by Stacy Henrie
“Which is exactly what I didn’t want.” Agitated, as much with him as with herself, she stood and moved down the bench to stare out the nearest window.
She heard him give a disgruntled sniff. “Now who is being stubborn? We have already established that strength isn’t about refusing help.”
“I was embarrassed,” she shot back. “And angry, Hugh. Even now, I still cannot believe they let things become so bad. I thought I could save things on my own, so yes, I was being stubborn. But I don’t want to be. Not anymore.”
The sound of his footsteps moving toward her echoed through the still church, but she didn’t turn. She heard him stop behind her, then his hands wrapped gently around her shoulders. “I do not blame you for feeling embarrassed or angry, Ada. I only wish you’d been honest with me sooner.”
Tears blurred her eyes as he slowly spun her to face him. “I’m sorry, Hugh.”
“All is forgiven,” he said in a sincere tone. “And if you absolutely insist, I will not raise your salary.”
She managed a wobbly smile. “I do insist, but I can think of another way you can help. If you’re willing.”
“Anything.”
It was true. “I would like your opinion on something our land agent suggested. He feels we need to drain a sizeable section of the land to get better crops. Unfortunately, it will cost a pretty penny to do that.”
“I’m more an expert on boots and running a factory than I am with land, but we made some improvements to Whitmore House a few years ago that have seemed to help.” He lowered his hands from her shoulders. “What if I had my land agent come look things over? I trust the chap’s opinion.”
Relief washed through her. “That would be wonderful.”
“I do have one stipulation, though.” A teasing glint lit his brown eyes.
Ada couldn’t help a laugh. “Oh, dear. Not that again. What is it this time?”
“I promise it will not be increasing your wages.”
“Good. Then I’m listening.”
The mischievousness disappeared from his face. “We still have not taken that horse ride you asked me about the other month.”
“No, we have not.” The fact that he’d remembered her invitation filled her with pleasure. “So is that your stipulation? You will help me if I go riding with you?”
He gave a decisive nod. “Yes.”
“I might be rather slow and awkward. It has been years.”
His full smile animated her pulse again. “I believe you will have little difficulty remembering how to ride well.”
“All right then.” She indicated he precede her down the bench. “How soon can you and your land agent come visit? And when do you want to go riding?” Picking up her hat, she followed him down the aisle.
Hugh considered the question. “How about Saturday next for both?”
“I would like that,” she said candidly, feeling anticipation as well as some peace as they exited the church.
• • •
Ada reined in her horse, then turned to look over her shoulder at Hugh and his mount, still a ways behind. A full-throated laugh escaped her lips. She’d forgotten how much she loved riding, though that realization had come a little too late. Next week equestrian buyers would descend upon Stonefield Hall to purchase the estate’s horses, though to Ada’s great relief, Hugh had asked if he could buy her father’s stallion.
“Your riding is neither awkward nor slow,” he joked as he stopped his horse alongside hers. The animal danced to the side at the sudden change in speed.
She laughed again. “Thank you for indulging me in a race.”
“My pleasure.” The sincerity in his eyes made her pulse tumble erratically as it had the other week when they’d talked inside the church. “I didn’t doubt for a moment that your riding skills would return.”
“So they have.” She nudged her horse in the direction of Whitmore House and Hugh fell in beside her. “I only wish I had thought to teach Rosemary how to ride before making the decision to sell the horses.”
Hugh glanced at her. “Rosemary is welcome to ride any of our horses. Either myself or our stable master would be more than willing to teach her.”
“She would love that.” Ada smiled to show her earnestness. “Thank you.”
Her daughter had dogged the man’s heels earlier that day, when Hugh and his land agent had visited the estate. Ada suspected it was partly because Rosemary missed her grandfather and partly because Hugh never showed annoyance at her persistent, curious questions. He always answered them with patience. Rosemary had been visibly disappointed when the tour of the estate had ended.
“Have you decided yet what you will do with the land?” he asked.
Ada nodded—she’d decided not long after the men had left that afternoon. “I think the advice of your land agent is sound. We will sell some of the land, as he suggested, and use the money to fund the draining of the other fields.”
“I wish you didn’t have to sell any part of it.” His gaze moved to Whitmore House in the distance. “It is your home.”
Her carefree mood wilted at the reminder. “I feel the same, and yet, I have to believe we’ll be all right.” She shifted in the saddle and straightened her shoulders. “I don’t think God sent us back here only to wind up on the street. He has something in mind for me and Rosemary, even if I cannot see what it is yet.”
“There are plenty of us who care deeply for you, Ada, who would not stand by and let you and your family end up on the street.”
The conviction behind his words and the intensity of his expression as he looked her way stole the moisture from her mouth. Did Hugh care deeply for her in the same way that Minnie and Thomas or her grandmother did? Ada wasn’t sure and a part of her feared knowing the answer.
“I appreciate your help today, Hugh,” she said with sincerity. “And if you or your land agent have any other ideas, I would love to hear them.”
A comfortable silence settled between them before he spoke again. “I have one new idea. However, I know you will not like it.”
