But with a flick of its tail the fox leaped to its feet and after one last, lingering glance over its shoulder bounded away into the woods.
Beatrice was nearly to her bedroom when realization struck, swift and clear as the toll of a bell. She brought both hands to her mouth and sagged against the wall, eyes brimming with tears. “Oh,” she whispered through her fingers. “I see now. I understand.”
Beatrice had never been an overly religious woman, nor one who believed in signs. Her sister did, she always had, but whenever Jo would see a white dove flying overhead and exclaim it was a sign their beloved grandmother was looking down on them, or find a ladybug on her coat and proudly proclaim she would have good luck for the rest of day, Beatrice had never taken her seriously. How could she? It was all foolish nonsense. That’s what she had always believed. At least until just now, when she’d remembered something long ago forgotten… and in remembering, finally felt the burden of her husband’s death lift from her shoulders.
She didn’t know if it was divine intervention, fate, or something else entirely. For all she knew it could be a bit of Christmas magic, brought on by a holiday that celebrated the birth of a very special son. All she did know was Jeffrey’s favorite animal had always been the fox… and wherever he was, he wanted her to be happy.
Her gaze drifted to the nearest window, this time seeking out the snow instead of shying away from it. “You were my first love.” She drew a trembling breath. “And you will always be in my heart, but it is time to let you go. So that is what I am doing. I am letting you go, Jeffrey.”
A smile curved her lips, catching the tears that streamed in silvery rivulets down her cheeks. With one last, lingering glance out the window at the full moon she turned and walked away, each step lighter than the last as she was finally able to leave her broken heart behind.
CHAPTER TEN
“Sadie, have you seen Mr. Emerson?” Morning sunlight reflected off Beatrice’s freshly braided hair as she descended the grand staircase, one hand poised gracefully on the railing, the other resting on the curve of her hip.
Being forced to eat several meals throughout the day had finally begun to make a visible improvement in her slender frame. While she was still thin, her face had lost its hollow edges and both her hips and thighs had begun to fill out. There was a healthy glow about her. A sparkle in her eyes. A bounce when she walked. This morning she had woken feeling like a new person, and when Sadie glanced up at her and did a double take Beatrice couldn’t help but grin.
“Do you like it?” she asked, doing a quick spin as she stepped down off the stairs. Her skirt, a bright, cheerful confection of rose colored muslin trimmed in white lace, swirled out around her. “I found it in the rear of my closet. It must have belonged to the previous owner’s wife for the lace is quite old, but it is lovely, do you not think?”
“It is beautiful.” Looking rather stunned, Sadie set the cloth she’d been using to dust aside and walked a slow circle around Beatrice. “You’re beautiful, Lady Bea.” Her lips pursed before she asked bluntly, “What happened?”
Smoothing out the skirt with an absent sweep of her palm, Beatrice evaded Sadie’s stare and murmured, “Happened? Whatever do you mean?”
“You look different. You even sound different. All happy like,” the maid decided, tapping her chin. “I cannot quite lay my finger on it… ANNA! ANNA, GET IN HERE!”
Wincing from the sheer volume of Sadie’s voice, Beatrice waved her hands. The last thing she wanted was to be forced to explain why she’d had a sudden change of heart. Somehow she doubted a talking fox would be easily understood, especially given she still wasn’t convinced the animal had even been real. A flight of fancy, perhaps, or a dream, or something else that defied explanation altogether. Either way she thought it best to keep the fox to herself, for the one thing she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt was that he’d appeared for her and her alone. To help her, to save her, and to push her in the right direction. A direction that led straight to Jack Emerson.
To Beatrice’s surprise she had slept fitfully through the entire night, and woken in the morning with one clear goal in mind: to tell Jack how she really felt. Not what she thought she was supposed to feel or what she wanted to feel, but what was truly in her heart, with nothing held back. She wanted to be as honest with him as he’d been with her, and in her honesty finally admit the truth: she’d fallen in love with him.
