How he felt about her?
Anger spiraled through him. This was the second time he’d wondered about his feelings for her. No! he raged. What in God’s name had he been thinking of by imagining himself holding Goldie? By kissing her with all the emotions she evoked in him?
There were no emotions. She was a special person, yes, but only because she was so different from anyone he’d known before. Unique. But that didn’t mean he felt anything deeper than friendship for her. She was only a girl he knew, and that was the extent of it.
There was no time left for embraces, kisses, or feelings anyway, he reminded himself. The time at Leighwood was over. Tomorrow morning they would leave.
He stood, looking down at the book and noticing a wet spot that stained one word on the page. It was Goldie’s tear. He knew it to be so, and touched his finger to it. His heart longed to know why she’d shed it. His mind dismissed it.
He looked at the page more closely. The tearstained word was love.
Love. The cause of every heartache he’d ever had.
He tossed he book to the settee and left the room.
* * *
“You’ve been crying,” Big said. He left the doorway of Goldie’s bedroom, ambling to her bed, where she was sitting. “Has Saber done something to upset you?”
Her gaze touched everything in the room but Big. “He had on a white wig a little while ago. He looked just like a duke.”
Big leaned against the bed. “You’re evading my question. What has he done? He... Goldie, he hasn’t tried to touch you, has he?”
If only he would, she answered silently. “Big, Saber and I are just friends. Why would he touch me?”
Big saw her eyes were brimming with pain. “And that’s the problem, isn’t it?”
She slid off the bed, crossed to the mirror, and began brushing her hair with her fingers. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re good at many things, Goldie Mae, but the one thing you can’t do well at all is lie. Every single thing you feel or think shines from your eyes. Did you know that? You like Saber, and you want—”
“I told you we’re just friends.”
“But you’re dreaming of it being more than that. I’m not blind, Goldie. I’ve seen the way you look at him. Yesterday you spilled tea all over your dress when he smiled at you! Imagine spilling your drink on account of some ridiculous grin.”
“His smile isn’t ridiculous. It’s beautiful. And I only spilled a few drops. It was just as well. I don’t like tea.”
“Well, these English people can’t live without it. Lord, I can’t even count how many pots of the mess I’ve brewed since I took over the kitchen. Me, I like my coffee. Now, shall we get back to your tears? You were crying over that man, weren’t you?”
She shook her head.
Big tapped his foot. “Daddy’s honor?”
She looked at the floor. She’d never been able to hide anything from Big, and she couldn’t now either. “He’s so handsome, Big. So strong. Sometimes his grin is crooked. He looks like a bad little boy when he smiles like that. I never thought I’d meet a man I’d like better than Fred Wattle, but Saber... He teases me and makes me laugh. And he treats me so nice! He always gives me the softest chairs. In the parlor he helps me into ’em. In the dinin’ room, he pulls ’em out for me. He does a lot of nice stuff with chairs. He’s smart too. He’s known all my new words for the day. He probably hears Addison say ’em. And there’s somethin’ about him. Somethin’ real special, Big. Like he knows exactly what he’s gonna do next and has no doubt at all that it’ll turn out right. He’s real sure about things.”
“Conceit,” Big huffed.
“Well, sorta, but not really. It’s somethin’ else. It’s different from conceit. He does and says things real fast, like he doesn’t even have to think about ’em. He just knows. “
“He has an air of authority.”
“Yes! Yes, an air of authority.”
“And no right to it. Goldie, the man was destitute before his cousin Addison began assisting him. We know that. Yet he acts as though all the power in the world spins in his palm. He—”
“I like the way he acts. When he gets forceful about somethin’, his chin raises a little bit. My stomach goes all fluttery when he does that. And y’know? I think that chin raisin’ of his is real dukish. And I didn’t even have to teach it to him. He does it all by himself. Yeah, he’s comin’ right along with bein’ dukish. It won’t be long before we’ll set out for London for the duke-spyin’.”
Big frowned, realizing she was trying to change the subject. He refused to let her. “You’re attracted to his chin?”
