A Forgiving Heart

by Kasey Stockton

  Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers against his eyelids. There was no sense in lamenting that which he had no control over. He’d done his part to join up with the soldiers, to find meaning and purpose. But much like everything else in his life, his military career was ripped from him on the Peninsula, and he’d had little choice but to return to Evanslea and make of it what he could.

  “Sir Peter?”

  Dropping his hand, Peter lifted his face to the groom waiting patiently beside the woodshed, thumbs hanging languidly from his pockets.

  “What is it?” Peter asked.

  “Destiny is getting close, sir. I think it might be time.”

  A shaft of light broke through his cloudy mind, lighting the prospect of the rest of his day. A smile came unbidden to his lips. “Then let’s go at once.”

  Falling in line with his groom, Peter took off across the lawn toward the stables.

  Martin

  Martin Evans ran his hand along the polished banister as he slowly descended the grand staircase. Ever since his brother, Peter, had inherited Evanslea and returned from the war, this home had felt less his. Which, given Peter’s attitude, was to be expected. However, it was vastly unfair.

  Most things were unfair.

  Martin directed a footman to bring tea to the study and began sifting through the latest entries in the accounts book. Peter’s steward was making a hash out of everything Martin had worked toward. He was spending all of the carefully acquired money on tenants and repairs and the like, things that certainly could wait. If they blew through this money the way Charles had blown through his before he’d died, they’d be penniless in no time.

  Peter wasn’t meant to run Evanslea, and he certainly wasn’t good at it. He should have just gone back to fight Napoleon with the rest of them.

  A knock at the door preceded the maid, and she brought a tray laden with tea and biscuits into the room, setting it down softly before pouring a cup. Martin watched her go through the movements and nodded his head when she looked to him, his sign that she was free to go.

  He waited until she left before drinking his tea. He couldn’t stand to be bothered by the maids. They were nervous and awkward around him, and he hated them for it.

  Neighing caught his attention, and he watched the stables through the window. The superior stock within those walls was simply another sign of Peter’s unbefitting character. Martin shook his head, grateful his father was not alive to watch Evanslea’s decline. For in Peter’s hands, there was no other foreseeable outcome—not when he wasted so much of their blunt on horses.

  But it would all come to rights when Martin had completed his plans. He had goals and knew himself capable of accomplishing them. He merely needed to get around the one small hurdle that was forever throwing itself in his path.

  A knock at the door brought his attention back to the present room. “Yes?”

  The door creaked open, allowing a man to step inside.

  Martin froze mentally, but he did his best not to show it. Anger quickly engulfed the fear which had initially befallen him. “You should not be here,” he snapped. “What if you’re seen?”

  “As a neighboring servant, I don’t think it’s so odd I’d be seen coming here,” the man said, his low-born tone grating on Martin’s nerves.

  “What is it?”

  “The girl has been notified and will soon be returning.”

  Joy erupted in Martin’s chest, a cat-like smile stretching his lips to greater lengths than they were typically wont to go.

  “Thought you’d like to know,” the man said, satisfaction lacing his tone. He rocked back on his heels, his mouth pinched in gratification.

  Martin’s composure drew into place. “Is everything set?”

  “It will be by the time she gets here.”

  “Good,” Martin said, holding the man’s gaze. His voice dropped to frigid degrees. “But next time you have something to say to me, send a note. The Blue Boar will do just fine. I don’t want you coming here again.”

  The man nodded once, steel eyes unrelenting, before sweeping from the room.

  Martin rubbed his chin, staring at the closed study door. Had he been foolish to enlist the help of such a creature? Especially when the man had been willing to…well, suffice it to say Martin knew his lack of conscience.

  He sat back, swinging his pocket watch from its chain. Perhaps only time would tell.

  4

  Kate

  Children ran by Kate so quickly, their movement lifted her skirts and swung them around, eliciting a small chuckle from her lips. She righted one small boy that bumped into her leg and sent him on his way.

  “There are plenty of pastries for everyone!” she called after them. It was a delight to see the farmers’ children in their pieced-together Sunday best, playing amidst the well-dressed schoolgirls. Various parents who lived nearby or had the luxury of travel were in attendance as well, and it did the school well as a whole to enjoy such a pleasant night of camaraderie and fellowship.

  Kate paid for a slice of plum cake and took her dessert to a nearby bench before tasting the exquisite treat, nibbling small bites to make the cake last as long as possible. Her heart squeezed as she gazed over the festivities, noting people she had come to cherish over the past eight years. She chuckled when she saw Lucas Alldridge, the local blacksmith, hoist his daughter onto his knee and wipe her crumbly face with his handkerchief.

  Kate had fancied herself in love with Lucas when he had saved her from a mad pig at age sixteen. Of course, he was engaged and married within the year to Beth, the vicar’s daughter, and Kate had nursed a broken heart for some time, but there was no animosity between the three. To be honest, Kate was rather sure Beth had no inkling of her past infatuation. Though Lucas would be hard pressed to forget the sappy poetry and artful sketches she had left on his doorstep.

