by Wendy Vella
Milly swallowed back the tears. She was lying again, lying and running. She was so tired of running away; it seemed to be all she had done since leaving London and Joseph.
“Th-thank you.” She kissed one of Lady Wimplestow’s cheeks
It was really rather easy after that. Lady Wimplestow bustled her outside, and she was then bundled into their carriage and soon heading home.
After she had drunk the cup of warmed milk and brandy Lady Wimplestow had insisted would help her to settle, she lay in the darkness, thinking about what she was once again leaving behind.
“Milly?” Apple-blossom’s head appeared around her door.
“Come in, Apple-blossom.”
She closed the door, and walked in the darkness to sit on the bed beside Milly.
“Mother told me you are leaving, as your aunt is sick.”
“Yes.”
“Is that really the reason?”
“No.” Milly said the word softly, and grabbed the hand that clasped around hers.
“I cannot stop you from going, Milly, and know you have secrets. But will you promise me one thing?”
“Anything.”
“Will you write to me and assure me you are safe?”
“Yes.” The tears in her throat were so thick they threatened to choke her.
“I will miss you, dearest Milly.”
“Oh, Apple-blossom, I-I shall miss you also. But I have to go.”
“I know, and I also know you will not give me the reasons.”
“I-I cannot.”
The fingers squeezed around hers.
“Mr. Howard asked me to marry him tonight, and I said yes, and then he kissed me.”
“I am so happy for you.”
They could not see each other’s faces clearly, but Milly could feel Apple-blossom’s happiness. She knew it was tinged with sadness because of her departure, but Milly knew that marriage to Mr. Howard would occupy Apple-blossom from now on.
“Thank you for teaching me so much, Milly.”
“And thank you for teaching me much also.”
“How to be part of a family?”
Milly sniffed. “Yes. It has been wonderful.”
“I-if ever you want to come back here, Milly, the door is always open, even when I make my home with Daniel.”
“Th-thank you,” Milly said, knowing that would never happen. “I will leave Daisy here with you, as she is so happy.”
“And we shall treasure her always.”
“I-I shall be gone before you rise.”
She would now have another pain inside her, just to the left of the one she experienced when she thought of her aunt, and below the one that had Joseph’s name on it.
Apple-blossom kissed her cheek softly, and then left, closing the door behind her, leaving Milly to lie in silent agony until the gray streaks of dawn filtered through the gap in her curtains.
Dressing quickly, she crept through the quiet house. She would miss them all dearly. She would also miss Daisy, but the little dog belonged here now.
Milly did not look back as she made her way down the driveway and then onto the road that led back to Spindle. It was cold, and small needles of rain fell. Milly felt nothing; in fact, she was numb. Her only intention to get to the stage and away from here. The walk was not a great one, and soon she had reached the houses that led into town. She could see the odd flash of a candle or lamp as she walked, but did not encounter anyone. By the time she arrived in Spindle she was wet through, as the rain had set in.
The coach was not due for two hours, or so the woman slumbering in her seat at the inn had told Milly. After purchasing a ticket, she looked for a place to sit until it arrived. She did not want to stay at the inn, or anywhere someone could chance upon her... or he could find her, but did not want to go so far that she did not hear the stage arriving.
Of course Joseph would not come looking for her, as he did not know she knew that he knew... Lord, that made her head hurt.
“But the point is, Milly, he has no idea you know,” she muttered, crossing the road.
He would still be slumbering in his warm bed, but she would leave nothing to chance, and stay hidden until the stage arrived.
Looking around the small town, she saw a church and graveyard. Making her way through the narrow gate toward the church, Milly walked up the steps and into the entranceway. She then sat in a corner out of the wind and rain.
Where would she go now? Was it time to leave England? Perhaps Scotland? She could find work there, surely. The weight of what she was about to do again settled heavily on her shoulders, and suddenly she was so tired.
“When can I stop running?”
She wanted a place to stop and rest. A place to settle herself. Milly had often dreamed of a cottage somewhere, a small place that was hers where she would be safe. Grand houses were no longer in her dreams. No, she wanted to go somewhere no one would know the old Milly, just the new one. Miss Higglesworth.
She did not want to think about Joseph again. The man he had become in the last four years. The flashes of humor, the arrogant earl who issued orders and expected them obeyed. The man with flashes of vulnerability that he believed no one saw. But she had seen them. She’d always noticed everything about him. Did she still love him? Milly wasn’t entirely sure she knew what love was any more. She should be angry with him for knowing her identity and teasing and tormenting her, but she was not. He was angry about what she had done, and for him this had been revenge.
Closing her eyes, she let the thoughts come and go, and the feelings wash through her.
“Well now, this is not a place I expected to find you, Miss Higglesworth.”
Milly’s eyes sprang open at the deep words. She’d fallen asleep. Dear God, had she missed the stage? Looking up the long legs braced before her, she encountered the steady green gaze of Lord Ellsworth.