She blew a curl out of her eye. “Big, I like all of him, not just his chin. I like his everything.”
Big stiffened. “His everything? And just what the hell does that mean?”
“Nothin’,” she replied flippantly. “But even if it did mean somethin’, you forget I’m almost nineteen. Phyllis Crackle got married when she was sixteen. Big, I’m not a little girl anymore.”
Big felt a wave of sadness. “I know. But... It’s hard for me. Sometimes I think of you as my daughter. I try to—You—I worry.”
She softened immediately. “I’m sorry, Big. I didn’t mean to talk back to you like that. You know I love you.”
He nodded. Her love was a precious gift, he thought. He hoped to God that if she decided to offer it to Saber, the man would see its worth. “Tell me why you were crying.”
“Oh, Big, I’m so afraid to show him how I feel. I say dumb things to him. When he looks at me with that softness in his eyes, I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared I’ll mess up, and then he’ll laugh at me.”
Big decided then and there that if he ever saw Saber taunting Goldie, he’d kill the blackguard with his bare hands. “Be yourself.”
“But he won’t like—”
“If the man doesn’t like the real Goldie Mae, he’s too stupid to bother with in the first place.”
“But—Big, the real Goldie Mae... I’m so...”
When her voice trailed away, he knew exactly what she was thinking. “I’ve told you over and over again that the things people say about you aren’t true, Goldie,” he said as tenderly as he knew how. “I suffer ridicule too, and I know how hard it is to ignore cruel remarks. But—”
He stopped talking. How many times had he tried to convince her of her worth? He’d never been able to do it before, and found he didn’t have the right words now either. Nevertheless, he’d try. “Many people criticize you because they’re jealous, Goldie. They wish they could be more like you, and since they can’t, they make themselves feel better by taunting you. Others tear into you because of Asa. And Asa himself—The things he says—You aren’t worthless. You aren’t ugly. You aren’t—”
“Big, you say that because sometimes you think you need to be a father to me, and that’s the sort of thing a father would say.”
Her distress was almost tangible. “Goldie,” he said, and heard his own voice tremble, “that’s not why I’m trying so hard to convince you of your merits. You—”
“Big,” she cut him off, unwilling to hear more of what she just couldn’t make herself believe, “you’re always tellin’ me—”
“I know I’ve told you all this before, but it just doesn’t sink in! Your problem is that you’ve been put down so much and for so long and by so many people that you can’t see anything of value about yourself. You’ve suffered so much anger and hatred from people that you’re scared to death of making someone mad at you. So you’re never sure how to act in certain situations. That makes you nervous and totally lacking in confidence.
“Oh, you’re very good at hiding your secret pain and anxieties from others,” he continued, “but do you know how many nights I’ve laid in bed worrying about you? Wondering if there is anyone in this entire world who can open your eyes and heart to the special person you are? It tears me up to see you trying
so hard to do everything the way you think others want you to. To see you dreaming so hard for things, only to have those dreams vanish right before your eyes. I can’t even count how many prayers I’ve said that someone would come along one day and make you feel like the beautiful princess you are.”
“Oh, Big, I’m not a princess.”
“You take everything so literally, Goldie. To me, a princess is a girl deserving of every wonderful and beautiful thing she desires. She’s someone who deserves to be cherished and loved.”
He shuffled to the door and turned to look at her. The longing on her face tugged at his heart; he knew very well she was yearning for Saber. His misgivings about her feelings for the man didn’t lessen, but he knew at that moment there was nothing he wouldn’t do to help her. “I have to go make supper now, but before I go I want you to know something, Goldie. I can’t understand what it is you see in that big oaf, but whatever it is, I trust it’s something good. Granted, you showed poor judgment over that halfwitted Fred Wattle, but you were younger then. As you said, you’re going on nineteen now, and I guess that’s old enough to recognize good qualities in a man. So if there’s any way that I can assist you with all this romantic nonsense, I’ll try. Lord knows I’ll probably regret it, but I’ll try.”
