A Lady at Willowgrove Hall

by Sarah E. Ladd

  She did not feel up to joining the rest of the boarders for dinner, so she had purchased a bit of salted meat and bread from the merchant on the street below. But the bread was hard and the meat turned her stomach. She pushed the food away, kicked off her boot, and rubbed her foot. She was unused to the uneven cobblestone streets, and although attractive, the boots Mrs. Massey had selected for her were hardly up to a day’s worth of walking.

  The noisy clanking of wheels on the cobblestone and the sounds of men shouting and laughing were incessant. The sharp cry of the fulmars swooping above joined the sounds of the city street, and she groaned and sank into her chair. How she missed Willowgrove. How she missed the friendships she had made.

  Manchester was nothing like she had expected. She had fooled herself into believing that it would be much easier to locate Leah. How wrong she had been.

  Mr. Stanton had been right.

  She rubbed her hand over her arm where Nathaniel Stanton had touched her. Try as she might, she could not recapture the feel of it. She shivered in the cold, reached for her shawl, and pulled it over herself like a blanket.

  She repeated the words she had committed to memory the previous evening. She was determined to draw strength from them, hoping to rekindle the optimism she found in them the night before. A single tear of frustration and sadness slipped down her cheek, and she impatiently wiped it away. But whereas she had not been able to find the strength to mutter a prayer the previous night, in this moment of exhaustion, she leaned her head on the table and whispered, “Oh, God, please show me what to do.”

  She sat in silence for several minutes, listening to the sounds of the people on the street below. She’d almost fallen asleep when a knock at her door jolted her awake.

  “Just a moment!” she called as she stood from the table, shaking out the folds of her dress and moving to the door. She opened it to find Mrs. Dotten standing there, as stern-faced as ever. She broke her frown only to say, “There is a man downstairs to see you.”

  It was Cecily’s turn to frown. “No, I don’t think so. I don’t know any men here.”

  “Asked for you by name, ’e did.” Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “I don’t approve of gentlemen calling on young ladies. This is a respectable establishment, Miss Faire. Do not think for a moment that I condone men visiting women at such a’ hour.”

  “I assure you, there is nothing improper. I am sure this is some error.”

  Her curiosity matched her desire to be away from the land-lord’s scrutiny. She brushed past her in the dark, narrow hallway.

  Cecily lifted her skirts to step down a stairwell so narrow that her shoulders nearly scraped the sides. A dark, shadowed figure was in the hall. For a moment, she grew nervous. No one knew she was here.

  But then a glimmer of joy sparked as she recognized the straight nose. The square jaw.

  “Mr. Stanton!” she exclaimed before she could bridle her enthusiasm.

  He pivoted, and at the sight of his face, his blue eyes, she felt all her composure vanish. Tears of relief, joy, and regret rushed her, blurring her vision.

  He glanced over to the innkeeper, who was staring in his direction, and gave a short bow.

  Cecily did not even possess the presence of mind to return the courtesy.

  The woman stepped forward. “I don’t approve of men calling on my female boarders,” she repeated. “You have a few minutes to tend to your business, and then you must leave.”

  The landlord retreated down the hall, and once her footsteps vanished, Cecily could not help herself. She rushed forward to him.

  “What are you doing here?” she gasped, barely able to get the words to pass her lips.

  He grinned. Could it be that he was having the same feelings at seeing her again? “You departed Willowgrove before I had the opportunity to bid you a proper farewell.”

  She was unsure if she stepped forward first, or if he did, but in a matter of moments, the rough wool of his tailcoat sleeve brushed her arm, and then he reached around her waist and pulled her to himself. His intoxicating scent enveloped her.

  Instinctively, she pressed her hands against her face to hide her tears, but he leaned his forehead very close to hers, and with his free hand he gently lowered her hands.

  “There is no need to cry.”

  But even as he said the words, every tangled emotion from the past several weeks commandeered her rational thought, and she melted against him. He pulled her closer until no space between them remained.

