by Stacy Henrie
“The baby,” Clare whispered. “What if . . . the baby . . .”
Emmett frowned with confusion. Was she talking about Helena’s baby? “Little Leo is fine.” He placed a hand on her sleeve. “When Antonina and I left, he’d eaten some of the bread I brought back.”
Her eyes fluttered open at his words. “Emmett?” Her gaze went wide. At the same instant her cheeks drained of color. “Wh-what are you doing here?”
“I came back to the field, and you were gone. Everyone was concerned that you hadn’t returned, so I came to find you.” He nodded at Antonina who was kneeling beside him, her expression anxious. “We wanted to see if you were all right.”
With his assistance, she slowly sat up. “I don’t know what happened . . .” Clare pressed a hand to her forehead and shut her eyes again. “I was getting water from the well when I heard something. I saw what I thought was a shoe on the ground. Then my head started hurting, and I think I fainted.”
“I believe you might have been hit on the head by someone.”
“Someone?” she repeated as she opened her eyes. “I didn’t think there was anyone here.” She shuddered and visibly swallowed. “Other than one of the owners, whom I accidentally discovered was . . . dead.”
Emmett wished he’d come sooner. Then perhaps he could have spared her from the trauma of being attacked—and discovering a dead body. “My guess is it was a thief. Apparently they’ve wasted no time in looting the dead and dying.”
“But I’m not either.”
He shrugged. “A woman by herself would be an easy target.”
“I don’t have anything of value.” Clare gasped as she stared at her hands. “My ring. It’s gone.”
He looked at her left hand. The wedding ring he’d given her was no longer on her finger. Emmett felt a wince of regret. The ring had been his maternal grandmother’s. But the regret faded quickly. The ring was nothing compared to his wife’s life. Thankfully the thief had only struck her on the head and left her alone after robbing her.
Rising to his feet, he offered her his hand. “Can you stand?” It was probably best if they didn’t linger here, in case the thief came back.
She accepted his help, and leaning heavily into his grip, she got to her feet. But Clare’s pained expression became one of total despair when she stuck her hand in the pocket of her robe. “No! My brooch. The one from my father. It’s not here either!” She frantically searched both pockets but came up empty-handed. Her lips trembled as she turned toward Emmett, her green eyes full of anguish. “I had it in my pocket, which means whoever took my ring stole my brooch too.”
It was the piece of jewelry Emmett had seen her wear most often, save for her wedding ring. She’d once told Emmett that the brooch was a loving reminder of her father and his wisdom, especially now that she lived so far from him and her mother. To lose that reminder, that connection, would be a devastating blow.
“I’m so sorry, Clare.”
He hesitated, unsure if any other comfort would be welcome. Antonina had no such qualms. Whether she understood what had happened or not, the little girl rested her head against Clare’s arm. The simple yet kind gesture gave Emmett courage. After all, Clare had seemed to appreciate his embrace earlier.
Emmett stepped closer and put his arm around her. As she leaned into him, something inside him clicked softly into place. He felt himself relax as he hadn’t in a long time. Quiet settled over the three of them as they stood there together, almost like a family.
He recalled the softening he’d sensed in Clare a few hours earlier, before he’d gone back to Messina. Was it because she still cared? Or was it just her compassionate nature responding to the idea that he’d be in potential danger again? Emmett wasn’t any surer of the answer now than he’d been earlier, but her willingness to accept his comfort in this moment gave him hope.
Could caring for Antonina or having a baby bring him and Clare back together? He wanted very much to believe so. Perhaps after today, she would be more willing to consider coming back to England with him—not just for whatever political goals might lie in the future, but to give their marriage and their life together another chance.
Glancing down, Emmett saw Clare wiping tears from her cheeks. The sight of it made his chest constrict with sadness and distress. He hated that she’d lost her treasured brooch after everything else that had happened today. He longed to take away that heartache.
“We might be able to find another brooch in Rome or London. One that looks similar to the one your father gave you.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He knew it the instant Clare’s shoulders tightened and she slipped out from under his arm. “Maybe. We should probably get back.” She wouldn’t meet his gaze now. “I don’t want to keep worrying everyone else.”
“Are you sure you can walk?”
Clare nodded and went to pick up the empty bucket. “Let’s get more water first.”
“I’ll do it,” he said, reaching out a hand for the bucket. “You need to be careful after such a violent bump on the head.”
Her look was skeptical. “Do you know how to use a well?”
Annoyance colored his response. “I’m confident I can figure it out.”
He wasn’t completely inept, even as the son of a marquess. While overseeing the repairs, there had been plenty of tasks at their estate that had been new to him, but he’d tried his hand at them anyway. Besides, he’d done far more complicated and difficult things today. Drawing water from a well should be a relatively simple undertaking, and it nettled him that she seemed to doubt his ability.
“Then go ahead.” She passed him the bucket, but her eyes were flashing with equal irritation.
Emmett was aware of Antonina watching them. He sent a forced smile her way and tied the bucket to the rope at the well. After a false start or two, he finally managed to get the bucket to go in the direction he wanted—down.