“No answer, Miss Higglesworth?” His words were calm, as if he addressed her over the tea table, and not on a cold, miserable morning in a church entrance.
“You did not pose a question, my lord,” Milly said, surprised she could speak so calmly when she knew that he was now aware of her identity. Was he aware? She tried to see his expression clearly. She had certainly believed so last night, and yet surely if he did know he would not be addressing her as Miss Higglesworth. Had she been rash in her need to leave?
Milly attempted to straighten her legs, and hissed in pain as fiery needles shot up them. Numbness had crept into them from being curled under her while she slept. Reaching for her bag, she braced it before her.
“Why are you sleeping here, Miss Higglesworth, with your bag, when you have a bed in the Wimplestow house?”
Deciding she was at a disadvantage sitting through a conversation with this particular man, she attempted to stand. Two hands lifted her before she could do so.
“Thank you.” Milly attempted to stomp some feeling into her limbs.
“Now perhaps you could answer my question.”
“I have received word that an aunt is ill, so I am leaving to be with her.” If he knew her identity, he would now call her on the lie, surely. If not, she would leave anyway, because she knew that one day he may realize who she was.
The collar of his heavy coat was up, and drops of rain covered the thick fabric. His dark hair was wet and curled over the brim of his hat. Even now, in such conditions, he looked large and imposing.
Don’t look at him, she reminded herself. She was not at her strongest at that moment. Leaving the Wimplestow family had made her weepy.
“I must leave, my lord, as I am due to catch the stage.”
“You have missed it.”
Joseph had tried to find Milly at the ball, and in the end had asked Apple-blossom, who had told him she had left due to an ill aunt. Milly had one aunt, who he had left behind in London, healthy as an ox. He did not believe she had received word to the contrary. Apple-blossom had then told her that much to her sadness, Milly was leaving Spindle in the mo
rning. Strangely, she had then given him a steady, assessing look before walking away.
Joseph had then left the ball himself and returned to Greyton, where he had not slept well. Rising before dawn, he had pulled on his clothes and left the house. He had ridden into Spindle, because he knew Milly intended to leave on the first stage and he was not going to let her.
After rousing the sleeping woman at the Spindle Inn, he confirmed Milly had bought a ticket. He’d then set about finding her.
The church had been his last hope, and he’d found her huddled on the church steps. Her glasses were pushed upward, cheeks padded, bonnet damp and drooping, and Joseph had not wanted to feel the sharp pain inside his chest. She’d sat curled into the smallest ball she could. Feet tucked under her, hands wrapped around her body, and he knew this was to stay warm. He didn’t want this for her, Joseph realized. But what, then, did he want? Retribution? No, the truth.
“I-I… are you sure?”
“I am.”
She was about to walk around him, but he grabbed her arm. “I know who you are, my lady.” The silence that followed these words was thick with tension. She’d averted her face, so he could read nothing from her expression.
“How long have you known?”
“Since the night I found you.”
She stepped away from him.
“And you did not tell me then, as you wished to seek retribution for the wrongs I caused you?” She faced him now, chin raised, her words cold and flat. “You wished to see me suffer, my lord, as I made you suffer?”
The words were not spoken loudly, but Joseph heard each clearly, and with the accuracy they were intended.
“I concede that my treatment of you was shabby, but what now, Lord Ellsworth? Am I to be paraded before someone for your benefit, so you may see me humiliated further?”
“I have no wish for your humiliation. What I want is the truth.”
“I am leaving.”
“You will not be leaving.” Joseph grabbed her, picking her up as she tried to pass him. He placed her back before him. “You are not going anywhere.”
“You have no control over me or my actions.”
“Now there you are wrong. I have questions that need answering. You said you were leaving with the man you loved, and yet I see no man.”
She looked at his necktie.
“H-he died.”
“What was his name?”
“Mr. Brown.”
“Yet you carry the name Miss Higglesworth. Did he not marry you?” Joseph snapped the questions out quickly.
“W-we did not wed, and I can hardly go about as Lady Millicent.”
She was lying. Joseph was now certain of that. What he hadn’t known was that she was lying four years ago. Shock had not allowed him to see anything but that she was leaving him for another man.
“You are lying to me, and this time I want the truth. Why did you run away from London?”
“I have told you why. The rest does not matter now.”
She was looking at his boots.
“Oh, it matters.” He pushed her chin upward until their eyes met. “In fact, it matters a great deal. But for now I will ask another question. What did your father beg your forgiveness for?”
Her eyes flew to his. “You have seen my father?”
She doesn’t know.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you that he died a few months ago.”
She didn’t speak or move, almost as if she had turned to stone.
“He has been ill?”
“As to that, I do not know. After you left, he never ventured into society again. No one saw or heard from him. Your aunt told everyone that you were gravely ill, and had left London to give your health a chance to recover. It was then believed he had gone with you, as no one saw him again.”
