by Rose Pearson
“I have been lingering in these rooms because I am afraid that I shall always be rejected,” he continued, after a few moments. “I – I do not know what else to do but now I see that, as you have said, I must fight again.”
“Fight?” she repeated, softly.
“Fight against my fears, my agonizing, terrifying thoughts,” he admitted, softly. His eyes closed and a flicker of pain crossed his expression. “It has been difficult indeed these last few days.”
Deborah swallowed hard, feeling the letter that Lady Cavendish had written burning a hole in her pocket. She knew that she had to tell him of it, knew that she had promised Lady Markham that she would give him the letter, but her heart began to twist and turn in confusion, begging her to keep it to herself, to burn it if she had to. Guilt washed through her and she turned her head away.
“What is it, Miss Harland?”
She kept her gaze low. “Your sister received a letter from Lady Cavendish,” she said, each word burning her lips as she spat them from herself. “I have been tasked to bring it to you so that you might read the apology within.” Slowly, she raised her eyes back to his face, feeling a deep sense of regret washing through her. “I believe that Lady Cavendish is truly sorry for how she reacted, Lord Abernathy, and wishes to see you again.” She studied his face as he took in this news, unable to even guess what he might be feeling.
His hand dropped from her face. His bad hand pulled away from her own and Deborah got to her feet, feeling both rejected and embarrassed in equal measure.
“Do you have the letter, Miss Harland?”
“I do, yes.” Tugging it out of her pocket and with her heart screaming within her that she ought never to have said a word, she handed it to him. Then she turned away, making to walk towards the door. “I shall leave you to consider it, Your Grace.”
“Stop.”
Twisting back to look at him, Deborah saw him quickly unfold the letter, although he did not stop to read it. He held it in his hand for a long moment, his gaze fixed on her as though she held all the answers to his difficulties.
“I have no need of this,” he stated, his voice quiet, his face a little pale. “Lady Cavendish proved to me the weakness of her character when we first met. No doubt, she has now realized what she has given up by behaving so.” A rueful smile caught one corner of his mouth. “She has given up her dream of being a Duchess, of living in this magnificent estate and having such a vast fortune that nothing is out of reach.” Shaking his head, he slowly began to crumple up the letter, his fingers tight across it. “No, I have no need to either read it nor respond to her.”
Deborah watched him walk towards the fire, her heart in her throat. Lord Abernathy was not about to return to Lady Cavendish then, it seemed. Instead, he had seen the truth of who the lady was and was choosing to set his back to her entirely.
“I have no need of her,” he said again, his eyes on the flames of the fire. “I only need to surround myself with those who truly care for me. Those who see me as I am.” His eyes lifted to Deborah’s as he threw the letter onto the fire. He did not watch it burn up but continued to look in her direction, his jaw working hard.
“If you are quite certain, Lord Abernathy,” Deborah said, her voice quieter than she had expected. “Then I believe that what you have chosen to do is for the best.”
Walking towards her, Lord Abernathy’s shoulders slumped and he took in a long breath as though he had finally released himself of a heavy burden. “What was my dear sister’s response, might I ask?”
The memory of Lady Markham pacing up and down the floor, her anger evident in her words and her expression came back to Deborah’s mind and a chuckle escaped from her. “I do not think that I have ever seen her so angry, Your Grace.”
Lord Abernathy’s expression cleared and he smiled. “That is just like Judith,” he said, his smile a trifle sad. “She has always cared for me so dearly, has she not?”
“She has,” Deborah agreed, seeing Lord Abernathy reach out to her again. She took his hand and held it tightly, aware of just how her heart slammed into her chest at the briefest of touches. “She will be glad to hear what you have chosen to do as regards Lady Cavendish, I am sure.”
Lord Abernathy chuckled, squeezed her fingers and let her hand drop. “Once again, you have found a way to bring life back to me,” he said, gently, his words wrapping around Deborah’s heart. “You are a miracle, Miss Harland.”
“I am doing what God has sent me here to do, nothing more,” Deborah replied, feeling the loss of his touch already but finding that her heart was filling with affection over his tender words. “I am glad to see you so restored, Lord Abernathy.”
He shook his head. “You do more than I think even you yourself can see,” he replied, his good eye filled with a deep intensity that Deborah could not look away from. “Your determination and your spirit have forced the shadows from me again. I think, Miss Harland, that I shall never be able to let you go from this house. I think I shall always need you here with me.”
Deborah’s throat worked and she could not speak. Tears sprang into her eyes, her heart crying out that this was what she had wanted, that this was what she truly longed for – but no words were spoken.
“You have become very dear to me, Deborah,” Lord Abernathy continued, his voice filled with such tenderness that Deborah wanted to let her tears fall. “I do not know how I shall ever be able to thank you.”
Deborah closed her eyes tightly and forced her tears back whilst a tremulous smile crossed her face. “There is no thanks necessary, Your Grace,” she said, her voice wavering. “It is a joy to see you so restored.” Opening her eyes, she managed to restore her composure somewhat, wishing that he could see just how tortured she felt over his desire to keep her here. She wanted to remain, yes, but she could not do so when he would soon be courting others, when he would search for a wife so that he might have a family of his own. No, she could not linger on, not even if he begged her to do so. Her heart would become too wretched, too broken. It was painful even now standing in front of the gentleman she had come to care for so deeply and knowing that he could never know of her affections.