It was not the safe, predictable, comfortable sort of love she’d felt for Jeffrey. No. What she felt for Jack was something wilder… something untamed. It burned inside of her, a constant need aching to be satisfied. For once in her life she wanted something not because it suited her best interests or because it was expected of her, but because to do otherwise would, quite simply, destroy her. Jack, rogue that he was, may not have been the right choice... but for Beatrice, he was the only choice.
“No, no,” she told Sadie quickly, “there really is no need to call your sister over-”
But it was too late. Carrying a bucket of sudsy water in one hand and a wet rag in the other, Anna stomped into the front foyer, brow creased in annoyance. “What is it this time? I told you not to bother me unless - Lady Bea!” She set the bucket down with a thunk, sending water sloshing over the edge. “Goodness. I did not expect to see you up so early. Are you feeling alright?”
“Quite fine. I really just need to know where-”
“You look beautiful! Did you change something with your hair?”
“She’s wearing a new dress,” Sadie supplied helpfully.
Anna shook her head. “No,” she said as she stepped up to stand beside her sister, “that is not it. Although the dress is pretty and very suitable for this time of year. Which reminds me. Lady Bea, what do you think of bringing some holly into the house? There are a line of bushes beside the guest cottage and it wouldn’t take but a minute to cut a few bushels. I thought we might decorate some of the windows and-”
“Yes, yes,” Beatrice said impatiently. “That would be fine. Decorate all you like.”
“Did you hear that?” Anna exchanged a significant glance with her sister. “She said yes.”
“She did indeed,” Sadie agreed. “You’re right, Anna. I do not think she’s feeling well. Perhaps a touch of fever. Lady Bea, perhaps it would be best if you returned to bed.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake. I am fine.” Seeing the dubious expressions on both of the maid’s faces, Beatrice grinded her teeth and prayed for patience. “I have had a change of heart, that is all. You may outfit the manor for Christmas in any way you see fit. There. May we move on? Because I really need to know-”
“Can we hang mistletoe?” Sadie asked.
“And red ribbons?” Anna put in eagerly. “I found an entire box of them when I was cleaning out a closet on the third floor. They’re a bit ragged at the edges, but nothing a bit of sewing cannot fix.”
“Yes!” Beatrice cried. “But first, will someone tell me where the bloody hell Mr. Emerson is?”
Absolute silence followed her demand and Beatrice, having never before cursed aloud, immediately felt contrite. “I apologize,” she said, drawing a sharp breath. “I did not mean to yell, it is only that I really need to speak with Mr. Emerson.”
“It isn’t that,” Anna said uneasily.
“Then what is it? Please tell me. I must know.”
“You tell her,” Anna whispered.
“No, you do it,” Sadie said.
“I don’t want to.”
“Well I don’t want to either!”
Beatrice stomped her foot. “Will someone please just tell me what is going on!”
“He left,” Sadie blurted out. “Mr. Emerson. He - he left. Early this morning.”
“He left,” Beatrice repeated faintly.
Sadie and Anna nodded in unison. “Yes,” they said together. “He left.”
At once Jack’s words from the night before ran through Beatrice’s mind.
All you have to do it tell
me and I’ll stay. I’ll stay for as long as it takes.
But she hadn’t told him to stay. She’d told him to leave… and he finally had.
“Oh. Oh no.” Floundering back, she landed hard on the bottom step in a pool of rose muslin. Sadie and Anna crouched on either side of her, their faces filled with concern as they each took one of her hands and squeezed.
“Lady Bea, are you… are you alright?” Sadie asked.
“Of course she isn’t alright,” Anna hissed, elbowing her sister in the ribs. “Does she look alright?”
Beatrice did not know how she looked, but she knew how she felt: absolutely and completely devastated. All of this was her fault. All along Jack had only been trying to help her and she’d denied him at every turn, stuck in a hell of her own making. Now he was gone, back to the life he’d known before he stumbled across a mad widow and tried to heal her broken heart.