“Why ever not? I want to save as much of the estate as I can.” When he hesitated further, she shot him an impatient look. “Please, Hugh.”
“Very well.” He faced forward again. “If you were to marry a man of means, your new husband would be able to assist in saving the estate.”
Shock and a modicum of panic kept her from replying right away. How ironic that Hugh’s suggestion so closely mirrored her mother’s for saving Stonefield Hall.
“I did warn you,” he said, his tone gentle and good-natured, “that you would not like the idea.”
Ada cleared her throat and threw him a weak smile. “You were correct.”
“If I have offended you, Ada . . .”
“No.” She shook her head. “You didn’t. And you are right—a marriage like that would surely help far more than anything I am doing or intend to do. But . . .” Tilting her chin upward, she hoped to help him understand her resolve regarding this particular subject. “I will not marry for money as my parents did. They may have shared affection for each other, but there was never a deep, resounding love between them.” Not as there’d been between her and Ned.
When he said nothing, she asked, “Did your parents marry for money?”
“I believe that was one of the reasons for their union, yes.”
Ada had to work hard to hide her smugness. “I chose not to marry for money once, Hugh, and should I ever consider marriage a second time, it would still not be for financial reward or gain.”
“I understand and admire your determination—to a point.”
She smirked. “To a point?”
“I did promise to be honest with you,” he said with a raise of his eyebrows.
So he had, and she was grateful for that honesty—most of the time. She released her breath in an attempt to calm herself. How had they ended up pursuing such a topic anyway?
“Which point do you disagree with?”
“Not disagree per se.” He sent her a playful smile that tempered her frustration. “I only meant that there is another point, which I believe you have not fully considered.” She nodded for him to continue. “My parents did marry for money, but they also married because they loved each other.”
Ada tried to recall what she’d observed in the interactions between Helena and Hugh’s father before the man’s death. But she had been a child at the time and couldn’t remember any specific details. Clearly they’d had a different relationship than her parents had.
“There are times,” Hugh added into the suddenly strained quiet between them, “when one does not have to choose between love and wealth.” The look he sent her way had the power to command her heartbeat. “Sometimes, as was the case with my parents, one is able to have both.”
For the second time in so many minutes, Ada found herself unable to respond. Was there more to Hugh’s words than she wanted to believe? He was her dearest friend as well as a benevolent employer. There may have even been moments recently that she’d felt a new awareness of him stirring inside her, when she greeted him first thing each morning at the factory or when he smiled or bantered with her. But she wasn’t sure that meant she could feel—did feel—anything more than friendship for him.
The idea of marrying again, even for love, sent shards of apprehension through her. Her grief over Ned had faded, but she wasn’t sure she was brave enough to give her heart away a second time, knowing now how real the possibility was of losing the one who held it.
“I suppose that is something to think about,” she conceded at last.
Smiling, he tipped his head in the direction of the house. “Give me a chance to redeem myself in another race.”
“Of course.” She was more than relieved to be back on familiar ground.
Hugh spurred his horse forward into a gallop, throwing her a boyish grin over his shoulder. Ada and her horse rushed after them. Thankfully they’d left the troubling subject of marriage behind.
Still, as she rode toward Whitmore House, she couldn’t entirely ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach that suggested the topic was not gone and buried. It would eventually come up again.
Chapter 20
April 1918
Shutting the bedtime story, Ada pressed a kiss to her daughter’s forehead and set the book on the side table. “Time for bed, pet.”
“Not yet,” Rosemary pouted, though she slid beneath her covers. “I’m not sleepy.” This was followed by a large yawn that made Ada smile.
She smoothed back Rosemary’s hair. “Do you have your doll?”
“Yes.” The girl lifted the doll from its spot beside her.
While Victoria had given her granddaughter a great many dolls, her favorite was still the one from Ada’s grandmother. Ada suspected that was because the doll looked so much like Rosemary—it was almost like having a little sister.
Sadness stole over her. She would have loved for her daughter to have siblings, as she and Ned hadn’t. There’s still time, her heart whispered. But Ada shook off the thought. They were fine, weren’t they, just the two of them?
“What do you want for your birthday, Mummy?” Rosemary asked as Ada moved toward the door and turned off the light.
Ada could hardly believe it was time for her birthday again. Which meant she’d been working as Hugh’s secretary for seven months now. The modest income had proven helpful on more than one occasion, especially after she’d sold off a large tract of land last autumn. Most of the money from the sale had gone to fund the drainage project.
Though the estate was still in trouble, and the drawn-out war overseas wasn’t helping matters, Ada was hopeful this year’s crop would be better. If not . . . She mentally shook her head. The future might be uncertain, but she would not live in fear and doubt as she once had. Through her own experiences of faith and prayer, she knew God was aware of her. And she would do her best to keep trusting Him.
“Mummy?”
Ada laughed. “Sorry, pet. You asked what I want for my birthday.” She tapped her chin with her finger, thinking. “Let’s see.”
