Her brother had promised a stroll to the coast in the afternoon if the rain stopped. She ardently hoped it stopped by then.
Burrowing into her mantle for warmth, she tightened her grip on the umbrella. The cold bit her knuckles despite gloves. Trailing behind them was Jasper, a muddy, smelly mess of wet and happy dog. He had insisted he join them and would not take no for an answer. Victorious, Jasper dashed here and there to sniff everything in sight.
“We’re here,” Sebastian said, veering towards a small church. “The rectory is through those trees. Though I offered the east wing to the steward and his family, he prefers the old rectory. Since it’s occupied, it’s a good thing we didn’t invite our favorite rector, Mr. Sands.”
Lilith pinched his arm.
Instead of entering the ancient family church, they walked around the back to the burial plots.
All morning, even through breakfast, she had remained downstairs, talking with the old servants who had come to see her. They came as a group, all eager to see her grown and returned home. There were only seven of them, including Mrs. Hunter. But seven was more than she had imagined would remember her, want to see her, or make the trek to talk with her.
There on a kitchen stool with a handful of servants, sharing stories, though mostly listening, she felt total comfort without needing to prove herself. The feeling was not so different than when she was with Walter.
Arm-in-arm, she and her brother stopped at a wooden cross, rotted by time.
“Here lies Jane Lancaster,” Sebastian said, “mother to a brooding devil and an orphan.”
Lilith smiled ruefully at him.
Together, they stood, staring at the cross, listening to the rainfall and Jasper’s occasional baying bark or snuffle when he found an interesting smell.
How was it she could miss so dearly a woman she had not thought of since childhood? She wondered how she could have forgotten her. Although, that was not entirely true. She had never forgotten her mother. It was not so simple. She had pushed the memories deep inside hoping never to think of them again, those people who must have hated her to send her to an orphanage. How wrong she had been. Since that discovery, she searched for and clung to every memory she could find.
“I want to mark her place with a headstone,” Sebastian said. “A memorial statue would not be out of the question.”
“Why is there not a headstone?” Lilith glanced around the churchyard.
“Honestly, Lil’? I don’t know. Why our father never marked her grave is anyone’s guess. He was destitute? He didn’t care? He was a damned boor? He’s dead, so let’s celebrate her, shall we? A headstone she would like, though nothing too lavish. She never struck me as a lavish person. But what do I know? I was a child. You spent far more time with her than I did.”
Lilith patted his arm. “Yes, something simple.”
Jasper sloshed his way through the drizzling rain to stand by them.
“‘Bastian?” She questioned softly.
“Hmm?” he grunted, his eyes fixed on the wooden cross.
“Although this is a family burial, would you be terribly opposed if we added a memorial for Lily Chambers?”
He leaned back to look at her, as startled by her words as she was by saying them.
It seemed the right thing to do.
Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he said, “Of course, we can. I’ll have the steward order both when I meet with him today. Speaking of which, we should turn back, as he’s supposed to meet me at the top of the hour.”
They headed back to the hall, his arm still around her shoulders, her umbrella knocking into his hat from time-to-time. They walked in companionable silence until the house came into view.
Sebastian said, “I’ve asked Cook to serve me humble pie for causing a rift between you and Collingwood.”
Lilith cast him a sidelong glance.
“I should never have searched for your birth mother without your express permission. But since I did, I should have waited until all was settled between the two of you before saying something. Far be it for me to come between you and love. Don’t hold my errors in judgement against him. He’s a good man. And if I’m not mistaken, he’s very much in love with you.”
She flushed under the umbrella and turned away from him. “He’s a foolish man to think it could ever work between us.”
“I was under the impression you were as much in love with him. Am I mistaken?”
“Love has nothing to do with anything,” she protested. “Men see the world in black and white. This decision has little to do with love or marriage and all to do with how I live my life. Do you not realize, ‘Bastian, it has not yet been a full year since I learned I’m your sister? The life I’ve known for over twenty years has changed dramatically this year. I’ve hardly sorted what to do about it all when in comes Baron Charming, charging on his noble steed to sweep me off my feet. Yes, Sebastian, I’m in love with him. I love him deeply. It does not follow, however, that I’m ready to uproot everything I’ve known.”
“A long engagement, perhaps? Ask him to wait? Move in with us or move into Roddam Hall until the Season, then see how you feel? What are you thinking, and how may I help?”
“I need time. I don’t want to leave him waiting, though. That seems cruel. What if after all the waiting, I decide I would rather never marry? No, I need to decide soon so I can accept him or let him go. It’s only fair to him.”
“You know I’ll support any choice you make. All I ask is that you not underestimate or short-change yourself. I worry your self-worth is as caught up in that orphanage as mine was in the ghost of my father. You’re remarkable, Lilith. I want you to see that in yourself. Don’t let the past hold you back.”
She nodded but did not answer.
“Horsey!” squealed the little boy, pulling fistfuls of Walter’s hair.
“Neeeeeeeigh,” responded Walter, doing his finest horse impression before sipping the world’s tastiest and most invisible tea from a teacup.
A little girl with carrot-red ringlets snatched the teacup from him just as it reached his lips.
