A Cottage in Cornwall

by Laura Briggs

  Over her shoulder, I saw Lady Amanda wink at me as she hugged her friend. I smiled back.

  ***

  The winds from the sea were ruffling my silk dress, and the petals of the first spring flowers in Cliffs House's garden as walked along the garden paths, hearing it rustle through the leaves of the shrubbery that Billy's clippers had been mangling when I confronted him about the east garden's renovations. I was strolling alongside Matthew, my hand tucked in his strong, callused one once again.

  We were retracing the first walk we had taken together along this same path the previous year — a night walk we shared after a very different wedding, of course, that of Matt's heartless ex. Here and there, Matt would pause to inspect plants he'd added last year, crouching down to crumble mulch between his fingers or study the underside of leaves.

  He rose to his feet. "I spoke to William yesterday," he said. "He wants me to consult again for a few weeks. It's temporary, of course, and I think he's mostly offering it to be kind — but I thought I might take him up on it. At least while things are still unsettled...and there's no permanent gardener at Cliffs House." He dusted the rose's mulch from his hands.

  "You mean it?" I said. Matt back at Cliffs House — it seemed too good to be true, even with the real reasons for it lingering in the back of my mind every minute.

  "It seems like the sensible thing to do," he said. "Besides, I'm not entirely satisfied with the progress the roses are making, or the beds along the cliffs' walk, either. They need a bit more care than they've received."

  "So you're saying —"

  " — that Billy will be restored to his real job elsewhere, yes," he supplied. A grin crept across his face now. "Does that give you relief?"

  "Absolutely," I answered, laughing. No more insults or Cornish curses, or silent glares directed my way by the incorrigible old gardener on loan — it was like a dream come true.

  Matt took my hand again; I didn't mind the dirt on his as our fingers intertwined. I leaned against Matt's shoulder, taking a deep breath of sea air as we emerged from between the hedge walls, to the open path leading towards the cliffs' view.

  "They make a lovely couple," said Matt. "Constance and Joseph."

  "They do," I agreed. "The sort of couple everyone wants to be. I would want to be that happy with the love of my life at sixty...seventy...and eighty." Our eyes met for a moment as I spoke, and the humor in my voice died away ever so slightly beneath the tenderness of his gaze.

  Matt looked away. "You know," he said, softly. "I had wanted things to be very different when I came back from my research trip."

  "Different from this?" I asked. Feigning a lightheartedness I didn't entirely possess as I squeezed his hand. "As in you strolling along Boston's shore with some other girl?"

  Matt scoffed. "Of course not," he said. "I meant ... I had hoped to forget about our silly argument before I left. Put it behind us and move on with the future."

  "We are moving on," I said. "I don't know about you, but I haven't wasted any time thinking about it these past couple of weeks. I hope you realize that I didn't really mean any of those things. I was just missing you horribly and having a rotten day."

  "I know. And you know that I never meant to make you think that I chose work over you," said Matt. "That wasn't my intention when I went to Boston, or when I agreed to be part of the research team. I never should have put you in a position where you would feel that way."

  "See? We're past it," I said. "Over it. Next expedition to the wilds, I'll be waiting passionately for your return. Counting down the days until you tell me what miracle you worked against virus and bacteria." I slid my arm through his, hugging it close.

  Matt didn't say anything. We paused at the head of the path, where the first glimpse of the Channel's restless waters could be seen beyond the banks of heather and the craggy stones emerging from the earth. "I often think about that week in Boston," he said, quietly. "When you came for Valentine's Day."

  Matt as my guide along the Freedom Trail, and through Faneuil Hall. The two of us having dinner at a restaurant near the harbor, both eager to talk, both equally as desperate to hear the other one's voice. Everything had been so warm and comfortable between us, so perfectly natural.

  "We went ice skating at that indoor rink," I reminisced. "Do you remember how I nearly broke my ankle when that kid brushed past me? My weird little stumble must've looked like a sit spin gone wrong." A smile tugged at my lips for it, remembering how the two of us were laughing too hard for Matt to help me to my feet for a minute or two.

