Georgette carried the box over to the wicker chair and sat down, placing the box upon her knee. She could see that the letters were dated and that none of them had been sealed. Presumably, there had been little point since the sender had never truly determined to send them. Perhaps, just as the Duke had feared, his aunt had told Josephine that he had burned the first of her letters, and so she saw little sense in sending any more.
However, she still clearly saw the sense in writing them, even if she never sent them.
“12th March 1832.
My Dearest Hamilton,
I would hope that this letter if ever I did send it, would find you in the very best of health and happiness.
It has been more than a year since last I wrote to you and almost two since I set eyes upon you. How long it has seemed to me, my dear brother, and how extraordinarily painful.
Time and time again I had meant to write, even after Aunt Cynthia told me how my first letter to you ended up. I realize now that you are truly disappointed in me, and I shall not send you any further letters for fear that they shall also end by being thrown upon the fire as my first one was. But please know that I do not blame you for it, nor do I hold any injury in that regard. Rather, I understand entirely and simply wish that things could have been different for us.
It really is terribly difficult for me to accept my own part in things and to realize quite how much I must have hurt you. But please understand that I did not have a choice; otherwise, I should not have run as I did. I could never have imagined in all my life running from you. You were always the dearest person in my world, and I am only sorry that you might never know it.
And yet, one day, you might. You might stumble upon these letters by chance, although I cannot begin to imagine what chance that might be. Or I might find the courage to send them to you, and you might find an opening in your heart which would allow you to read them.
Either way, all I have at this moment is to commit my feelings to paper without the knowledge that you will ever know them yourself.
In my first letter, I had wanted greatly to explain to you why I ran. Not to excuse myself, you understand, for true love does not need any excuse. But I should like to have explained nonetheless. I should have liked you to have read my words to you and perhaps given them a little of the understanding that I have always had of you.
And yes, I do understand. I knew exactly why it was you did not wish me to marry Carwyn Thomas and I know, in your own way, it was out of the purest love for me. You felt that I would suffer greatly by not having all the material things that had made up so much of my life. The great advantages that you and I both enjoyed simply as a consequence of our birth. And it is true, brother, that there are things that I miss. And yet, none of them detract from my happiness now. And that, in the end, is why I left. I knew at the time that you did not believe it to be anything other than simple fancy, but I loved Carwyn Thomas as I knew I would never love another. And, these two years later, nothing has changed. Rather, it has grown into a love I could never have imagined. It is a love that I can only hope and pray that you yourself will find one day, wherever you might find it. You see, love does not always arise just as one might hope it would. It does not always have a title, or a background that is acceptable to all around. But it comes nonetheless, brother, and if it ever comes to you, then I think you will understand entirely what it is I am trying to say.
In the end, I could only ever have gone with Carwyn. He was and is my life and always shall be. But I should like so very much for you to still be my brother.
I should like so very much for us to laugh again as we did when we were younger, and I should like to run to you with my every little problem, my every little malady, and have you listen to me and console me as you always did.
Of course, I might wait the rest of my life and have that never happen. In truth, it breaks my heart, but I do not know how I can change it.
And yet it changes nothing. It does not change my great love for you, my dear Hamilton. I shall always be grateful for the guidance and the love that you gave me daily, never once missing a moment. You never, ever let me down in any way, even when you and I were at our very worst.
Even when you and I could no longer stay together as a family, I loved you. And still, I love you now and always shall. And in my heart, I am certain that you still love me too. At least that is what I choose to believe and, in the absence of any evidence to the contrary, I shall not be swayed in that.
And so it is that I shall simply continue to write to you; I shall write to you the letters that you might never, ever see. And yet I shall write them if only to let you know in some way of every happy incident of my life.
And it is with great happiness that I tell you that I am soon to expect a child. In truth, the doctor says that I am so large that there might well be more than one. I could not be happier than to have two babies at once. Just as our mother and Aunt Cynthia were twins, does it not follow that they might run in our family on our mother’s side? I do hope so, Hamilton. If only they could know you. If only one day there would be some way in which my little children would know their Uncle Hamilton. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to know that they had you out there in the world acting as their silent guardian, just as you were mine all those years.
And now I must end, but I promise that I shall write to you again soon. My baby, or babies, are due near Christmas. What a wonderful thing that shall be!
With all my love,
Josie.”
By the time she had finished reading, Georgette was almost blinded by tears. Josephine was every bit as lovely as her aunt and housekeeper proclaimed, and it was easy to see where Eleri and Ffion had found such lovely natures.
All that remained was to read the rest and hope that when she returned to Oxfordshire, the Duke would at least allow her a moment of his time so that she might show the letters to him.