“No! I have to refill it,” she said, turning the teapot upside down to dump invisible tea into his cup.
“Go, horsey! Go!” screamed the boy straddling Walter’s neck before kicking at his shoulders to spur the mount.
Walter sat at a child-sized table in the nursery, having tea with three girls of varying ages, the youngest still in nappies and sitting on his knee, shaking an empty cup over his lap—thank heavens for make-believe tea. A boy of about two years thought Walter the perfect horse substitute, while an older brother rode an ancient rocking horse.
The nursery was neither a dusty space nor a renovated space. Walter suspected it looked much like it had the last time Lilith had lived there, though it seemed the maids kept it well dusted and clean.
He was not entirely sure how he got himself into his current mess, but he had no one to blame but himself. The steward had arrived with his children. When the butler saw the steward to the study to await Roddam’s return, Walter volunteered to take the children upstairs to play. What had he been thinking?
The youngest, bored with tea, threw the cup to the floor and scooted off his knee to grab a doll. It was in the moment one of her sisters climbed onto Walter’s back to ride the horsey with her brother and Walter’s submission to crawl on all fours across the floor, ruining a perfectly good pair of breeches, that Lilith chose to open the nursery door.
The look on her face would have been priceless had he not felt every bit as prized an idiot as he looked.
Walter, feeling his face grow warm with embarrassment, tried to stand up, forgetting the children on his back. With a yank of hair, the boy screamed for Walter to go faster, thinking his horse had bucked as part of the ride. And so, Walter galloped faster, or rather crawled at top speed. Lilith watc
hed, her hand held to her mouth, her eyes wide.
Not one of his finer moments.
He traveled a circle about the tea table. When he made his final loop to look up at her, she was gone, the nursery door closed behind her. Had she left from the horror of seeing a gentleman crawling on the floor with children? Had she left because she was still angry with him? Had she been upset that her childhood nursery was being invaded?
“Gooooo!” screeched the boy.
Urging the girl off his back, Walter reached up to pull the boy from around his neck, an action that resulted in a kicking, screaming tantrum. All was forgiven when Walter put him on the horse with the elder brother. He rubbed the back of his neck and stretched. His breeches were wrinkled and stockings scuffed. Could have been worse, he decided, and not bad enough that his valet would quit at the sorry sight of the clothing.
“Baby go sleep,” said the toddler holding up a baby doll.
She pointed to a doll bed in the corner.
Walter took the doll and cradled it as though it were real, making the girl smile. “Shall we put baby to sleep?” he asked.
With a nod, she half waddled, half scooted across the floor to the doll bed and patted it. He obeyed like a good nanny. Heaven help the real nannies of the world, especially when they had to contend with five children at once, all under the age of seven.
As he put the baby doll to sleep, the girl rocking the doll bed with alarming vigor, the nursery door opened again, and in ran a wet Jasper followed by a shaggy sheepdog, and shortly thereafter, the love of his life. The children shouted and squealed and screeched, dropping dolls and horses and teacups to run or waddle over to the dogs. Jasper licked the baby until she fell over giggling. The other children tried to climb onto the skittish sheepdog.
“Now, now, be gentle. Milli is old and blind,” Lilith said, kneeling next to the sheepdog. “You must pet her so she knows you’re there and then ask her permission. Adding a hug might help your case.”
The children, except the youngest who was busy pulling on Jasper’s ears and being licked for her efforts, gathered around Milli and petted and cooed and hugged. It seemed to have done the trick, for the sheepdog lolled her tongue in what might have been mistaken for a dog grin, and let the children climb on her back.
Lilith smiled up at him, looking nearly as relaxed and cheerful as she had when he first arrived in Allshire. He ran a hand through his knotted hair, chagrined at how unruly he must look. Good Lord. Even his cravat was crooked and halfway around his neck.
Walking over, he took one of the child-sized seats at the tea table and sat next to Lilith, grinning at her.
Her smile sly and teasing, she said, “I never thought I would see a proper toff galloping about a room neighing and whinnying.”
“It’s one of my greatest talents, didn’t you know? Wins over the ladies every time.”
Lilith threw back her head and laughed.
Yes, this was more like it. He loved when she laughed.
The one in nappies tried to mount Jasper who was none too sure about that. As Lilith reached for Jasper, Walter scooped the little girl into his arms and flew her about the room, the child dissolving in a fit of giggles. It was not until he was on his third trip around the room, when he turned back to see Lilith pulling the eldest girl onto her lap with a book in hand that Walter was struck by the domesticity of the scene—the two of them in a nursery, playing with children who could very well be their own in an alternate reality.
When she looked up at him with such tender affection, he almost went down on one knee with a babe in his arms to ask her right then and there. The presence of the children distracted him from the temptation, as did the memory that their most recent discussion had been a quarrel.
It was in this frame of mind that he remained throughout another half hour of play and on through their returning of the children to the departing steward and the dogs back to the kitchen. The rain had stopped, though it could never have been classified as rain, only a light drizzle. Roddam invited them for a cloudy walk to the coast after he changed into something more suitable. For such a destination, Walter, too, needed to change, aside from his scuffed knees being an ever-present embarrassment of dishevelment.
