Summerset Abbey: Spring Awakening (Summerset Abbey Trilogy)

by Brown, T. J.

  He probably couldn’t.

  She firmed her chin. That was just fine with her, but she was under no obligation to make it easy for him. “I saw Cristobel the other day. She misses you.”

  His long legs faltered for a moment at the mention at something so personal, and Rowena felt a twinge of triumph that she had rattled him. She also felt a ripple of pain. After all these months, it still hurt to know he couldn’t possibly have loved her as much as she loved him. She’d never have walked away the way he did. It made her angry that he still had power over her, that seeing him still hurt her terribly. It meant a part of her still loved him. Yet how could she, when she was committed to Sebastian? And when her love was stained with so much hurt and anger? Her eyes swept down to the ring on her finger, Jon looking at her from the corner of her eye.

  He said nothing at the mention of his little sister, and Rowena fought an urge to slap him. Instead, she took refuge in being aloof and coldly professional.

  “I believe Mr. Dirkes is going to start building SPAD-like aeroplanes,” she said, just to say something.

  “I’m sure he will, as that’s the reason he borrowed it. He could build aeroplanes day and night from now until Easter and still not fulfill the contracts the government has given him.”

  The tautness of his tone shivered down her spine. Why was he behaving so coldly? What had she done to merit such hostility? He had walked away from her.

  He escorted her around the hangar to a square where temporary buildings had been erected in a hasty attempt to build a base. The tension between them was so uncomfortable that Rowena was relieved when they reached headquarters. Jon saluted the commander. “Miss Buxton has brought in the SPAD from the Dirkes factory, Colonel Atkins. There was a problem with the landing, but the aeroplane is in one piece and we are fixing the problem.”

  The colonel nodded. “And I trust you are in one piece as well, Miss Buxton?”

  She nodded. “I am very well, thank you.”

  “When Douglas Dirkes called and told me a young woman would be delivering the aeroplane, I have to admit I was quite surprised. Seeing how lovely you are only increases my amazement at your accomplishments. Mr. Dirkes must have a great deal of confidence in your abilities, Miss Buxton.”

  She smiled, not daring to look at Jon. “He knew I had a good instructor.”

  “May I be dismissed, sir?” Jon asked abruptly.

  “Of course, Lieutenant. And good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Rowena felt her body deflate when Jon slammed the door behind him. Just like that, he was gone.

  Again.

  The colonel said something, and with effort Rowena dragged her attention back to him. “Pardon?”

  “I said I will have someone drive you to the inn in Hastings. He said you had a ride back to the factory tomorrow, correct?”

  Rowena nodded. “I’m actually not going back to the factory right away. My fiancé is meeting me this evening and we’re going to spend the day in Brighton before he takes me back.”

  “Very well, then.” The colonel led her out into the square where his own motorcar had been pulled up. His hand lingered on her elbow for a little longer than necessary, but Rowena was used to that. Most of the men she dealt with had been away from their sweethearts for far too long.

  She kept her composure, chatting to the private who drove her into town and to the innkeeper, who asked if she would be down to dinner. She assured him she would and was expecting company. Then she went upstairs on legs that shook more than mere exhaustion would have warranted. But not until she shut the door behind her and sat on the slender, white, organdy-covered bed did she let the tears that had been building up during the scant fifteen minutes she had spent in Jon’s presence surface.

  All of the old insecurities, anger, and heartbreak came rushing back, but even as she wiped her face with a handkerchief, she knew the difference between the tears of last spring and the tears of today. Whereas once her tears had been born of fury and grief, now they were born of regret and the thought of what might have been.

  Rowena took a deep, shuddering breath before going into the small water closet and splashing her cold face with water. She changed out of her flying clothes. The uniform she and Mr. Dirkes had discussed had never materialized, and Rowena was thankful. She far preferred her warm woolen split skirt, much like the kind one wore for bicycling, a heavy woolen sweater, and the new leather jacket Victoria had sent her from London with a note that contained a stanza from Percy Bysshe Shelley’s poem “To a Skylark”:

  Higher still and higher

  From the earth thou springest,

  Like a cloud of fire;

  The blue deep thou wingest,

  And singing still dost soar, and soaring ever singest.

  Rowena kept the note in the pocket of her jacket and wore it every time she flew.

  She slipped into a simple gabardine suit with pleats in the front and back of the skirt and a row of tiny tortoiseshell buttons going up the front of the jacket. She’d chosen the gabardine because the material traveled well and took little fuss. She’d also brought an automobile coat, as she and Sebastian would be driving to Brighton in the morning and then on to Summerset tomorrow night.

  Unsure of what time Sebastian would be getting in, she decided to go for a short walk to stretch her legs. Sitting in an aeroplane was wonderful, but not exactly comfortable. She buttoned up her automobile coat and checked her face in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy, and though she preferred going bareheaded now, she picked up the small taffeta hat she wore in a roofless motorcar. She arranged the netting designed to protect her face to hide the redness of her eyes.

