A Mistletoe Vow to Lord Lovell

by Joanna Johnson

  But Honora wasn’t yet finished, oblivious to the sudden ice in her husband’s gut. ‘I never felt I truly belonged before I came to Marlow Manor, to live among those who have treated me with such real kindness and care. We may not know for certain yet if Charlotte will recover, but I pray for her every day and God willing she’ll rally. So thank you, Isaac. Thank you for giving me this fresh chance at happiness and the hope of a family I thought lost to me for ever. Thank you for being, in the end, nothing like the man I wed before.’

  She rose up on to her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cold cheek that spread like flames beneath Isaac’s skin. He wanted to hold her to him, capture that strong, willowy frame and keep it for ever, but he was frozen with a mixture of wonder and despair that robbed any words from his disloyal tongue.

  Oh, my love. How can I tell you now?

  By some hideous twist the situation had worsened, actually found a way to become even more complex, and Isaac’s confession died in his mouth. Only a second before he’d seen the way so clearly, but he had to turn back, the prospect of revealing all to his trusting wife now surely impossible.

  If I tell her about Frank’s role now it will destroy everything she’s come to hold dear and she will never look at me the same way again. Her home, the family she hopes to build around her—it will all be ruined if she knew how Frank tainted it and how similar I was to that wretch. I’d be pulling the rug out from beneath her feet just as she was starting to feel safe...how could I ever be so cruel as to hurt her like that, when she’s suffered so much already?

  The answer was that he couldn’t. He couldn’t shatter the haven she thought she’d found and there was nothing in the world that would convince him otherwise—and neither could he bring himself to face her contempt, knowing without question it was more than he deserved.

  His conscience struggled against yet more deception, but Isaac bullied his lips into a brittle curve. Under any other circumstances he would be overjoyed to hear Honora’s affection for him spelled out so clearly, something once upon a time he never would have believed. It was the granting of his dearest wish and yet he couldn’t rejoice in knowing she returned his regard, his dishonesty sucking the joy out of what should have been a moment he never forgot.

  ‘I’m glad you feel Marlow Manor is your home after such a short time. I’ll admit I wasn’t always sure you’d like it...or me.’

  ‘Oh, now you’re a different thing entirely. You deserve a category completely your own.’ Honora returned his smile with one of her own, one so sweet and hopelessly shy Isaac knew what she was about to say before she even said it and felt his every nerve cry out to repeat her declaration back at her and mean every word. The churchyard around them seemed to retreat somehow, growing distant and faint and the graves disappearing as he looked down into Honora’s face and watched her pretty lips.

  ‘I think that’s why... I think that’s why I’ve come to feel...’

  Her sentence was cut abruptly short by the sound of boots crunching over snowy ground and Isaac felt a hand on his shoulder before he heard the voice.

  ‘Sir! Lord Lovell!’

  He turned, still holding Honora’s gloved hand, but alarmed now to see Taylor, the manservant, standing behind him.

  ‘Taylor? What are you doing here?’

  The red-faced manservant straightened up. Some distance behind him, at the edge of the churchyard, Isaac saw one of the horses tethered to a rail, blowing hard. How he’d failed to hear the approaching hooves was hardly a mystery—he’d been so intent on hearing Honora and what he suspected she was about to say he’d been deaf and blind to everything else, even now cursing the servant for interrupting.

  Was she about to say she loved me? And was I about to say it back? In spite of the secrets I must now keep the rest of my life?

  ‘Well? What is it?’

  ‘It’s Miss Charlotte, sir.’

  Belatedly Isaac realised Taylor’s expression was one of grave worry and he felt his insides turn to ice.

  No. No. It can’t be that.

  ‘Miss Charlotte? What about her? She hasn’t...? She can’t have...’

  ‘No, sir. It isn’t that.’ The man shook his head, glancing at Honora as if she could spare him the ordeal of breaking whatever news he had to Isaac.

