by Laura Landon
“I know,” Rafe whispered. He took several deep breaths, then lifted his gaze to meet the duchess’s. “How is she?” he asked.
“She’s miserable. She’s hurting. She misses you. But she won’t admit it.”
Rafe nodded.
The five people in the room sat in silence for several moments. Thankfully, the Wedgewood butler interrupted to announce that dinner was served.
Rafe rose with the others, but stopped. “I’m afraid you’ll have to excuse me, Caroline. I can’t stay.”
“What are you going to do?” Thomas asked.
“What I should have done from the beginning. Except I was too blind to know it.”
“Are you sure—” Thomas tried to ask, but Rafe held out a hand to stop him.
“Don’t worry,” he said as he left the room. “I’ll write.”
Then Rafe left to do what he should have done a long time ago.
Chapter 28
Hannah walked through a side door of the large parlor where several of Madam Genevieve’s girls were visiting with men who’d come to pick out a partner for the night. There was a time when she enjoyed joining in on conversations with the guests. But that time was long over.
She hadn’t felt like taking part in anything since the night of the auction. Since the night Rafe had won her, and she’d lost him.
She climbed the stairs to her rooms and opened the door. After she closed the door behind her, she walked to her favorite chair that sat in front of the fireplace and watched the flames lick upward.
When would Rafe stop haunting her every waking and every sleeping moment? When would she be able to get on with her life? Living without him was a torture as difficult as anything she’d ever endured. There were days she wasn’t sure she could survive.
She leaned her head back against the cushion and closed her eyes. She hadn’t been sitting long when there was a knock at the door. “Come in,” she said.
Dalia entered, then closed the door behind her. “Are you up to talking for a bit?”
“Of course. There’s tea on the cart. Would you like a cup?”
“Would you?”
Hannah shook her head. “I’ve had enough for the night.”
Dalia sat in the chair next to Hannah, as she often did. Hannah enjoyed her company, although evening visits were rare, since that was the busiest time at Madam Genevieve’s.
“How are you doing, Genny?”
“You mean my shoulder?”
“Yes, that, and…everything else.”
“By everything else, I assume you mean, am I getting over my vicar?”
“Yes, that’s what I mean. It’s obvious that you haven’t been the same since he left.”
“I’m sorry, Dal. I’ll try harder to be like I used to be.”
“I’m not complaining, Genny. I just hate to see you so unhappy.”
Hannah knew Dalia was concerned. That was the kind of friend she was. “I’ve never asked you before, but have you ever been in love?”
Dalia smiled. “Once.”
“How did you deal with it?”
“I married him.”
That news shocked Hannah. “I didn’t know you were married.”
“No one does. It’s not something I feel people need to know.”
“What happened to him?”
“He died. His name was Jamie. He worked in a brewery, and one of the boilers exploded. The building caught on fire, and he didn’t make it out.”
“I’m sorry,” Hannah whispered.
“We’d only been married six months and were still very much in love. I was expecting his babe, but when I got news that Jamie was dead, I lost the child.”
“Oh, Dalia. I’m so sorry.”
Dalia was silent for a few moments. “There are things we can’t control. That was one of them.”
“How did you end up here? Doing this?”
“After Jamie died, I didn’t have any money, so I came to London. The same as the girls we rescue. I thought it would be easy to find work. Instead, no one wanted a starving female without training and without papers. So I came here.”
“I see.”
“And this is where I want to stay.”
Hannah smiled. “I’m glad to hear that. I wouldn’t want you to leave.”
Dalia hesitated, then continued. “There’s something I want to talk to you about. Something important.”
Hannah turned to face her friend. She could tell by the sound of Dalia’s voice that what she wanted to talk to her about was serious. “Yes?”
“I’ve been watching you lately, and I know you’re not as happy here as you used to be. That’s understandable. If, however, you’d ever like to leave…”
Hannah sat forward in her chair.
“I’m not suggesting you leave,” Dalia continued, “or hinting that I think you should. I’m just saying that if you’d ever like to leave, I’d be willing to buy Madam Genevieve’s from you.”
Hannah sat back in her chair and tried to digest Dalia’s offer.
“I’m not sure I can, Dal. There are the children to consider.”
“Nothing would change. I’d continue to rescue the children from the streets, and I’d send to Coventry Cottage the ones who didn’t have homes to return to.”
Dalia turned her gaze to the flames in the fireplace. “Every time we rescue one of the young ones from the life of prostitution, I think of my babe. I think of what it would have been like for her if she were forced to live on the streets. If someone wasn’t there to save her from having to sell herself to earn enough money to eat.”
Hannah’s mind was filled with a hundred questions—a hundred possibilities.
It had been years since she’d worked at Madam Genevieve’s, and there were times when she dreamed of leaving. But she knew she couldn’t. She needed the money Madam Genevieve’s brought in to run Coventry Cottage.
Hannah breathed a heavy sigh. A home to send the children she rescued off the streets meant too much to her. “I can’t, Dal. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. The money Madam Genevieve’s takes in is what supports Coventry Cottage. It takes a great deal of what we make here to keep it running.”