  Like Brighton, Hastings was a fishing and resort town, and the shops and buildings catered to the upper classes. Unlike other resort towns, the place did not have a sad and lonely feeling as if abandoned by tourists, but rather a sense of relief as if the locals, mostly fishermen and their families, were glad to be rid of the lot of them. She walked along the promenade and noted that though many of the shops were already shuttered for the winter, others were doing a brisk trade among the locals.

  She spotted an open bookshop and decided to go find something to read. Losing herself in a book would be a welcome distraction. Perhaps she could find a place to have tea and read until Sebastian came.

  The shop was old and cluttered and smelt of both the sea and old books, which wasn’t unpleasant, and Rowena spirits lifted as she browsed. An old man with an even older top hat sat behind the desk reading. He had barely glanced up when she entered except to bid her good afternoon. He and the striped tabby cat sitting on the counter next to him both turned away as if she were no longer of any interest.

  The Jane Austens tempted her, but then she spotted E. M. Forster’s Howards End. She’d read A Room with a View and adored it, but hadn’t yet read this one, though it had been out for several years.

  Rowena was paying for the book and was just about to leave when the bell above the door tinkled. Recognition jolted through her body. Jon.

  “I thought I would find you here,” he said quietly.

  Trembling, she took her change from the old man and turned toward the door. She brushed past him without acknowledging his presence and went out into the chill autumn air.

  He followed her as she continued her walk at a brisker pace. “The question is why you were looking for me,” she said without looking at him.

  “I thought we should talk.” His voice was low, and though she ached to see the look on his face, she kept her eyes straight ahead.

  “I have little to say. The time for talking passed months ago.” She spat the words at him like pebbles thrown into a pond.

  “Maybe I want to talk to you. Maybe I want to apologize.”

  She clutched her purchase tighter to her chest as pain stabbed at her heart. “Or maybe you just want to draw me in, only to cast me aside again. I was such a fool!”

  He grabbed her elbow. “It wasn’t lik
e that and you know it. Rowena, stop!”

  She stopped then, breathing hard, and tilted her head back. “I don’t know what it was like. I loved you. You said you loved me. We became lovers and you left. Tell me your version.”

  He took a deep breath. “Maybe I was hasty last spring.”

  “Maybe?” She couldn’t believe her ears. Maybe?

  The blue of his eyes glittered and it felt as if he were looking straight into her soul. “I made a mistake, Rowena. I’m so very sorry.”

  Rowena could almost hear the carefully constructed wall she had built around herself cracking like the shattering of ice across a pond. She shook her head denying his words. “No. It’s too late. I’m to be married.”

  Jonathon’s mouth tightened. “To Sebastian?”

  She nodded.

  He took her hand in his and removed her glove. He stared at the antique diamond ring she wore on her finger. “This isn’t you, Rowena,” he said, his voice urgent. “You keep trying to be like your family, and you’re nothing like them. You belong to the skies and you know it. How are you supposed to fly all hemmed in? Lord Billingsly is not going to want his wife winging through the skies of England.”

  She shook her head and pulled her arm away. “You’re mistaken. My uncle bought me a Vickers. My fiancé has already started building a hangar to house it.” Her voice grew harsh. “You know nothing about me or my life. You made rash judgments on what you thought you knew about us, and you were wrong.”

  She started to walk away, but again he reached out and grabbed her arm. “Perhaps. But I wasn’t wrong about you loving me. I wasn’t wrong about loving you.”

  His jaw worked and she didn’t know whether to trace the line with her fingertips or slap him. She did neither and instead stared up at him, confused thoughts fluttering in her mind. A woman passed by and Rowena realized they were standing on a sidewalk.

  She turned away and hunched her shoulders as if protecting her heart. “I would have died for you, but you wouldn’t fight for me. You walked away from me because I was a Buxton, and no matter how imperfect we are, I am still a Buxton. Could you honestly say that my last name and the wrongdoing my uncle committed against your family won’t always separate us?”

  Their eyes clashed, and part of her longed for him to say that it didn’t matter, that he would love her forever. Would she be willing to walk away from her life for him once again?

  The answer was far more complicated now than it would have been just a month ago.

  Then he looked away and let go of her arm.

  Disappointment knotted her stomach before she gave herself a mental shake. Had she really expected anything else? “Now if you will excuse me, I have to go meet my fiancé.”

  This time he didn’t try to stop her. As before, he stood and watched her walk away. But this time her heart was only bruised, not shattered.

  chapter

  ten

  Sebastian was waiting for her by the time she got back to the inn. A slow smile spread over his handsome face when she walked through the door. Part of her wanted to hurl herself into his arms. Sebastian meant safety, and his love for her would salve her wounded pride.

  But was that fair to him?

  “I was going to call out a search party, but wasn’t sure where you would be.”

  Jonathon had known exactly where to find me.

  She gave a small smile. “I went to a bookstore and found a place for tea and scones and read the afternoon away. It was lovely.”

  “I’m glad you had a good day. How was the flight?”

  The question warmed her heart. “It was good. Nothing out of the ordinary.” She removed her hat and blinked up at him. Sometimes she forgot how handsome he was. He leaned down and kissed her right there in the lobby, his lips lingering against hers. No fireworks, but she had been burned by fireworks before and was quite happy with warm, tender, and safe.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  “Just because.” His dark eyes smiled down at her. “You know I worry about you every time I know you’re going up.” He helped her off with her coat.

