Every Thursday at the same time there was a cottage where likeminded men and women gathered in order to share and learn the craft of writing. Hannah had learned of the place while eavesdropping at a party she had attended and soon found her way to the cottage of one Mr. Albert Moore. He was a sheep farmer who had never married, which was an oddity for a man forty years of age. However, his love and knowledge of reading and writing, a strange ability by a man of his station to be sure, intrigued Hannah. More importantly, he helped guide her in her endeavor.
She recalled her third time at his home, when she had read an excerpt of her novel to the group. Although many had complimented her, it was Albert who later came to her privately.
“I must say,” he had whispered to her, “you are a far better writer than any of these others.”
She could not help but beam at his words, for they had boosted her spirit, as well as her confidence that she was making the right decision for her life.
He lowered his voice further. “However, I would caution you to keep my observation to yourself. We would not wish to upset the others, now, would we?”
It was that continued kindness and support that Hannah had accepted a personal invitation this Monday night to join Albert in a special meeting. At first, she had been excited. It was to be only the two of them, and he promised a worthy surprise if she agreed. Of course, she had agreed readily. How could she not?
Now, however, she questioned her judgment. It was one thing to sneak away to join a group and quite another to agree to meet a man alone. She had confided in no one about this meeting, so if anything went awry, no one would know her whereabouts. If the ton learned about this, her name would be ruined forever. If her mother found out, it would crush her. And what if the man had other intentions?
Juliet had spoken often of men who wooed women with words. Was this what Albert was attempting to do?
Well, it is too late to turn back now, she counseled herself, for if I do, I may very likely miss the opportunity of a lifetime.
She guided the horse down the small path that led to the cottage, and her mind turned to Albert. Her worries were unfounded and silly; the man was like her, forsaking love in order to dedicate his time to the love of books. This brought her a sense of relief as she tied the horse to one of the trees as she had done on so many evenings before.
However, as she walked toward the cottage, she could not stop a tentacle of doubt from tickling her mind once again. Perhaps it would be best if she returned home.
Before she could change her mind, the door opened, and Albert appeared in the doorway. There was no turning back now.
“Miss Hannah,” he said with a bow. “You decided to come after all. I worried you would give into the fear with which so many new authors are struck.” He wore a simple white shirt and waistcoat and tan breeches, all well-worn, and she was embarrassed to realize that even Daniel, the stable hand at Scarlett Hall, had better clothing.
However, it was not the wealth that defined a person but his or her heart, and Albert had been nothing but supportive of her desire to write. And his smile was as inviting as it always was. Why had she been so concerned? The man, though a watcher of sheep by trade, had always behaved like a gentleman.
“Not at all,” Hannah replied, glad her voice did not expose her lie. “I am not like other authors, for I shall complete my novel one day. And have it published.”
He stepped back to allow her to enter, and with renewed confidence she moved past him into the now familiar interior of the cottage. The house was small, consisting of only two rooms. One room was a bedroom Hannah had never seen, and the other was a sitting room combined with the kitchen and dining room with space large enough to host the weekly meetings without making participants feel cramped. Few pieces of furniture included a sofa with worn cushions, three small tables, and several simple chairs, all of which would remain empty this night.
The sound of the door closed behind her, and Hannah’s heart thumped and she let out a small yelp.
“What is wrong?” Albert asked as he brushed back his dark hair speckled with silver. He placed calloused hands on her arms. “Are you all right? Was your journey safe?”
She swallowed hard, but the worry behind his eyes made her chastise herself inwardly once again. “I am well,” she replied. “I believe my concern comes from my fear of being caught. Forgive my skittishness.”
Albert sighed as he dropped his hands to his side. “It is expected that you would be afraid of discovery.”
“It is?” Hannah asked with surprise. “I thought you would think me a coward.”
“Not at all. You stand far above those of the ton. The truth of the matter is, they would be jealous if they were to learn about your gift.”
Hannah giggled. Albert was always encouraging her and lifting her spirit. Many times after the group was dismissed, she would share her heart and the problems at home. Each time, he would comfort her, assuring her that she was strong and would achieve her dream despite the complications of her life. It was those compliments and his willingness to help that had always made her feel wanted, a feeling she had not experienced at home for some time.
“Thank you,” she said. “You are always so kind.”
He smiled and took her elbow. “Please, sit. I have a surprise for you.”
Hannah nodded and walked over to one of the chairs, but before she could sit, he said, “On the couch, if you will, please.”
Thinking nothing odd in the request, she sat on the sofa as Albert went to the area designated as his kitchen. When he returned to the seating area, he carried with him two glasses of wine. “I believe tonight will be a night of celebration.”
“Celebration?” Hannah asked. “What will we celebrate?”
“I have done much thinking over the last few months,” he replied as he handed her one of the glasses and sat beside her on the sofa. He nodded at the glass. “Take a drink. I believe you will like it.”
