by Erin Grace
She held it with shaking hands then placed it down upon the table. ‘I can’t accept anything from you, Anna. I don’t have anything. I mean I didn’t have time to make you a gift. Though, if I must be truthful, I hadn’t intended on giving any gifts this year. I suppose you must think ill of me?’
Her friend reached out, clasped her hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. ‘I know you have every right not to celebrate Christmas, Lily. I too miss my papa, though it has been quite some time since he passed. I was younger than Stephaney. I know we have never spoken about it at length, but all I wish to say is that time will heal your wounds. I know at the present this sounds hard to believe, but it’s true. And now when I think of Papa, I imagine him on board one of his enormous sailing ships, bound for some exotic land, and that someday I will see him again…just not now.’ Annabelle smiled, but her eyes were glistening with tears. ‘Lord. Listen to me. I sound like Mama. And, as for gifts, I don’t mind at all if I never get a present from you in all my given days. But, do understand that I adore nothing more than giving. And little makes me happier than watching someone open a gift. That, and your friendship are my presents.’
Lips trembling, she wiped away a few stray tear drops and nodded. ‘You are horrible, Annabelle.’
‘I know.’ Anna grinned then laughed. ‘Look at the pair of us. We’re soggier being inside than out. Now, hurry up and open the box.’
She retrieved a kitchen knife from the bench, cut the strings then carefully removed the lid of the box. ‘Oh, Annabelle.’ Her throat tightened, and she fumbled for the right words to say.
‘Well?’ Annabelle’s eyes widened. ‘What do you think?’
She reached inside and removed a dark brown woolen cloak, complete with a hood trimmed in fur. She’d never owned anything so exquisite. ‘Oh, Annabelle. I can’t. I couldn’t. It is too much.’
‘Nonsense. I have wanted to give you this for the longest time. Do you like it?’
She held it up against her, the long length of heavy cloth draping along her frame to the floor. ‘I adore it.’
‘I’m so glad. And the color suits you so well.’ Annabelle patted her hands together with obvious delight. ‘Now you must wear it to the Christmas dance tomorrow night. I can’t wait to see you in it.’
She folded the cloak over her arm then absently played with one of the tasseled tie cords. ‘I’m afraid I won’t be going to the dance.’
‘Not going? Nonsense. This is all your aunt’s doing, I suppose. Honestly, that woman needs a firm hand.’
‘It’s all right, Anna. I agreed not to go. I have no real desire to return to Etford Park. And there is so much for me to do here.’
Her friend stared at her in clear disbelief. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with my friend?’
She sighed. ‘Annabelle…’
‘You must come to the dance and that is final.’ Her friend glanced away, her cheeks beginning to blush. ‘You see, I have some wonderful news.’
‘What is it?’
Annabelle smiled, her eyes shining like bright sapphires. ‘William has proposed.’
Her mouth popped open. ‘We are talking about the same William who could never bring himself to say a word to you?’
‘The very same. It seems he was waiting until he’d considered he’d made enough money to make me a proper home, then he went directly to my eldest brother and asked his permission to marry me.’ Anna eyed the platter of gingerbread thoughtfully. ‘This cake looks quite nice. Any good?’
‘I wouldn’t eat it. So, you’re telling me William spoke to Garret and Garret let him leave with all his limbs intact?’
Looking somewhat disappointed over the gingerbread, Annabelle turned to her and smiled.
‘In truth, I had expected some sort of outburst, but the two of them sat in the library for nearly two hours.’
‘What did they say?’
Annabelle sighed. ‘I’m not entirely sure as they had the doors locked, and I could hear very little through the keyhole. But when they finally emerged, William just smiled at me, kissed my hand then left. Later, Garret asked me if I would have the man, and when I said I would, he agreed with no quarrel. Seems I was the only one in my house surprised by William’s proposal. And what is more, it appears my brothers have always liked him.’
‘Oh goodness. All your worry for nothing.’
‘I know. Men are such odd creatures. In any case, Garret is going to announce our betrothal at the dance. You simply must be there for me.’