She shook her head. “Big-—”
“I know, I know. It won’t work, right? He won’t respond. He’ll laugh at you. You’re not good enough for him. You don’t deserve him. It’ll all start out like a dream come true, and then it’ll disappear. Right, Goldie? Isn’t that what you’re thinking? Isn’t it?”
She didn’t answer. He’d already said it all.
“Couldn’t we just try?” Big suggested. “What harm is there in that?”
“I-Well...”
“Who knows what might happen? And now that I think of it, it’s probably a damn good idea for you to be around the man as much as possible. Saber’s got enough confidence in himself to share with the entire world, and you have none at all. It could be that some of his self-assurance might rub off on you. And I don’t mean that literally, Goldie Mae. There will be no rubbing going on between the two of you.”
She blushed. “What are you going to do for us?” she asked anxiously, wanting with all her heart to believe that a romance with Saber might very well be possible.
“Well, I might could make a special supper for the two of you one night. Maybe some nice pork ribs and—”
“Oh, no, Big. Ribs are too greasy, and if he smiled at me, I’d drop ’em on my dress.”
“Right. Then I’ll make a beef stew and—”
“But I might spill that too.”
“Look, Goldie, you’re going to have to calm yourself when the man smiles at you. If you don’t, you’re going to starve to death. That or ruin all your clothes.”
She nodded obediently. “I could make sure not to look at him when I’m puttin’ somethin’ in my mouth.”
“Yes, do that. And the night I make the supper, I’ll put fresh flowers on the table and maybe a candle or two.”
In an excited gesture, Goldie clapped her hands together. “And you could play your harmonica in a darkened corner! You know how good you play ‘Amazin’ Grace.’ “
“Yes, I could do that, couldn’t I?” He nodded, dwelling on his musical talent and feeling rather smug over it. Goldie’s giggle brought him back to the moment. He cleared his throat. “Yes, well, I can’t promise I’ll ever like the man, but since you do, I’ll try to be civil to him. I ask only one thing from you, and that is for you to be careful. Guard your heart well, Goldie. It’s the only one God gave you, and I can’t imagine Him giving you another.”
“Thanks, Big.”
Big started into the hall. “Oh, and one more thing. I don’t know why you’re brushing your hair with your fingers. There’s a perfectly good brush lying right there on that table. You may as well use it while you’re here.”
When Big was gone, Goldie hurried to the dressing table. There, gleaming up at her from a snow-white doily, was a gold brush. She picked it up, staring at it for a very long while before clasping it to her breast.
Only one person here at Leighwood knew of Hiram Winkler’s solid gold brush, she realized. Only one person here knew of her secret desire to find out how well a gold brush worked.
A tear of pure joy slipped down her cheek.
* * *
Sitting at the massive desk in his room, Saber looked at the papered wall in front him. On the other side of it was Goldie’s bedroom. She’d been in there since running from the library earlier that afternoon. He wondered what she was doing. Wondered if she’d found the brush, his farewell gift to her.
And he wondered why he felt so empty inside.
He turned up the lamp and reread the letter he’d written to the people in Hallensham. It said everything he wanted it to say, and he hoped it would convince the villagers that Goldie had, indeed, found him. He folded it, sealed it with the Tremayne crest, and placed it next to the packet of money he would instruct her to use for a village festival. Near the money lay the diamond stickpin he would give her also. It, too, bore the Tremayne coat of arms.
From across the room, Addison stared at Saber’s back. “It wouldn’t take very long to journey to Ravenhurst. A week. Probably less. You could stay for only a short while. Saber, it would do you good to see your lands, and—”
“No.” Saber rose, but kept his back to his friend. “I’ll never go back.”
“Goldie lives there,” Addison hinted. “If you never go back, you won’t see her again.”
Saber tensed. That empty feeling came to him again. Blast it! He had to get control of himself. “What has that to do with anything?”
“You like her. I can’t say fairer than that.”