“I think I must continue that restoration, then,” Lord Abernathy said, clearing his throat a little abruptly. “A ride, did you say?”
“Yes,” Deborah replied, quickly, setting aside all that she felt and forcing a bright smile. “I think that you should still be able to hold the reins in your hand, given that you have done your hand movements faithfully and have regained some strength.”
Lord Abernathy looked a little doubtful, glancing down at his hands.
“Your sister told me that you dearly loved to ride,” Deborah continued, quickly, wanting to embolden him. “Why not attempt to do so now, Lord Abernathy? It will be of aid to your heart, I am quite certain.”
Lord Abernathy let out a long breath, straightened his shoulders and looked at her again steadily. “Very well,” he said, with a tight smile. “I shall attempt to obey you, Miss Harland, knowing just how you have proven yourself before.” He walked purposefully towards the door, leaving Deborah to trot after him. “A ride it shall be – and if I fall from my horse, then I shall have no-one to blame but you, Miss Harland!” His voice was teasing, his eyes bright as he looked over his shoulder at her.
“Or it may be that you have never been as good a horseman as you believe yourself to be,” Deborah quipped, as Lord Abernathy opened the door. His shout of laughter echoed down the hallway, bringing a bright smile to Deborah’s lips. No matter what she felt, it was good to see Lord Abernathy smiling again. She just had to hope that, this time, he would not allow any despondency or doubt to drag him back to the shadows once more.
Chapter Thirteen
“Good gracious, Deborah, it is not like you to be tardy!”
Deborah arched one eyebrow as Lord Abernathy’s voice reached her ears. She smiled up at him as he rode out from the stables on his tall, black stallion, the picture of a f
ine gentleman.
“I think, Lord Abernathy, that it is hardly fair to rebuke me for being late when you only gave me notice of your intention to ride some minutes ago!” she replied, a light note to her voice. “Although I am glad to see that you are so keen to take up the reins yet again!”
Lord Abernathy grinned at her, a patch over his cloudy eye. The redness about his scars was fading as the days passed. Deborah was quite certain that the fresh air Lord Abernathy was taking daily was helping both his mind and his body. Ever since they had gone riding last week, Lord Abernathy had seemed to find a new brightness to his life that he had been unable to turn away from. He had found that, yes, he could ride his stallion and yes, he could hold the reins as he had done before – albeit with a slightly different grip – and this had seemed to give him the confidence and the hope that he had lost for so long. He had gone riding almost every day since then and had often sought Deborah out to accompany him. She had no reason to linger on at the estate any longer now, of course, but she had found herself unwilling to return to the abbey, especially when Lord Abernathy continued to seek out her company almost every day.
“You look quite lovely this afternoon, if I may say so, Miss Harland.”
She eyed him suspiciously before allowing the stable hand to help her up into the saddle. “You know very well, Lord Abernathy, that this is the same habit I have worn every day since we started riding.” She laughed at his arched bow. “You need not pretend to be surprised. After all, it would be rather unusual for a lady from the abbey to own a riding habit in the first place and certainly not two!”
Lord Abernathy’s face was lit up with happiness as they began to ride out across the estate together. “Then I shall have another one made for you, if you so wish, Miss Harland. A dark blue would suit you very well, I think. It would match the color of your eyes.”
Deborah started violently but kept her face turned away. She had never expected Lord Abernathy to even notice the color of her eyes but to hear him speak so had quite taken her by surprise.
“The color of the sea,” Lord Abernathy murmured, as though talking to himself. “Or the sky on a stormy day.”
A flush crept into Deborah’s cheeks but she kept her face towards the path ahead and did not look towards Lord Abernathy.
“You are unused to such compliments also, I would wager,” Lord Abernathy said when she did not respond. “Is that not so, Miss Harland?”
She looked at him, unable to decipher whether or not he was teasing her again. “You are correct to say so, Lord Abernathy.”
“I think you will need to become used to them, Miss Harland,” he said, no note of laughter in his voice but rather a deep and serious touch that had her shivering slightly. “You are quite remarkable, I think. In fact, more remarkable than any young lady I have ever met in my life before.”
“Now you are doing it much too brown, Lord Abernathy,” she stated, firmly, not allowing his accolades to affect her even though her heart was yearning for him to speak words of tenderness to her. “I am not at all as you have said.”
“I think you are,” he replied, quickly, his face still turned towards her. “You have no knowledge of society, Miss Harland, and so, therefore, I think you do not quite see it as I do.”
She looked at him then, a flicker of interest in her mind. “Then would you tell me, Lord Abernathy?”
“Tell you?”
Nodding, she turned her head back to the path, the gentle wind whipping around her head and attempting to free her dark hair from its confines. “You say I have very little knowledge of society and the like – and that is quite true.”
He snorted, cutting her off. “That is not to be considered a bad thing, Miss Harland.”