‘I can’t Annabelle. I’m so sorry. I wish I could explain. I really do.’ Heaven help her. She wanted to tell her friend everything that had happened, but she realized getting angry over the situation wasn’t going to help her. The fact was she had been disgraced in the home of the man she loved – a man who would soon marry another. There was no going back. ‘I hope you can forgive me.’
Annabelle scowled and gave her a knowing look. ‘That witch is making you marry Dunford, isn’t she?’
She couldn’t meet her prying gaze. ‘Yes. I have agreed to marry him, but I haven’t told him yet.’ Henrietta had threatened to cast her family out once and for all if she didn’t marry the man and be done with it. She’d thought about leaving, but even if she managed to get to London and work with Mrs Peel’s niece, she had no money to support herself or her family in the meantime. It was hopeless. ‘I will tell him Christmas Eve and my uncle will announce our betrothal during Christmas morning service.’
‘I won’t allow it. You cannot marry that dreadful man. How can Henrietta be so cruel? You do realize both his late wives died in rather questionable circumstances?’
She winced. ‘Thank you. Yes. I was aware. I’m sure it was just coincidence.’ Now she was lying to herself.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake. Listen to yourself. You could be next, Lily’ Annabelle grabbed her bonnet and began pacing the floor. ‘I must speak with my brothers. There must be something we can do to help you. I know. I’ll have Jacob came and take you off to Gretna Green. Then you can marry him and Dunford won’t be able to bother you any longer.’
She stared at her and smiled. ‘Gretna Green? Thank you, Annabelle. You are my dearest friend. And, I know you mean well. But I think it’s time I faced my future, instead of always running from it.’
Chapter 20
Gabriel couldn’t sleep.
He’d lay there for hours, staring up at the ceiling, wondering why Lily hadn’t answered his letter. Twice he’d gone to the vicarage to speak with her this morning, but she was nowhere to be found. Frustrated, he’d finally resorted to leaving her a letter. He only hoped that foolish woman, Mrs Talbot, ensured Lily received it.
He pushed back the covers, moved his legs over the side of the bed then sat up. What time was it? Two? Three in the morning? The blue-grey moonlight shed an eerie glow into his room. Odd that it shone so clear for a winter’s night. But there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.
After an excruciating dinner in the company of Lady Stanton, he’d opted to retire early for the evening. His father had also retired back to his rooms, claiming illness.
Though his body still ached from the residue of his illness, he’d recovered swiftly, much to his own surprise as everyone else’s and could credit it in part to Mrs Peel’s tonic. Not that he’d drank very much of it. The obnoxious potion was so vile, he’d felt better by just looking at the glass full of murky brown liquid, rather than ingesting it.
He stood up, retrieved his robe from a nearby chair then headed out the door. Though he stocked an excellent supply of brandy in his room, he felt the need to walk - and think.
When he’d first heard about Lily’s crime he was outraged. Cecily had to have been lying, jealous perhaps that he no longer felt any love toward her. But when Mrs Godfrey informed him the full details of Lily’s thievery he had been stunned. Her room had contained all manner of precious items, from cufflinks to silverware. Why would she abuse his trust of her? The woman he’d held in his arms and kisse
d couldn’t have used him. Could she?
But Cecily had.
The woman had lead him a merry chase until he thought he would shrivel and die if he didn’t have her as his wife. Both seemed to want only what his money could give, except Cecily realized Henry could offer more. Had Lily also found someone who could give her more?
Voices, echoes from the past, reminded him of his folly in trusting a woman again. Damn it all. Doubting her caused a cold ball of lead to settle in his gut, but if Lily was innocent why hadn’t she explained herself. He’d wanted to believe her, needed to know it was some horrendous mistake. And devil take it, he didn’t give a damn about the bloody thimble. It could have been the crown jewels for all he cared, the fact remained, like Cecily, Lily had only wanted something from him.