Within a few minutes, he had a full pail of water. Was it drinkable? He scooped a little water into his hand and brought it to his lips. The liquid tasted fine—more than fine, actually. He encouraged Clare and Antonina to have some as well, then he motioned toward the trees. “Shall we head back?”
He let them lead the way. Clare’s strides were slow and measured, and not just because she was trying to accommodate the little girl whose hand she held. Emmett imagined her head must be aching with each step. Shame cooled his frustration. How would she know if he could draw water or not? Until today, Emmett hadn’t known that Clare could use a well either or forage for food. She’d kept a level head too, without going into hysterics, and continued to respond to Antonina with kindness. And he’d gone and reacted to her simple question about the well.
His conscience would prick at him until he attempted to make things right again. To that end, he walked faster, careful not to slosh the water, and drew alongside his wife. “I was curt just now, and I apologize.” He shifted the full pail to his other hand. “Figuring out that well wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be.”
“You managed it in the end,” she reminded him. A moment later, she added, “I appreciate you coming to find me.”
“You’re welcome.” He turned to look at her, hoping to hold her gaze with his. “That was a courageous thing you did, going to look for water.”
A brief blush colored her cheeks. “Thank you. It wasn’t any more brave than you going back to the city. And you found some bread?”
“A sailor gave it to me. I was also able to salvage some blankets from Vickley’s villa.”
“That’s wonderful.”
Perhaps, but Emmett didn’t feel brave or wonderful. He felt lacking. Surely his father—or Alder, if his older brother had grown to adulthood and found himself in such a predicament—would have done better. They would have likely found more food or been the ones to find the water source. There likely wouldn’t have been any members of their party killed or injured.
But Emmett couldn’t admit any of that out loud. It
would only add to the stress of their current situation. So he pasted on a smile instead. “We’ll get through tonight,” he assured her in a light tone, “and hope that tomorrow is better.”
Rather than inspire the hopefulness he’d expected, Emmett thought Clare looked even sadder. Was she thinking of her stolen brooch? The possibility pulled the feigned smile from his face. Try as he might, there were still too many things he didn’t know how to fix.
Somerset, England, October 1907: Fourteen months earlier
After spending two weeks in Sicily with Emmett for their honeymoon, with few servants and no crowds, Clare was as thrilled as she was overwhelmed by the sight of the large throng gathered on the train platform. Flags and bunting had been festively draped around the station. There was even an arch made of flowers and leaves.
She turned her gaze from the view beyond the train window to her husband seated beside her. “Are all of them actually waiting . . . for us?”
“Not sure about that drowsy-looking chap there or the madam to the left—the one in that horribly garish hat.” Emmett chuckled when Clare aimed a feigned glare at him. “Yes, my dear.” He kissed the back of her gloved hand, his gaze bright with admiration and a hint of excitement. “Everyone in the village is eager to meet you.”
Clare peered out at the crowd again. She could sense their expectant energy through the pane of glass, and it sparked a flicker of enthusiasm inside her as well. Thankfully Miriam had taken extra time on Clare’s appearance this morning, though it had been in preparation for seeing Emmett’s parents again, not the entire village.
Today she had on a light-gray-and-maroon dress with a large blue hat atop her carefully styled hair. Around her shoulders, Clare wore the furs Emmett’s mother had recommended in a letter to her son as being “proper and fitting” for her daughter-in-law’s new role.
Clare checked that her hat and hairpins were still in place. Miriam wasn’t here to help, since she and Rushford had gone ahead on an earlier train to ensure everything was ready for them upon their arrival.
“Shall we?” Emmett stood. At her nod, he helped her to her feet.
Tucking her arm in his, Clare followed him from their private train car down the aisle, and to the steps leading down to the platform. She knew the instant they were spotted. A cheer erupted from the waiting assembly. Clare smiled up at her husband, who was grinning himself.
“There’s the mayor,” he said, nodding at the short man approaching them.
Her husband introduced her to the mayor and the other village dignitaries, and the mayor’s daughter handed Clare a pretty bouquet of flowers. Emmett was then asked to make a speech. Clare listened proudly as he spoke of his love for this place and its people. She wasn’t the only one moved, either. The villagers watched her husband with respect and pride on their faces.
Would they respond to her in the same way? A worm of panic uncurled inside her. What did she really know about being the wife of a future marquess—the benefactress and leading lady for an entire community? Clare hadn’t allowed herself to worry about such things on their honeymoon. She’d basked instead in the Italian sun and the uninterrupted time with her husband. In Sicily, she’d even given in to the nudge to paint. But now that she was back in England, her fears wouldn’t stay submerged any longer. They bobbed to the surface of her consciousness, where they seemed to grow larger.
“Lady Linwood?” It took Clare a few seconds to realize the mayor was addressing her. The title still felt foreign to her, like a new article of clothing that didn’t yet fit comfortably. “We are most eager to hear from you too.”
They wanted her to make a speech? Clare looked in surprise at Emmett. What was she supposed to say? She hadn’t expected this. Emmett set his free hand over hers, his smile encouraging.
