How to Wake a Sleeping Lady

by Wolf, Bree

  “He didn’t smile…before?”

  Turning around to look at Nessa, Milly frowned. “He did, but he didn’t seem to want to. Now, his smile is different.” The corners of her mouth tugged upward. “I think it’s because of you.”

  “And you,” Nessa said, squeezing her daughter’s hands. “He wants to see you happy.”

  Milly’s eyes grew thoughtful. “I think I am.”

  Nessa chuckled, feeling her heart grow a thousand times lighter at her daughter’s simple joy. “But you would like it better if people were not as sad.”

  Milly nodded. “I would like that,” she confirmed. “Grandmother doesn’t get sad. Sometimes she gets angry, but she doesn’t get sad. I don’t know why.” Her face darkened. “And now you’re sad again.”

  “Only a little,” Nessa whispered. “You see, I didn’t know about Oliver until your father told me about him last night. I feel sad that I don’t remember his face.”

  “But you didn’t remember my face either,” Milly pointed out.

  “That’s true,” Nessa said, skimming a finger down her daughter’s cheek. “But I can look at you and see you. I can see your big hazel eyes and your little button nose,” Milly shrieked in delight when Nessa pinched her nose, “and your beautiful smile.”

  Sighing, Milly caught her breath before her little face sobered. “But you cannot see his,” she said, understanding in her wide hazel eyes. “That is sad.”

  “It is, but I promise I shall not be sad all the time. But every once in a while, I want to think about him and I’m afraid I cannot help feeling sad when I do. Do you understand?”

  Milly nodded. “Eugenie was sad, too, sometimes.”

  “She was?” Nessa asked, frowning, wondering if Eugenie had ever been happy here. After all, according to Grant, theirs had not been a love match. How did one feel marrying a stranger?

  Again, Milly nodded. “But she wasn’t sad about you, like Father.”

  “What was she sad about?”

  “I don’t know,” Milly said. “She always pretended she wasn’t sad when I asked her.” Her little nose scrunched up in disapproval. “Adults often do that. They pretend.”

  Nessa hugged her daughter. “I’m certain she only said so to keep you from being sad like her.”

  “But I was,” Milly insisted, “because I knew that she was lying.”

  “You’re right,” Nessa replied, realizing that although she would never forget and never wanted to, life was meant to be happy. “What can we do? Any suggestions?”

  A wide smile claimed Milly’s small face. “I collected some berries. Would you like to have some? They’re in the tree house.”

  “That is a wonderful idea,” Nessa said truthfully as her gaze traveled over the small dark red stains on her daughter’s hands she had missed before. “I see you’ve already tasted them.”

  “They’re sweet,” Milly exclaimed as she hopped to her feet. “You’ll like them.” Holding out her hand, she grasped Nessa’s. Then she leaned back, her feet stemmed into the ground, and pulled with all her might.

  Laughing, Nessa came to her feet. “You’re very strong.”

  “Thank you.” Milly smiled and led the way to her little sanctuary. Quick as a fox, she scrambled up the rope ladder and then held out her hand to Nessa.

  For a short moment, Nessa felt tears come to her eyes as she remembered her earlier thoughts about Milly and Oliver, about how they could have played together if only he had lived. But then she saw Milly’s smile and the joy in her eyes and knew that her daughter deserved a happy life, one not constantly overshadowed by sadness.

  Allowing Milly to pull her up onto the platform, Nessa panted, “Thank you for your help. I’m not sure I would have made it up here without your help. I feel quite famished, and my legs are not as strong as they would be if only I could find some food.”

  “I have some!” Milly exclaimed as she jumped to her feet and then dashed into the little house. A moment later, she returned with a small bucket full of strawberries. “Here, have the big one. I saved it for you.”

  Tasting the sweet fruit, Nessa settled into her usual spot beside the telescope. “These are wonderful. Did you get them from our vegetable patch?” Technically, strawberries weren’t a vegetable, but Nessa had been unable to deny Milly when she had begged her to plant some of the delicious fruit.