“You’ll still get the money we take in. Maybe even more than before.”
Hannah frowned.
“You know how profitable the night of the auction was.”
Hannah nodded.
“The girls have been talking. They’d like to continue that tradition. Any money they raised would go to Coventry.”
Hannah didn’t know what to say. Dal stopped her from having to say anything.
“I’m not offering to buy Madam Genevieve’s to make any changes in how it’s run. Or to get wealthy.”
“Then why are you offering to buy Madam Genevieve’s?”
Dalia smiled. “I have two reasons. One selfish. One not quite as selfish.”
Hannah smiled. “I can’t imagine you being selfish, Dal. I’d like to hear the reason you think makes you selfish.”
“Very well. My selfish reason is that I’ve always dreamt of owning my own business. Call it whatever you want, but to me, a business of my own provides me with security and stability. It’s something I’ve never had, and always wanted.”
“That’s not selfish, Dal. That’s normal. When you’ve had to live on the streets like we did, it’s only natural to want to make sure we never end up there again. That’s why I bought Madam Genevieve’s. Because I wanted the security that owning my own business gave me.”
“That’s why I want it too. I want to know I’ll always have a home.”
Hannah leaned back in her chair and considered everything Dal had revealed. “You said there were two reasons you wanted Madam Genevieve’s.”
“Yes. The other reason is because of this.” Dal reached into her pocket and pulled out a letter. “This is yours. I don’t know what it says, but I wanted you to be aware of all your options before you read it—just in case.”
Hannah stared at the letter
. She recognized Rafe’s handwriting, and her heart skipped a beat.
Dal handed her the letter, and she took it. With trembling hands, she reverently placed it in her lap.
“I’m going to go now,” Dal said, rising to her feet. “Just know you have more than one option for your future.”
Hannah thought she answered her, thought she told her they’d talk later, but she wasn’t sure. She couldn’t think.
Rafe had written her a letter. He’d contacted her, and she wasn’t sure why—wasn’t sure she wanted to know why. It wasn’t to ask her to give him another chance. He would have done that in person. Which meant the letter undoubtedly contained his final words of good-bye.
She sucked in an unsteady breath. Couldn’t he just leave her alone? Did he have to add another connection to their tortured past?
She gently ran her fingers over the words on the letter. Over the way he scrolled her name. She wanted to open the letter, but wasn’t brave enough just yet.
She sat for several minutes, perhaps hours. The next time she looked up, the sky outside was dark. Someone had come into her room and lit several lamps and the fire in the grate. She was glad. She didn’t want to read Rafe’s words in a cold, dark, empty room.
She slowly opened Rafe’s letter.
Dearest Hannah,
There are several things I’d like to say to you, but I know that it’s too late for words. It wasn’t until I lost you that I realized how badly I handled the differences between us. As Caroline and Grace so vividly, and sternly, pointed out, I tried to change you to fit into my world, when you had made a place for yourself in your world so perfectly.
For years I thought I could judge my worth by preaching to a congregation overflowing with saints. My dream was for you to be at my side. I expected you to sit in the front pew along with the other good, pious Christians in my congregation, because that’s how I saw you, as the best of all the Christians in the world. As you know, I was only thinking of myself. Never of you.
You told me that you could never fit into my world, that we would both live in fear every day of our lives for fear that someone would discover your past. But I refused to believe you. To accept your rationale meant I would have had no choice but to give you up. And living the rest of my life without you was unthinkable. Yet, that’s what happened.
You are so much wiser than I am. You were right all along. You don’t belong in my world. And I don’t belong in yours. I wish there were a world where we both belonged, but I know now that there isn’t.
The love and devotion you have for the children who need you to help them taught me a valuable lesson. It opened my eyes for my place in the world. It showed me with stark clarity what my purpose should be.
The saints of this world don’t need me. But the children at Coventry Cottage do.
Because of this, I beg that you’ll allow me to make Coventry my home. I have been here for more than a month now and find that not only do the children need me, but I sorely need them. I have found great joy in working with them and realize this is my true calling.
I never anticipated this for my life, but I’ve found a peace and contentment I never knew was possible. I ask that you consider the good I can do here and not reject my offer of help because of any lack of feeling you may have for me. I beg that you will please allow me to stay.
I know you visit Coventry Cottage from time to time and would prefer that I’m not here when you are. I respect that. Please send word of your arrival, and I will make sure I am absent while you are here.
Your servant,
R
Hannah carefully folded the letter and placed it in her lap. She thought it was impossible to ache more from loving Rafe—and losing him. But the tears that streamed down her cheeks told her how wrong she was.
Chapter 29
Rafe walked along the narrow path with the six young lads who had, because of their excellent reading progress, earned an afternoon of fishing at the stream.
“Vicar Waterford,” a youngster named Bobby asked him as they walked back to Coventry Cottage, “can a feller earn a living by fishing all day? I think I’d like to find a job where I could do that.”