  His whisper was rough and sweet in her ear. “Why did you leave?”

  In the haze of her emotions, she was not sure how she managed to speak. “I don’t belong there.”

  “You belong wherever I am. Oh, Cecily, my Cecily, never leave me again.”

  He pressed his lips, warm and soft, against her forehead. His use of her Christian name felt natural. Right. She wasn’t sure if she was still standing or if she was floating. Her fingers reached up around his collar and wrapped around his neck.

  His hands traveled up her back as his fingers splayed through her loose hair. And then ever so gently he angled her face to look at him.

  She chewed her lip, trying to find the words to convey what she was feeling, and yet she could only utter a few words. “There is so much you do not know about me.”

  His thumb rubbed her cheek as his gaze met hers. Unwavering. “You know my secret. If you ever decide to tell me yours, I will hear it when you are ready, but not before. For I have fallen in love with a woman who is kind. Loving. Compassionate. Giving. I do not care about your past. What I care about is our future. And when I think about that, the only thing that matters is that you are by my side.”

  She lifted her face to meet his. Had she heard him correctly? He had fallen in love with her? She thought she had known what love was before. But oh, how wrong she had been. For the burning within her heart would not subside.

  He lowered his lips to meet hers, and at the touch, she surrendered and leaned fully against him. His kiss was soft, tender at first, but then deepened possessively. Passionately. There could be no denying she had found her home. And it was in his arms.

  But even as her heart nearly burst with contentment and happiness, she knew: He deserved the truth.

  She pulled away. A look of confusion crossed his face. “Is everything all right?”

  She lowered her gaze. “I need to tell you what I could not tell you when we were at Willowgrove.”

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  He looked around the tiny parlor. “Very well. Tell me. But first, I want to get you out of here.”

  Cecily had been so lost in the moment she had almost forgotten where they were. “Where are we going?”

  “I will share details with you later. Gather your things, and I will settle the tab with the proprietor.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead once more, and she hurried back up the stairs. Since she had never unpacked her things in the dirty room, she grabbed her bag and was back downstairs by the time Nathaniel was finished with the landlord. He pressed his hand against the small of her back and ushered her to the awaiting carriage.

  Nathaniel took Cecily’s hand to help her into the carriage. It was difficult to contain his joy. He’d found her. She was safe. And what was more, she had returned his affection with equal passion. All that mattered now was getting her away from this horrid boardinghouse.

  Within moments he joined her in the carriage and sat next to her on the tufted seat. He pulled the door closed behind him and wrapped his arm around her, drawing her close. She did not resist. Instead, she melted against him and rested her head on his shoulder, her hair tickling his chin.

  Dusk was falling, and outside the carriage, merchants were packing up their carts and birds called to their mates. He put her hand in his. “The carriage ride is not a long one,” he said as he gently ran his thumb over her long, delicate fingers.

  “Where are we going?”

>   “Do you recall the mention of my colleague Mr. McGovern? He lives in Manchester, near the warehouse district. He has a large home. There is a room for you there.”

  Cecily pulled away and straightened in her seat. The fading light caught on her hair, mesmerizing him. Her green eyes were bright with moisture. But the expression on her face brought him back to the present.

  “What is it?”

  She sniffed and pressed her lips together before speaking. “I meant what I said about no more secrets.”

  He sobered. He wanted to hear what she was about to say, but he was uneasy about what she might tell him. But he could tell by the intensity in her eyes that she needed to tell him. And could he blame her? They were two people desperate for fresh beginnings.

  “You once asked me how I came to be at Rosemere. I gave you an answer, but that wasn’t entirely the truth.” She licked her lips and wiped her eyes again with the back of her hand. “My father disowned me.”

  The words were surprising, and yet he remained quiet, giving her space to share her story.