  "I remember holding your hand every day," he said. "Everywhere we walked, every time we were sitting or standing together. And feeling sorry that I ever let go of it at the airport."

  I shivered a little in response; the same memory had been in my own thoughts just a few days ago.

  "I had wanted to envision a future between us," he continued. "A long one. And now ..." He hesitated. "Constance's speech about time not mattering — I'm not sure if I can agree with that. I couldn't ask you to choose a fleeting happiness. One that would be marred by pain, and spent shuttling back and forth between hospitals and clinics."

  "I think you don't realize how much you mean to me," I said. "If that's what you think."

  "Before this, I thought of nothing else," he answered. His arms slid around me, drawing me close. "And I was sure enough of your feelings that I had hope of something more."

  Pressed against him, I felt the corner of a square box tucked in his pocket. A jewelry box, I realized. I lifted my eyes to meet his, imagining full well what must be in it.

  His lips moved. "Before this, it was all I wanted," he said. "And it's still all that I want."

  I didn't say anything. I knew that my eyes were filling with tears, and I didn't want to hold them back. "Yes," I said. "That's my answer. Yes, Matthew."

  His hand reached into his pocket and pulled out a small velvet box. He opened it. The ring was nestled between two ivory cushions, a braid of small diamonds and pearls. It looked utterly beautiful, and utterly timeless, as if it had belonged in romances of the past, just like Constance's.

  He lifted it out, gently, and held it in his palm. He was hesitating, but I could see the yearning in his eyes. My fingers touched the band as it lay there, watching the little diamonds glint like stars in the light.

  "Well?" I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "Aren't you going to say something?"

  "I love you," he said.

  I felt his fingers take mine, separating one on my left hand from the others. The ring slid into place, its smooth metal encircling my finger. He took my hand in his and lifted it to his lips, kissing it, gently. And with that kiss, the promise between us was sealed.

  ***

  I was trying very hard not to check the calendar daily, but the days until Matt's results would be back were slipping away quickly, and my brain was counting them down without my permission. By the day of the deadline, no phone call from his doctor came; and though Matt didn't mention it, I knew it was preying on his mind.

  Matt wasn't due to start work at Cliffs House until the next week, so he was still spending his days weeding the gardens at Rosemoor Cottage. I wanted to take a few days off and help him — and be there when the phone call finally came — but there were two catered events planned at Cliffs House for this weekend, and it was my job to see that everything was in place for them.

  Today was also the day for Constance and Joseph's departure for Switzerland, and Lord William and Lady Amanda were hosting a send-off breakfast for the couple. I was there, along with most of the house's staff, and a couple of wedding guests staying locally, Italian friends of Joseph's who were on a walking tour of Cornwall.

  "Are you sure you won't eat a second muffin?" said Lady Amanda, passing the platter at breakfast. "Train trips are very long, you know. And dining cars have nothing on Dinah's cooking, as you know."

  "I couldn't eat another bite," said Joseph. "My compliments to the cook. I've never ha
d marmalade quite that delicious."

  I knew Dinah would be pleased to hear that, once again, her special recipe was unbeatable among the manor's guests. I myself had guiltily slathered a generous spoonful of it over a muffin earlier in the morning, and wolfed it down while alone in the kitchen.

  Already the artist's latest canvases and sketches were packed for travel, along with her battered little painting case. Joseph carried the disassembled easel and their duffel bags out to the boot of Lord William's car as Lady Amanda gave her friend one last farewell hug.

  Constance shook hands with me once more as I stood in the courtyard with Gemma and Pippa. "Take care of yourself," she advised me. "And take good care of that young fellow who's so smitten with you. I'm quite grateful for all the help you gave Amanda. The wedding was lovely ... it couldn't have been more so in any other hands."

  "I'm glad you loved it," I answered. "And I hope your sketches of Switzerland turn out beautiful."

