Promised

by Leah Garriott

  I would not let this drag me under.

  Standing, I said, “Not in front of her mother, I hope.” I admired Lady Rosthorn, but in her desire to show compassion she would certainly tell Mrs. Johnson, and then the whole town would know.

  “Louisa is not in the habit of keeping confidences from her mother. Besides, I thought you didn’t even like him.”

  “I didn’t. I don’t.”

  “Yes. I can see you don’t. How foolish of me to deduce otherwise.”

  Declaring my intention to retire for the evening, I bid my parents a good night with the intent of checking on Alice before going to bed. Daniel followed me into the hall.

  “The lake is being drained tomorrow.”

  I spun around. “What? Are you sure about this decision, Daniel? Lord Williams isn’t exactly the most forthright of men.”

  “Whatever his failings, his advice regarding the managing of the estate was sound.”

  So that was it. I had won my freedom but failed to secure the lake. I would forever have Lord Williams to thank for the giant scar marring our landscape and serving as a reminder of our time together. Defeat slumped my shoulders. “I hope it goes well.”

  “No fight? No tantrum about how it shouldn’t be done?”

  “I’ve grown weary of fighting.”

  “Father told me what happened. Well, not all of it. He doesn’t know what happened exactly at the end.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “If it didn’t matter, why have you not smiled since your return?”

  “What have I had to smile about? Alice’s illness?”

  “My engagement to Louisa.”

  He was correct. I should be smiling about it. I forced my lips to curve. “Yes. You are right. I am very happy for you.”

  He shook his head. “You are not happy at all.”

  The corners of my lips fell back down. “I’m working on it.”

  Daniel settled a hand on my shoulder before I could leave. “I’m sorry for what occurred. Truly I am. Which is why I came to forewarn you: Lord Williams will be here tomorrow. He has agreed to oversee the project.”

  What? “You invited him, after everything?”

  “I wrote to thank him for sending the doctor from London and—”

  “He sent the doctor?”

  Daniel’s brows drew together. “Didn’t you know?”

  “I thought it was Father’s doing.”

  “Does Father know a doctor in London?”

  I shrugged.

  “Anyway, I wrote to thank Lord Williams and informed him I was moving forward with his idea. He insisted on attending. He felt it was his responsibility, since he was the one who proposed the project in the first place.”

  Business. He was coming on business, to see a project through. Perhaps he didn’t want it to end up a failure since it would have his name associated with it. Sending for the doctor was probably merely business as well, a way to clear his name in case the worst should have happened. “I understand.”

  “I hope you’ll still come.” Daniel squeezed my shoulder with affection and reentered the drawing room.

  The next morning I hurried down the path to the lake, anxious to watch the morning rays sparkle off its surface one last time. A breeze blew through the trees, the soft rustle of their leaves a background murmur to the twitter of birdsong. But the lake still stood stagnant and brown.

  My time at Lord Williams’s had darkened everything I used to love; no matter how I tried to focus on the way the light danced off the water, I could not dismiss how my senses seemed more aware of the mucky marshland around the lake’s edge and the putrid stink that assaulted me with every breeze. The lake had all the appearance of life, but just beneath the surface all that really existed was death.

  How long would it take for the path to disappear completely when no one walked it? How long before the scars of something I loved disappeared once it was drained? I reached up to tear a leaf from a tree, then let my hand drop away empty. It was better just to leave it be and move on.

  When I reached the rocky shore, a spot of white on the boulder caught my attention. A white rose about to bloom lay alone in the sun. I glanced around, but there was no one near. Retrieving it, I brought it to my nose, smelling its freshness and life. Perhaps Daniel had left it for Louisa.

  She wouldn’t find it. She was busy planning a ball and a wedding and wouldn’t have time for a morning walk. I determined to take it back to him, so he could give it to her properly.

  I climbed onto the boulder and walked to the edge. The lake’s surface was unusually still even with the breeze. Did it know it was about to disappear? Did a lake sense its own death?

  Lying on my stomach, I reached down and brushed the surface with my finger, sending ripples off across the water. When the surface calmed enough for my reflection to stare back at me, I thought of all the time I had spent out here, all the memories this place held. I even allowed myself to remember Lord Williams in the water, asking me to help him out of his coat. And now I had to go face him, one last time.

  For the last time, I sat up and stared across the lake, surveying the scene around me, soaking up as much of it as I could, knowing it would forever be altered and I was powerless to stop it.

  Men’s voices sounded in the distance.

  It was time.

  I could be strong one last time.

  My steps slowed as I neared the place Daniel had said to meet him. Tenants were already at work, digging away at a piece of the shoreline. Daniel stood nearby, watching. And next to him, his back to me, stood Lord Williams.

  He was wearing a blue coat. Did he know it was his best color? Had he worn it to purposefully torment me?

  If I didn’t look at him, I wouldn’t be tormented. I shouldn’t be tormented anyway. I was business. A wager.

  I stepped to Daniel’s other side. “How goes the work?”

  Lord Williams glanced at me, but I focused on the men digging.

