The Best of Intentions

by Susan Anne Mason

  Grace closed her eyes and laid her cheek against Christian’s head. His deep even breathing told her he’d fallen asleep at last. “What’s going to happen to us, sweetheart? Both our lives are about to change drastically, whether we like it or not.”

  The thought of never seeing Andrew or Christian again created a giant hole in her chest, one that nothing seemed to fill, not her constant stream of prayers nor her extra time spent reading her Bible every day. Grace was waiting for some sign as to what the Lord expected of her next, but so far, the silence had been deafening.

  Soon, her heart whispered. Something needed to happen soon.

  Without warning, the door to the nursery opened. Grace’s pulse skipped like a pebble over a pond. But it wasn’t Andrew who entered.

  Cecilia Carmichael strode in and stood staring at Grace. Her upswept hairdo showcased her long neck and patrician features, and a low-cut red dress hugged her figure.

  “Miss Carmichael.” Grace swallowed the dread rising in her throat. “Is there something I can do for you?” She kept her voice low so as not to disturb the boy’s slumber.

  “I’d like a word, if you please.” The tone was more of a command than a request.

  Grace nodded. On some level, she’d been expecting this confrontation, certain after the failed necklace debacle that Cecilia would want a final word at Grace’s expense. “Let me put the baby down.” She rose and laid Christian in the crib, thankful she’d become adept at transferring the boy without waking him. “Why don’t we step into my room so we can talk more freely.”

  “Fine.”

  Once Cecilia had entered the room, Grace closed the connecting door. She smoothed a hand over her apron, conscious of the wrinkled fabric, then turned around, her head high. “What is it you wish to discuss?”

  Cecilia wandered around the room, running her fingers over the footboard of the bed. “As you know, Andrew and I are to be married tomorrow.”

  A wrench of pain invaded Grace’s heart. “I’m aware of that.”

  “I’m not sure if Andrew has been clear on the matter of your employment. But in case he hasn’t, once we return from our honeymoon, your services will no longer be required.”

  Grace held herself perfectly still. She would not give the woman the satisfaction of reacting. “I assumed as much.”

  “Good. Then we understand each other.”

  Grace’s heart thudded so hard she could barely hear above it. For Christian’s sake, she had to swallow her pride and stay in control. “May I ask what your plans are for Christian?” she asked. “Will you get a new nanny?”

  “That’s really none of your concern, is it?” Cecilia crossed her arms, her blue eyes cold.

  Grace lowered her head. This was it. Her punishment for claiming Andrew’s attention for even a second. “I only ask because I care about that little boy very much. I pray you want to be a real mother to him and give him the love he deserves.” With difficulty, she held on to her composure.

  Cecilia moved to Grace’s nightstand and picked up the Bible. “That’s why we have nannies. Once we’re settled in Ottawa, I will hire someone of a more suitable age in that role.”

  “A nanny can never fill the need for a mother’s love. Won’t you even try to be that for him?” Grace hated begging, but for Christian she would grovel if she had to.

  Cecilia stared at her as though she’d sprouted horns. “That child is nothing to me. And if Andrew and I are blessed with children of our own, I certainly wouldn’t want them thinking of him as a sibling.”

  The blood rushed from Grace’s head, leaving her dizzy. “But Andrew loves Christian and plans to be a true father to him,” she whispered.

  “He’ll get over it when he has children of his own. As soon as the boy’s old enough, I intend to send him off to boarding school.” She raised a brow. “I hear there are some wonderful ones in Europe.”

  The air backed up in Grace’s lungs. She clenched her fingers around the wooden post to keep from screaming. “You know Andrew would never allow that.”

  Cecilia tossed the Bible back on the nightstand, her mocking laugh echoing in the room. “Haven’t I already proven I can get Andrew to do whatever I want? He shaved off his beard for the wedding, didn’t he? It may take me a while, but I always get my way.” Her features hardened. “And don’t bother going to Andrew about this. He’ll never take your word over mine.”

  Tremors attacked Grace’s body, rushing from her spine down her limbs. The urge to fight back burned hotly in her chest, but for once she knew enough to rein in her reckless side. It would serve no purpose to further antagonize this woman. Christian would only end up paying the price.

  “Now that we understand each other, I will be off. I have a big day ahead.” Cecilia crossed to the door and paused to give her one last withering look. “If I were you, I’d catch the next boat back to England. There’s nothing for you here.”

  The door slammed behind her.

  Grace waited until the sound of her footsteps had faded before sinking onto the bed. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. She fisted her hands in the fabric of the quilt and squeezed as hard as she could. It was bad enough to know she’d lost Andrew, but that woman’s plans for Christian made her physically sick.