  "I've a little something for you," she said, placing a small brown paper-wrapped package in my hands. "Hang it in your office as a reminder of how happy you helped make a cantankerous old artist. Or perhaps you know someone else who has a good use for it." There was a knowing twinkle in Constance's eye with these words.

  "Ready when you are, Constance," called Lord William, who opened the passenger door of his car. Constance waved goodbye to Lady Amanda and the staff of Cliffs House as she climbed in, settling beside Joseph. A moment later, the car drove away, carrying the two of them to the train station.

  "What'd she give you?" asked Gemma, curious.

  "Bet it's an autograph," said Pippa. "Or a bit of something she drew on her scratch pad."

  I removed the paper from the flat package. Beneath it was a sketch, mounted on a plain cardboard back. Delicate brush strokes had brought it to life as a watercolor. A view of the house's cliffs, the Channel's water on the horizon, and the outline of the path leading to the plunging view of the beach below. In the corner, the unintelligible, slanting signature of Constance Strong.

  A small note was folded on top of it. One should always know one's special place, it read. And that was all.

  How did she know? I lifted my eyes, and noticed Lady Amanda's secretive smile before she turned and went inside the house again.

  "It's our cliffs, isn't it?" said Gemma, peering over my shoulder.

  "Part of the Cornish series she painted for the show, I believe," said Geoff, who was also admiring it. "I saw it in the catalog Lady Amanda brought back."

  "Fancy that," whistled Pippa. "It's worth a good bit of money, I'll bet."

  "I wouldn't part with it," I said. "Except to one person." Which, I knew, was exactly what Constance had implied before.

  Gemma was no longer noticing the sketch I held, but the ring on my left hand. Her eyes grew wide as saucers. "What's that?" she demanded. She seized my hand. Beside her, I heard Pippa suck in her breath, sharply.

  "Oh my gosh! Ross proposed?!"

  "I was going to tell everyone," I began. "It's just I thought I'd wait until Co—"

  "Are those stones real?" said Pippa. "Not 'real,' I mean, but real?"

  "Where's Geoff?" said Gemma. The estate manager had already wandered towards the gardens, it seemed. "And where's Lady Amanda? How could you not tell us first thing?"

  Once explanations — and enthusiastic congratulations — from the two staffers had finally come to an end, I took the painting upstairs for safekeeping before anyone else could waylay me and ask about the news. I found it a temporary place of honor by propping it on a mantel (I would have it framed before presenting it to Matthew, I decided). At the same time, I heard the trill of my cell phone in my pocket.

  When I pulled it out, I saw the word Matt on the screen. I felt my heart begin to hammer. Matt wouldn't call me at work for just any reason. Especially not right now. Not unless —

  The phone was still ringing when I shoved it into the pocket of my jacket again. I didn't answer it, I simply took off for the stairs leading to the front door.

  "Julianne, where are you going?" Lady Amanda called over the banister. "What's this I hear about a ring?"

  "I'll explain later when I come back!" I called over my shoulder. "I promise!"

  Halfway out the door, I pulled off my high heels and began running. Geoff was in the courtyard alone, placing a stack of empty crates in the boot of his car.

  "Geoff!" I said. "Please, if you're going into the village, I need a ride home." 'Home' would be Rosemoor Cottage, of course. Everyone at the estate still assumed I was staying there, not Matthew.

  "Of course," he said. He gave me a puzzled look. "I trust everything's all right, Miss Morgen?"

  "Fine," I said. "Just fine. I just need to do something there."

  When the car pulled alongside the street outside the cottage, I climbed out and gave Geoff a quick wave of goodbye as he drove on — thankfully, he hadn't noticed my ring yet. I opened the gate and hurried towards the back garden, where Matt met me halfway between the hothouse and the untamed English garden that sprawled towards the neighboring house.

  I didn't give him a chance to speak. My hands cupped his face, and I kissed him, hard. When I drew back from it, I saw an expression of surprise in his eyes — but not a trace of worry or sorrow.