She did as he requested. The wine was good with a bold fruity flavor that rolled on her tongue. “This is lovely.”
“I saved up to buy it especially for this special night,” Albert said with a wide grin. “However, that is unimportant. What is important is you and your happiness.”
Hannah could not help but smile. He really was a kind man. She took another sip of her wine. It was good enough to have sat on the table in Scarlett Hall.
“I imagine you are wondering why I asked you over tonight.”
“I must admit that my curiosity is piqued,” she replied.
When Albert placed his glass on a nearby table and reached over and took her hand, her heart skipped a beat, and she had to fight the urge to pull back her hand.
“I would never hurt you,” he whispered.
“I know,” she said before taking a deeper drink of her wine. “What is it you wish to share with me?”
He smiled, and for a brief moment, Hannah swore she saw desire in his eyes. She dismissed it almost immediately. For one, she had no idea what desire truly looked like and by believing she was seeing such an emotion was an unfair judgement. For another, it could have been a reflection from the candlelight and nothing more.
“You have shared your heart with me many times,” he said, still holding her hand. “Do you regret doing so?”
“Not at all. It is wonderful to have someone to whom I can confide.”
He placed his other hand on top of hers so hers was now enveloped in his. “And you have spoken of concerns for attending the London season, have you not?”
Her mouth went dry, and she took another drink of wine in an attempt to add moisture to it. “Yes. I must leave in three days, but I have no desire to participate in a ritual to find a man to marry.” Such a thought was more worrisome than being found in this man’s house alone. “I do not wish that.”
“And neither do I,” Albert said. “I have come to respect you as the strong and intelligent woman you are. It is true; you are far too wise to be married off
to some gentleman who will never understand your love of the written word.”
Hannah nodded. This man truly did understand her. “That is my greatest fear. Unlike my book, where I shall choose the ending, I will have no choice in marrying or continuing my dream.” She struggled to keep the sadness at bay, and she emptied her wine glass and set it on the table beside Albert’s.
“If you close your eyes,” Albert said with a smile, “I will tell you your surprise.”
She could not help but return his smile. “Very well,” she replied as she did as he bade.
“Imagine publishing your first novel. The people will love it and want more. The publisher will ask you to write other novels. Can you see it?”
Hannah nodded. In her mind’s eye, she saw people reading her novel at every street corner. “I can see it,” she whispered. “I shall walk around the streets of London as people speak of my book, not knowing it was I who wrote it.”
“Yes,” Albert said. “Now imagine you are married to a man who cares not for your talent. Instead he has you attending parties and doing his will.”
The thought of that frightened her. “Then the world will never know my book,” she whispered. “For my husband would never allow it.”
“Most men would not,” Albert said, his voice now so quiet she could barely hear him. “But there is one who would. A man who would support you and encourage you. He would work from the rising to the setting of the sun while you wrote. His happiness would come from knowing that you did as your heart desired.”
Hannah smiled. “That would be lovely,” she said. “If only it were true and such a man existed.”
“It is true,” Albert said. “For I am that man.”
Confusion coursed through Hannah. What did he mean, he was that man?
Then, to her shock and dismay, she felt something press against her lips, and her eyes flew open with alarm to find Albert kissing her. It was nothing like the kisses described in books, for the feeling was unsettling. There was no passion, no flutter of her heart, but instead a cold and bland sensation.
She pulled her hand from his and pushed him away. “Albert?” she said with an angry gasp. “What has come over you? We are friends, and I would never have expected such behavior from you!” What she wanted to do was weep and, even more, to return home. It had been a mistake coming here! What had she been thinking? She stood to leave, but Albert blocked her path. Was that anger in his eyes now?
“For over a year, I have helped you. Now I have devised a plan to save you, and you are angry with me?”
“That does not mean you can take liberties! What is it you want?”
“Marry me,” Albert said to Hannah’s astonishment. “We shall have a life together. I will work to provide for you, and you shall continue to write. You will be happy, and so will I.”
Hannah’s jaw dropped. She did not want to marry anyone, but certainly not a man she did not love. “I…I do not…”
“Listen for one moment before you decide. If you were to marry me, think of the life you could lead! It would be spent writing and following your dreams. I just want to be there with you to support you in this endeavor of yours. I do not have the riches others who seek your hand possess, but I can give you my heart.”
Hannah was overcome by the kindness the man demonstrated, and she could not stop her anger from turning to compassion. The man, who by all accounts was poor, had a rich heart. “I do not know,” she whispered.
In truth, she did not, for what he offered was everything she wanted. To be able to write her books and have a husband who supported her was a dream come true.
However, she knew her mother, nor anyone else in society, would never approve such a union. Although she did not care what society thought of her, how her mother and sisters viewed her was important. “This is a very complicated decision; one I shall need time on which to think.”
“I expected nothing less from a mind like yours,” Albert said. “And I will be here waiting for your reply as your friend.”
“Thank you,” Hannah said, overcome with emotion. What emotion had yet to be determined.