According to Thompson, his father had been given a heavy dose of laudanum on doctor’s orders and had slept through the incident with Lily and the thimble.
Now the entire house seemed miserable since her departure.
Lamp in hand he wandered down the vast staircase then along the chilly marble hallway. Nevermore had he noticed what a cold, empty place Etford Park really was. As he passed by the endless array of portraits adorning the walls, he could feel the weight of his ancestor’s critical gazes. Perhaps they too wished Henry back.
But, they didn’t know his brother like he did.
He paused as he approached the library. A soft light was glowing from beneath the doors. Had a fire been left burning in the hearth? He reached the door, pushed against the handle and opened it.
‘Couldn’t sleep either, eh?’ The voice had come from somewhere behind the large winged backed chair facing the fire.
He stepped into the room and held the lamp a little higher. ‘My lord? What are you doing here, sir? It must be two in the morning.’
‘Three, actually. But who’s counting?’ His father’s face appeared at the side of the chair, an all-too familiar scowl etched upon it. ‘Well, just don’t stand there in your bare feet. You’re letting in a blasted draft. Close the door then help yourself to a brandy and sit down.’
He stood there stunned as he tried to process the fact his father was indeed talking to him, instead of merely shouting. He couldn’t recall the last time – or anytime for that matter – that his father had invited him to join him in a drink.
As directed, he approached the sideboard and poured himself a very generous cognac. Lord, he was certain to need it.
‘What keeps you awake, sir. Are you ill?’ He sat down opposite his father who was ensconced in his favorite chair by the hearth. ‘Do you wish me to send for a physician?’
‘Do I look like I’m dying?’
The question took him aback. ‘You would be the best judge of that.’
His father waved away his reply and shook his head. ‘Hmph. Apparently not. I have been informed that I am far too mean and grumpy to be recommended to the Lord as yet. What do you make of that?’
He blinked and took a sip of his drink, the familiar burning sensation down his gullet reminding him he couldn’t possibly be still asleep and dreaming this rather odd conversation. ‘I honestly cannot say, sir. Has someone offended you?’
‘Often, of late. But nothing more than I deserve, I fear.’
Suddenly uncomfortable, he was unprepared for the course matters were taking. His father had never been so candid with him before. Had Henry spoken with their father like this?
‘You have me at a loss sir. Who is this fearless individual?’
The hint of a smile curved his lordship’s mouth. ‘A Miss Stephaney Bowden. Capricious little brat if ever I met one.’
Stephaney? ‘Lily Bowden’s younger sister? The vicar’s niece?’
‘One in the same. However, I am informed that Lily is not old, though fears she may become a spinster before her time.’
He sat back and took stock of the man before him. Good God, his father was going mad.
‘Don’t look at me like I’m going mad.’ His father scowled and waggled a finger at him. ‘The sad fact is, I miss the brat. I even told her once she reminded me of my dear sister Elizabeth. Did I ever tell you about your aunt?’
Stunned by the intimate revelations, he merely shook his head. ‘No. Though I do know a little something of her. Uncle Merrick had mentioned her once.’
‘Remind me to tell you sometime. But as for the brat, she still owes me a considerable amount of chestnuts from our last game of Faro.’
‘You have been playing Faro…with a mere child?’
‘Yes. Yes. Faro, chess, backgammon. And she will have you know she is not a child as she will be turning thirteen soon.’
He tried to hold back a wry smile. His father. The coldest man he had ever known had been thawed by an unruly tomboy with a penchant for running away.
He didn’t quite know what to say.
‘I see.’ Actually, he didn’t. But for the first time he thought he saw a flicker of joy in the old man’s eyes whenever he mentioned Lily’s sister’s name. And for that, he stood amazed.
‘Do you? We shall see.’ His father shifted in his chair and stared at the fire. ‘So, what do you make of all this nonsense about the girl’s sister? Do you believe she stole some trinkets?’
Did he? His heart was guarded as he looked down into his glass somehow hoping he’d find the answers there amongst the rich brown liquor. But experience had shown him no amount of drink could solve his problems indefinitely. ‘I can only rely upon the facts, sir.’