“I need to go after him.” Shaking free of Anna and Sadie, she stood up, gaze flying to the door. “I cannot let him leave without telling him how I feel. Where did he go?” She whirled around. “What direction did he take? Do you know?”
“Well…” Sadie glanced at her sister. “No.”
“But he did go the stables first,” Anna supplied. “So perhaps Tom can tell you.”
Mind racing, thoughts a frantic jumble of hope and excitement and fear, Beatrice dashed to the closet and began pulling out winter garments left and right. The maids hurried to her aid, and within minutes she was swathed head to toe in a protective layer of wool and fur.
“Do you want us to come with-”
“No.” She cut Anna off with a firm shake of her head. “You must stay here in case Mr. Emerson returns. If he does, please do whatever it takes to delay him until I come back.”
“But what if…” Sadie hesitated. “What if he has gone into town?”
“Then I shall follow him.”
“Into town?” Sadie said incredulously. “But you have not left the manor in-”
“Let her go.” Taking a hold of her sister’s arm, Anna drew her away from the door. “Can you not see she’s a woman in love? Best of luck to you, Lady Bea.”
With a quick, appreciative smile Beatrice opened the door and, not giving herself the luxury of thinking twice, dashed out into the snow.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Beatrice found Tom in the barn, giving the horses their breakfast. He looked up when she entered and instantly set the bundle of hay he’d been carrying to the side. “Is something wrong, Lady Bea?”
She tugged the blue scarf she wore down below her chin. “Everything is fine, Tom, not to worry. But I do need to know if Mr. Emerson came in here earlier this morning.”
Looking understandably confused, Tom scratched the back of his neck. “Aye, he did. Right after sunrise, in fact.”
Beatrice’s heart gave a hard thump inside of her chest. “Did you speak to him? What did he want?”
“To ask if he could borrow a horse. He said he would return it, but we’ve only got the two old broodmares and Dusty.” At the sound of his name Dusty, a chestnut with more white hair than red on his noble face, stuck his head out over the edge of the stall and nudged Tom’s shoulder. The groom returned the gesture in kind, rubbing the gelding’s muzzle. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked anxiously. “I would have let him have a horse, but the mares aren’t broke to ride and he’s a bit big for Dusty.”
“No. No,” Beatrice repeated as relief coursed through her. She’d been afraid Jack might have been halfway to London by now, but without a horse he had little options left to him save traveling by foot into Blooming Glen which meant she had a chance, however slim, of catching up to him. “You did nothing wrong, Tom. In fact, you have done me a great favor.”
The groom blinked. “I have?”
“Indeed. But I have one more favor to ask of you.”
“Anything, Lady Bea.”
“Do you think you could saddle Dusty?”
Wind rushed past Beatrice’s face as she hunched low over Dusty’s neck, bringing tears to her eyes and a flush of color to her cheeks. “Come on boy,” she urged, giving the old gelding an encouraging pat on his shoulder. “You can do it. Only a little bit further.”
As though he could sense the urgency of the situation, Dusty snorted and tossed his head before he increased his pace from a plodding walk to a rambling trot.
A fine racehorse the old gelding was not. Time had aged him, swelling his knees and swaying his spine, but it had not dampened his spirit nor, it seemed, his thirst for adventure. The moment Tom had slid a bit between his teeth he’d come alive and with hardly any direction from Beatrice had taken willingly to the main road, instinctively traveling the same route he’d taken hundreds of times before when he had been young and able.
“There you go!” she said, trying not to grimace as the bouncing gait sent her to the back of the saddle. Although she’d once been a rather adept rider, it had been quite a while since she’d sat on a horse, and with the extra layers of clothing it made balancing all the more difficult. Still she persevered, determined to catch up to Jack even if it meant riding straight into Blooming Glen and facing every last villager she’d spent the past two years hiding from.