He opened the door for her and followed her outside. “Hannah.”
She turned to face him, fearing he wished to kiss her again. “Your dreams are right here,” he said with his hand open, palm up before him. “You may choose to take them.” He paused for a moment. “Or put them away forever.” His hand closed. “That is for you to decide.”
“Thank you,” she whispered and then hurried to her horse.
As she rode away wanting nothing more than to return to her home, new fears entered her mind. She had kissed a man she did not love; what did that make her? Would accepting his proposal to have her dream fulfilled be worth having to kiss him again? She did not know what she was to do, for the answer to have her dream fulfilled resided in a man she did not love. The one thing she had vowed to never accept.
***
After returning the horse to the stables, Hannah made her way up the steps to Scarlett Hall. She loved her home and the feeling of security it provided and could not wait to return to her room to consider the matters of the night. Usually, she would climb the trellis that led to her bedroom window; however, tonight she decided to risk going through the front door. She was unsure if she had the strength to make that climb.
Slipping inside the house, she let out a breath, relieved that the night’s events were over.
“I am glad you decided to return,” her mother said, startling Hannah. She looked up as her mother came down the stairs with a candle in her hand. “I have always expected this of Juliet but not you, Hannah.”
Shame came over Hannah as her mother came to a stop before her. “Mother,” she said not wanting to tell the woman the truth. “I was only…” her words trailed off as guilt washed over her.
“Let us go to the study and speak. I am afraid our whispers will carry through this house, awakening more than people.”
Hannah found the comment odd, but she followed her mother without speaking as her mind churned. Should she tell the woman the truth? Or would it be best if she attempted an elaborate tale as Juliet was prone to do? Neither choice eased her mind.
As her mother lit other candles from the one she held, she said nothing, which only increased Hannah’s concern. When the veil of darkness retreated, her mother walked over to the large desk that had belonged to her father.
“Sit,” her mother said as she indicated the wing backed chair in front of the desk. “I believe we shall be talking for some time.”
Hannah did as her mother bade and was alarmed when her mother sat behind the desk. When she spoke from her father’s chair, it did not bode well for the receiver of her speech.
Hannah cleared her throat. “What should I say?” she asked, a defiance rising inside her. “What is it you wish to know?” She almost laughed. Of course, she knew what her mother would ask, but she had to keep an air of innocence about her for as long as she could.
“This is not your first adventure out at night, is it?”
How did her mother know? Yet, the woman seemed to know everything no matter how much Hannah tried to hide her tracks.
“No,” Hannah replied.
“How many times have you sneaked out?”
Should she lie? No, truth would be best at this moment. “At least twenty.” She shifted in her chair. “You see, there is a group…that is…”
“A society of writers,” her mother finished for her, and Hannah could not help but gasp. “Where the members share their thoughts on a variety of books. Where one goes to improve his or her craft.”
Hannah stared at her mother in shock. “How did you know? The society is secret. No one outside of it is to know.”
Her mother gave a laugh that held little mirth. “I imagine I learned about it in the same way you did.” She sighed. “One thing you will learn in life is that secrets have a way of finding new ears to hear them. Not all, mind you, but that is of no consequence
. What is of consequence is that you must stop this immediately.”
Hannah wrung her hands. She did not wish to argue with her mother, but the woman did not seem to understand the importance of her meetings. “I am sorry, but I cannot.”
“You will,” her mother stated firmly. “You are to leave in a few days for London. There, you will enjoy whatever balls and parties for which you receive invites. If all goes well, you will meet a gentleman. You are a woman now; far too old for these childish antics.”
A gnawing in the pit of Hannah’s stomach made her feel ill. “You do not understand…”
Her mother raised a hand, and Hannah clamped her mouth shut. “I understand better than you realize. However, it is my responsibility to look after you, to guide you in life. I cannot, and will not, allow this.”
Anger rose in Hannah. “You care for me now?” she demanded as a hot tear escaped her eye. “I have not seen much of you in the past year, for your time has been consumed with Juliet and Isabel. I was left alone with no one to care for me!”
“I…” Her mother’s voice broke. “I have been consumed with problems that do not concern you. I have failed you, and for that I apologize. However, that does not change the fact that in three days, you will be leaving here whether you want to or not.”
Hannah had heard enough. Only one thing would allow her from being forced to endure the London season. “I have met a man,” she said with a jut to her chin. “A man who supports my dreams of one day having a published novel, and tonight, he asked for my hand in marriage.”
Never had Hannah seen her mother move so quickly as she rounded the desk and stood before her. “Who is this man? What did he tell you?”
Hannah had witnessed her mother’s anger only a few times before, but never had she seen it this strong. What she wanted to do was lie, to tell her mother that he was a noble baron and that she had agreed to his request. However, she had done enough deception to last her three lifetimes. “His name is Albert Moore, the man who leads our society meetings.”
Secrets of Scarlett Hall Box Set: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection Page 23