  Kate had an unfortunate habit of creating hero worship for any man large in stature that defended the lesser man. She knew within her soul that part of her attraction to the tall, thickly built men, was due to them being the very opposite of her short, shriveling uncle in every regard. It was no secret she valued a person who would stand up to a bully.

  “Hiding from your throng of suitors?”

  Kate gasped with recognition at the voice behind her and jumped up, grabbing at her cake before it could fall from her lap. “Emily!” she exclaimed. “But I thought you couldn’t make it this year!”

  “I had thought so, too,” her friend replied with a wry smile before sweeping her into a tight embrace. It had been a whole year since their last reunion and conversing via post was not the same as doing so face to face. Kate had dearly missed her friend. Looking around her, she noticed an absence. “But where is Paul?”

  “Back to the Continent. Napoleon is causing trouble.”

  Kate’s heart sank. She had heard the news but had failed to consider what it meant for Emily’s husband, a captain in the Eleventh Regiment of Light Dragoons. Emily gave her a weak smile. “I felt the company in London to be a little lacking and suddenly found myself in need of a good diversion. You know how I fret when Paul goes away.”

  Kate nodded. Emily had left school a year early to marry Paul. He was the younger son of a wealthy landowner headed for a life in the military, and she, a poor scholarship student who had been smitten at first sight.

  Paul forbade Emily to be one of the women of lesser morals that followed his regiment and camped behind them on tour. Kate was positive he only wanted to protect his beloved from the sights and horrors of war, and she appreciated him all the more for it. Emily did not lack for friends and had been immediately taken in by Paul’s circle with whom she spent her time frivolously enjoying the better things in life that she had not been able to afford before. Of course, if anyone deserved such a rise in station, it was the kind-hearted Emily.

  “I do hope I’ll have you to myself for a time,” Kate said selfishly.

  Emily tucked a strand of her blonde hair
behind one ear and sighed, her gaze darting from the people to the festivities around them. “I have missed you.” Slipping her hand into Kate’s, she tugged it until they both sat on the bench. “Now, do tell me everything I have missed since you last wrote.”

  “Well,” Kate began, settling in beside her friend. “It’s funny you should ask. I received a most interesting visit from a lawyer yesterday.”

  It took the better part of a half-hour to relay the details of Mr. Montgomery’s visit, including the implications against Uncle Bartholomew, and Kate’s options moving forward. When she completed her story, Kate sat back and watched as Emily’s slender eyebrows rose high, her small mouth open. Emily was on the petite side, and she looked like a child wearing such an expression of confusion and surprise. Kate wondered momentarily if she herself had appeared the same way upon hearing the news, but she knew her sturdier frame and plain brown locks did not lend themselves to the illusion of daintiness and helplessness. She was not overly tall by any means but being perfectly average meant she was just that: unremarkable.

  “And now I do not know if I’d rather sell the place outright or let it deteriorate first and then parcel off the land,” Kate finished.

  “Have you lost your senses?” Emily asked, sitting bolt upright. “Ten thousand pounds! Kate, you have ten thousand pounds! To say nothing for the estate.” She slowly melted back into the bench, the awe returning to her face. “You are richer than I am.”

  “Oh, nonsense. What does that matter? I could never reside there.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Because.” Kate shifted uneasily. She was grown now, it was true. But that made it all the more difficult to explain how horribly unsettled she felt each time she considered her time spent in that dreadful place.

  Emily seemed to understand, however. “You could redecorate. Completely gut the place and start fresh.”

  “I do not know,” Kate said hesitantly. “According to Mr. Montgomery, the staff had mostly been let go or left voluntarily toward the end of my uncle’s life. I’m not sure if he was letting the place fall into ruin out of spite or ignorance, but I’m not positive the estate is worth living in, anyway.” Reaching forward, Kate clutched her friend’s hand, lowering her voice to a whisper. “What if I leave my position here and all of these people I know and love only to find a pile of stones and a curious tree? I cannot simply return to Lytle’s. Mrs. Presley will have already found my replacement.”

  “Then your great adventure would begin,” Emily said gently. She moved to take Kate’s other hand and squeezed her fingers softly, her voice resolute. “And I will go with you.”

  Kate startled. “Whatever do you mean?”

  “Well, you cannot live alone, can you?”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t be proper.”

  Emily sat back with smug satisfaction on her face. “I shall come and be your companion until you are settled enough to hire someone else. I have experience running a house, I am married—and therefore a respectable chaperone—and I’ve nothing else to occupy my time.” Her mouth moved into a playful smirk. “It is a faultless plan, really.”

  It was a good plan, in theory. With Emily’s husband off fighting Napoleon, this was a wonderful opportunity to keep her too busy to worry about Paul and the danger surrounding him.

  Kate shook her head. “But that house. I am not sure I have the courage to live there.” To herself she sounded small and pitiful. If she had been speaking to anyone else, she would have been utterly mortified.

  Emily moved an arm around Kate’s shoulders and pulled her close. “Then we will post the property for sale and return to London forthwith. You need not stay if you cannot stomach it, Kate. But do you not think, for your father’s sake, that you must at least try?”