  ‘Then what? What is it?’ Sharp relief turned in Isaac’s stomach, but couldn’t eclipse his increasing dread. Charlotte hadn’t slipped away, then, his worst fear by miles—but why then had Taylor come to find him, looking for all the world as though he’d rather be anywhere else?

  ‘She hasn’t passed on, sir, but—’ Taylor broke off unhappily, only forced to continue by the fierce gleam in Isaac’s eye. ‘It’s difficult to explain.’

  ‘Damnation, Taylor—will you not put me out of my misery and just speak?’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. It seems Mrs Glenn went in to speak to Miss Charlotte and found the bed empty. We searched all over, but I’m afraid I have to tell you...we couldn’t find her anywhere. Miss Charlotte has disappeared.’

  Chapter Twelve

  Isaac stared down at the rumpled sheets of Charlotte’s bed, its embroidered coverlet still hanging from his hand where he had torn it from the mattress. The pillows bore soft indents where a head had recently rested and a half-empty glass of water sat close by on the bedside table, but there was no sign of the occupant herself and Isaac passed a hand across his furrowed brow.

  ‘Could you tell me again, Mrs Glenn—when did you realise Charlotte had gone?’

  Behind him the wet nurse held Christopher close to her as if fearing he, too, might be spirited mysteriously away. ‘About a half-hour after you’d left, sir. I came upstairs to lay the baby down and then thought of something I wanted to say to Miss Charlotte. I peeped through a gap in her bed-hangings to see if she was awake and that’s when I saw she wasn’t there.’

  ‘Did you talk with her before that?’ Honora spoke from Charlotte’s wardrobe, opening the door to check briefly inside. ‘She was sleeping when we left this morning, but perhaps you caught her in a lucid moment?’

  Isaac glanced at Honora, but she was too intent on Mrs Glenn’s reply to notice. All trace of the rosy, girlish creature he’d been captivated by in the graveyard was gone now, replaced by the same capable, clear-minded woman who had taken control on the night Christopher was born. If she’d been about to confess her feelings for him, as he had hoped so hard it took his breath away, there was no chance of that now Charlotte had vanished—worry and dread coiled inside him like snakes, but shot through with a thread of regret he couldn’t ignore.

  Would she have uttered the words I’ve wanted to hear for longer than I even knew myself? And would I have returned them, knowing how little I deserve even a moment of her time after my deceit?

  ‘I only spoke with her briefly this morning, ma’am. She complained of being particularly hot. I opened her window and asked Clara to bring a fresh glass of water. In truth her face was flushed despite the chill outside and it seemed to me as though her fever might be peaking. I thought I’d recommend Dr Harcourt to be sent for on your return, but now...’ Mrs Glenn patted Christopher’s back unhappily. ‘I should have acted sooner. She was speaking quite wildly, more animated than I’ve seen her in days, and her cheeks were brilliant pink. I should have known something wasn’t right, but when she said she was going to sleep a while I thought perhaps that was best. I never dreamed she would be gone next time I checked.’

  ‘You have nothing to rebuke yourself for.’ Isaac touched her vaguely on the shoulder, his mind too full to take in all of what she said. ‘None of this was your doing.’

  ‘Wait.’ Honora moved away from the wardrobe, her face clouded with some thought. ‘You said she complained of being hot? Did she ask for her window to be opened?’

  ‘Yes...’ the wet nurse nodded ‘...she even left her bed for a moment to put her face into the fr
esh air, although she got back under the covers again when I warned she might catch cold.’

  Isaac watched as Honora crossed to the window in question and looked out at the white-swathed grounds below. Charlotte’s rooms were toward the back of Marlow Manor and boasted one of the best views of the estate, showing the copse of trees standing to one side of the lawns and running parallel until it reached the park beyond. From there the treeline curved round to hide a gentle slope leading to a small lake, unseen from the house and a breathtaking surprise Honora had found one day on a snowy walk. Now as she surveyed the grounds Isaac could have sworn he heard cogs moving beneath her pile of black curls, her busy mind working on something he would probably never have considered.

  ‘Has the whole estate been searched? Or just the Manor?’

