Love's Promise

by Cheryl Holt

  “It’s all right,” she said. “I’ll talk to him.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “I think he owes me an explanation about Thomas.”

  “I do, too, and I believe he might apologize.”

  “For what?”

  “For...everything.”

  “If he does, I’ll graciously accept—then I’ll punch him in the nose.”

  Phillip chuckled, then led her into the house. Anne was hovering outside the parlor, appearing nervous and worried.

  “We’ll wait out here,” Phillip said. “Just call if you need us.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Fanny insisted, though her knees were knocking with anxiety.

  She opened the door and slipped into the room. Lord Henley and Thomas were over by the fire, and she took a moment to study them. They were standing side-by-side, silently staring at the flames, and they seemed uncomfortable with each other.

  Thomas was dressed as the little lord of the manor in a dark blue suit, short pants, and black shoes with fancy buckles, but the boisterous energy he always exuded had vanished.

  He looked older and wiser, as if all his dreams had been dashed.

  Lord Henley looked different, too. He’d lost weight, and he was weary and pensive, his bluster and pomp carefully concealed.

  At one time, they’d been the two most significant men in her life, but now, they were so altered that she scarcely recognized them.

  “Thomas,” she said, “is it really you?”

  They turned together and peered at her, and though she’d been expecting Thomas to rush over, he remained where he was, as if he was too tired to display any enthusiasm.

  She walked to him, instead, and she acted as if she was gazing directly at Lord Henley, but her focus didn’t quite reach his eyes. They were strangers now, awkward and ill-at-ease, but it couldn’t be helped. There was no other ending that could have been salvaged. His misdeeds had seen to that.

  “Lord Henley.” She was very formal with him. “Welcome.”

  “Hello, Fanny.” To her great surprise, his tone was warm and fond.

  Thomas still hadn’t moved, and she fell to her knees in front of him.

  “Hello, my darling Thomas.”

  “Hello Aunt Fanny.”

  “My, how you’ve grown.” She riffled a hand through his hair, but he didn’t exhibit the slightest reaction.

  “Lord Henley says I may live with you. Forever. May I?”

  Fanny was shocked by the change in Thomas’s relationship with Lord Henley. They’d once been very close, Henley had been Uncle Michael, but apparently, their bond had been severed.

  “Yes, you may,” Fanny replied. “There’s nothing I would like more.”

  “Are you sure he’s telling the truth? What if he tries to take me again? Will you let him?”

  She glanced up at Henley, their gazes locking, and he shook his head, indicating he wouldn’t take Thomas anywhere. Tears of relief and joy flooded her eyes. Thomas would be with her! Thomas would be with her always!

  “No, I won’t let him,” Fanny firmly declared.

  “What if the Duke’s men come? What if my mother tells him where I am? How could you stop them?”

  “I have Phillip to assist me now. He’s very brave, very strong. He’s not afraid of the Duke.”

  “Lord Henley also said that I won’t have to see my mother again. Or the Duke or Lady Rebecca.”

  “No, never.”

  Thomas scrutinized her, and Fanny could sense that he was weighing her answers, as if he didn’t trust her. What on earth had occurred to leave him so skeptical? What had they done to him?

  Finally, he nodded. “All right then. I’ll stay.”

  “I’m so glad.”

  Fanny pulled him into a tight hug, and she touched him all over, running her fingers up and down his body, feeling how solid he was, how real. She drew away and peered into his cherubic face, wishing he’d smile, wishing she could observe some spark of the child he’d previously been.

  “I need to speak privately with Lord Henley,” she advised him.

  “About what?”

  “About you.”

  “I was always a good boy, Aunt Fanny. No matter what he says, I always did what they told me. Always.”

  “Of course you did. I know that.”

  She was disconcerted, and she peeked up at Lord Henley, but his expression gave nothing away.

  She stood and clasped Thomas’s hand, but it felt lifeless.

  “Do you remember your Aunt Anne?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to go upstairs with her. She’ll show you to my room. We’ll put your things in there, and you can sleep with me. Would you like that?”

  “I suppose.”

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes—after Lord Henley departs.”

  Fanny led him to the hall, and as she delivered him to Anne, he gazed up at Fanny.

  “Do you promise you’ll come upstairs?”

  “Yes, Thomas, I promise. In a bit.”

  He studied her again, but his doubt was obvious. Anne guided him away, and Fanny heard her ask, “Are you hungry, Thomas?”

  “Yes, Aunt Anne,” he responded, “but you don’t need to trouble yourself. I’d just like to sit and wait for my Aunt Fanny.”

  Anne shot a worried glance over her shoulder, then their footsteps faded. With a pat of encouragement from Phillip, Fanny went back into the parlor and shut the door.

  Lord Henley was still standing by the fire, and she walked over to him. He was extremely flustered, and he cleared his throat and swallowed several times while she silently fumed, wanting to shake him, wanting to snap at him.

  Ultimately, he murmured, “May I say that you look wonderful? You’re absolutely glowing.”

  “Lord Henley, please...”