But not anymore, she thought with a newfound determination that had seeped all the way down into her bones. I am not hiding anymore.
Dusty stopped with a suddenness that sent Beatrice lurching up on his neck. She scrambled for purchase, digging her mitten covered hands into the long, tough strands of his mane as he snorted and pranced to the side of the road, eyes fixed on something in the distance.
“What is it?” As her mind irrationally filled with images of fierce, hungry wolves, Beatrice shoved herself back into the saddle and took up the reins, scanning the wintery landscape for any sign of what had gotten Dusty so spooked. “What do you see? Is there something…Jack.”
He stood around the next bend, his broad shoulders and tall, lanky build unmistakable.
Drawing a deep breath, Beatrice quietly clucked and squeezed her heels into Dusty’s sides. The gelding walked on, calmer now that he had identified the snow monster as a man. He even nickered as they drew closer, the sound of his friendly greeting loud enough to halt Jack in his tracks. He turned, flattening the side of his hand against his brow as he glared into the bright winter sun.
“Who the devil - Beatrice?” His arm dropped. “What the bloody hell are you doing out here?”
As she swung down from Dusty and hit the frozen ground with a soft oomph, it struck Beatrice that she had absolutely no idea what she wanted to say. She walked towards Jack on shaking legs, stopping when she got close enough to see the color of his eyes. He stared at her, his expression inscrutable save the faintest hint of a frown.
“I… I came looking for you.”
“Yes,” he said coldly. “I can see that. Why?”
“Because… because…” Flustered, she fell silent, biting hard on the inside of her cheek as she tried to think of a single thing to say. And because nothing came immediately to mind, she used Jack’s own words instead. “You. I am here for you.”
For one single, terrifying moment she thought he was going to turn from her, but with a muttered curse he closed the distance between them in two rapid strides and clasped her hard against his chest, voice trembling ever-so-slightly as he rested his chin atop her head and said, “It took you long enough. I’m bloody well freezing.”
A muffled sob rose inside of Beatrice’s throat but she choked it back. Now was not the time for tears, however happy they may have been. “I never wanted you to leave. Even when I said it, I never wanted it. Not once. Not really.” She tilted her head back. “I was afraid you were gone for good.”
Jack began to rub her back in slow, gentle circles that helped her catch her breath and settle her nerves. “I would have come back.”
“Yes,” she said as she studied his face and saw the warm truth reflected in his steady gaze. “I know you would have.”
And that, more than anything else, made all the difference. She may not have known much more about Jack than his name, but what was the history of a person compared to their heart? He wasn’t the gentleman she’d always dreamed of, but he was a gentle man. Beneath his gruff exterior he was caring. He was kind. He was compassionate. He was everything she’d always wanted after Jeffrey’s death, and everything she’d been afraid of never finding again. “Will you come back with me now?”
“That depends.”
Beatrice bit her lip. “On what?”
“On if you will marry me.” He laughed aloud at her expression and slipped his hand beneath her hat to tousle her hair. “Don’t you want to make an honest man out of me, Lady Tumbley?”
“I do, but-”
“Then marry me.” He sobered, golden eyes darkening. “I know there are a thousand reasons not to, but all it takes is one reason why you should.”
Moved by the tenderness in Jack’s voice, she reached up and gently brushed a curl away from his temple. “And what reason would that be?”
“Because I love you. I love you, Beatrice Tumbley, and I want you to be my wife.”
For Beatrice, it was reason enough.
EPILOGUE
They were married twelve days later in a tiny church in the middle of Blooming Glen. It snowed during the ceremony, which Beatrice took to be a good sign. She was no longer afraid of winter for it had brought her Jack, and for that she would always be eternally grateful.
As Christmas rapidly approached the newlyweds learned more about each other with every passing day. Jack learned Beatrice absolutely despised black pudding, and Beatrice learned Jack was a baron of considerable holdings, including a modest country estate only two day’s ride from Stonewall.
Regency Christmas (Holiday Collection) Page 22