  She smiled. “I know. That’s why I tell you as little as possible.”

  “And I thank you for that. A friend of mine will be joining us for dinner. I ran into him at the base. I could hardly turn him down. I think you’ll like him.”

  She shook her head. “Of course I don’t mind. I didn’t bring anything dressy, though. There just isn’t enough room in the cockpit for luggage.”

  He grinned. “I hardly think that is going to be a problem. You’re lovely no matter what you wear.”

  “Wonderful. Just let me take my things up to my room. Go ahead and get us a table. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  She nodded to the clerk and climbed the stairs to her room. Turning on a light, she laid her coat and her hat on the bed, then went into the water closet. She stared at herself in the mirror. Redness lingered about her green eyes.

  Her day hadn’t been lovely, it had been terrible.

  She hadn’t brought any cosmetics with her to hide the lingering traces of her tears. She rarely used them anyway. Elaine and Victoria both thought them great fun, but Rowena considered them a bother. She could certainly use some rouge and kohl now, she thought. Anything to lessen the tense pallor of her complexion.

  Wetting a cool cloth, she laid it over her eyes and pinched her cheeks until they glowed. Better. She would tell Sebastian and his friend she was tired. It was preferable to telling her fiancé that she’d had her heart battered about by another man.

  The restaurant attached to the inn glittered under heavy crystal chandeliers. A green-and-gold carpet on the floor echoed the green of the wallpaper and the gold trim on the china and crystal Waterford glasses. Giant potted palms almost reached the high ceiling, and the fronds cast shadows on the walls, creating intimate little corners for diners wishing privacy. Like almost everything else in Hastings, the inn catered to the upper classes and produced a dining experience as agreeable as anything one could find in London.

  The waiter led her now to one of those cozy nooks. She felt quite out of place in her simple day suit, among the other women in their finery. To her relief, the place was nearly empty this time of year.

  Sebastian and his company stood when she came in, and the waiter helped her with her chair. Once sitting, Sebastian introduced her to his friend Reggie, who in turn introduced her to Lord Phillip Byron, an old college friend of his he had run into and invited to dinner. Reggie was an officer in Sebastian’s regiment and clad in his uniform, while Lord Byron was dressed in black tie.

  After introductions, the men talked amongst themselves as if they weren’t quite sure what to say to her. Rowena looked around and felt rather out of place beside them in the fine dining room. Over the past few weeks, she had begun to feel almost as if she were one of Mr. Dirkes’s crew. They didn’t exactly treat her like one of the men, but they were used to her comings and goings and she was no longer a novelty. The men at the factory and at the Plymouth and Hampshire bases knew her as Ro, the woman pilot. She couldn’t help but prefer that identity to her current status as Sebastian’s wellborn and plainly dressed fiancée.

  The waiter served their soup from a white, shell-shaped tureen, and Reggie, tall and lanky, leaned forward, his homely face alight with interest. “Sebastian tells me you are quite a good pilot. However did a young woman such as yourself get into something like that?”

  Her eyes flickered over to Sebastian, who was talking to the waiter.

  “I had a friend who was a pilot. He took me up in the aeroplane and I fell in love. My uncle bought me my own Vickers biplane for an engagement present and I took lessons. I’m licensed, you know.” She said this last bit with pride. It was quite the feather in her cap being one of few licensed female pilots in Britain.

  The pale, freckled man in black tie, who had nodded stiffly at their introduction, raised an eyebrow. “I find it difficult to believe that Lord Summerset woul
d allow his niece to fly an aeroplane.”

  Rowena stiffened. She’d met many men like Lord Byron—men who seemed by turns repulsed by her activities and dismissive of them. “Do you know my uncle, then, that you would know his preferences?”

  The man stiffened at her words, and Sebastian broke in smoothly. “Byron here sits on the House of Lords with your uncle.”

  Rowena nodded at the waiter, who ladled a fragrant, clear consommé into one of the gold-edged bowls. “So, Lord Byron, you know my uncle well then?”

  Uncomfortable now, he had to admit that he didn’t know her uncle very well at all. Rowena gave him a dismissive shrug, which only inflamed him.

  “I do know he seems fairly conservative,” he said, giving her a bold stare.

  She laughed, though she really wanted to toss her soup at him. If she were Victoria, she probably would have. “As I said, he is the one who bought me the aeroplane.” Rowena turned back to the friendlier man. “Are you interested in flying, Captain Crowley?”

  The moment passed, but Rowena had seen the malevolent look Lord Byron had shot her and shivered. Oysters were next, and then an excellent foie-gras terrine served with small triangles of toast, but Rowena had a difficult time eating with Lord Byron’s gimlet eyes on her. Sebastian seemed oblivious to the tension, but Reggie talked nonstop and included Rowena in the conversation.

  Over the poached cod with asparagus, Lord Byron finally attacked. “I knew I had seen you before,” he said, his voice full of suppressed glee. “I saw you earlier, talking to a young man in uniform.” He glanced at Sebastian to see how he would take this salacious news.