  “Right on schedule,” Daniel answered. “Once they breach the shore, the water will flow down that trench until the whole lake is drained.”

  Lord Williams hadn’t moved, his gaze still resting on me. It took everything I had not to glance up at him. “Won’t that take some time?” The trench was tiny, only two feet across and maybe three feet deep.

  “Days, probably,” Gregory said, his voice soft and low, and I realized it was foolish to call him anything but Gregory. He would always be Gregory to me. “The breaching won’t be long now.” There was a pause. “Will you stay to watch it?”

  “For a while. Daniel, Louisa won’t find this. You should give it to her directly.” I held out the rose.

  “That isn’t mine.”

  “You didn’t leave a rose for Louisa on the rock?”

  He frowned. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because it’s what you’re supposed to do. Flowers, gifts—” I stopped myself, but the unsaid word hung in the air. Kisses.

  Daniel shook his head. “What are you talking about?”

  It didn’t matter. “Maybe she left it for you.” I thrust it at him. He took it uncertainly. “What will happen when the water is fully gone?” I asked.

  Again Gregory answered. “This land should be quite fertile.” Did he know how his voice called to me, how my body wanted to respond by moving closer?

  “Yes,” Daniel said. “Once it’s dry, we’ll plow it under. Come spring, it should be covered with green shoots.”

  Another place to farm. Another spot of land from which our tenants could live. “I hope it yields well.”

  One of the men gave a shout. Water streamed and glistened along the trench, charging toward us, then dashing past us. I turned to the lake. It looked the same. There was no indicator that its very essence was draining away. Yet the water raced along, gurgli
ng as though with joy at finally being freed.

  “What do you think?” Daniel asked me.

  “I think it is going to take a long time to drain the lake with only that tiny outlet.”

  “It will,” Gregory agreed. “But there is no reason to rush it.” I loved the sound of his voice. It made everything, even the draining of my lake, feel like all would be well.

  “We don’t want the water to overflow the trenches and flood the fields,” Daniel explained. “It would undo all our hard work. This way the ground can soak it in and we are able to ensure all our irrigation works.”

  I would rather it burst all at once and be done with it. This process seemed too slow, too painful. Like being bled to death. Or like standing feet from Gregory and not being able to touch him. “It isn’t very satisfying.”

  “No,” Gregory agreed. “But it is the better way.”

  “Is it?” It was foolish to linger. Foolish to have come in the first place. “I suppose it must be true.” I turned. I had to get away from him. “Good day.”

  I’d taken no more than a few steps when he was beside me. “Wait. Please.” I stopped but didn’t turn to him. “I am glad your sister is recovering.” His voice was low, coaxing me to look at him, to lean into him, to be drawn in.

  As he had for the wager. Hadn’t I known that first night at the Hickmores’? Hadn’t I been warned by his smile that I wouldn’t be able to resist him?

  Now he was here, but not as a suitor. Not even as someone trying to win a wager. Solely on a matter of business, attempting to ensure a project went properly.

  Business. Nothing more. “Yes,” I replied quietly. “Though it will still be some time before she regains her full health. I understand we have you to thank for the doctor from London?”

  “I—” He hesitated, then shifted closer. Or had I shifted closer to him? “I cannot express how sorry I am.”

  There was the proper apology. Now he was done. He could leave with a clear conscience. “Neither can I.” My voice was barely a whisper. He was so close I could reach out and brush his hand with almost no effort. Perhaps I could even make it look like an accident. “Thank you for coming, for assisting Daniel.” My fingers twitched toward him. Was he feeling the same pull, the same desire to forget there’d ever been a wager or a rushed engagement or a Mr. Northam and to just be together, he and I?

  I glanced up. His expression wasn’t severe, but he was frowning. Just like at the first. Just as though nothing had occurred between us.

  He didn’t feel it. He hadn’t come for me, or for any other purpose than seeing a project through.

  It was time to sever the magic with which he held me bound. “Please, excuse me. I should be returning to her.”

  “Of course. Good day, Miss Brinton.” He stepped back. My bonds broke. So did something inside.

  I made it back to the path before stopping. Before turning around for just one more glimpse of him.

  Gregory had returned to Daniel’s side, pointing at something downstream. Back to his business of which I was no longer a part.

  Unlike the excited shouts at the breaching of the lake, only a muffled sob paid evidence to the tears sliding down my cheeks. Turning, I walked away, away from my lake, away from Gregory. Yet no matter how far I walked, I was unable to walk away from the pain of loving things that were now forever lost to me.

  Forty-One

  Two days later, Mary entered Alice’s room as I was reading to her. “Miss Margaret? These’ve just arrived.”

  I looked up to find Mary holding a small vase of exquisite wildflower blooms with a white rose at the center.

  “Oh,” Alice exclaimed lifelessly, still too weak to leave her bed. “Who are they from?”

  “The man didn’t say.”

  “A man delivered them?” They were beautiful flowers. And the vase looked quite expensive. “Who?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “When did the man come?”

  “Some ten minutes ago.”

  I set the book down, walked to the window, and looked out. No one was about. “What did he look like?”