Roddam took the stairs two at a time. Walter was more sluggish, too busy admiring Lilith standing in a shadowed corridor of the vestibule. After a second’s hesitation, he approached her.
Simultaneously, they said, “I’m sorry,” then chuckled.
As he started to apologize again, she put a finger to his lips. “No, allow me, Walter. I’m sorry for snapping at you yesterday. You didn’t deserve such harshness. You did what you felt to be right, and it was a noble gesture, even if I couldn’t see it at the time.”
He reached up to capture her hand in his, folding it over his heart.
“Don’t apologize, Lilith, for speaking your mind. I don’t believe in harboring unspoken words. It’s how misunderstandings start and hurt feelings lead to deeper pain. I wish every day I had told my father I love him. Don’t hold back, Lilith.”
He meant the words to bring peace between them after the argument, but her brows furrowed, and her eyes darkened. The longer she frowned, the longer he smiled. He was grasping a thinning thread between them. He could feel it.
Sliding her hand out from under his, she cupped his cheek before kissing him. It was a soft kiss, chaste, a tender pressing of moist lips. She looked into his eyes as she did it. He did not blink or close his eyes. Tentatively, he palmed her waist. As if spurred by his touch, she leaned against him.
Though they stood to one side of the vestibule in a darkened corner, it was too public a place for such an embrace. All the same, he hardened at the feel of her. Closing his eyes, his mouth met hers, open and probing. She arched her body, twining her arms around his neck.
A door shutting in the distance brought Walter back to reality. They parted, she looking flushed, her eyes bright.
“I’ve not yet changed,” he muttered, self-conscious of his erection and the fleeting time before Roddam would return.
She smiled shyly and said, “Hurry back. I want to show you my beach.”
Turning on his heel, he raced up the stairs with renewed spirit. It felt rather like yesterday had not happened. She still wanted him. There was still a chance. He rehearsed his proposal all the way back to his chamber.
The storm raged outside the carriage, wind rocking Lilith across the hard seat. The faces of the two men across from her were darkened by the night. Lightning lit only their tricorns and greatcoats. Thunder cracked.
Lilith screamed. The two men did not respond. Their bodies swayed with the carriage. She screamed, her voice hoarse from hours of calling for help. She called for her mother. Where was her mother? Who were these men?
With another clap of thunder, the carriage jolted and slid, slamming Lilith’s body against the carriage door, knocking her unconscious.
When she came to, she was in the arms of one of the men, rain blinding her to all but the tip of his hat, outlined with each lightning flash. Kicking her feet and pummeling her fists, she wriggled free, falling to the mud at his feet. Slipping and staggering, she regained balance and set off at a run only to be grabbed by a vise-like fist and dragged against the man.
She flailed, screaming for her mother, screaming for her brother. Where was Sebastian? Why did he not come for her?
A church loomed ahead. Blessed be. She was saved.
The church door opened to a plump woman who ushered her inside. The man released his grip. Lilith hurled herself at the woman, grabbing ahold of her apron for safety.
Smiling down at Lilith, Mrs. Brighton welcomed her home. No, no, this was not home. No, no, no. Lilith turned back to the church door and the rainy night, screaming for her mother and brother. The door slammed, shutting her in darkness.
Scrambling for the door hand
le, Lilith felt her way down a stone corridor until the cold metal was in her grasp. Wrenching the door open, she ran outside, only it was not a rainy street into which she ran, but her nursery back home.
She was home! Glory be. She was home!
A man, his back to her, stood in the middle of her nursery. He turned.
Walter. Oh, thank the Lord, Walter would know how to find her mother and brother. He would help her. He stood before her, assuring her she was safe.
In his arms, he cradled a baby. Though he did not say so, she knew the baby was hungry. She needed to feed him. Their child? Of course, it was their child! A baby boy. She was home. She was safe.
Smiling, she walked over to Walter and reached for their son.
Walter snatched the baby out of her reach, spitting on her in disgust. His features contorted until the face of her father stared back.
Pointing a gnarled finger, he howled in Walter’s voice but with Tobias’ face, “Away from my son, devil’s spawn!”
She turned to run, but every turn she made, he stood before her, pointing and repeating, “Devil’s spawn!”
Over and over the face of her father and the voice of Walter screeched at her. The baby looked up from his swaddling. It was her brother. He pointed a chubby finger and howled, “Devil’s spawn!”
Covering her ears with her hands to shut out the howling, she closed her eyes and ran blindly. The nursery door slammed behind her.
Lilith awoke at the clap of thunder, sitting bolt upright, clawing at the bedsheets. Her body shook, her teeth chattering. It took long minutes to remember where she was and to convince herself she was not dreaming this time. Another clap of thunder. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she shivered.
Thunder shook the room. Lightning brightened the space. Wind howled.
One deep breath after another, she tried to calm herself. Though she was awake, the groans and creaks of the house frightened her, sounding ever so much like footfalls in the hallway. She pulled her knees to her chest. She did not believe in ghosts. She did not believe the sounds were the footsteps of her father. They were only sounds of the storm. Hugging her knees, she tried to steady her thumping heartbeat.
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