  "How did you know?" he asked. Astonishment in his voice. "I hadn't told anyone it was negative yet — not even Michelle." I felt him touch my cheek, the first truly carefree smile I had seen from Matt in weeks lighting up his face. "You couldn't have possibly known."

  "I didn't," I said, softly. My own smile was taking over my lips now. "I didn't know until now."

  I heard Matt laugh. The relief in that laugh was worth a million pounds — worth more than anything in the world. He rested his forehead against mine, our lips a kiss apart once more. I wrapped my arms around his neck, holding him tight.

  I felt his hand reach to take mine a moment later, closing around the one wearing our engagement ring. He brought it to his lips, kissing my fingers once again. I opened my eyes, smiling as I looked into his own.

  "Let's go give everyone the good news, shall we?" I said.

  Julianne, Matt, and all of their friends will be back in A MANOR IN CORNWALL, the series' fourth book—find out more about it HERE

  Visit the official series website HERE for fun facts about the characters, sneak peeks for upcoming books in the series, and insider information on the best-selling UK romances!

  Special Excerpt from Send a Star

  An email from Keri's mother declared that Irene's wedding had been perfect, and everyone missed seeing Keri and her secret boyfriend. A sad frowny face emoticon followed this part of the email. She read it once, then closed it and pretended not to think about it for the rest of the day.

  Paul had been gone a week, emailing Keri three times to share photographs of buoys equipped with sensors bobbing in the water, and a sunset over the ocean, as well as details on the status of his work. Her phone would ping each time one of his communications appeared, except for Keri's contemplation hour at the museum. But it was crunch time for the lab's final equation, so all the conversations and ordinary pieces of life had been shoved to the back of Keri's mind for the sake of concentration.

  Modern pop was blasting from her roommate's speaker system when Keri opened the door to her apartment next Friday evening, a sure sign that Ally must be back. Only six days late, Keri thought, as she laid her keys on the entryway table.

  The apartment was a spacious one, decorated according to Ally's tastes. Lots of vintage fashion sketches and plates were framed on the walls, and a row of retro mannequin heads lined the mantel, most of them sleek, bald, and sporting painted lips and eyes representing cosmetic trends of the past. Ally's own sketches were pinned haphazardly above her work space, one covered in books on the century's top fashion designers and lots of fabric swatches.

  "Hello?" she called. "Ally?" She glanced towards the hallway where their bedrooms were, Ally's having its custo
mary struck-by-a-hurricane look.

  "Lonely much?" Her roommate appeared in the kitchen doorway. The exact same line her roommate always used when she came back from some fashion show in a far-off location. "I am sooo tired and starved. London was a blast by the way. Brought you something." Ally obviously hadn't washed off her makeup in several days, judging from her smudged blue eye shadow. She wore a pair of rumpled silk pajamas and a kimono bathrobe, her sleek hair sticking out at odd angles from sleeping.

  "Yes, I missed you, if that's what you mean," said Keri, giving her roommate a fond but exasperated smile. The music was still blasting from the Bluetooth speakers, so any minute now the neighbors would probably call to complain. "And you didn't have to bring me anything."

  "It's nothing much. Just a scarf of the U.K. flag. Very touristy, but I thought of you when I saw it. The tourist-that-wasn't." Ally dug her spoon into a container of mocha chocolate ice cream. "And I was talking about men. Not me. When I asked if you were lonely, that is." She sucked her spoon suggestively.

  "I had a lot of work to catch up on," answered Keri, ignoring her roommate's look. "Paul was only home for a few days, so we simply caught the symphony and had a couple of nice evenings out."

  "Whatever. You are such a square, Keri. Live a little, will you? You should have come to London with me. We partied for three days straight after Michael's show." She set the ice cream on the kitchen windowsill, where it would melt to goo in no time, as Keri knew from her roommate's habits.

  "Not everyone can lead your life, Ally." Keri removed her high heels and crossed the room to the mail waiting on her roommate's desk. There was a university newsletter, and a vacation postcard from an old friend in college who sent the same one to every former friend she had. Beneath them, a package. It was addressed to her, but she didn't remember ordering anything.