“I like the tailor who makes my shirts too, but if I never saw him again it wouldn’t be the end of my life.” Comparing Goldie to his tailor was utterly ridiculous, but in light of his impatience for this conversation to end, it was the only thing he could think of to say. He had no desire to discuss Goldie. It was hard enough to keep from thinking about her.
“The end of your life,” Addison repeated. “She’s brought you to life again. Can you not see that?”
“Addison—”
“She makes you laugh.”
“Lots of things make me laugh.” God. Another utterly ridiculous statement. Goldie wasn’t a thing. She was a person. A special little person. One who, after tomorrow morning, he would never see again. He looked at the wall, again wondering what she was doing on the other side of it.
“Lots of things make you laugh?” Addison asked. “Name one.”
Saber tried and failed. He tried again. Nothing.
“Admit it,” Addison pressed. “She’s—”
“Leaving for Hallensham tomorrow,” Saber finished for him. “Just as I am departing for London. Her world is in the village, mine is in the city. And that, Addison, is the end of this discussion.”
Addison sighed. He felt extremely disappointed, for he’d been praying that Saber would want to see more of Goldie. But apparently the time they’d spent together simply hadn’t been sufficient for Saber to become truly attached to her. If only something would happen to keep Saber here at Leighwood, he thought wistfully. Something important enough to make Saber want to stay.
But there was nothing Addison could think of that would successfully bring about those ends. “Very well, Saber.” He rose and walked to the door. “Will you be joining us for the last charred meal we’ll be forced to eat? The boys and I hunted ducks today. They were fresh and plump when we gave them to Big. I shudder to think about what they look like now.”
Saber smiled. “I’ll be there.”
“Saber?”
“What now?”
“Your crown is crooked.”
Saber reached up and felt the wreath of flowers he’d forgotten to take off. Removing it, he held it for a moment, then dropped it to the desk. It landed over the stickpin. From withi
n the circle of bright yellow blossoms, diamonds glittered up at him.
Diamonds and dandelions. And dreams weaving through them. Dreams. His, all lost. Hers... He didn’t know. He knew only she had them.
God, so many, many dreams, and all of them buried so deeply.
“Daydreaming, Saber?” Addison asked, noticing Saber’s profound reflection.
“Addison, did I ever tell you about the time when I caught a duck? I was nine.”
It was a moment before Addison could answer. This was the first time Saber had offered to share a memory of his childhood at Ravenhurst. “No,” he said softly. “You never told me that.”
Saber stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked to the window. He stared out at the pink sky of dusk. “I told my parents that I would bring home the meat for supper that night. I was so anxious to provide it. I worked all afternoon on a trap of my own design. When I’d finished it, I set it near the pond, put a bit of com inside it, then hid to wait and watch. About an hour later, a duck walked straight into it. The door snapped shut, and he was caught. Addison, I was so proud that the trap had worked.
“I brought the duck home, and my father instructed me to kill it. I couldn’t do it. Instead, I freed it, even though I was afraid Father would be angry at me. I’d wanted so much for him to see how manly I was.”
“Was he angry?”
Saber felt a rush of tender feelings. “No. He laughed, and so did Mother. We ate eggs that night. No one said a word to me about not being able to slaughter the duck. I remember those eggs being one of the most delicious meals I ever had.”
It was difficult for Addison to imagine Saber catching a duck. Poignant emotion swept through him at the thought. “Eggs are good for supper,” he said lightly, trying to talk past the lump in his throat.
Saber nodded, still staring at the rosy sky. “And I had a tree house,” he mumbled, more to himself than to Addison. “The men in the village built it for me. I hung a painting of the Nativity in it. I’ve never been overly religious, but that particular painting was the only one my mother was willing to part with. And I really did like the picture. My favorite thing about it was Mary’s donkey. It had the most gentle eyes, and it made me want a donkey of my own. I...wonder if my tree house is still there? I wonder—” He broke off, looked down at his boots, and cleared his throat. “Addison, I’ll be downstairs directly.”
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