by Wolf, Bree
Their loss had all but crippled him, battering his heart and soul, and he had run as far as he could, unable to remain in England where everything and everyone only served to remind him of what he had lost.
Still, despite the distance he had put between himself and his past, Colin had come to realise that it tended to follow him like a shadow. Sometimes he went days without once thinking of Owen and Jo, but then out of nowhere, his thoughts would be drawn to them, and his heart would ache with their loss.
Owen was lost to him for good. No power on this earth could ever bring him back into Colin’s life. But Jo…
Growing up, they had all seen themselves as brothers and sister, and the fact that Owen and Jo were promised to one another had been the source of much amusement and laughter. At age ten, Colin had often teased Owen, who dad scrunched up his face at the thought of marriage.
After all, Jo had been one of them. Not a girl. Not a lady. But one of the three. The thought of marriage between the two had been ludicrous.
Later, it had become unpleasant.
At least to Colin.
Even now, he could not recall at what point he had started to see Jo as more than just one of them. She had always been wild and loud and utterly compelling in her zest for life and adventure, her brown eyes sparkling with mischief as she had led them down another untrodden path.
Still, one day, her smile had touched him in a deeper way, and his eyes tended to linger where before they had not. He remembered well the way his heart had often skipped a beat whenever she stepped closer or her hand brushed his arm in order to direct his attention to one thing or another. He had felt light-headed in her presence, and his breath had more than once caught in his throat.
That change had brought on another as Colin had no longer been able to meet Owen’s gaze without a touch of anger surging through his veins. Although it had baffled him then, today Colin knew that he had been jealous, deep down resenting his friend for having claimed the girl whom Colin had come to care for.
Of course, Owen had done no such thing. He had been innocent in all of this. His hands had been tied in the matter as much as Jo’s, their union a choice made for them.
Colin wondered how he would feel should he ever see Jo again. Would his heart still jump into his throat? Or would he see her as an old friend? Or possibly a stranger he no longer knew?
Of one thing, however, he was certain; that he would not be able to look at her and not feel guilty for in the moment of Owen’s death, a small, selfish part of him had rejoiced.
Rejoiced that with Owen out of the way, she was finally free to make a choice of her own. That she was finally free to choose him.
That moment of elation had been immediately followed by a dark sense of betrayal and disgust, momentarily overshadowing the grief Colin had felt deep in his bones. And then Owen’s family had blamed him as he had been the oldest of the three. They had blamed him and sent him from their home, cursing his name.
Colin had been devastated in more ways than one, and yet, he had understood. After all, he, too, had blamed himself for the thoughts that had entered his mind, for the relief he had felt even if only for a short second. He had betrayed his friend, rejoiced at his death, and for that he did not deserve to be forgiven.
He did not deserve Jo.
And so, he had left, putting a safe distance between himself and them, ensuring that he would never again be in a position to cause them pain.
And yet, his heart longed to return to England. Some days, he could barely silence it, his limbs restless, unable to keep still as the need for home cursed through his veins. But what would he find there?
A knock sounded on his door, and Colin reluctantly turned from the peaceful scene before him. His heart was still in turmoil as he found a footman standing outside his door, a letter in his hand. “This came for you, my lord.”
Thanking the man, Colin closed the door, his eyes finding his father’s seal on the back. Still, Colin knew that the letter had not come from his father, but from Mr. Carpenter, his father’s steward, who had been overseeing all matters of business ever since Lord Attington had retreated from the world. Occasionally, he would write to Colin, keeping him informed of everything that went on at his father’s estate back in England. He would also urge Colin to return and take his rightful place.
Colin had no desire to do so.
Turning the envelope in his hands, Colin noted that it was rather thick, and he wondered what had prompted Mr. Carpenter to fill more sheets of parchment than usual. For a moment, Colin’s heart clenched as he contemplated the possibility that his father might have finally passed on. His throat went dry, and a cold shiver ran down his back.
With shaking fingers, he broke the seal and drew out the letter. Unfolding the sheets, Colin paused when he found yet another, smaller envelope enclosed within. This one did not bear Mr. Carpenter’s handwriting, but a more delicate, clearly feminine one.
Quickly, Colin scanned Mr. Carpenter’s letter, relieved to find it filled with details of the estate and not news of his father’s passing from this world. With his heart resuming its normal pace, Colin turned to the other envelope. It did not bear a seal, nor was it addressed to anyone.
Intrigued, Colin tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of parchment. Unfolding it, he allowed his gaze to travel over the lines.
My dearest Colin,
Apologise for my informal address, but my mind fails to picture you any differently than the young boy I once knew. I hope you can forgive an old lady. I assure you it is not meant as disrespect, but proof of the affection I still bear you.
Over the course of the past four years, you’ve often been on my mind, and I am glad to hear from Mr. Carpenter that you are well. He kindly offered to send this letter along with his own correspondence. For that, I am grateful as I would not have known where to address it.
Now, to get to the reason for this letter, you need to know that my granddaughter, Johanna, has recently returned home from her stay at Miss Bell’s Finishing School for Young Ladies.