“H-he never went back into society?”
Joseph shook his head.
“Two months ago I received word of his death by way of a man appearing on my doorstep. In his hands was a set of papers. The note attached to them said to Lady Millicent Lawrence. Inside were the words, ‘Daughter, please forgive me.’ Again I will ask you, why did he want your forgiveness?”
“Why would he send you papers for me?”
That question had kept Joseph awake many nights, and still he did not know the answer.
“I do not know why.”
The tears were there in her eyes now, but they did not fall, and he wondered when the emotional Lady Millicent had learned such control. This was obviously another change in the woman she had once been.
“Wh-what was inside the envelope?”
“I did not open it. But it is in a locked drawer in my London town house.”
“You knew who I was the night you found me on the road, but waited until now to tell me of my father’s death and about this envelope?”
Hearing the shock in her voice, suddenly his actions no longer felt justified. He had just told her of her father’s death in a cold manner, without a thought of how his words would be received.
“Your anger and need for revenge were so strong, you could not tell me this sooner?”
He could not deny her words as she stood there judging him, with eyes that looked world-weary, and in worn and faded clothes. Eyes that now looked upon him with sadness for what he had done. Joseph fought back the shame. He had once believed she had betrayed him, but no longer.
“Why did you leave London?”
Chapter 13
“Because I loved another.”
He held her chin as she tried to drop her eyes.
“You’re lying.”
“No, please. No good can come of these questions.”
“Damn you, tell me the truth!” His roar startled her, and for that he was sorry, but he needed to know. “Tell me, please.”
“I cannot.”
“Cannot or will not?”
“Please, Lord Ellsworth. Let it alone. No good can come of revisiting that time.”
“I loved you, and you walked away from me. I deserve the truth more than anyone, and you are not leaving this church until you give it to me.”
She sniffed, and then shook herself free from him. He let her walk about the small entrance. She would not leave; he would be on her in seconds if she attempted it.
“You have to understand, there was danger... is danger.”
The words were quietly spoken, but he heard them.
“Danger for who?”
“It matters not, only that it was there. My father....” Her words fell away when she realized she was about to speak ill of the dead.
“Was the danger because of him?”
She nodded.
“Then is the danger not gone now your father has passed away?”
Her body twitched at his words. She stared up at him, and he could see she had not thought of that. But why should she, as he had only just told her about her father’s death.
“Perhaps, in light of that, you will be able to return to society.”
“Perhaps the danger is gone, as you say. But I have been gone for too long, and there is no possible way I can return to society, if indeed I wished to.”
“No one disputed the story your aunt told, especially when your father left society.”
“But surely no one believed that?”
“Some possibly did not, but as neither I nor you aunt said different, they could not question our word.”
He saw a flash of hope in her eyes that she battled to subdue.
“I have no wish to return to society, or money to live on. No, it is best I remain as I am.”
“You can live with my family.”
“No!” She looked horrified. “I could never do that, and you know that too. Besides, Eleanor—”
“Was your best friend, and you walked away from her also.”
“Yes. How is she?”
“Happily married.”
“I-I am pleased for her.”
He didn’t want to have this discussion w
ith her. Didn’t want to find himself asking, like a pathetic fool, if she’d thought of him also.
“Then you can stay with your aunt.”
“I disgraced my family by fleeing. My aunt would have no wish to see me again, even though she told everyone I was sick.”
“She loved you as you loved her. I’m sure after you have explained, she will forgive you.”
“Is she well?”
“Very, and terrorizing society as she always has done.”
Just a small tilt of her lips, but Joseph saw it. She had loved Lady Mowbray very much. In fact, he remembered his sister telling him that Milly had confided that her aunt was more a parent to her than her father.
“I will take you to London and you can read what your father left you. Once we have done so, then you can make your decision as to what you wish to do.”
“No, I have no wish to go to London.”
“Those papers were important enough that your father had them sent to me, Milly. You need to come to London and read them.”
“I want no one to see me.” She shook her head vehemently.
“They need not if that is your wish. We will drive to my doorstep, you can read the papers, and then I shall take you where you wish to go.”
“B-but why would you do so? You care nothing for me now. No. If I go to London, I will make my own way there on the stage. You can instruct your staff to hand me the papers when I arrive. There is no need for you to leave now.”
“It matters not, my intention was to return to London soon anyway.”
She shivered, and he knew that she had been sitting out in the weather for too long.
“Come, we will leave today.”
“I do not take orders from you, and after the shame I caused you, I cannot understand why you wish for this... for me to go with you to London.”
Even bedraggled and beaten, she was not giving in. This Milly, Joseph realized, was a very different person than the previous one.
“Because,” Joseph said, deciding on part of the truth. “I want the truth of what happened four years ago, and you are not leaving my side until I have it.”