“I have three pennies. Would you like those for your birthday? You can use them to help pay for the house,” Rosemary said sagely. “Or you could maybe buy a sweet with it. And I’ll only ask for one bite.”
From the light spilling in from the hallway, Ada caught the earnest look on her daughter’s face. That, combined with Rosemary’s sincere words, brought a solid lump to her throat and robbed her of the ability to answer for a moment.
An immense feeling of satisfaction flooded through her. Just as she and Ned had hoped and dreamed, they’d raised a daughter who was learning compassion, sacrifice, and the value of relationships. And Ada was still doing that, even here at Stonefield, as evidenced by Rosemary’s tender birthday offering.
“Sweets do sound delicious, Rosie.” She walked back to her daughter’s bed. “But I think what I’d like most for my birthday is something from the heart.”
Her daughter’s face scrunched in confusion. “Like what?”
“A picture,” she said, kneeling down. “Or a letter. Or perhaps a song on the piano.”
Rosemary grinned. “Oh, I understand.”
“So keep your pennies.” She tapped her playfully on the nose, eliciting a wonderful giggle. “And if you buy a sweet with them, I only want one bite.”
The girl nodded. “All right, Mummy. Good night.”
“Good night, pet.” She placed a kiss on Rosemary’s cheek.
In spite of the challenges she’d faced and the loss of loved ones she’d endured, Ada could honestly say her life was still full. That was something else to ponder and celebrate.
• • •
She wrapped her sweater tighter around her as she walked alongside Hugh. He’d asked her to go on a walk after church today, though it would likely be a short one. Gray clouds scuttled across the sky, promising rain sooner than later.
“Thank you again for coming last night, Hugh.”
Ada had invited him and his mother along with the O’Reillys and her grandmother to dinner to celebrate her birthday. Her mother had expressed initial embarrassment at hosting, given that their meals at Stonefield were much simpler, their staff much reduced these days. But everyone who came seemed to enjoy themselves. After a while, even Victoria relaxed.
“It was a delightful evening,” Hugh said, throwing her a smile. “Especially the duet Rosemary and Janey performed.”
That had been her daughter’s present to her, and Ada had loved it. Minnie had managed to procure enough sugar to make a delicious cake, and Ada’s mother and grandmother had both gifted her with pieces of jewelry from their collections.
Even Hugh apparently had something for her. He’d mentioned it on Friday at the factory, but he’d told her that he would wait to give it to her when they had a moment alone instead of at the party.
As if reading her thoughts, he stopped and slipped his hand inside his jacket. “Are you ready for your gift?”
Ada nodded. She’d felt the most anticipation for what his present might be. Because he’s a dear friend, she told herself. Still, it hadn’t escaped her notice how handsome he looked today in his walking suit and hat.
“I hope you like it.” He handed her a slip of paper.
She laughed softly in confusion. “What’s this?”
“Read it.”
Unfolding the paper, she read the scrawled note out loud. “‘I, Hugh Whittington, bequeath my horse Queen Mary . . .’” She shot him a shocked look before he motioned for her to continue. “‘To Ada Thorne Henley on this her birthday, the twentieth of April 1918.’” He’d signed his name as well.
“Hugh? You’re giving me a . . . a horse?” Not just any horse either. Queen Mary was the horse she rode whenever they went riding together.
A full smile lifted the corners of his mouth. “It is a bit unconventional, I admit, but I know how much you enjoy riding. The horse can remain at the
stables at Whitmore House and is yours to take out whenever you wish, whether I’m with you or not.”
Ada pressed the note to her heart and rested her other hand on his sleeve. “It’s a wonderful gift. Thank you.”
On impulse, she rose on tiptoe to press a quick kiss to his cheek. The pleasant scent of his shaving soap wafted over her as she lowered herself back to the ground.
“Ada,” Hugh murmured. He took her hand in his and regarded her gravely. “There’s something else I need to—”
At that moment the clouds unleashed their rain, spilling it in great drops. Ada kept the paper clutched to her sweater to protect it and looked around for someplace to take shelter. The old oak tree at the edge of the field—where she’d once met Ned—was the only possibility.
“We can head to the tree,” she said, stepping in that direction, “so we aren’t soaked.”
She rushed across the field and slipped beneath the splayed branches of the oak. Thankfully they blocked a good portion of the rain. Hugh joined her beside the tree’s massive trunk a second later.
“So much for a walk.” She shook her head ruefully.
Hugh removed his damp hat with a chuckle, his gaze full of warm amusement.
Before she could ask what he’d been about to say earlier, she noticed the shock of brown hair that had fallen across his forehead. She lifted her hand and brushed aside the hair, then she let her fingers skim the shadows of his jaw. Her stomach fluttered with delight at the feel of Hugh’s clean-shaven face. But she also felt embarrassment at her boldness. What had compelled her to do such a thing?
She went to lower her arm, her cheeks heating with a fierce blush, when Hugh caught her hand in his. He pressed a kiss to her palm. The feather-light stroke contrasted with the intent focus in his brown eyes and made her heart throb much too fast.
“Ada,” he repeated in a low voice as he released her hand. But it was only to cup her face.
