were a source of peace and tranquillity for Colin as life kept him busy. Still, he had to admit that he much preferred it that way. With his body and mind occupied, his heart beat steadily in his chest, and the whispers he tended to hear at night were absent.
Art and culture and language and history had led him all over Europe, down well-trodden paths as well as into the wilderness where few of his countrymen had ventured before. With open eyes and a hungry mind, Colin had found the world a place of change and wonder. What had baffled him the most was the discovery that right and wrong were concepts that possessed no universal definition. In truth, what one people considered right, decent, appropriate, another would deem wrong, ill-mannered, rude. Often, Colin found himself contemplating the rules of English society, wondering about their origins and whether or not they still served a purpose.
These thoughts often drew him back to his childhood and the two friends who had been more than just friends, but his family instead. Years had passed since those days of childish innocence, and yet, Colin still remembered them as though it had been only a few days since he had last spoken to Owen and Jo.
The day of Owen’s death had been the darkest in Colin’s young life. Not even the loss of his father had pained him so as it had come a little every day until his father had no longer left his chamber, but spent his days staring out the window. Owen’s family had replaced the one Colin had lost, and he had been happy.
