“I didn’t realize giving her a ride would upset you.” His voice sounded low and husky. “That was certainly not my intention.”
She looked away. “I know I shouldn’t let it bother me, but it’s hard to let go of those memories.”
He nodded, searching for something else to say, but no words came.
“I don’t mean to be gloomy. I know Violet adores you and your horses.” She reached out and patted Juniper’s neck.
“I must confess I’m quite fond of Violet as well.”
Her weary expression eased, replaced by the hint of a smile.
He motioned toward the stable. “I’m walking Juniper back. Would you like to come along?”
She hesitated a moment, then nodded. “All right.”
They set off down the drive, Nate holding Juniper’s reins as the horse trailed behind them.
Maggie bent and plucked a little blue flower from the side of the path. “Your sister brought me several dresses.”
Nate nodded, glad for the change of subject and that Clara had finally followed through on his suggestion. “That’s good to hear.”
“When I thanked her, she said it was your idea.”
“Well…I did mention you’d lost most of yours in the fire.”
She sent him a sideways glance. “Thank you.”
Warmth infused his chest. “It was nothing, really.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
Their gazes met and held. A renewed sense of connection flowed between them, making his steps lighter. They both smiled. Maggie looked away first, but the soft glow on her face didn’t fade for several seconds.
They reached the stable, and Nate handed off Juniper to the young groom. Maggie glanced toward the house and then back at Nate, looking as though she wasn’t sure if she should go or stay.
He definitely wished they could continue their conversation, and he had an idea that might help. “If you have a moment, there’s something I’d like to show you.”
“What is it?”
“Come with me.”
She nodded, and he headed around the side of the stable. He hadn’t shown anyone else. And for some reason it seemed right that Maggie should be the first to see what had been delivered that morning.
“Where are you taking me?” Maggie’s trust in Nate was growing, but small vines of doubt wove around her heart at the most unexpected times, choking it out.
Nate grinned as he glanced over his shoulder, looking unaware of her unsettled feelings. “It’s right around here.” He motioned toward a beige canvas tarp covering something quite large. “Can you guess what it is?” He lifted his eyebrows, his face bright with expectation.
It didn’t look tall enough to be a new carriage, but it was definitely something about that size. “Is it some sort of wagon?”
“You’re close, but not quite right.”
She lifted her hands. “I have no idea.”
“Very well. I’ll show you.” He grabbed the tarp and pulled it off, revealing a shiny new motorcar.
Maggie gasped and lifted her hand to her mouth. “Oh, Nate!”
“It was just delivered a few hours ago. What do you think?”
It had a dark-green exterior and padded black leather seats. “Do you know how it works?”
“The man who delivered it showed me the basics. It doesn’t seem too difficult. But I think I’ll need a bit more practice before I take anyone else with me.”
The memory of the accident in Heatherton and Violet’s broken leg stirred her concern. “Motorcars can be dangerous. I hope you’ll be careful.”
Nate nodded and walked around the vehicle, inspecting it carefully. “I’m sure I can learn what’s needed to be a safe driver.”
She studied him for a moment. “I never would’ve guessed you’d order a motorcar.”
“I didn’t.”
She lifted her eyebrows.
“Apparently my father ordered it a few months ago, before he got sick, and it was just now delivered.”
She pulled in a quick breath. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.”
“It’s all right. It was a surprise to me as well. When it first arrived, I told the deliveryman it was a mistake.” He reached out and touched the steering wheel. “But then he showed me the paperwork with my father’s signature.”
“So you decided to keep it?”
“Yes. They’re all the rage in London, and I can see how it would help us get around much more quickly.”
Maggie glanced toward the stable. “But you’ll keep your horses and carriages, won’t you?”
“Yes, of course. I’m not sure Helen will even ride in a motorcar.”
Maggie stiffened at the mention of Helen’s name. Nate’s stepmother avoided Maggie and her grandmother, but her disapproval of them seemed to permeate the atmosphere of the house.
Nate cocked his head. “What is it?”
She waved away his question. “Nothing.”
He frowned. “Has my stepmother said something to upset you?”
“She has barely said a word since she tried to send us to that cottage.”
“I’m sorry. I know she can be difficult, but if she ignores you, it’s probably for the best.” He gave a dry chuckle. “I wish she would ignore me.”
“You don’t really mean that, do you?”
“There has never been a close bond between us, and she can’t seem to accept the changes that have occurred since my father passed away.”
“You mean you taking on your father’s role?”
“Yes, she’s reluctant to release her grip on running Morningside, and she’s even tried to influence my decisions about Clifton.”
“It sounds like she is making things difficult for you.”
He sent her a small smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’m determined to ride out the storm and make a new way forward for us all.”
Maggie studied Nate’s expression, trying to read the meaning behind his words. If only she could tell him what she suspected and enlist his help in her search for evidence. But what if he didn’t believe her? What would she do then?
