Promised

by Leah Garriott

  But of course such a wish could never come true. And there was no reason to think of it any longer. It was over. He would most likely leave in the morning. And I would never see him again.

  The door burst open. Realizing that I had unintentionally shifted closer to Lord Williams, I scrambled out of my chair. Daniel stood in the doorway, drenched but with a smile covering his face. “You found her.”

  I clasped the back of the chair. “Yes. Lord Williams did. She’s in her room. Mother is with her. And Mary. And Father.” The words spilled forth uncontrollably in my effort to distance myself from the doubt within me. “Do you want something to eat? Here, you can have my chair.”

  I turned the chair, offering it to Daniel while at the same time placing it as a wall between Lord Williams and myself. I didn’t dare look at him.

  “Yes, food would be nice. I searched all the way to the Rosthorns’.” He trudged to the table, a line of wet footprints evidence of his recent expedition.

  I frowned, finally coming to my senses. “Daniel, you are dripping water and mud everywhere.”

  He shrugged and plopped into the chair. “I hardly think it matters tonight.” He pulled dishes toward him and started piling food on a plate. “Why didn’t she just come home?”

  I glanced at Lord Williams. The smile was gone, a frown planted firmly in its place.

  He blamed himself. But Alice’s being out there was just as much my fault. More, really, because I was her sister. I should have known what she was about.

  “I don’t believe she thought it would rain quite so much, nor that it would be quite so cold,” I said.

  “She and I discussed it at breakfast, didn’t we?” Daniel asked.

  I didn’t know; I hadn’t eaten breakfast. This had all transpired because of the way I had acted before breakfast. “Earlier she’d hoped we could dance in it.”

  “Well, at least she’s safe, thanks to you, my lord.”

  Yes. Thanks to him.

  I had to get away from him. Away from the way he made me wonder about breaking promises, about changing my mind. “Excuse me, please.”

  I left the room, walked out the front door, and leaned against the stone wall of the house. The cold rain fell a few feet from me, the wind blowing occasional drops onto my face and arms. The chill of the stones seeped past my dress and crawled along my skin. I pressed against the stone with more force, needing to feel its cold bite.

  This was what I’d needed, this cold to clear my mind and allow me to focus on the reality of my situation. Which was actually quite simple.

  Lord Williams would leave and everything would return to normal, just as though we’d never met.

  Twenty-Two

  A knock on my door awoke me. The room was dark except for the low fire. It must still be night.

  The door pushed open. “Margaret?”

  I rolled over. “Mother, yes, I am here. I’m awake.” I rose to add more wood to the flames.

  My mother closed the door with a soft click. “Your sister is unwell.”

  Poor Alice. “I shall take my turn at her side so you may rest.” I grabbed my dressing gown off the back of the chair.

  “Dr. Johnson is here.”

  “What?” I froze, one arm halfway through a sleeve. “Is it so serious?” A glance at the clock told me I had been asleep for several hours.

  “It is a precaution. He says it is nothing more than a fever and a cough.”

  I hurried into my robe. “I should not have fallen asleep.”

  “Margaret, your father cannot stay. Not when there is fever in the house.”

  I paused in tying my gown. “You wish for me to speak with him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he downstairs?”

  “I believe so. And, Margaret, he should leave as soon as possible.”

  “But where will he go? We have no family for him to visit and he would never consent to staying in the village.”

  “Anywhere would be better than here. Convince him to go with Lord Williams—he is leaving this morning.”

  It was done, then. The engagement was off. And my father must have told my mother.

  That she would still suggest such a destination was astonishing. “Mother, he cannot go to Lord Williams’s.”

  She reopened the door. “I must return to your sister. I leave it to you to persuade your father of the necessity of his leaving and to come to some agreement of where he is to go.” She swept out of my room.

  Securing my dressing gown, I went in search of my father, discovering him sitting behind his desk in the firelit study. I knocked softly on the open door. “Father?”

  He stood. “Margaret.”

  I stepped into the room. “I assume you know the doctor has come. Alice is ill.”

  He nodded, stepping around his desk to walk to me. “Yes. I sent John for him myself.”

  “Father, Dr. Johnson—and Mother—do not believe your continued residence here wise.”

  He took my arm as though to usher me out of the room. “I had heard, but I will not leave my home while my daughter is ill.”

  He couldn’t stay. If he fell ill as well, he might never recover. None of us could bear to lose him. “Alice would not wish you to become ill because of her. It would make her worry, which will prolong her recovery. If she knew you were safe, she could concentrate on getting well.”

  My father hesitated. “Your mother put you up to this, didn’t she? I appreciate your efforts and your argument in favor of my going. But I am resolved to stay.” He glanced at a large chair facing the fire. “I am afraid, Lord Williams, that the end of your visit comes at a providential time.”

  Lord Williams stood. The room suddenly felt much too crowded.

  I was still in my dressing gown. I flushed and quickly glanced away, searching for anything other than him upon which I could focus my attention.

  “I’m sorry to leave your family in such distress.”