  “But in order to explain it more completely, I must go back further. You asked me about my connection to Aradelle. You were right in your assumptions, Nathaniel. When I was young, sixteen to be exact, I believed myself to be in love with Andrew Moreton. So much so that he asked me to run away and marry him.”

  Even though Nathaniel had suspected to hear those very words, they still lanced him, jabbing at the raw spots of his heart.

  “My father was a harsh man, a cruel man, and I thought that marrying Andrew would take me away from that. I gave myself to Andrew—heart, mind, and body. But it was all too late, for when my father discovered our plan, he saw to it that I was separated from Andrew permanently and took me to Rosemere. I never heard from him—or Andrew—after that day. He disowned me because I shamed him. I shamed my family.”

  Nathaniel resisted the urge to react. He’d suspected that Moreton played a role in this, but he was unsure of how great a role. The thought of the man touching even a hair on her head sent fire through his veins. But was this not what he had been asking from her? To share with him? To confide in him? At the moment, relief that she was finally trusting him outweighed any disappointment.

  A small sob choked her, and she wiped her eyes again. “I had no idea that the Moretons were at all connected with the Trents when I accepted the position as a lady’s companion.” Cecily gave a nervous laugh. “So you must imagine my surprise when I saw Andrew my very first day at Willowgrove. But what could I do? I have no family. No connections. I needed that position.” She met his gaze, her fingers fretting with the trim on her reticule.

  It was then that Nathaniel remembered the letter tucked in his waistcoat. He pulled it out and handed it to her.

  “Why, this is the letter from Mrs. Sherwin!” she said, taking the letter from him. “Wherever did you find it?”

  “When Clarkson told me you left, I did not want to believe it, so I went to your bedchamber to see for myself. That letter was on the floor.”

  She lowered the letter to her lap. “So you know what it says?”

  He nodded, feeling guilty that he had read her private missive.

  But she only tucked the letter in her valise by her feet. “But do you see now why it is so important that I find Leah? For she could be alone. I could not forgive myself for that.”

  Nathaniel pulled her close to him again. The evening shadows fell across the bridge of her nose and the fullness of her lower lip. He tucked her hair behind her ear and allowed his fingertips to linger on her cheek. “We all have a past, and it pains me that yours has been so difficult. But all that matters to me is our future.”

  Even in the dark he could see a flush rush to her cheek.

  His heart thudded in his chest. For he knew. She was the one he could trust with his heart. He could no longer hold it in. “Marry me, Cecily Faire.”

  Cecily’s hand flew to her mouth as she began to laugh and cry. Then she threw her arms around Nathaniel’s neck. “Yes!”

  Nathaniel again lost himself in the splendor of her kiss.

  39

  Cecily stepped out of the carriage at Mr. McGovern’s house a different woman from the one she had been mere minutes ago. For the first time in years, she began to feel the weight of the chains binding her to the shame of her past slacken. For now, Mr. Stanton—her beloved Nathaniel—knew all, and accepted her in spite of her past. One day soon she would be Mrs. Cecily Stanton.

  Nathaniel reached in, grabbed her valise, and then laced his fingers with hers. His smile was giddy. Contagious.

  “Are you ready?”

  She fairly floated to the McGoverns’ door. She had never met the man, but if Nathaniel trusted him, she had nothing to be concerned with.

  Nathaniel knocked on the door, and within moments a poker-straight butler appeared at the door. “Mr. Stanton, welcome back.”

  “Thank you. Is McGovern in?”

  “He’s in his study. You may go on in if you wish.”

  Nathaniel grabbed Cecily’s hand and hurried toward the study. When the study door opened, she expected to see an older gentleman at the desk, but what she saw stole her very breath.

  For sitting in the chair by the fireplace was Leah.

  Despite time’s paintbrush, looking at Leah was still like looking in a mirror.

  Abundant joy coursed through her, infusing her with energy. Cecily could not form words. Instead, she ran to her sister and embraced her with all her might.