  “John answered the door. I didn’t see him.”

  “Is there a card?” No one had ever delivered flowers to us before. It was the thing to do in London, of course. But here in the country?

  “Yes. There it is.” Mary held the flowers out, card facing me. In a fine, flowing script was written only one word: Flowers.

  “Flowers?” I glanced between Mary and Alice. “Perhaps this is some sort of joke. Or a mistake. Are you certain they aren’t meant for Daniel? Louisa was leaving flowers for him down by the lake.” I had to stop thinking of that area as the lake. It had already drained lower than it had ever been during a dry season. “Or maybe someone sent them for Alice, as a sort of get-well token?”

  “Oh.” Mary glanced down at the flowers in confusion. “That could be. The man said it was for the miss of the house. I just assumed. . . .”

  “It’s all right, Mary. Alice, why don’t we set them right here where you’ll be able to see them without too much effort? They really do brighten up the room, don’t they?”

  “They’re lovely,” Alice responded in a tired voice. “Who would have sent them?”

  “I don’t know.” I picked the book back up. “Perhaps Mr. Johnson? He is still in awe of your recovery. Or . . .” I leaned over. “Perhaps you have a secret admirer.”

  She coughed. “Now you are teasing me.”

  “I am not teasing you. You are a young woman of intelligence, beauty. . . .” A certain disregard for modern sensibilities. . . . I shook my head. I couldn’t seem to silence the sound of Gregory’s voice. “Any man of sense would be won over by you. Perhaps he’ll introduce himself at the wedding.”

  Alice smiled. “Maybe you’ll dance with him at the ball.”

  I smoothed the hair off her forehead. “If I do, I’ll be sure to act the perfect lady.”

  Alice shook her head. “Don’t be like Louisa. Be yourself.”

  I leaned over and kissed her head. “Deal. Now should we get back to this story?”

  There was a package next to my plate at breakfast the following morning. “What is this?”

  Daniel shrugged. “It was there when I sat down.”

  I untied the ribbon and unfolded the paper.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “A book.” I opened it.

  “Who gave you that?”

  It wasn’t just any book. It was the companion to my favorite book of poetry. I flipped through the pages and the book opened to a poem near the center. A piece of paper had been stuck between the pages. I tilted the book to read it. Gifts.

  I frowned. Gifts?

  Flowers. Gifts. Kisses.

  I stood. “Where is he?”

  “Who?”

  “Where is Lord Williams?”

  Daniel shrugged again. “He left after we’d ensured the trenches worked according to plan. There was no reason for him to stay around.”

  “But is he in town? Is he coming back? Surely the project needs checking on a second time.”

  Daniel shook his head. “It’s been three days. The project is just fine.” He regarded the book as he raised a cup to his lips. “Is that who the book is from?”

  “It has to be.”

  Daniel set his glass down without drinking. “Now, Margaret. Don’t go getting your hopes up. I admit I had wondered if his coming for the draining might have brought you two back together. But he seemed wholly focused on the project. Didn’t even ask after you. I’d hate to have you hurt again.”

  I wouldn’t be hurt again. This was from Gregory.

  Our father walked in. “Father,” Daniel said, “did you order a book?”

  “What book?”

  “The one in Margaret’s hands.”
/>   I held up the book.

  “What is it?”

  I tilted it so he could see the spine. “It’s the companion to that book of poetry.”

  “Oh. Yes. I hadn’t known it had arrived. It came rather quickly. I’ll have to send my thanks.”

  I lowered the book. “You ordered this?”

  Father took his seat. “Yes. It seemed a shame we didn’t have a copy, don’t you think? Though they must have had one already on its way to town. I didn’t expect it for another week or two.”

  Opening the book again, I stared at the word. Gifts.

  Sinking into my seat, I removed the note and held the book out to my father. “Here.”

  “Oh, no,” he said, lifting his hand as though to block me from giving it to him. “I ordered it for you. You liked the other one so much.” He paused. “I hope it helps ease all that’s happened.”

  I frowned. This couldn’t be a coincidence. If the book wasn’t from Gregory, why was the note in there?

  That night, Alice and I finished the book we’d been reading together.

  “What will we read now?” She’d eaten a few bites of dinner, and it showed in her voice—still weak, but with a promise of growing stronger.

  I stood and adjusted a bit of the bedcovers. “What would you like to read?”

  “Daniel said father gave you a new book today. Should we read that one?”

  “If you’d like.” I had brought it in with me in case she fell asleep before Mary came. Mother still insisted someone be with Alice through the night as a precaution.

  I opened it, intending to begin at the first, but instead turned to the page marked with the paper.

  “Who knows not hope, that light eternal showing

  The lake from which churns true love’s fire aflowing?

  It is that which makes all past mistakes begone.

  This, the one true note, of Love’s eternal song.”

  I sat back in silence. It was a poem about lakes and rivers and music. About hope and forgiveness and love. How did someone else’s words fit my feelings about Gregory so perfectly?

  Silently, I read over the poem again. Hope truly was the eternal light. It just wouldn’t die. Even when I wanted it to.