  He was really leaving. I would never see him again. It was for the best, for both of us, but that didn’t prevent a pang of regret in my chest.

  My father nodded. “I am afraid it cannot be avoided.”

  But part of the distress could be avoided. I had no desire to be the one to recommend my mother’s suggestion, but I could not deny that it would be the easiest solution to the present dilemma. “My lord,” I said, not looking directly at him. “You must have overheard our conversation. My father’s health is somewhat delicate.”

  “Margaret,” my father interrupted in a low voice of disapproval.

  I ignored him. If I did not hurry, my courage would fail. “He was ill a while back. The doctor warned us that if he ever falls ill again, he is not likely to recover. He must be removed from the house while there is fever—”

  My father, his hand still on my arm, urged me out the door. “Margaret, you cannot presume—”

  I broke free of him and stood before Lord Williams. “We have no right to ask such a favor of you, but would you—given what has transpired, I should not think—could he accompany you? I am certain it will not be for long.”

  My father stepped forward, disapprobation in his voice. “Really, Margaret. I am amazed at you.”

  My neck and face flamed. But the idea was sound, even if my mentioning it was impertinent.

  “Miss Brinton, I would be more than happy to have your father as a guest at my house for as long as needed.”

  I briefly met his gaze. “You would?” I could say nothing more, for the openness I had come to expect no longer appeared in his eyes, nor in any part of his expression. His face was as a mask of ice, cold and hard.

  “Now see here,” my father objected.

  I quickly turned from Lord Williams. “Father, I could not bear it if you became sick as well. Please, go. If not for me and Mother, then for Alice. We will ta
ke such good care of her that you will return within the week.”

  He frowned, then shook his head. “Daughters are a joy and a curse, my lord. Do not forget that.”

  My father would go. Once Alice was well and he returned, it would be as though there had never been a Lord Williams. All would be as it should.

  Ignoring the emptiness the thought poked into my chest, I said, “I will have John help me pack your things.” Turning to leave the room, I glanced once more at Lord Williams. “Thank you, my lord.” I paused, then whispered, “For everything.”

  After my father’s trunk had been packed, I stole into Alice’s room. Mary slept slumped in a chair near the fire. Alice also seemed to be asleep, but she moaned a little and fidgeted. I slipped onto her bed and placed a gentle hand on her head. She was burning.

  “Alice, sit up. Take a drink.” I helped her up and held the glass of water from the bedside table to her mouth.

  She took a few sips. I set the glass back and tried to help her lay down, but she shook her head. Her voice was barely perceptible as she said, “It hurts.”

  “All right.” I carefully shifted on the bed to lean her against me, pulling the blanket tight and stroking her hair. She coughed, a cough that hurt my throat and chest listening to it. Eventually, though, her breathing evened out. Kissing the top of her head, I whispered, “I’m sorry.”

  I held her until Mary woke with a start. She left the room with a promise to return quickly.

  The door opened a few minutes later, revealing my mother. “Margaret, there you are. You are to go with your father.”

  I frowned. “Go with him?”

  “Yes. To Lord Williams’s. He will need someone to look after him.”

  She could not send me away. Especially not there. “But I can’t leave. You will need me to help with Alice.”

  “Mary and I will manage. You’d best get dressed.”

  I couldn’t go. I was just getting rid of him. And Alice—

  I wanted to be here for her.

  Alice stirred with another cough. I gave her more water, helped her lay down, and tucked the bed cover around her. Then I followed my mother into the hall.

  Did she not understand that, aside from the embarrassment of calling off the engagement, I was beginning to have feelings for Lord Williams? Going with him, spending more time with him—these were exactly the things I needed to avoid. “Mother, it is awkward enough for Father to go. But for me to force myself into his home—please do not ask this of me.”

  She acted as though I hadn’t spoken. “Mary is packing your trunk. You had best attend to it.”

  I studied her. “Are you very angry with me?”

  She paused, then sighed. “No. I wish it were different, that you had behaved differently, but I understand. Your father may become ill even with our precautions. You must be there to look after him if such a thing occurs.”

  I would not be free from Lord Williams.

  I would have to do what I’d promised him I would do in the first place: steel myself against him.

  Twenty-Three

  I slipped back into Alice’s room half an hour later and laid my traveling cloak on the foot of her bed. My sister’s only movement was the rise and fall of her chest, her only sound the coughs that came too often to allow her rest. She was still hot to the touch. Sitting on the bed next to her, I dipped a towel into the bowl, wrung it out, and draped it across her forehead.

  “Alice,” I whispered, not wishing to wake her but hoping she heard. “I am leaving.” I was abandoning her. What would she say when she awoke and found me gone, when only hours ago I had told her I would never leave her? “I will write you.” I took her hand in mine. It was curled in a fist as though clutching something. Moving her fingers to see what it was, I spied the lace handkerchief.

  “Oh, Alice.” I allowed her fingers to close around it again. There wasn’t even a flutter of the eyelids.