“But I would know of it,” she said, throwing him a quick smile. “It is most intriguing, truly.” Something flickered in Lord Abernathy’s eyes but she continued on regardless. “I would know of what it is like to be a gentleman held in such high regard. I would know what it is like to be a lady of the ton. Is there nothing you can tell me?”
Keeping her eyes fixed on his face, Deborah was surprised to see a shadow cross his expression, a dullness creeping into his eye as he regarded her. Their horses continued at a leisurely pace but Lord Abernathy said nothing for some minutes.
“I thought it quite ridiculous, once, that you knew nothing about society,” Lord Abernathy said, eventually, his eyes turned away from hers. “I thought that it was more than ridiculous that you believed there should be affection between a lady and her beau. In my mind, I laughed at the idea that any sort of feeling should come into a marriage arrangement but now……” He trailed off and shook his head. “Now, I feel quite the opposite, Miss Harland. I see what you have said, I can see what sort of life I would have married to someone who cared nothing for me but my money and my title. I do not think it would be a happy one.”
“And yet, society chases after such things?” Deborah queried, her heart softening for him. “That is all one considers, is it not?”
He looked at her sharply. “What do you mean?”
Shrugging, she tried to explain. “The Bible says that we are not to look at the outward appearance since God cares nothing for it. It states that the Almighty considers what is within our hearts instead. That is what I believe we should all try to do.”
“But that is not what I have done,” Lord Abernathy said, breaking in before she had a chance to fully explain. “No, indeed, Miss Harland, it is quite the opposite of what has been taught in the Holy Bible.”
Sighing inwardly, Deborah fixed her gaze on the horizon, taking in a long breath of fresh air and settling herself a little more in the saddle. “From what I understand, society seeks to match a gentleman and a lady together in matrimony based only upon fortune, upon title and upon, perhaps, a hope that they will get along well enough.” She gave him a quick glance, feeling her cheeks heat. “I have heard it said that gentlemen, in particular, care nothing for the vows they make but are more than content to continue as they once did before they married.”
Lord Abernathy turned his head to look in the opposite direction from where she rode, clearing his throat loudly. Deborah closed her eyes for a moment, a trifle embarrassed but feeling the desire to know such things burning within her mind. Would Lord Abernathy be as other gentlemen, once he wed?
“Who told you such a thing?”
Lord Abernathy’s voice was gruff, his words holding a touch of anger.
“It is something Lady Markham said,” Deborah replied, recalling their many conversations. “She stated that she did not wish to marry a gentleman who would seek out other….pleasures once he was wed. She says that, in her mind, the vows are made before man and God and therefore bind both husband and wife in the same way.” Her voice grew soft, her mind beginning to work through what Lady Markham had said. “I find that I am in agreement with her, Lord Abernathy.”
“Indeed.” Lord Abernathy turned his head but did not look at her. “I confess that I was once of the opinion that a gentleman could take a mistress once he wed. I confess that I believed gentlemen to be freed from their vows to a certain extent, once time had gone past. However, now I have had time to consider the matter, now that I have had time to see the brokenness of societal expectation and the weakness of Lady Cavendish’s character, I find my thinking quite altered.”
“Oh?” A sudden hope flared in Deborah’s chest but she dampened it immediately. It did not matter to her what Lord Abernathy did when he was a married gentleman since it would not affect her in any way. However, part of her wanted desperately to know that he was not going to behave in the way Lady Markham had described, as though it would be confirmation to her that Lord Abernathy had a good character, confirmation that she had fallen hopelessly in love with a good man.
“I would be true to my bride,” Lord Abernathy said, firmly, finally glancing towards her. She saw that there was a flush in his cheeks and a brightness in his eye that she had not noticed before. �
��I have determined in my own mind that I should not turn aside from the vows I will one day make,” he continued, his hands tight on the reins. “It is quite ridiculous in a way, Miss Harland. Upon my return from the war, I became morose and dejected over the knowledge that I should never again become the gentleman I once was. However, now that I have recovered in both my mind and my spirit, I see that there is a good deal about my character that I do not want to recover.” A smile caught his lips as he looked at her and Deborah found herself smiling back. “I will not be the rascal I once was.” His voice filled with a fierce determination. “Not that I could be, I suppose, given my altered appearance, but even if I was given the opportunity to do so, I would not make the same decisions I would have before my injury.”
His smile was genuine and Deborah responded to it at once. There was such a depth of friendship between them, such an intimacy that, for a moment, Deborah felt herself happier than she had ever been before. It was as though this was the very place she was meant to be, that this was her home, right here, beside Lord Abernathy.
“That pleases you, I think.”
Blushing furiously, Deborah shook her head and tried to keep her voice light. “It does not matter what I think, Lord Abernathy.”
“Ah, but that is where you are quite mistaken, Miss Harland,” Lord Abernathy replied, with a broad smile. “I find that my desire is to know precisely what you think and feel and hope for. Your opinion of me has become vastly important to me, Miss Harland.”
Deborah swallowed hard and looked away, not allowing herself to speak given the crashing emotions that washed over her heart.