  And there it was. The thought that had settled in the back of Kate’s mind ever since she had first heard the news, that hovered on the perimeter of her conscious but had not previously dared to take root in her heart. The house had belonged first to her parents. It was where her father had been raised and had brought his bride to live; where Kate herself had been born and adored for the first few years of her life before her uncle had moved in and sent her away.

  “Besides,” Emily continued, jarring Kate out of her trance, “should you not leave poor Lucas and his wife alone once and for all and let them live the rest of their lives in peace?”

  Kate looked up sharply to catch Lucas’s eye. He sent her a hearty wink, which she returned with a weak wave, her cheeks warming. Of course he did not hold any regard for her; he was simply friendly. But she would take the shame of her youthful poetry to the grave.

  “Very well,” Kate said bravely after wiping her eyes. “I shall do it. But only for Lucas and Beth.”

  “Very good,” Emily said, pulling Kate to her feet. “Now do tell me, is Mrs. Fernley selling her delightful wassail this year? We must go find ourselves a glass and toast to Lucas and Beth’s health.”

  “I suppose we must.”

  Before saying farewell two days following the school social, Kate and Emily devised their plan. They settled on meeting at Split Tree Manor a fortnight following the end of term to assess damages and begin hiring as they saw fit. Kate was grateful for Emily’s experience in household maintenance and hiring of servants, for when Kate had lived at the manor as a girl, she was little more than a servant herself. To fill the role of lady of the house was going to take some adjustment and time.

  Mrs. Presley was disappointed but understanding, and immensely grateful Kate planned to stay and finish the term, for it gave her ample time to find a replacement teacher.

  Mr. Montgomery had since returned for a final meeting to explain Kate’s travel arrangements and deliver the quarter’s interest on her ten thousand pounds, along with a book of bank drafts to control the household account. She was further enlightened to find that she need not touch her own inheritance, for Split Tree Manor came with a fortune of its own that her uncle, while managing to lessen significantly, had not depleted altogether. There was a goodly sum remaining that should cover all of the house’s basic expenses, as well as refurbishing and redecorating it in its entirety.

  Kate had left the meeting with Mr. Montgomery and walked directly into town to buy each girl in her school a special treat from the shop, as well as splurging on fresh art supplies and a new novel for her travels—anything which might lighten the nerves she felt over returning to Split Tree.

  Her spoils wrapped in thick brown paper and tucked neatly into a basket, she managed to contain her delight at the prospect of delivering the peppermints and lemon sweets to the girls. Passing the millinery, her steps slowed as she gazed longingly at the beautiful bonnets set on display in the window. Temptation nipped at her in the form of a lovely chip straw bonnet with an emerald ribbon and spray of tiny white flowers. But it would not do. She may have chosen to forgo full mourning dress in light of her uncle’s brutality and lack of feeling, but she was still going to remain solemn in her clothing—her dove gray teaching uniform was perfect for it—and she decided to wait one month more before adding colors to her wardrobe.

  And besides, she needed to harness her spending lest she become a spendthrift and be poor within the year. Of course, she likely could have bought the entire shop out four times and still not have dented her purse too grandly, but that was beside the point.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Kingston,” Mrs. James called from up the lane.

  Kate brightened, lifting her hand in a wave and quickening her pace to catch up to the cook. “Good afternoon, Mrs. James.”

  Releasing a sigh, Mrs. James said, “How many times do I have to ask? You must call me Alice.”

  “Only when we are out of the school, I suppose,” Kate conceded.

  “I know it’s the way of things, but it doesn’t feel right being called a missus when I’m not married,” Alice confided.

  “Most people do not obtain status of head cook at such a young age, so I assume they are gratef
ul for the title,” Kate guessed. “You must appreciate being set apart from the maids and kitchen help?”

  “Yes. I got lucky, is what.”

  “No,” Kate said sternly. “You are talented. It is perfectly acceptable to appreciate God’s gifts, Alice. I know I do when I taste your divine plum cake.”

  Alice chuckled. “You and that plum cake. I sure hope you’ve got yourself a plum tree when you get to that new house of yours. It’ll be a right pity if you don’t got a cook that can do ’em up proper for you, either.” She shot Kate a side glance that held a hint of mischievousness.

  “What is cooking in that brain of yours, Alice?” Kate asked dubiously, certain she already knew the answer.

  Alice paused on the side of the lane, her eyes as pleading as her voice. “I want an adventure, Miss Kingston, same as you. I’ve lived in this town my whole life. The farthest I’ve traveled was up the road to Brunston’s market day because our own was out of lamb. I grew up here and I’ve worked in Lytle’s kitchen for nearly all my life” —her shoulders lifted in a shrug— “and I just want to see more of the world.”

  “You do realize Split Tree Manor is just on the other side of the county? It is naught but a half day’s ride in the carriage.”

  “Indeed!” Alice agreed, her head bobbing furiously. “I’m not so far that I will miss my family. But I can go off and do something grand, something that is my own.”

  Kate considered Alice’s three younger sisters, all of them maids in some form or another at the school. She knew Alice’s parents ran a farm with the aid of her brothers and couldn’t see why the girl would want to leave all of those loved ones. If Kate had any siblings, she would cling to them with everything that she had.

  But she didn’t. So really, she could not relate.