  Together, they had found a hidden spot in the back of the gardens and set to work. It had been their little secret, and Milly had delighted in it, knowing her grandmother would not have approved. Not that Nessa cared about what her mother-in-law would have approved of or not. However, the adventurous gleam in Milly’s eyes had been her undoing.

  After they finished off the berries, Milly once more turned to her telescope. “Grandmother is in her chamber. Did you know that she has a secret box under her bed?”

  Nessa knew she ought to speak to her daughter about personal boundaries; however, the little girl’s joy was intoxicating. On top of that, Nessa guessed that it had to be a bit lonesome for Milly to have no other children to play with.

  “She always keeps the key hidden in her dress,” Milly prattled on happily. “I wish I could see what she keeps in there. Do you think it’s treasure?”

  Nessa laughed. “Does your grandmother strike you as a pirate?”

  A disappointed frown came to Milly’s face as she looked at Nessa. Then she turned her attention back to her observations. “Now, she’s downstairs in the drawing room,” Milly began to narrate, “and there is Father.”

  Sitting up, Nessa couldn’t help but be curious. “Can I see?”

  “Of course.” Stepping away from the telescope, Milly leaned over the side railing, her eyes squinted into narrow slits as she looked toward the house. “I can’t see anything.”

  Nessa laughed. “I wouldn’t think so. It’s too far away.” Then she ducked down, closed one eye and looked through the glass.

  In the drawing room, she spotted her mother-in-law, her face tense and rather displeased, as she spoke to Grant. He, too, had an earnest expression on his face; however, while the dowager countess appeared to be holding on to her composure with a certain difficulty, Grant seemed rather calm, voicing his thoughts in a way that spoke of determination but not anger. “I wonder what they’re talking about,” Nessa mumbled more to herself than to her daughter. “She seems very upset.”

  “She was upset when Eugenie left,” Milly offered, her little eyes still squinted as though she only needed to put in enough effort to be able to see into the house. “I’ve never seen her so angry.” A giggle rose from Milly’s lips. “Only when she receives a letter from Aunt Theodora. Those make her very angry, too.”

  Nessa swallowed as she was once more faced with the fact that her mother-in-law would have preferred her son remain married to his second wife. What had happened to make the dowager countess dislike her so? Was it only a matter of sympathy or had something happened between them in the past that would explain her mother-in-law’s animosity?

  According to Grant, it had been like this from the beginning. But why?

  “Are they still talking?” Milly asked as she scooted closer, one hand resting leisurely on Nessa’s arm.

  Nessa nodded, remembering that Grant had promised her to speak to his mother about her eavesdropping on their conversations. That certainly would explain the dowager’s scowling face.

  Sighing, Nessa let her daughter have another turn. If only there was something she could do to see them all reconciled. It would be good for Milly, too, to have her family get along with one another. Perhaps she ought to speak to her mother-in-law.

  Perhaps there was a way.

  Chapter Twenty

  A Mother’s Heart

  After learning of her son as well as his loss, Nessa found little moments to mourn him. She spoke to her father as well as Grant and saw that she was not the only one who missed him dearly, who pictured him in their mind’s eye and who shed a tear every now and then at the thought o
f never knowing him.

  He was missed.

  He was remembered.

  And knowing that eased Nessa’s mind.

  Still, the animosity between her and her mother-in-law remained a constant irritation. Grant confirmed that he had, indeed, spoken to his mother about her tendency to eavesdrop on their conversations, and although the dowager countess refrained from doing so henceforth, it seemed she now disliked Nessa even more than before.

  Resolved to confront her mother-in-law openly, Nessa found it difficult to catch a moment alone with her. Milly was always nearby, and Nessa did not wish for her daughter to overhear their argument…for it surely would be one.

  And so Nessa waited, certain an opportunity would present itself at some point.

  Unfortunately, that opportunity came at a most inconvenient moment.