  “I realize I have no right to ask, but how are you feeling? How is the baby? After you left me, I was just so—”

  “Please! You’re embarrassing me!”

  He halted and sighed with regret. “I’m sorry about Thomas, Fanny.”

  “Are you? How could you let this happen to him? He is just a boy—a sweet, loving boy.”

  “I thought he was at Wainwright Manor, but my father intervened without my permission. I didn’t know what had transpired until much later. I accept full responsibility for what occurred. I should have minded him better.”

  “He’s very different.”

  “As soon as I learned what they’d done—“

  “Who do you mean by they?”

  “My father and Rebecca. They were complicit in arranging for him to be sent away to school. It was a terrible place, and the headmaster was very cruel.”

  “Your father—and Lady Rebecca—were punishing him?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “For what crime?”

  “Rebecca didn’t want him to live with us.” He shrugged. “She and my father were very harsh with him, and he took it to heart. Rebecca kept telling him that he was...was...an awful child and that he didn’t deserve any of what his father had bequeathed to him.”

  So...Lady Rebecca had had her revenge on Fanny after all, but she’d extracted it against Thomas. How shrewd of her! She must have realized how any pain inflicted on Thomas would hurt Fanny a thousand times more.

  “I don’t want her to ever have any contact with him. I don’t want her to have any influence or control.”

  “She never will. I swear it to you.”

  “Pardon me if I say that your vows don’t carry much weight with me.”

  “I recognize that. I...ah...I’ve severed my engagement to her—over this very issue.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath, riveted by the news. He was no longer betrothed, and she hated how the discovery rattled her. What did it matter if he was free? What did it matter if he might once again be pondering marriage?

  She would never be his choice of bride. On that point, he’d always been very clear.

  “And your father
?” she pressed. “What about him?”

  “He’s being silenced. He won’t interfere with me in the future. I’m in the process of making sure of it.”

  “I hope you’re correct.”

  “I am.” He flashed a weary smile. “We’re being so formal. It seems odd to talk to you this way.”

  At the comment, Fanny felt a softening in the protective wall she’d erected to keep him at bay, and instantly, her mind screamed a warning. She was still very affected by him, and she couldn’t risk their being friendly. When she was so vulnerable, it was hazardous.

  “It’s better if we keep a distance,” she said.

  “Yes, I imagine it is.”

  He sighed again, as he retrieved a satchel he’d left on a nearby table. He pulled out an envelope and extended it to her.

  “I’m signing over complete custody to you.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “No. You’ll be his guardian until he comes of age.”

  There was no kinder act he could have performed, and she was deeply, profoundly grateful.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “I’ll still manage his funds, but I’ll be very generous. You’ll simply send me a letter every quarter, letting me know how much money you require. And there’ll be a stipend for you, as well, to cover your expenses.”

  “You don’t have to pay me for watching him. I’m happy to do it.”

  “But I have to be assured that you’re settled. It’s important to me. I don’t want you fretting over your finances ever again.” He gestured at the envelope. “If it’s distressing to you, you needn’t correspond with me directly. My clerk’s name and address are there. He’s very competent. He can handle your requests, or he can pass on messages if you have a question or need my approval for something.”

  “Where would you like us to reside?”

  “You can stay here with Phillip if you like. Or you can return to Wainwright Manor. If you feel it would be disconcerting to Thomas, we can purchase another property.”

  “I’ll reflect on it.”

  “And I’d like him to go to school someday. To a real school, where the boys from the best families go. But not until you decide he’s ready.”

  “I’ll reflect on that, too.”

  After that, there wasn’t much else to say.

  They stared and stared, remorse and regret flitting between them.

  His cheeks flushed, and he said, “I guess I’ll be off.”

  “Thank you for coming. You’ve been very kind.”

  He scoffed. “I’m just doing what I should have done from the very start. I don’t know what I was thinking. I wasn’t thinking; that’s the problem.”

  She agreed, but when he was being so repentant, she didn’t suppose she ought to mention it.

  “If you ever need anything” he continued, “contact me immediately.”

  “I will,” she fibbed, positive that, other than a few notes exchanged through his clerk, she would never speak with him again.

  There was an agonizing pause, where she expected that he would go, or that she would walk out herself, but neither of them could make the first move.

  “I wish things had been different between us,” he said, and from his tone of voice and warm expression, she could tell he was sincere.

  “It doesn’t matter now.”

  “Yes, it does. I plan to set up a trust fund for our child, and I’ll pay you a second stipend for raising him. I have to ensure that the two of you are secure.”

  She couldn’t listen to him waxing on about the cold, impersonal details of financial arrangements he’d made for their child, and she whipped away, showing him her back.

  “You’ll have to talk to Phillip about it. I’d rather not discuss it with you.”

  “I understand. My apologies.”

  He stepped nearer, approaching until he was directly behind her. For a wild instant, she was certain he was going to touch her, that he might rest a hand on her shoulder or arm. If he did, she would shatter into tiny pieces.

  “Have you...that is...”—he was stammering, discomfited—“are you hoping for a boy or a girl?”

  “Either one would be fine.”