Taking a deep breath, she compelled her lips to turn upward as well. “Thank you for your warm welcome,” she said sincerely and in a voice loud enough to be heard by those in the back. “This is such a beautiful part of England, and all of you have been very hospitable. I can see now why my husband is proud to call this place home.” A rumble of approval swept through the crowd. Clare lifted her chin and exchanged a lingering glance with Emmett. “I’m looking forward to making this my home too.”
The sound of applause punctuated her words. Her husband leaned down to whisper in her ear, “Brilliantly stated, my dear. They’re now as enamored with you as I am.”
Clare laughed lightly. “Thank you.”
His compliment meant a great deal to her and shored up her confidence. She could do this—she could be a suitable wife to the son of a marquess. After all, she’d come this far with poise, faith, and determination. Surely those qualities, along with God’s help, would see her through this new chapter in her life.
No longer needing to manufacture a smile, she walked with Emmett to the waiting carriage. More people lined the streets as they drove through the village. There were even school children waving flags. Clare waved back. After a short distance, the carriage stopped beside a platform.
“More speeches,” Emmett explained before helping her exit the vehicle.
They each spoke again, and Clare was given another bouquet to add to the first. There was more clapping and cheering, all of it as enthusiastic as it had been at the station. Then she and Emmett were waved back into the carriage. This time the ride lasted longer, taking them away from the village and into the open countryside. But once again, the carriage came to a stop. A group of smiling men waited for them, though there was no platform in sight. Emmett didn’t make any move to climb out either.
“Are we giving another speech?” Clare asked in confusion.
He shook his head. “Not yet. Some of our tenants are going to convey us to Hadwell House.”
“Convey us . . .” she repeated, her bewilderment increasing.
“Watch.” Emmett motioned to where the horses were being unhitched from the carriage. In their place, the tenants lined up along the shafts. Lifting together, they began walking in tandem, and the carriage rolled forward.
The idea of men pulling their carriage instead of horses wasn’t entirely a comfortable one for Clare. But she did her best to relax against the seat. She’d known things would be different here than back at home, though she hadn’t expected that would include the ride to the Hadwell estate. The men soon turned onto a gravel drive. Any minute now Clare would get her first glimpse of Hadwell House. This was where she and Emmett would live until spring, when they would purchase their own townhouse in London before the start of the season.
“There’s one last speech to make when we reach the house,” Emmett said, his tone apologetic. “Do you mind? You’re doing splendidly.”
She wrapped her arm through his and leaned into his side. “One more speech will definitely put you in my debt, my lord. Especially since you failed to mention I would have to give any.”
“I quite agree.” His light-blue eyes held amusement. “Name your price.”
Clare pretended to think the matter over carefully. “I suppose I could accept payment in, say . . . kisses.”
“Ah. Then I look forward to paying off such a debt, my lady.”
Her heart sped faster at the low, intimate tone of his voice and the pure happiness emanating from his handsome face. She still couldn’t believe she’d found this good man, a man who loved her as much as she loved him.
Before Clare could respond, the carriage swept past the trees, and Hadwell House stood before them. It was much larger than she’d imagined. Two identical square wings flanked the house’s main section, which was set back from the drive. The light-colored stone walls boasted numerous multi-paned windows and at least four floors.
Her gaze moved from the house to the people lining the main steps. A bevy of servants waited at attention, along with what appeared to be more of the estate’s tenants. Emmett’s parents stood closest to the front door.
With Emmett’s help, Clare alighted from the carriage for the third time. She
kept her arm firmly tucked in his as they approached those assembled on and around the stone steps. When they reached the top of the staircase, Emmett greeted his parents. Then it was Clare’s turn.
Her father-in-law gave her a light peck on each cheek before sizing her up. “Welcome to Hadwell House. I believe you will do nicely here.”
Clare shot him a strained and somewhat puzzled smile, unsure of his meaning. Her mother-in-law also kissed her on the cheeks. The gesture held a bit less stiffness and impatience than she’d sensed from the marquess, but Clare still felt little of the enthusiasm from them that she’d experienced from the villagers earlier.
Emmett spoke to those gathered before motioning for Clare to take her turn. She mustered her waning energy to offer her own expression of gratitude for their welcome. The butler then presented them with a wedding gift from the entire household. It was a lovely silver candelabrum. After that, the front door was opened, and Emmett led her and the rest of the entourage inside. Within moments, however, the foyer stood devoid of everyone except the two of them. Even Emmett’s parents had disappeared up the grand staircase.
As she took in the marbled foyer, Clare shivered in spite of her furs. Unlike her home in New York, this house echoed with cool silence. Where were the bustle and warmth, the airiness and laughter she’d always known? Her earlier dread returned. She placed her hand against her churning stomach.
“Welcome home, darling,” her husband said, clearly unaware of her misgivings.
Clare did her best to meet his expectant look. She didn’t want him thinking she was displeased or upset. “Thank you.”
“Miriam will take you up to your room.” Emmett pressed a warm kiss to Clare’s forehead as the maid descended the stairs and approached them. “I need to speak with my father. However, I’ll see you at dinner.”
She nodded in agreement, though she really wanted to seize his hand and walk right back out the door. And keep walking until they found a place that felt safe and warm. A place that was theirs and theirs alone.
“I’ll see you soon,” she replied, smiling.