  When they finally separated, Cecily held Leah at arm’s length. Her heart, already tender from the reunion with Nathaniel, threatened to burst from her chest. “If you only knew how I have longed for this moment!” Cecily sobbed before throwing her arms around her sister once more. “How did you get here?”

  Leah returned the embrace, squeezed Cecily’s hands, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. “Mr. Stanton came into the shop where I work.” She reached out and touched Cecily’s cheek. “Oh, Cecily, I cannot believe it is you. I thought . . . I thought I would never see you again.”

  The sisters embraced again. Cecily could not help the giggles welling up within her. The day had been surreal, a complete transformation from hopelessness to complete joy.

  Nathaniel retreated toward the door. “I will leave you two ladies to get reacquainted. I am sure you have much to discuss.”

  Cecily dropped her sister’s hands and turned toward Nathaniel. His smile was warm. She whispered, “Thank you.”

  He simply nodded and closed the door behind him.

  Cecily led Leah to a nearby sofa. “Tell me everything and quickly! Five years is a lot to catch up on!”

  Once they were seated, Leah’s expression sobered. “I cannot wait to hear all about what you have been up to, but do you know about Father?”

  Cecily nodded and looked down at her fingers knitted together in her lap. “I received a letter from Mrs. Sherwin not long ago. She told me he was gone.”

  Leah’s darker eyes filled with tears. “He would not tell me where you were. I begged and pleaded. I-I was afraid something terrible had happened to you—or that he had done something terrible to you.”

  “Do not be upset. He took me to a girls’ school. How cruel of him not to tell you. And as you can see, I am just fine.”

  Leah sniffed. “When he returned that next day, and you weren’t with him, I-I was so frightened.”

  At the sight of her sister’s tears, tears welled up in Cecily’s eyes. “I have often wondered what it must have been like for you.”

  Leah shook her head. “He was released from his position at Aradelle Park the next day, once it was clear what had happened with Mr. Moreton. We traveled to London, but Father became violent. Angry. I feared for my life. I remembered Mother talking about her sister here in Manchester. I ran away to find her. Thankfully, she took me in. I never heard from Father, but I did keep in touch with a few friends from Aradelle. That is how I learned of his death.”
/>   “And our aunt?” asked Cecily. “How is she?”

  Leah shook her head. “She was so much like Mother. Kind and warm. But she died about two years ago. We had grown quite close. It was like losing Mother all over again.”

  Cecily had been focused on her own pain for so long that news of Leah’s hardship was sobering. “I wrote to Aunt, but I never heard from her.”

  “I do not think she received your letters, for she helped me look for you for a long time. We eventually abandoned the search.” But then Leah grabbed her hand, a smile brightening her face. “But you are here now. And we never need be separated again.”

  Leah and Cecily spent the rest of the evening in the McGoverns’ study, talking until the wee hours of the morning. Sharing five years of dreams, secrets, fears, and tears.

  Cecily lifted her hand to brush her hair away, but as she did, her fingertips grazed the coral necklace around her neck. She stiffened. There was still one thing she needed to do. She reached up and unclasped the coral necklace from around her neck. As Cecily pulled it free, Leah’s eyes widened and then filled with tears. “Mother’s necklace!”

  “It was wrong and selfish of me to take it that night. It belongs to you too.”

  Leah took the necklace and held it gingerly in her fingers, as if it might break into a dozen pieces. “Oh, I thought this had been lost for good! I have often wondered what became of it.”

  “It has been with me, and it has been my deepest wish to return it to you.”

  Leah lifted her hair and pivoted so that Cecily could fasten it around her neck. When she was done, Leah turned back around and reached for Cecily’s hands. “I have missed you.”

  Cecily squeezed her sister’s hands. “Who knows why, but at least now we know we will never be apart again.”

  40

  An early winter snow fell on Cecily’s wedding day, gathering on the grounds in lacy droves. Dressed in a gown of cream satin with pale-pink flowers, Cecily turned to face her beloved in the warmth of Wiltonshire’s stone church.