Rafe laughed. “I’m sure you would, Bobby. But if you fished all day, every day, what would you do to reward yourself for working hard and getting all your work done?”
“I’d…”
Bobby stopped on the path to think, and the other five boys paused to listen.
“I don’t know,” he finally answered. “I can’t think of anything I’d like to do better than fishing.”
“So what does that tell you?”
Bobby thought for a few seconds before he answered. “I think it means I should work hard to do what I have to get done so I make sure I have time to fish.”
“Me too,” another boy answered. “I like fishing more than anything, so that’s what I have to do too.”
“Me too,” the other boys answered.
Rafe ruffled the hair on the heads of as many of the boys as he could reach. “That’s the right answer, fellas. Doing what you enjoy most is your reward for doing a good job.”
“What do you like doing best, Vicar?” Bobby asked.
“Ya, Vicar. What’s your favorite thing to do?” little Timothy echoed. “And don’t say read from your Bible. You do that all the time.”
Rafe laughed. “Well…” he said, trying to think of an answer he could give them. He could hardly tell them that his favorite reward would be to walk through the gardens at Coventry Cottage with Hannah at his side and hold her in his arms and kiss her until neither of them could breathe and…
He pushed his thoughts from the path they were taking. “I think my best reward would be to spend time with the people who are most important to me.”
“Who’s that?” Bobby asked.
“Why, all of you,” he said, ruffling more hair.
“I knew you were going to say that,” Bobby said amid the laughter from the other boys. “You always tell us we’re special.”
Rafe smiled. “That’s so you never forget it.” Rafe handed Bobby the basket with the fish they’d caught and cleaned. “Now, run ahead and give these to Cook. Tell her I won’t be in for supper.”
“Where you going, Vicar?”
“Nowhere. I’m just not ready to come in yet. Tell her to save me a piece of that peach cobbler she made. I’ll eat that later.”
“All right, Vicar. But don’t stay out too long. It’ll be dark soon.”
Rafe couldn’t help but laugh. Bobby kept a close watch on all the boys. He was as near to being a mother as any of them had ever known.
Rafe ruffled Bobby’s sandy-brown hair, then the ten-year-old took the basket and ran toward the house. When the boys were out of sight, Rafe walked to a nearby log that looked out onto the stream, and sat.
He didn’t know why, but he’d felt restless all day. And there was no reason for it. For the first time in his life, he felt as if he’d found his place in the world. He was working with youngsters who really needed him—not serving as the figurehead in a church where the people came each Sunday morning because that was where they were supposed to be.
Even though there were many who would argue with the choice he’d made, he knew deep in his heart that guiding the youngsters who had no one else to lead them was what God wanted him to do. And yet…
For several days something had gnawed deep inside him. He’d been plagued by an unsettling emotion that refused to go away. And today it was even worse.
Rafe rose to his feet. The sun was sinking low in the sky, and it was time he returned. The evening meal would no doubt be over by now and the children in their rooms getting ready for bed. He would go to the kitchen and steal some of Cook’s peach cobbler, then retire to his room to read. Or to think. About Hannah.
Rafe walked in through the kitchen door and took in the busy scene. Several of the older girls were helping Cook clean up after the last meal of the day. When he walked into the room
, they stopped what they were doing and smiled. Rafe couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Those were some mighty fine fish you sent in with the lads, Vicar. And they were cleaned slick as can be. Not a bone in ’em.”
“We had a good day,” Rafe answered. “I think each of the boys caught at least one fish, so no one went home disappointed.”
“The lads are never disappointed when they can spend the day with you, Vicar. You’re just what they need in their lives. But you know that,” she continued, wiping her damp hands on her apron. “Now, here’s that peach cobbler I saved back for you. Bobby said that was going to be your dinner, but a man like you can’t get by on just dessert, so I fixed a little something else and put it on your tray.”
Rafe looked to where Cook pointed and saw several dishes on a tray. The cloth covering hid their contents, and he didn’t doubt there was probably a full-course meal waiting for him.
“There’s a pot of hot tea for you to take with you too,” Cook said, pointing to the pot warming by the stove.
“Thank you, Cook.” Rafe put the pot on his tray and picked it up. “I think your goal is to fatten me up to sell me at market.”
The girls in the kitchen clamped their hands over their mouths to hide their laughter, but Cook didn’t try to muffle her laugh.
“Oh, Vicar. I can’t imagine you ever getting fat. You work too hard. I know it was you who chopped all that wood that’s in the corner.”
“Only because I knew you’d need it for my cobbler.”
“Then I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
“I will,” Rafe said as he headed for the door. He stopped when the housekeeper, Mrs. Grange, came into the kitchen.
“Oh, there you are, Vicar. I’ve been looking for you.”
“Is something wrong, Mrs. Grange?”
“Oh, no. I just wanted to tell you that Miss Hannah arrived a few minutes ago.”
Rafe clutched his fingers around the edge of the tray. “Miss Hannah’s here?”
“Yes. She’s retired for the night, but said to tell you that she needed to see you in the morning before you started your day.”