  I settled her hands in a more comfortable position and pulled the blanket tightly around her. “Please get better soon.” I kissed her forehead and left the room before my emotion gave way to tears.

  Everyone was assembled in the drawing room. I stood in the hall, smothering my feelings until I could smile. Then I entered and stood near Daniel. “Please tell Louisa I have gone and that I shall write.”

  “Of course.”

  John entered and announced that the carriage was ready. Outside, the clouds had blown away but the air was colder than ever. I pulled my cloak around me, though it seemed to do little to keep out the penetrating chill, and I hurried across the walk to the carriage.

  Lord Williams offered his hand to assist me into his carriage. When I took it, his fingers didn’t curl around mine as they had at the lake. I quickly lifted my hand from his once I was inside. He climbed in, taking a seat across from me, and I scooted into the corner to keep my legs far away from his. An accidental touch would only be awkward for us both.

  My father said something to Daniel I didn’t catch. Then he stood before my mother. “You must write me if there is a turn for the worse.”

  “She is going to be fine. And your own health—”

  “Means nothing in the face of such an event. Eloise, I will not leave unless you promise.”

  She huffed. “It is only a little fever.”

  “In which case such a promise should be easy to make.”

  My mother hesitated. “I promise. Now go, Colin. I should return to Alice.”

  He embraced her, saying a few words into her ear before giving her a quick kiss. Such tenderness was what every girl dreamed of. I focused on the shadows out my window.

  The carriage dipped under my father’s weight and he settled on the seat next to me. It was too early to see anything but the outline of dark trees against an only slightly less dark sky. With Lord Williams’s face being the only other place to look, I contented myself with the black view.

  Once, when the sky was lightening to a morning blue, my knee brushed against his as the carriage swayed around a bend. He may have been asleep, but I couldn’t risk looking at him; what if he was awake? Then we’d have to speak. I pressed my legs into the side of the carriage and closed my eyes, wishing sleep would come. Instead, I felt every jolt and rock of the carriage.

  When the trees had definite form and the sky had become a pale blue, I risked a quick inspection of the carriage. Lord Williams had angled his legs so as to give me as much room as possible. If I had known, I would not have had to keep myself so cramped.

  The sun was well into its morning rise when we crossed a bridge, the clear river beneath revealing its rock-strewn bottom, and drove between open gates.

  I straightened. This was Lord Williams’s estate. I tried to act disinterested as I surveyed the tree-covered land, but as the drive curved and I caught my first glimpse of the house, I gasped at its beauty. The large ivory-gray stone was capped by a dark roof, beautifully carved gables, and a procession of stone chimneys that lined the skyline. Large, rectangular windows surrounded each of the three levels and giant bow windows stood like elegant open pillars at the sides of the front of the house.

  It was much grander than I had imagined.

  The coachman pulled to a stop and our door was opened. After descending, I surveyed my surroundings in admiration. Most of the view was taken up by fields of green broken only by giant oaks, while the house was established on a small rise with a river running a short stroll away.

  No wonder he wanted to drain the lake. He thought we should have a river instead, just like him.

  “Welcome to Pettley Hall,” Lord Williams said.

  “Thank you,” my father said. I took my father’s arm and remained silent.

  A butler arrived in the doorway. “My lord, welcome home. Your mother will be content now that you have returned.”

  Lord Williams strode forward. “Good morn
ing, Sundson. She is in good health, I trust?”

  “The same as when you left, my lord. She is in the breakfast room.”

  “Very good. This is Mr. Brinton and his daughter. They are here to stay for a few days. Please see that rooms are made ready for them.”

  “Immediately, my lord.”

  Once we passed through the door into the hall, I clasped tighter to my father’s arm. Before us stretched an immaculate tiled floor. The walls of the hall were lined with paintings accented by stone molding frames, and the ceiling was delightfully high with light pouring in from the windows behind us. I had never witnessed a more picturesque and stately room.

  We followed Lord Williams down a hall toward the left wing and into a large room made larger by one of the bow windows. Other windows, nearly floor to ceiling, overlooked the river. The feeling was one of comfort, more so than I’d thought possible in such a grand house.

  A lady sitting at the table rose. She was of average height but her hair was cut uncharacteristically short, rendering her regal and commanding. She glided across the floor in the manner every young woman hoped to imitate. Her dress, the most exquisite lavender shade, barely rustled at the movement.

  “Gregory. What a welcome vision you are. I had not expected you for some days yet.”

  “Good morning, Mother,” Lord Williams bent to kiss her cheek. “Allow me to introduce Mr. Brinton and his eldest daughter, Miss Brinton. They will be staying with us while Mr. Brinton’s youngest daughter is ill.”

  I curtsied. “It is a pleasure to meet you, your ladyship.”

  “You are both very welcome,” Lady Williams said. “With the fatigue of so long a journey, and arriving here so early, you must be exhausted. Gregory, you have sent Sundson to prepare some rooms?” He nodded. “Good. If you will follow me, I shall show you to them. I am certain you desire to freshen up, and I shall have some food sent to you there, if you would like.”