Colin’s heart slammed to a halt, and his fingers tightened on the parchment.
Far be it from me to meddle in the affairs of the young; however, I cannot sit idly by and watch the tragedy of poor Owen’s death reach farther than it needs to. I had hoped that you and Johanna were in correspondence these past years and am saddened to hear that that was not the case.
Therefore, I am writing to you now to inform you that my granddaughter is currently in London for the Season. Her mother hopes to find her a suitable husband before the summer and see her settled.
I thought you might be interested to hear this news. Do with this information as you please, but remember that one tragedy does not erase another and that Owen would have wanted you to be happy.
Yours affectionately,
Grandmamma Clarice (I do hope you remember calling me that!)
Despite the tremors that shook his body, Colin felt a sudden warmth flood his heart. It had been four years since anyone had spoken to him with such affection, and he had all but convinced himself that he would spend the rest of his days alone with no one to care whether he lived or died.
Certainly not his father.
“Grandmamma Clarice,” Colin mumbled, belatedly noticing the smile that had claimed his features at the memory of Jo’s grandmother, a woman of slender stature, but with a strong mind and steadfast heart.
While their parents had either been disinterested−like most of their fathers−or too intent on urging their children to behave as was expected of them−like their mothers−Grandmamma Clarice had been the one who had sent them out into the world to look for adventures. More than once she had distracted their parents so that they could sneak out of the house. She had read them stories of fearsome dragons and fearless knights and seen no reason why Jo should not also fashion a sword out of a long branch and engage her fellow knights, Sir Owen and Sir Colin, in battle.
All their lives, Grandmamm
a Clarice had held a protective hand over all of them, her kindness and encouragement granted without hesitation, and they had loved her for it.
Closing his eyes, Colin sank into the upholstered armchair by the balcony doors and allowed his heart to calm. His hands still clung to the letter as though he would be swallowed up by the earth if he dared to let go. And yet, the tender warmth that swept through his being felt utterly wonderful, a gentle reminder of all that he had left behind.
Jo.
At the thought of her, Colin’s eyes flew open, once more seeking the words on the parchment he held. According to Grandmamma Clarice, she was in London now, seeking to find a husband. No doubt her mother had something to do with it, Colin surmised, remembering Lady Rawdon’s haughty attitude only too well.
And yet, it was the young girl he could still see before his mind’s eye who stole the breath from his lungs. Who was she today? Who had she become? Colin wondered, feeling an almost desperate need to once again lay eyes on her. If only to satisfy his curiosity. Could he truly go on for the rest of his life without knowing the woman she had become? Without knowing if the girl he had once cared for still lived somewhere inside her?
I thought you might be interested to hear this news.
Colin’s jaw clenched as desire and fear warred within him. What would he find if he returned to England? What if his path were to cross that of Owen’s parents? Colin doubted he could be strong enough to bear the look in their eyes. It had crippled him then, and he was certain it would do so again.
And then there was Jo.
She was like a beacon to him, her light shining bright and clear all the way from England, urging him to return to her side. What was he to do?
What did he want to do?
Chapter Five − Friends Reunited
After that painful breakfast a few weeks ago, not another word had been spoken about the tragedy or whether or not Johanna ought to love the man she chose to marry. Eagerly accepting the challenge of showing her daughter off in the proper way, Lady Rawdon rarely sat still, her hands always busy as her mind conjured the perfect plan to attract suitable gentlemen.
Although Grandmamma Clarice rolled her eyes every now and then, she refrained from saying another word on the matter, and Jo was grateful for it.
The last thing she needed was a heated argument that would only serve to put her in the middle as her mother and grandmother fought over what was right for her.
After all, Jo herself did not have a clue what that could be.
And so, Jo found that complying with her mother’s wishes brought her a strange peace of mind as it saved her from asking herself questions she could not answer. Sometimes it seemed that two minds inhabited her body: the little girl she had once been as well as the young woman her mother wanted her to be. Constantly, Jo felt torn between these two aspects of herself, not knowing what to do or how to act. Frankly, it was by far easier to allow her mother to make all decisions for her and simply go along with them.
Judging from the disapproving look on her grandmother’s face, Jo knew that she disagreed. Still, she refrained from saying a single word, and Jo began to wonder if there was a reason for her silence.
Never had her grandmother held back.
Why now?
“It is your decision,” she had said upon Jo’s enquiry, “not mine since you are the one who will have to live with it.” Her pale eyes had held Jo ’s for a lingering moment, a message in them that Jo could not quite decipher before her grandmother had turned her attention back to the book in her hands.
Although she tried not to, every once in a while, Jo could not help but wonder what it was she wanted. Not her mother or her grandmother. Not society. Not even her friends from school.
But she alone.
Unfortunately, an answer was not forthcoming, and so Johanna soon found herself attending balls and meeting eligible gentlemen, her mother’s encouraging nods urging her to be her most charming self. With each day that passed, her introduction to society took on a life of its own, and before long, the graceful smiles and courteous nods became a routine for Johanna, like tying a bow. Something she knew how to do and did without much thought on the matter.
