“Perhaps that is the optimistic side of this problem.”
Joanna looked at Edith, not understanding her meaning.
“You know what to expect. Very few people have that sort of a guarantee. It makes you able to prepare for it.”
Joanna nodded slowly. “That is true, I suppose.”
Edith looked carefully at her friend. “Will you do something for me, Joanna? Will you agree to study your feelings further to discover if there is more there than you are currently willing to admit?”
Joanna thought on that, afraid of what she had come close to discovering. Instead, she created her own version of the agreement.
“I will agree to consider the option of a future with Mr. Aldridge.” She enjoyed the surprise on Edith’s face. “I will study the option logically and determine if such a course is one I would be willing to pursue.”
Edith’s surprise turned to disdain. “You are going about this the wrong way, Joanna. Love is not logical. You must study this with your heart.”
Joanna shook her head fiercely. “No, my heart cannot be trusted. I will be much safer relying on logic.”
“You do see what you are doing, do you not? You are forcing control over this matter.”
An angry flare welled up inside Joanna’s chest.
“I do not care.”
She forced herself to be calm again.
“My emotions are so fragile, Edith, I cannot bear to think what will happen if I am hurt again so soon. I know you cannot understand this but, please, let me go about it in my own way.”
Edith studied her for a moment. “Of course, Joanna. You know I will support you in any way I can. I only hope you will decide on a course that will lead you to be truly happy.”
Having a plan significantly lifted Joanna’s spirits when she awoke the next morning. Though her emotions were still firmly out of place and her concerns for the future had not faded, she felt better just the same. Aside from a short painting session with Mr. Aldridge, in which though her skill improved, the exercise still lacked any healing balm, she spent all her time with Mariah and their Father.
On Thursday, her Father called the carriage and they rode up into the Downs. They spent the day wandering the open hills, picnicking beneath a shady tree, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Though sadness still lingered in Joanna’s heart, joy filled the rest. On more than one occasion, she considered asking her father about his move to London, but worry overwhelmed her. In the end, she decided the risk was not worth ruining such a wonderful day.
But the following morning, Father prepared to leave for London and Joanna knew she could wait no longer. When he retired to the library after breakfast, Joanna followed him, knocking softly on the door.
“Come in,” he called.
Joanna entered slowly, afraid for what she must do but knowing it must be done.
“Joanna, come in, my dear. What can I do for you?” He stood behind the desk, leafing through some papers.
“May I ask something of you, Father?”
“Of course,” he answered without looking up. “What is it?”
She stood there in silence a moment, thinking of the most gentle way to word her concerns. When he finally looked up at her quizzically, the words burst from her mouth.
“Did you move to London because of me?”
His eyebrows knit together. “Why would you think that?”
Joanna sighed. “Mariah and I have had many conflicts lately, and I discovered that they were based around my tendency to control others. At dinner at the Harrisons, you said your visits were usually exhausting. The only difference between this visit and your past visits that I can see, is that I have not controlled our schedule as much as I have in the past. Which leads me to believe that it may have been my controlling nature that persuaded you to leave.” She was babbling and she knew it, but she did not care.
His expression grew heavy and he motioned to the chairs. “Come sit with me, Joanna.”
She did as requested and he sat across from her, taking her hands in his.
“I will be frank with you.”
Joanna’s heart quickened.
“In the past, I have found some of the days filled with one activity after another to be tiring,” he confessed.
Her stomach fell.
“But it has nothing to do with why I went to London.”
Joanna breathed a sigh of relief, though she still felt a need to explain her actions. “I have always planned full days in the hopes that we would not miss Mother so greatly.”
He nodded. “Distraction can be an excellent tool to subdue pain.” He rubbed the back of her knuckles with his thumb. “You and I seem to have dealt with the sorrow of your mother’s death in similar ways. I ran away to London and you surrounded yourself with distractions. But I have learned something on this visit. While distraction does a fine job of keeping pain at bay, it does nothing to help you heal.”
Joanna nodded, understanding completely.
“Be honest with me now.” He met her gaze evenly. “Have you allowed yourself a chance to mourn?”
“Not until recently,” Joanna confessed.
“I had not either. But the slower pace of this visit allowed me to embrace the memories of your mother, including the sadness I feel. Doing so was difficult at first, but I feel more peace now than I have since her passing.”
Joanna looked into his eyes and could see a difference. Where earlier in the week pain had ruled his expression, there was now tranquility overshadowing the darkness.
“This visit has been more enjoyable, partly due to the relaxed schedule,” he said with a smile. “But more so because of the healing that has taken place.”
He squeezed her hands. “After your mother died, I left for London because being here made me think of her, and it hurt to think of her. I wanted to be somewhere I had never shared with her so I would not miss her so greatly. To tell the truth, it has not helped at all.”
Joanna looked at him questioningly.
“My home in London does not remind me of your mother, but that does not mean that I do not still think of her often. And while the home does not remind me of the painful times, it also does not remind me of the wonderful times we had together.” Tears came to his eyes. “I was blessed to have her as my own for over twenty years. And many of those years were spent here, in this house.”