  ‘Just the Manor. Surely Charlotte is too weak to have wandered any further afield.’

  ‘I wonder...’ Honora’s eyes narrowed with the thought Isaac knew had been coming. ‘She was hot and delirious by Mrs Glenn’s account. The desire to cool herself must have been torturous and her confusion could help spur her on... Isaac, we need to search the grounds at once.’

  ‘You truly think there’s a chance she could have ventured outside?’ Isaac eyed her doubtfully. ‘She could barely walk, let alone struggle through all this snow.’

  ‘A determined woman can do anything, as I think you already know,’ Honora countered firmly. ‘Charlotte is not in her right mind. There’s no knowing for sure exactly what she’s capable of.’

  Isaac ran his hand yet again through his thatch of chestnut hair and looked down at Honora’s set face. She was right. There was no limit to the things a woman could do if she set her mind to it and if that mind was disturbed... There wasn’t a moment to lose.

  He nodded, suddenly more grim than ever before. Charlotte could be out there somewhere, confused and alone and turned about by her weakness and fever. If they didn’t find her soon, it might be too late and he would never forgive himself for not acting more quickly to save her.

  ‘You’re right. As always.’ He shot Honora a dark, humourless smile and caught her answering gleam. ‘I’ll take Taylor and the footmen and start combing the park. If she’s out there, we’ll find her.’

  ‘And me. I’m coming out to look as well.’

  Isaac had turned for the door, but at Honora’s voice he looked back over his shoulder. ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea. The woods are dangerous after the blizzard. You might slip and fall, or a damaged tree might come down on top of you...’

  Even as he was speaking Isaac realised his words were in vain. Honora’s jaw had set and although she waited for him to finish he knew he might as well have said nothing at all.

  ‘You’re warning me about the dangers of trees and snow? Knowing I grew up in the forests of Virginia, where there was far more to worry about than losing one’s footing?’ She raised a dark eyebrow. ‘There were bears, Isaac, and wolves, too. I spent more time climbing trees than I did getting squashed by them. I’m not afraid and I want to do my part in finding Charlotte.’

  ‘Honora...’

  ‘This conversation is wasting time that we can’t spare. Tell me, do you truly think you can stop me? Knowing me as you do?’

  Isaac gazed at his wife, looking straight back at him with unflinching determination, and his admiration for her swooped inside him like swallows in spring. Her steely spine was something most men could learn from. Her courage and strength of conviction was unmatched by anyone he’d ever met, and in that moment he knew there would never be another woman in all the world who could eclipse her in his heart.

  ‘No. I don’t think that. You’ll do as you will, Lady Lovell—I wouldn’t expect anything else. Come, then, if you’re coming. We leave at once.’

  * * *

  The wind whistled around Honora as she stepped among the snow-laden trees, her skirts flattening against her legs and the ribbons of her bonnet flying back over her shoulder. She scanned the swaying branches that danced on all sides, hoping to catch a glimpse of her quarry, but there was nothing but frozen trunks and snatches of white lawns peering through them, and the far-off sound of footmen calling Charlotte’s name. They had been searching for an hour already with no luck and even splitting into different directions hadn’t brought as much as a clue, the girl apparently disappearing from the face of the earth.

  I’ll find her. I’ll find her if it’s the last thing I do.

  The memory of Isaac’s pale face as the carriage had borne them back from the churchyard was burned into the forefront of Honora’s mind. To take his hand in hers and hold it with fierce sympathy had been so natural she hadn’t known she’d done it until he had squeezed back, that tiny movement just as thrilling as a hundred kisses from Frank. Ironically enough it was her first husband who had convinced her to be honest with her second—but that was before Taylor had come running in to shatter the moment, snatching Honora’s declaration of love from her mouth and replacing it with fathomless worry. Now the best thing she could do for Isaac was help find his ward, hopefully wiping the fear from his blanched face. There would be plenty of time for talking after Charlotte was safe and sound again in her warm bed, when Honora could seize her courage with both hands and tell Isaac the secret workings of her heart.