  She’d had a vivid dream that the baby would be a boy, and if it was, she would name him William after her father.

  Henley was quiet for a long time, then he murmured, “I always wished we’d have a girl who looked just like you.”

  There was no reply she could give to such a statement, and she stood, her head bowed, suffering an emotion that was close to humiliation, when she couldn’t figure out why she would feel badly.

  “Would you go?” she begged, afraid she might burst into tears.

  He tarried, the moment ripe with opportunity, then he departed without another word.

  Michael trudged out into the drive, where his horse had been brought from the stable. The cold December afternoon was very short, the sun dropping in the west, and he had to get back to the coaching inn where he’d rented a room for the night.

  To his surprise, Phillip and Anne were waiting for him, snuggled together, bundled up in their winter coats.

  He tried to remember why they’d all fought, why he’d been angry enough to kill Phillip, the friend he’d always cherished, but his motives and choices were lost in a fog of regret.

  He walked over to them, and he wanted to tease Anne and joke with Phillip, as he might have in the past, but levity was impossible. The encounter was very reserved, very awkward.

  “How is your arm?” Michael inquired of Phillip.

  “It’s healed; it’s fine.”

  “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “I know that. I never meant to hurt you either. As if I could have shot you! I felt as if I went mad for a time.”

  “So did I,” Michael admitted. “I was completely insane. I’m so sorry.”

  “Water under the bridge, Michael,” Phillip charitably said, displaying much more courtesy than Michael deserved.

  “All is forgiven,” Anne added, her gaze kind and reassuring.

  “Fanny looks healthy,” Michael said. “Take care of her for me. And Thomas, too. Watch over them.”

  “I will,” Phillip said. “Don’t worry.”

  “Notify me when the baby arrives, and if they need anything, contact me at once.”

  “I heard about that school in Cornwall,” Anne mentioned, “that you shut it down and brought the boys back with you. What will you do with them?”

  “For now, they’re at Henley Hall, and we’ve sent out letters to their families, but I may keep them at the estate. I’m starting a school of my own—in the Dower House. It hasn’t been used in years. The ones who don’t go home can stay there.”

  “I’m proud of you.”

  “There’s no need to be.”

  Her praise embarrassed him. There should be no congratulations for his doing the right thing.

  “Are you happy, Anne?” he asked, even though he could see the answer.

  “Very.”

  “I’m glad you did this. I’m glad you picked Phillip.”

  “So am I.”

  He would have liked to hug her, but they’d never enjoyed that sort of easy affection.

  “What will you two do now?” he queried.

  “We’re going to spend Christmas here with Fanny and Thomas,” Phillip said, “and we’ll wait until the baby is born in the spring. Then we’re off to Italy for our honeymoon.”

  “I’m jealous.”

  He forced a smile, wishing he was going to Italy, wishing he was going somewhere where he was wanted, where he was needed.

  “And how about you?” Anne said. “What will you do with yourself?”

  “I have to visit Henley Hall, to deal with all those boys. Then...I haven’t decided. I guess I still have to marry. I suppose I’ll fuss with it again.”

  “But not to Rebecca?”

  “No. Definitely not Rebecca. Not after what she did to Thomas.”

  He was
too chagrinned to admit that he had nowhere to go for the holidays. He refused to return to the Duke’s, and he’d like to have remained in the country with Phillip and Anne, with Fanny and Thomas, but he’d squandered their good will.

  “I didn’t intend for any of this to occur,” he told them, desperately yearning to confess. “I loved Fanny. I realize it sounds foolish now, but I wanted you to understand that I truly cared for her.”

  “We know you did,” Anne said.

  He went over to his horse, and he retrieved a small box from the saddle.

  He handed it to Anne.

  “What is it?” she inquired.

  “It’s a Christmas gift for Fanny.”

  Anne frowned at Phillip, a silent communication passing between them as to whether they should give it to her or not. It was wrong for him to leave a gift for Fanny, and they all knew it.

  “You don’t need to tell her it’s from me,” he offered.

  Phillip took it from Anne, and he stared at the wrapping as if trying to peer through it to the inside.

  “It’s something very dear to her,” Michael explained, “that she had to sell for cash a few years ago, when they were very poor. I located it for her, and I thought she might like to have it back.”

  Phillip considered, then agreed. “I’ll see that she gets it.”

  “I’d appreciate it.”

  “And I have something for you,” Phillip said. He reached into his coat and pulled out an envelope.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a copy of an old letter from one of my father’s spurned lovers. She was a princess he seduced once upon a time.”

  “Really? Why show it to me?”

  “Anne and I talked it over, and we decided you should have it. Let’s just say that—if the contents are true—it will make you doubly glad that you’re not marrying Rebecca.”

  “What are you trying to tell me?”

  “Read the letter,” Phillip urged. “You’ll understand.”

  Michael nodded, then mounted his horse.

  “Write to me,” Anne insisted. “Keep me informed of where you are and what’s happening with you.”

  “I will,” Michael replied, though he would never correspond with her.

  If they remained cordial, there’d be chatty notes about Anne’s life, which would include news he couldn’t bear of Fanny and his child.