‘What kind of stupid reply is that? Evidence. Bah. Unfortunately, I had been asleep at the time and wasn’t consulted at all. Damn laudanum. Lady Stanton has much to answer for.’
‘Yes, I suppose she does.’ He glanced up and noticed a folded pile of papers tucked next to his father side.
Cecily’s letters?
He shot his father an incredulous look. ‘Where did you get those?’
The old man’s hand reached down to the letters and pushed them down further. ‘It’s my damned library. And the drawer wasn’t locked.’
Hell. Those letters contained correspondence between Henry and Lady Stanton. The morning he’d recovered from his fever, he’d read them at length, trying to decide how to proceed. It had appeared his brother and Lady Stanton had conspired to steal Cecily away from him. The worst of it had been his brother’s cruel and callous remarks about him and their father.
Henry had painted them both as ridiculous heathens too stupid and too ignorant to know what was best for the family.
At first, he’d refused to believe what he was reading, the hurt too painful to acknowledge. The brother he’d long held on a pedestal had hated him with a passion that was breathtaking. Taking Cecily had just been another way of Henry destroying every chance at happiness he had.
The only question left unanswered in the letters, was why. Why had his only brother despised him so?
But despite the power those letters held, the knowledge that could set him free of his regret and allow him the revenge against his father he’d deserved, he’d decided to burn them and hide the truth forever. Regardless of what was written, there had been little point in pretending matters would ever change between him and his father. But now the letters were in his father’s hands.
‘They weren’t meant for you, sir.’
‘I suppose not, though I doubt they were meant for you either. So why hadn’t you shown them to me? You could have you know. You could have used them to show me how my treasured eldest son was nothing but a bastard who thought himself a god. You could have used them to exact a revenge born out of thirty years of loathing me. But you didn’t. And I want to know why?’
He sat there, expecting some torrent of long suppressed rage to flow from his soul and destroy the man before him. But nothing came. Perhaps…perhaps he was tired of fighting his pain anymore. The war. His brother. Cecily. And now, Lily.
‘In all honesty, sir, I’m not entirely sure. Perhaps I have finally decided to let the past stay in t
he past. There is enough ill will in the world without dragging more along behind you.’
His father grimaced and nodded thoughtfully.
‘Very well, so what is it you’re now hoping to hear from me? An apology? A heartfelt admission that I have been a wretched old fool, too proud, ignorant and stubborn to have seen what his first born was really like…or to confess that when his wife died he cursed the very heavens and unfairly blamed an innocent child? Well, you shall hear no such confession from me.’
His throat tightened at the sight of tears in his proud father’s eyes. The makings of a smile tilted his lips, but he daren’t let it show. ‘Nor would I expect one, sir.
His father cleared his throat. ‘Right. So, what do you intend to do about the girl?’
‘Which girl?’
‘The spinster.’
‘Miss Bowden? There is nothing to be done, sir.’ He stood, downed his brandy and made to leave. ‘And, as much as I have truly enjoyed our conversation this evening, sir, I shall tend to my own matters.’
‘Stubborn fool.’ His father shook his head and sighed.
Why did he have the suspicion everyone in the manor knew about his business? ‘There is something I wish to ask, sir. Just why did you allow a party to be held here? And by that dreadful woman, Mrs Talbot.’
The old man shrugged. ‘I suppose that I too have to let go some of the past. It has nothing to recommend it, nothing but pain and sorrow there. The little brat showed me that. Lost their father, did you know? Poor girls. We are only on this earth for such a short time. And I have wasted so much of it living in the shadows. Besides, apart from your miraculous good health, courtesy of the vicar’s parish, I’m doing it in honor of your dear mother, God rest her sweet soul.’
He was laid bare by his father’s sudden warmth. ‘I think she would have enjoyed it, sir.’
His father’s sudden smile knocked the wind from his lungs. ‘Yes. I quite think she would.’
Bloody cold.