  Every few days, Nessa found herself walking down the small path that led past the quaint little chapel on the eastern side of Wentford Park and to the cemetery that lay behind. Her feet carried her across the soft grass and toward a small tombstone. There, she would sit for a little while and think of Oliver, allowing for moments of sadness but also willing herself to see his memory as a gift.

  Tears flowed down her cheeks. But the occasional smile flashed across her face as she pictured him with the same mischievous twinkle in his eyes she had often seen in her husband’s.

  “He would have been four years old.”

  At her mother-in-law’s sharp voice, Nessa flinched.

  Looking over her shoulder, she found the dowager countess walking up to where she sat. Quickly, Nessa brushed the tears from her face and pushed herself to her feet. “I know,” she replied as she looked at her mother-in-law with curious eyes. Never had they spoken more than two words to each other, and Nessa wished that could change. “Grant told me about him. It came as quite the shock.”

  As the dowager’s pale blue eyes swept over her, Nessa felt a chill run down her back. “It was hard for Wentford to bury his only son.” Folding her hands, she stepped forward, her lips thinning as she regarded Nessa with unadulterated disapproval. “I told him he was making a mistake, but he would not listen. Now, his son is dead.”

  As shock froze her limbs, Nessa stared at her mother-in-law. “What are you saying?” she gasped almost breathless as pain and grief came back with full force, bringing along an old friend: guilt. “Are you suggesting I…?” Unable to finish the sentence, she stared at her mother-in-law.

  The dowager’s gaze narrowed into a point, and Nessa could feel it like a needle piercing her skin. “You should never have married him,” she hissed, her hands balling into fists as she fought to contain the fury that burned in her eyes. “You were an old spinster, not fit to bear my son’s children. Now, see what you’ve done.”

  Nessa felt her knees grow weak as her mother-in-law’s accusations washed over her. Deep down, she knew them to be wrong. Deep down, she knew that if Grant were here, he would defend her. However, in that moment, her emotions were too raw for her to draw comfort from that knowledge.

  “You should never have returned,” her mother-in-law hissed as she stalked toward her, once and for all confirming what Nessa had known in her heart. “Everything was as it should have been to begin with. My son had finally married a worthy, young woman who would no doubt have given him many sons in the years to come.” Jabbing a finger through the air, she pointed it at Nessa accusingly. “You ruined everything. Now, Theodora’s good-for-nothing son will inherit the title, the estate and we’ll lose everything.” The scowl on her face darkened and, for a moment, Nessa thought the woman would slap her. “Why couldn’t you have simply remained dead?”

  Shock froze Nessa’s limbs and stole the breath from her chest. Still, when her gaze drifted down to touch upon the small tombstone, something changed. It was as though she could feel her son’s little fingers wrap around one of hers, tugging on her arm, reminding her that she had loved him. That she still loved him.

  Whether she remembered him or not, she loved him and always would.

  “You’ve robbed us all of the chance to stand tall,” her mother-in-law hissed, hands on her hips as she fixed Nessa with a hateful glare. “Our family has always been a proud one, our noble lineage dating back many generations.” She scoffed. “You’re a no one; insignificant and worthless. You couldn’t even give my son an heir. You—”

  “I pity you.” Lifting her chin, Nessa took a step toward her mother-in-law, her gaze hard as she met the woman’s eyes. “Is that your idea of family? Status and reputation, lineage and bloodline? Nothing more?” Shaking her head, she frowned. “Do you even love your son?”

  The dowager countess’ heated cheeks paled. “How dare you ask me that? Of course, I do. I’m his mother. I—”

  “Yes, you’re his mother,” Nessa interrupted, stepping up to champion her husband’s case as well as her own. “You’re his mother, and yet, it seems that his happiness means very little to you.” Sighing, she smiled. “He chose me because he loved me, and he does so still. Can you not see that? We were happy together once, and we have a chance to be happy again. Is that not what you want for him? To be happy?” Glancing down at the small tombstone, Nessa felt tears mist her eyes. “It’s what I would have wanted for my son,” she whispered, her voice heavy with a loss that still felt as raw as though it had happened only the day before. “I would have given everything to keep him from harm, to see him smile and laugh.” Drawing in a deep breath, Nessa lifted her gaze and met her mother-in-law’s wide eyes once more. “I would have gladly given my life to save his, and it pains me that it was not within my power to do so. It is something I will regret for the rest of my life.”