As the music played and lights sparkled in the chandeliers above, one gentleman after another swept her across the dance floor, and while Johanna found herself enjoying the dancing itself, her mind could not focus on the gentleman who guided her steps. One was like another, and the words that spilled from their lips were oddly similar and spoken with the same routine-like politeness Johanna found in her own. Was this what her mother wanted for her? What her life would be like? Polite smiles and shallow compliments?
At one such event−as they all seemed to blur into one another−Johanna rounded a corner to get away from a particularly insistent gentleman and to her utter surprise stumbled upon Caroline and Penelope, two of her dear friends from school. Up until that moment when Jo saw joyous smiles come to her friend’s glowing faces, she had all but forgotten their existence.
With each day, Johanna had been back home, her life at school had retreated into the background until it had become nothing but a distant memory, utterly unconnected to her life in the here and now. At school, she had been a different person, hopeful, and yet, practical, making plans with her friends and delighting in their enthusiasm for a happy future. A part of Johanna had believed that she, too, could go to London and meet a man who was her other half.
That she could be happy.
She did not any more.
“Jo, how wonderful to see you!” Penelope beamed, hugging her fiercely. “I’ve been keeping an eye out for you,” she said, glancing at Caroline, “and then I meet you both at the same ball.” Shaking her head, she sighed. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Always quieter than the rest of them, Caroline smiled, her dark eyes sweeping over Jo’s face as though she could see the turmoil that waged within her friend. “It is good to see you,” she said in that gentle tone of hers. “You look…well?”
Inhaling a deep breath, Jo greeted them warmly. “I am,” she replied, her voice stronger than she could have hoped for as she met Caroline’s inquisitive gaze. “And you as well, I hope.”
Penelope nodded eagerly, her eyes shimmering with secrets untold. “London is marvellous. Like a fairy tale.”
Jo frowned, regarding her friend with curiosity.
Caroline chuckled softly. “She won’t say,” she answered Jo’s silent question. “But it seems rather obvious that she has lost her heart.”
“Hush!” Penelope exclaimed. “You’ll jinx it.”
Jo chuckled, exchanging a meaningful glance with Caroline. “Then I won’t say another word. I promise.”
The rest of the evening, Jo spent with her friends from school, chatting and laughing as she had not done in a long time. Her heart felt lighter, and for once she did not wonder who she was, but simply lived without restraint, without thought, without fear. Their company brought forth the side of Jo that still had hope and dreams and plans for the future.
Even though she could not say what they were.
What on earth was she to do? All of a sudden, she felt herself pulled into not two, but three directions and no answers in sight.
On the carriage ride home, Johanna let her mother prattle on about what a marvellous night it had been while her own mind dwelt on the decisions she would have to make. For although she had resigned herself to allowing her mother to decide for her, had that in itself not also been a decision?
Chapter Six − Hiding in Plain Sight
Still undecided, Jo stayed by her grandmother’s side for the better part of the next evening. Dancers twirled around in front of them as they sat off to the side, a perfect view of the ballroom at large. The orchestra played one lively tune after another, and many smiling faces looked flushed with exertion. Still, the atmosphere was almost intoxicating, and a part of Jo wished she could simply join in.
Silently, she had hoped to see her friends ag
ain that night, but sadly they were not in attendance.
“You look glum, my dear,” her grandmother remarked, her pale eyes narrowing as though she could make out the reason for Jo’s subdued spirits simply by looking more closely. “Do you not wish to dance?”
Jo sighed, “I do not know what I want.”
The past night she had tossed and turned, her thoughts running wild, burdened by what she did not know. And then sometime in the middle of the night, peace had found her rather unexpectedly as a memory of her childhood had fought its way to the forefront of her mind.
Joy had flooded her heart as she had seen Owen’s smile, his blue eyes full of mischief as he had urged her to climb one of the tall trees growing on the border of their families’ estates. Eagerly, she had complied, unable to ignore the call of temptation. Even hindered by her skirts, Jo had found her way high up into the tree, taken by the sight before her as her eyes had swept over the horizon where sky met land, always elusive, never to be found.
As she had climbed back down, her foot had stepped on the hem of her gown and she had slipped. For a terrifying moment, she had dangled in mid-air, her feet unable to reach anything sturdy, anything to keep her from falling. And then Colin’s voice had reached her ears, wiping away her fear as though it had never been. “Let go, Jo. I’ll catch you.”
And again, Jo had complied.
It had been a moment of utter trust and certainty. There had not been a single doubt in her mind that Colin would be there, that he would catch her, that he would see her safe.
Jo could barely remember that feeling, and as she woke the uncertainty of life came rushing back to her, making her yearn for the easy days of her childhood when the world had been a safe place and those in it had been by her side no matter what.
Now, she was alone.
Or rather, she felt alone. Could it be that she was the only one who experienced these doubts? Or were others simply more adept at hiding the turmoil that lived in their hearts?