Chapter 31
“That is such a beautiful painting over the fireplace, Mrs Evans,” Georgette said the following morning after the two women had sat down together for breakfast.
Mrs Evans had gone to a lot of effort, cooking bacon, eggs, and toast for her, not to mention just about the strongest tea she had ever encountered in her entire life.
As the two sat down together, Georgette realized that it had been a very long time since she had sat down to a meal with another person. Apart from the bread and butter she had eaten with John Casson in Trawsfynydd, Georgette had not shared a meal since her father had died. She had eaten alone ever since, and something about Mrs Evans’ kindness and caring made her feel somewhat more human than she had done for some time.
“It is a painting of the Rhinog Mountain Range, Miss Darrington,” Mrs Evans said and seemed to flush with pride. “If you stand at the top of the garden, that is exactly the view.”
“And so it is,” Georgette said, rising to her feet and walking over to the fireplace to take a closer look. “Tell me, who painted it?”
“It was Carwyn Thomas, Miss. He was a fine painter, and that’s for certain.”
“Indeed, he was,” Georgette said and meant it.
She had more than once admired the wonderful view from the top of the beautiful and deceptively large garden and could see that Carwyn Thomas’ painting was a most faithful and very beautifully painted reproduction of that scene.
In truth, everything in North Wales seemed as a dream to her, and she could quite understand how it was that Lady Josephine Whitehall, sister of the Duke of Draycott, had felt so at home there. There seemed to be a quality to the green of the grass that was not quite as apparent in England. It was deeper and brighter somehow, perhaps because of all the rain. The rain and the sunshine, often occurring within minutes of each other, had served to paint the landscape in such a unique hue. And then, of course, there were the other mountains; the ones which were not covered in lush green foliage and grass. The gray, sharp mountains which were frightening and beautiful all at once.
It seemed to Georgette that everything around her worked together, almost as if it conspired to provide a vista of the highest drama. A vista from which many fairytales and myths and legends must surely have been born.
“It really is a very beautiful place,” Georgette said a little wistfully as she turned to look back at Mrs Evans.
“Yes, I would say it’s the most beautiful place on earth. Even though I have never been anywhere else, I am sure of it.” Mrs Evans laughed, and it was an extraordinarily deep and rich laugh for so slim a woman.
“Well, I shall believe you are quite correct, Mrs Evans.”
At that moment, there came a rather determined knock at the door.
“Goodness me, that certainly made me jump,” Mrs Evans said, laughing a little as she rose, her hand on her chest as if to steady her heart.
As Mrs Evans disappeared to answer the door, Georgette turned her attention back upon the painting of the Rhinog Mountains. Once again, she found herself a little lost in the scenery and could quite understand why it was that Josephine had fallen so very deeply in love with Carwyn. If his poetry was as good as his painting, he was a young woman’s dream come true.
“You have a visitor, MissDarrington.” Mrs Evans sounded quite upended. “Oh, dear me,” she went on, her hand fluttering about her neck and her cheeks quite pink. “It is the Duke of Draycott,” she said and turned to allow the visitor admittance into the drawing room.
“Thank you kindly, Mrs Evans,” the Duke said smiling warmly at the woman in a way which made her cheeks turn pinker still.
“You are welcome, Your Grace,” she said uncertainly and curtsied in a most curious fashion before backing out of the room for the safety of her kitchen.
“Miss Darrington,” he said rather somberly and nodded.
“Your Grace?” Georgette said, her heart thundering with tremendous speed. “I do not understand. You are here.”
“Yes, I am here.”
“But I do not understand. I do not understand how you came to be here, Your Grace.” Georgette knew that she was blushing quite violently.
Of course, it was largely due to the shock of seeing him there. Not only seeing him in Beddgelert, the last place on earth she might expect to see him, but seeing him at all when she thought, deep down, that she might never see him again.
And that was the truth; Georgette had suffered the most dreadful notion that she might never set eyes upon him again as long as she lived. The awful thought had been with her from the very moment she had walked away from Draycott Hall and climbed into the carriage. It had been with her for the dreadful nights she had spent at the inn wondering what she ought to do next. And it had been with her for every mile that had passed between Oxfordshire and North Wales. And now there he was, standing right in front of her.
He was wearing the rich brown tailcoat and waistcoat which suited him so well, and she thought him at that moment to be the most handsome man she had seen in all her life. And there was something about his demeanour which was so very familiar to her, almost comforting. It was the slightly lost air of the man who was perhaps just a little more awkward than a Duke ought to be. And it was the man she had fallen in love with.