Friday morning after breakfast Maggie settled in the drawing room with the sewing basket and the dresses she needed to alter. Clara was taller than Maggie and fuller in the waist and above. With a sigh, Maggie opened the sewing box. She had always been slim with modest feminine curves, taking after her mother. She told herself it didn’t matter, but lately she found herself wishing she filled out her dresses the way Clara did. Perhaps then Nate might—
She clamped a lid on that thought and plucked a needle from the pincushion.
The drawing room door opened, and Lilly looked in. “May I have a word with you, Maggie?”
“Yes, of course.” She set aside her sewing and rose from her chair.
“My goodness, Lilly, there’s no need to be so formal.” Grandmother sent her a quizzical look. “Come in and join us.”
Lilly’s eyes widened. “Oh no, I can’t…I have to get back to work.”
“It’s all right. We understand.” Maggie hurried across the drawing room and out the door, tugging Lilly with her. “Did you find Mrs. Harcourt’s diary?” she whispered.
Lilly nodded. “I put it in your room, bottom drawer of the dressing table.”
“Thank you!” Maggie squeezed her hand.
“Oh, Maggie, I feel like a thief!” Lilly looked over her shoulder and leaned closer. “Look through it quickly and return it as soon as you can.”
“I will. I promise.” Maggie’s heart rate picked up speed. If Helen Harcourt had written something about the accident in her journal, Maggie might find the proof she needed.
“I have to go back upstairs. Mrs. Burnell will have my head if she finds out what I’ve been up to.” Lilly glanced toward the door to the servants’ stairs at the end of the great hall.
“She won’t find out. I’ll make sure of it.” Maggie squeezed Lilly’s hand again. “Thank you. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.”
“Just be careful,” Lilly whispered, then she hurried across the great hall and up the stairs.
Maggie returned to the drawing room and took up her sewing, though she longed to run upstairs and start reading Helen’s diary.
“What did Lilly want?” Grandmother snipped the thread on the side seam of the pink dress they were cutting down for Violet.
Maggie lifted one shoulder. “Oh, she just wanted to tell me about something she found.”
Grandmother’s brow creased. “What are you girls up to?”
Maggie sorted through the spools of thread and ignored her grandmother’s question.
“Maggie?” Grandmother’s voice held an edge that could not be ignored.
She slowly lifted her head and met Grandmother’s gaze. “I can’t say, at least not right now.”
Concern shadowed Grandmother’s eyes. “Be careful, my dear. Secrets can wield a double-edged sword.”
Maggie plucked the spool of thread from the basket. “Yes, they can, but sometimes they’re necessary.”
Grandmother studied her a moment more, then resumed her sewing. Maggie released a slow, deep breath. She wished she could tell her grandmother what she suspected, but she couldn’t, not until she had the evidence in hand.
The morning passed at an achingly slow pace. Maggie didn’t feel she could slip away until after luncheon. Violet begged to take a walk in the garden, and Grandmother agreed to go along.
“Come with us, Maggie,” Violet called as she vaulted across the great hall on her crutches and headed toward the front door.
“You two go ahead.” Maggie glanced up the stairs. “I have some reading I’d like to do.”
Grandmother’s steps slowed, and she looked at Maggie with a quizzical frown. “Reading rather than a walk? That doesn’t sound like you.”
Maggie avoided meeting Grandmother’s gaze and hurried up the steps. “Enjoy your time in the garden.”
She slipped into her room and quietly closed the door. Though she had not seen anyone in the hallway, she crossed the room on tiptoe and pulled open the lower drawer of the dressing table. Mrs. Harcourt’s brown leather diary lay on top of the pile of folded handkerchiefs. Her hand trembled as she took it out and sat on the bench.
She ran her fingers over Helen’s name embossed in gold on the cover, then opened to the first page:
This is the private diary of Helen Harcourt. Begun the first day of January 1899.
Maggie stilled. This was it. If Mrs. Harcourt was behind the boating accident, Maggie would find the proof here—she was sure of it.
Nate glared at the note from Geoffrey Rowlett and tossed it on his desk. The finely worded reply could not veil the man’s disdain for Nate or his suggestion that they meet privately before the next board meeting to talk through the issues with the workers and try to avoid a strike.
He’d spent several hours with Mr. Waller, discussing the projects and working conditions at Clifton. They’d even convinced Miss Larson to give them access to the financial records for the past three years. He’d gathered enough facts and figures to support the workers’ cause. But how could he follow through on his promise to Reverend Samuelson and the men unless he convinced Rowlett to listen to his conclusions and soften his stance?
He would have to contact Samuelson, give him the news, and discuss their next move.
Helen strode into the library and crossed toward his desk. Though it was almost two o’clock, it was the first time he’d seen her that day. “Good afternoon, Helen.”
She looked down at him with a furrowed brow. “There is a serious situation we must address.”
Nate steeled himself. “What is it?”
“Your sister has been sneaking out at all hours to see a young man, and he is our junior gamekeeper!” Her lips curled in disgust. “I want you to speak to her immediately and put a stop to it.”
He forced himself to remain calm and sat back in his chair. “I’ve already spoken to her.”