He looked around the room, yet instead of sorrow, there was joy on his face. “She was a wonderful woman and it was foolish of me to try to push her from my mind.”
“Does that mean you will come back to stay?”
He looked at her again, a soft smile on his face. “Not today, but perhaps someday. I am so sorry you worried my leaving was because of you. The hardest thing about living in London is that I do not have you and your sister close by.”
He pulled Joanna to her feet and embraced her.
Joanna felt as she had as a small child, comforted by her father once again.
“Thank you, Father.”
On Monday afternoon, Mr. Aldridge came to paint again. He and Joanna sat side by side in the library, their easels before them. Though she felt her skill had improved over the last few days, she did not feel the emotional healing she had hoped for. She sat staring at her most recent painting, her favorite view of the ocean, but did not continue her work.
After a few moments, Mr. Aldridge looked over at her. “Is something the matter?”
“No.” She pondered her answer. “And, I suppose, yes.”
“I must say, I am at a loss to help in such a situation.”
She could see the amusement in his eyes and she chuckled before motioning toward her painting. “I am not displeased with my work, but I do not feel as if I am healing at all through painting.”
She did not miss his look of disappointment.
“I’m sorry it is not aiding you as I’d hoped it would.”
A wave of guilt swept over her, and she resisted the impulse to take his hand. In
stead she folded them firmly in her lap.
“I do not want you to think I have not enjoyed the endeavor. I have. It has helped me feel more relaxed and I have enjoyed our time together.”
He smiled at her, his eyes full of pleasure.
“Before my father left,” she continued, “he reminded me that distractions will not help me heal, only hold off the pain. I feel as if I am painting as a distraction, not as a means of healing. I do not know how to change that.”
Mr. Aldridge nodded and leaned forward. “You must put yourself into the painting and let go of your control.”
Joanna pursed her lips in consideration. Mr. Aldridge’s gaze shifted there and a flash of emotion crossed his face. Joanna’s heart began to race and her stomach began to flutter, but then he looked away and Joanna forced herself to calm and respond to the last words he had spoken.
“I am not sure how to do that.”
He leaned back in his seat, looking at her thoughtfully before turning to her painting. He tilted his head, a small smile forming. “I have an idea,” he said, looking at her again with sparkling eyes.
When he did not go on, Joanna laughed. “Are you not going to tell me what it is?”
“I am not.” His smile grew. “You visit Mrs. Marchant tomorrow, do you not?”
“Indeed, I do.” She was impressed by his memory.
“How long do you see her?”
“I am often home by three in the afternoon.”
He stood. “Then I will meet you here tomorrow at three.” He extended his hand to assist her. “If that is agreeable to you.”
She looked first at his hand, then at his face, her eyebrows raised. “I would be more willing to comply if I knew what you had planned.”
He grinned. “It is a good exercise in your practice of releasing control.”
His grin made her heart race again. She had never seen him so playful and she adored it.
“I suppose so.”
His expression turned more serious. “In my experience, releasing your control to others comes to one basic question- Do you trust the person to whom you are relinquishing your control?”
His eyes studied hers. “So, Miss Leighton, do you trust me?”
The lighthearted atmosphere disappeared in a moment, replaced by anticipation. Part of her wanted nothing more than to laugh and return to the cheerful conversation. However, something within told her this was important, and should be treated as such. Did she trust Mr. Aldridge? She searched her mind and heart, and found the answer easily. Her stomach knotted with pleasure at the realization. She met his eyes, smiled and placed her hand in his.
“I do.”
The afternoon with Mrs. Marchant passed in agonizing apathy, as Joanna was anxious to see what Mr. Aldridge had planned. Mrs. Marchant’s coughing fits had not subsided and she required two cups of her tea to soothe the coughing. Joanna strove to convince her to see the doctor, but Mrs. Marchant would not be moved. At length, Joanna abandoned her efforts, knowing the old woman’s stubbornness would not rest. Instead, she put forth her best effort at interesting conversation, though she watched the clock closely and listened for the front door.
At quarter to three, Mrs. Marchant looked at Joanna snidely. “Do you find me boring, Miss Leighton?”
Joanna’s eyes widened in surprise, then she laughed. “Boring? Of course not, Mrs. Marchant. I do not think anyone could describe you as boring.”
A small smile of pleasure teased Mrs. Marchant’s mouth, but she repressed it quickly. “Then will you tell me why you keep looking at the clock?”
Joanna’s mouth fell open, but no words would come. She pressed her lips together.
Mrs. Marchant’s brow raised. “You are unwilling to tell me? Hmm.” She searched Joanna’s face for only a moment before she laughed. “It is that young man, is it not?”
Joanna’s cheeks burned. “Perhaps.”
Mrs. Marchant laughed again. “Well, if that is the cause of your inattention, I will not hold you at fault. Handsome young men can be quite distracting.”
A flutter rose in Joanna’s stomach and she smiled softly. “Indeed they are.”