“Miss Darrington, I wanted to apologize,” he said quite simply, his blue-green eyes fixing hers most securely.
“You came all the way to Wales to apologize?” Georgette said incredulously and then, quite without warning, she began to laugh. “Oh, Your Grace, please forgive me. I did not mean to laugh at you. It simply seems like such a terribly long way to come to say sorry.” And once again, she laughed.
“I am very much reminded of that day in the woodland on the edge of Draycott. You laughed at me then also.” He smiled at her, and she was greatly relieved that he did not seem to have taken offense.
In truth, she almost could not trust her senses and wondered if she had quite imagined that he had walked into the room and was standing there before her in the beautifully cosy drawing-room in the house at Beddgelert.
“Do you remember? I had blundered my way through the conversation and had inadvertently said all manner of things which, although they had not been intended, could quite easily have caused offense. And as I tried to apologize, you laughed at me.”
“I remember,” Georgette said, finally getting control of herself once more. “And I am as sorry now as I was then, Your Grace; you must believe me.”
“But you have no need to be sorry, Miss Darrington,” he said and suddenly smiled so broadly that she felt herself a little weak. It was truly the most beautiful smile she had ever seen in her life, and she could hardly catch her breath. “Because I very much enjoy your laughter, MissDarrington. When it presents itself, it is almost always unguarded and, therefore, can be trusted entirely. It is as easy to tell when you are amused as it is to tell when you are angry.”
“But I am rather afraid, Your Grace, that you have seen more of one than the other,” she said, a little chagrined.
“It is true that I have seen more of your anger and annoyance than I have seen of your laughter, but I rather think that the fault in that case is mine and not yours.”
“Not entirely, Your Grace. In truth, I have blundered myself at times, and it is only with hindsight that I see it. But I hope that my simple act of recognition of my faults shall serve as a thorough apology.”
“There is nothing for which you must apologize, nothing at all. You simply gave me the truth most decidedly, and I must openly admit that I have never met anybody like you in my life.”
Georgette hardly knew what to say. In truth, she was not sure that she wanted to hear any more for fear that his words were not perhaps as complimentary as they might at first seem. “And if I had not met you, Miss Darrington, I might have wandered in a fog of confusion for the rest of my days,” he concluded.
“Your Grace, I hardly know what to say,” Georgette said somewhat shyly.
In her heart, she knew that she had longed for him to hold her in such high regard and had longed to hear such praise from him.
“And now you have come all this way to Wales to uncover yet more truth,” he said, and she began to wonder quite how he felt about that.
After all, she had come to the home of his sister without any authorisation from him at all, and he would be quite within his rights to be most terribly angry with her. Even though Lady Lyndon had given her written authority to look through the house as she wished, surely the Duke was the one who had the final say as to what did and did not happen within the four walls in which they now stood.
“I have, Your Grace, and I would beg that you trust my motives are good ones.”
“How could I think any other? Throughout our entire acquaintance, Miss Darrington, you have shown yourself to be most decidedly brave. And your bravery, even though it has taken me some time to admit it, always came from a source of good. You always spoke out in defense of the children, even when it meant that you must face me and even lock horns with me over it. But you did not back down, Miss Darrington, not once. And even now, you do not back down.”
“I cannot back down, Your Grace, for it means a great deal to me to discover certain truths which might well improve the lives of others.”
“How so?” the Duke said, tilting his head a little to one side. As he did so, his thick dark blond hair fell over his eyes just a little, and Georgette thought him suddenly much younger than he truly was.
“You might think me most dreadfully impertinent, Your Grace, but I must assure you that your aunt gave me leave to search thoroughly for anything I might find of use.”
“You need not fear any admonishment from me, Miss Darrington. And I know that your motives are true.”
“Well, I believe I have discovered the one thing I truly sought in my adventure here, Your Grace,” She said, feeling her mouth going dry now that her chance to tell him all that she had discovered had come.
The time had come even when she had thought that her opportunity to speak migh
t never have truly presented itself.
“And what is that?” he said, taking a step towards her.
“Your Grace, would you be so good as to follow me? I have discovered something in one of the rooms upstairs which I think you really ought to see.”
“Then lead the way, Miss Darrington,” he said and nodded.
From his countenance, Georgette could tell that the Duke of Draycott was silently wondering if he could trust himself to keep his own emotions in check. However, she knew that he must see all that she had seen if he were to have any chance at a happy life.
Chapter 32
“Forgive me for leading you upstairs, Your Grace, but I rather think that you would be better out of the way to read these,” Georgette said, indicating that he ought to sit on the wicker chair in his sister’s bedroom as she placed the box of letters upon his lap.
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