  Swallowing, Nessa blinked away her tears, then took a step toward her mother-in-law. “But right here, right now, it is within your power to see your son happy. Will you not do so? Will you take a step back from your own aspirations for him, aspirations he does not share, in order to see him happy? Or will you forever put your own wishes before those of your child? The choice is yours, but know that it will determine your future one way or the other.”

  For a moment, Nessa thought that her mother-in-law was actually considering her words, rethinking her view on life, on what was important and what was not. Despite everything the dowager countess had said, Nessa was willing to put the past behind them and start anew. For Grant. For Milly. For all of them.

  Still, no matter her own doubts and insecurities, Nessa would no longer allow that woman to put her down.

  Never again.

  “Shall there be peace between us?” Nessa asked as she held out her hand to her mother-in-law. Her voice rang strong to obliterate any doubt there might be in the dowager countess’ mind that they were equals.

  For a long moment, her mother-in-law simply stared at her, her eyes almost expressionless, her features still frozen in shock. Then, however, her gaze hardened and her lips thinned, and Nessa could see all hope for a peaceful future slipping away, destroyed by the other woman’s misguided ambitions.

  “You know nothing of the life my son was born to,” the dowager countess spat, “the life that would have made him happy had you not interfered! Don’t you dare speak to me of what is right! You know nothing. You don’t even know your own past. How dare you speak to me as though your words had any worth!” And with a final unladylike growl leaving her lips, the dowager countess spun around and stalked away, her angry footsteps echoing in Nessa’s mind like shots of a firing squad.

  Never would she have thought that her mother-in-law’s dislike had grown to such extent. Never had Nessa known such hatred.

  Sinking back into the grass, she pulled up her legs and wept for something she could not name.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  An Accidental Revelation

  “You asked to see me, Wentford.”

  Looking up, Grant cleared his throat. “Indeed. Please come in and close the door behind you.” Rounding his desk, Grant noticed the slight frown that came to his
mother’s face at his request. “I do not wish to be overheard.”

  A spark of interest came to her eyes as she stepped toward him after shutting the door. “What is it, Wentford? Is something wrong?”

  Grant frowned, wondering about the slightly hopeful tone in her voice. “No, not at all. Quite on the contrary.” He grinned. “I’m planning a surprise.”

  His mother’s eyes narrowed further. However, the corners of her mouth quirked slightly as though, deep down, she wanted to be excited about this but wasn’t quite ready to let herself. “A surprise? For whom? Amelia’s birthday is still a bit off.”

  “It’s for Nessa,” Grant exclaimed, feeling excitement course through him. “I—” Hearing his mother sigh rather theatrically, he stopped. “Is that a problem?” he dared, knowing that it was not the first time that his mother had displayed a lack of enthusiasm where Nessa was concerned.

  Folding her hands in front of her, his mother met his gaze with a haughty one of her own. “I do not think it necessary to go to any great length to…surprise her.”

  “And why is that?” Grant demanded, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

  His mother shrugged. “I simply do not think it necessary.”

  Grant braced himself for a confrontation that had been a long time coming. “Mother, I know that you’ve never quite warmed to Nessa. However, I fail to see what the problem is.” He sighed, hoping to loosen his mother’s tongue by being open-minded. “I admit there might have been superficial objections to our marriage all those years ago. However, we are married now. She is my wife and the mother of my children. She makes me happy. Is that not enough?”

  His mother’s lips thinned, and Grant’s hope to discuss the issue like adults evaporated.

  Shaking his head, he looked at her. “I don’t understand you. Nessa is such a warm-hearted and kind woman. How can anyone not like her?” He frowned. “Is it truly a matter of sympathy? Or is there another reason why you’ve been barely civil to her since she’s returned?”