  I can’t say for sure how he’ll react. I know he never wanted a wife, but his behaviour has never been that of an uninterested man—and I can’t stay silent any longer.

  Moving among the trees on the hunt for elusive prey brought memories of Virginia flooding back and at another time they might have made her smile. Walking beneath the Blue Ridge Mountains was the last time Honora could remember feeling free of worry, the trees not caring about the shade of her skin or where her father was born. The only shadow of that freedom she’d experienced since had been here at Marlow Manor, living with Isaac and Honora as Christmas Day drew closer by the hour and feeling part of something real, so far removed from Frank’s false regard it was laughable. She’d been right about Isaac’s secrecy. He’d never liked Frank, the differences between them so stark she could hardly believe she’d thought they could ever be alike. There was nothing between Isaac and Frank to bind them, she knew now, and Honora quickened her step as she came to the edge of the trees and the glass-topped lake hove into view before her.

  She stopped, chafing her gloved hands together as she surveyed the icy majesty of the still water. It stretched out silently at her feet, dully reflecting the grey sky above and the only movement that of the clouds mirrored on its surface. Now she was out from the protection of the trees Honora felt the wind cut across her face with added spite, snapping at her nose and trying to pull her cloak away from her body. It was bitter. Even wrapped in layers of wool she felt the chill creeping over her skin, sliding a finger down the back of her neck to cool the column of her spine. Looking out across the frozen lake, she was gripped by a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold.

  If Charlotte wasn’t found soon there would be no hope for her, none at all, and the realisation turned Honora’s stomach. The light would begin to fade and then all would be lost, the only possible outcome that of finding her poor, lifeless body somewhere, huddled alone in the snow and breaking the hearts of both Honora and Isaac, never to be repaired. Christopher would indeed be left motherless and all he would have to remember her was a portrait and a lock of hair, a sad collection of relics that could never capture the likeness of the girl they honoured...

  And then Honora saw her.

  Charlotte was standing quite still, cutting a bleak little figure on the lake’s iced surface. She was draped in one of the blankets from her bed, but even from a distance Honora could see it was soaked and filthy, dragging along the ground, and a wet stain spreading up to cover Charlotte’s body. It must have chilled her to the bone, but she didn’t seem to have noticed, only hovering with her back to Honora and looking across the frozen wat
er as though entirely alone in the world.

  ‘Charlotte!’ Relief so intense it could have brought Honora to her knees surged inside her and she hurried closer to the lake’s edge. ‘Charlotte, thank heaven! We’ve been looking all over for you! Come back from there, it isn’t safe!’

  The girl didn’t turn.

  ‘Charlotte?’ Honora called again, but again there was no response. The sad, blanket-draped figure didn’t move and Honora frowned, thinking quickly.

  I’ll have to fetch her. I don’t think she’ll come on her own.

  She snatched a glance at the back of Charlotte’s tousled head, its brunette ringlets swaying in the wind. A bird was singing in one of the trees behind her, the sweet notes in perfect contrast to the unease unfolding in Honora’s innards as she tested the ice with the toe of one boot, concentrating hard.

  It’s thick enough to bear Charlotte’s weight, but mine, too?

  She hesitated. The ice certainly seemed stable, but one false move would send her crashing through into the water below, possibly taking the girl along with her to sink without trace. If there was any alternative Honora would have snatched it, but there wasn’t, and with her heart beginning to hammer she carefully set one foot on to the ice, as slowly and as gingerly as if her life depended on it.

  Which, you know, it does.

  Pushing the unpleasant thought aside, Honora gritted her teeth and took a step, ears trained all the time for the tell-tale crack that would spell disaster. It didn’t come, however, and she stepped again, slipping away from the bank towards the centre of the lake and the young woman standing on it oblivious to the danger all around.

  Little by little Honora inched closer, placing her feet with the greatest care. A swift look down showed reeds and driftwood trapped beneath the glassy surface and she swallowed an instinctive thrill of fear—she could so easily plunge through to join them, the dark waters closing over her head and pulling her under...