“What?” Helen pulled in a sharp breath. “Why didn’t you say anything to me? I had to suffer the embarrassment of hearing about it from my maid!”
Nate held his gaze steady but didn’t reply.
“Well? What did you say to Clara?”
“I told her you would not approve and she should break it off.” He almost regretted his words now, knowing they put him in the same camp with his stepmother.
“Was she convinced?”
Nate released a deep breath. “No, she was not.”
“Then you must send the young man away, and do it today.”
Nate wasn’t sure which he disliked more, his stepmother’s demanding nature or her meddlesome ways. He leveled his gaze at her. “I don’t believe that’s necessary.”
“Not necessary!” Helen’s face flushed, and she looked as though she might burst a blood vessel. “Do you want your sister’s reputation ruined?”
“Of course not, but Clara is quite taken with him.” He could hardly believe he was arguing for his sister’s cause, but he couldn’t let his stepmother think he would simply fold and do whatever she demanded.
“Poppycock! She is young and easily influenced.”
“Clara is almost eighteen, the same age my mother was when she married my father.”
Helen’s eyes practically shot fire at him. She never liked to be reminded his father had been married before and she was his second wife…his second choice. “That has nothing to do with this situation.”
“I think it reminds us some young people are mature enough to make an excellent choice at a young age.”
Her nostrils flared. “I will not have my daughter involved with a gamekeeper!”
“She says he has plans to study to become a veterinarian.”
“That’s not the life I want for Clara! You must send him away before the news circulates and our family’s name is dragged through the mud!”
“Really, Helen, I think you’re overreacting.”
“I am not overreacting! This is a very serious matter. And this proves you know very little about the rules of society. I shouldn’t be surprised. You’ve been away in the Navy for years, serving with rough, vulgar men.”
Nate rose to his feet. “That’s enough!” His voice boomed. “You may insult me, but I will not allow you to slander my men or fellow officers.”
Helen froze and stared at him.
“I may have been away fighting in a war, but I know enough about families and society to realize you are overstepping your bounds.”
She straightened. “You never liked the way your father confided in me or the way we shared the responsibility of running Morningside. But now that he’s gone, you want to rip that all away from me.”
“Things have changed, Helen. If you want to remain at Morningside, you must accept that.”
“Or what, you’re going to cast me out, send me to that dreadful old cottage? How can you treat me like this?”
He pulled in a calming breath, determined to maintain his temper no matter how much she goaded him. “I mean no disrespect. I’m simply trying to carry out my duties as head of our family and master of Morningside. And as such, I am the one to decide who stays and who goes.”
Her eyes widened and her face paled.
He was referring to Owen Campbell, but from her shocked response it was clear she thought he meant her. He debated if he should explain his meaning but decided it might be helpful for her to remember who his father had left in control.
“Very well.” She lifted her chin. “But remember this, if Clara’s hopes for a happy future are ruined by your neglect, you will have no one to blame but yourself.” With that, she whirled away and marched out of the library.
Nate sank back onto his chair, closed his eyes, and ran his hand down his face. What an exasperating woman! How had his father put up with her for so many years?
He might not like his stepmother’s controlling nature, but for his sister’s sake he must find a way to work through these issues and
do what was best for the family. But what steps should he take? That was the question.
Maggie turned the page and continued scanning the entries in Helen’s diary. She mentioned attending luncheons and dinner parties, trips to visit friends in Cumbria and London, and occasional meetings with the Women’s Missionary Aid Society in the local parish hall, but nothing about Maggie’s parents or anything out of the ordinary—until Maggie found an entry dated 13 August 1899.
R. came again this afternoon. Thank heavens Mr. Harcourt was away. I thought after his last visit, eight months ago, that would be the end of it and I would never see him again. But I should not have believed him. This time, I have one week. That’s all the time he’ll give me.
Maggie stared at the page. Was R. the man her father saw with Mrs. Harcourt in the woods a few days before the accident? If not, who was he? What did she mean about him giving her one week? The first part of the entry sounded like she might be describing a lover who reappeared after an eight-month absence, but what did the rest of it mean?
A knock sounded at her door.
She gasped, slammed the journal closed, and shoved it in the open drawer. “Who is it?”
“It’s Nate.”
Her heart thumped hard in her chest as she crossed the room and opened the door. Nate stood in the hallway, his brow creased and a look of unease in his eyes.
Panic flashed through her. Did he know what she was doing? Had he come to confront her? She straightened, ready to do battle. “Yes?”
“I’m going out for a walk, and I wondered if you might like to join me.”
“A walk?” Her voice came out soft and a bit shaky.
He sent her a questioning look. “Yes, I have something I wanted to ask you.” He glanced down the hall and then back at her. “But I’d rather do it in private.”
“All right. Just a moment.” Questions thrummed in her mind as she took her sister’s shawl from the chair by the door and wrapped it around her shoulders.
They walked downstairs and out the front door without any more conversation. The day was cool, but the sun peeked through the clouds, highlighting the bright-green grass and tulips along the drive.
Shine Like the Dawn Page 18