At long last the clock struck three and Joanna listened for the sound of the door. She did not wish to appear too anxious, but was concerned none the less. What would Mr. Aldridge think if she were late? Would he think she had abandoned his plan? Joanna dreaded the thought.
When it became five past, Mrs. Marchant scoffed. “I am not a child, Miss Leighton. There is no need to wait for my daughter to return home before you leave.”
Joanna shook her head. “I assured her I would be here.”
Mrs. Marchant eyed her. “He will wait.”
Joanna looked at her, attempting to keep the hope she felt from her face.
Mrs. Marchant nodded. “If he truly cares for you, he will wait.”
Three minutes later, Miss Marchant entered the room. Joanna bid her farewells quickly and heard Mrs. Marchant’s laugh turn to a cough as she left the room. Oh, how she wished she’d see the doctor.
As she made her way home, however, her thoughts did not linger long on Mrs. Marchant’s ailment. Curiosity at Mr. Aldridge’s plan consumed her thoughts and she had never before walked home in such good time. A waiting carriage outside her door piqued her interest even further. With a grin on her face, she hurried to the door and nearly collided with Mr. Aldridge upon entering.
He looked especially handsome today. Amusement lit his blue eyes, the green coat he wore increased their brilliance, and a smile teased his mouth.
“Pardon me, Miss Leighton.”
Joanna’s own smile could not be hidden. “My apologies.” She curtsied lightly. “I hope you have not been waiting long.”
“Not at all. Are you ready?”
Joanna raised her brow. “You must tell me, as I do not know what you have planned.”
He eyed her outfit and though there was nothing inappropriate in his glance, her cheeks burned. “You may desire a warmer coat.”
“Very well. I will only be a moment.”
Joanna hurried up the stairs and began to unbutton her spencer as soon as she was out of his sight. She searched her closet for the brown pelisse that went so well with the dress she wore, but could not find it. She hastened across the hall to Mariah’s room, knocking as she pushed the door open, but not waiting for Mariah’s reply.
Mariah lay on her bed, reading a book.
“Do you have my brown pelisse?” Joanna asked.
Mariah motioned to her closet without looking up from her book. The pelisse hung in front.
“Oh, thank you!” Joanna exclaimed.
Mariah closed the book, her finger saving her place and turned to watch her sister. “You are thanking me for forgetting to return your jacket?”
“No, but I am thanking you for knowing where it was.” Joanna slipped her arms into the sleeves and began to fasten the buttons.
“Where are you going?”
Joanna looked up at her, near to laughing. “Actually, I do not know.”
Mariah sat up, looking at her incredulously. “What do you mean?”
Joanna explained her conversation with Mr. Aldridge and his secret plan.
“And you are not nervous?”
“No. Why should I be?”
Mariah shrugged. “The Joanna I am familiar with would be terribly nervous to go with someone not knowing beforehand where she was going.” She smiled. “It is nice to see you so comfortable.”
Joanna knew what else she implied. Her heart lifted and her smile grew. “Thank you.”
Mariah laid back down and opened her book again. “Where ever you are going, do try to enjoy yourself. I’m certain that will not be too difficult with Mr. Aldridge as your companion.”
A few moments later, Joanna came down the stairs and Mr. Aldridge opened the front door. “Shall we?” he asked.
“Thank you.”
He followed her down the front steps and held his hand out to assist her int
o the carriage.
“The scheme progresses.” He said and grinned.
As the carriage moved, Joanna alternated between watching out the window and searching Mr. Aldridge’s expression, hoping for some hint of where they were headed. The look of amusement on his face did not fade during their ride.
“You are enjoying your secret too much, sir.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps I am. I only hope you will enjoy it as much as I do.”
They turned down a road that led toward the beach and Joanna felt a thrill pass through her. She had not taken the time to walk the shores in a long while. It would be wonderful to be near the sea again.
Once they descended the hill, the carriage stopped and Mr. Aldridge stepped out, extending his hand to assist her. When she laid her hand in his, he wrapped his fingers around hers, sending a chill up her spine that left her warm inside. He turned her toward the east and gestured with his other hand.
“Here is your surprise.”
Two chairs sat facing the sea, separated from it by two easels.
“We are going to paint here?”
“Yes, indeed.” He laced her hand through his arm and led her toward the chairs. “You told me you have a special connection with the sea. That it brings you comfort. When we spoke yesterday, I thought perhaps painting in a place you find so comforting might bring the healing you seek.”
Joanna was touched by his thoughtfulness and felt tears at her eyes. She was surprised however, to find that they were not accompanied by the usual pain she had experienced of late. “Thank you.”
He chuckled. “Do not thank me just yet. Let us see how you feel after you paint.”
He stopped at one of the chairs and let her sit before handing her a set of paints and a brush. Once she took them, he sat beside her, taking up his own materials.
Joanna closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the salty air penetrating the gloom that had settled over her as of late. A sea breeze stirred the curls around her face, tickling her cheeks. The sound of the waves seeped into her soul, calming her. She opened her eyes and immediately began to paint. Her senses took in everything around her and transferred the feelings to the painting before her.
Healing Hearts (Roselund Heights Book 1) Page 9