  Grace had been clinging to the slim possibility that despite Andrew’s marriage, she could somehow manage to be a part of Christian’s life. She’d hoped Virginia would be her ally in that regard, but now with her estrangement from the family, she couldn’t be much help.

  Grace would likely never see her nephew again.

  A sob rose in her chest, and the tears she’d done so well at suppressing now leaked out from beneath her lids. She dropped to her knees at the side of her bed.

  Dear Lord, I can’t bear to lose Christian like everyone else in my life. What am I going to do now?

  Early the next morning, after a sleepless night, Grace dressed and brushed her hair. The tidal wave of dread building inside her gave her some idea how a prisoner might feel on execution day. Grace laid down the brush and paused to stare at her lifeless reflection in the vanity mirror. Wooden eyes stared back at her, hollowed out from the misery of the previous twelve hours. Her whole world was crumbling around her, and she seemed powerless to stop it.

  Today was Andrew’s wedding day. Would he actually go through with this?

  Of course he would. All he’d ever wanted was his father’s approval, and to back out of this wedding—the one the papers were calling the union of Toronto’s royal families—would not only devastate Mr. Easton, it would surely destroy his mother. In her already fragile condition, the woman would never withstand another shock like that. This wedding was the only thing that had finally coaxed her from the self-imposed exile of her bedroom.

  Grace exhaled, trying to rid herself of the toxic emotions building inside her. She wound her hair into a knot and pinned it in place with a little more force than necessary. This pointless rumination would get her nowhere. She’d best keep herself busy and see to Christian.

  When she stepped through the connecting door into the nursery, she froze. Andrew sat in the rocking chair, feeding Christian a bottle. The homey sight brought a shaft of pain to her heart.

  Then, for one irrational moment, hope filled her lungs.

  Maybe he’d changed his mind and was waiting here to tell her the good news. Waiting to declare his love for her and to tell her he wanted the three of them to be a family.

  A bubble of anticipation expanded in her chest, making breathing nearly impossible.

  Then Andrew lifted his head to look at her, his features carefully schooled.

  Grace frowned. He seemed different somehow. A small gasp escaped. His jaw was bare! Then she remembered what Cecilia had said. He’d shaved off his beard at her request.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I took the liberty of getting Christian up earlier than usual since I won’t see him later today.” His gaze slid to the wall behind her. “I’ll be gone for a week, and I wan
ted to spend a little time with him before I go.”

  Reality hit her like a cold ocean spray, shocking her out of her stupor. He wanted to see Christian before he got caught up in the wedding frenzy. She stiffened her shoulders, pressed her lips together, and remained standing by the door, unable to force any words from her dry throat.

  He rose from the rocker and set the bottle on the dresser. With practiced ease, he rubbed the boy’s back to induce a burp.

  Nerves jumped in Grace’s stomach as she gathered her courage. This was her last chance to speak to him alone. She couldn’t pass up the opportunity to appeal to his senses—for Christian’s sake, if nothing else.

  “It’s not too late, Andrew,” she said softly. “You don’t have to go through with this. Cecilia won’t make you happy, and she certainly won’t be a good mother to Christian.”

  He went still, then closed his eyes. Deep grooves formed around his mouth. When he opened his eyes again, they revealed a world of pain. “I have no choice. My parents are counting on this marriage, and I can’t let them down. Not after the toll Virginia’s elopement has taken.” He set Christian on the carpet near a basket of toys. The boy immediately made a grab for his favorite wooden train.

  Grace squeezed her hands into fists as she crossed the room. “Doesn’t your father care about your happiness? About his grandson’s well-being?” Her voice was becoming shrill, but she didn’t care. She had to get through to him. To the part deep inside that loved this little boy more than even his father’s approval.

  “Of course he does. He wants what’s best for everyone, and he believes this is it.”

  “Best for whom? This marriage certainly isn’t what’s best for Christian.” Unable to tamp back her growing frustration, she closed the gap between them. “Cecilia wants to cut me out of his life for good. Are you going to allow her do that?”

  Misery swept over his features. “Grace, I—”

  “Do you know she intends to ship Christian off to boarding school as soon as he’s old enough? That she will never consider him as one of your children? She told me so last night and appeared to take great delight in delivering the news.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw. “You know I’d never allow that. When the time comes, I’ll handle Cecilia.”

  “Really? Like you’ve been able to handle her so far?” She pointed to his naked chin. “You couldn’t even manage to keep your beard. You always end up giving in . . . to everyone.” She sucked in a shaky breath. It wouldn’t do to insult him or challenge his pride. That would only make him dig in his heels even more.

  He pushed his hands through his hair, then paced to the window and back. “I have a duty to my family. I cannot go back on my word.” His eyes met hers, and his expression softened. “For a very brief while, I imagined I could, but after the pain my parents have been through, I realized . . . I simply can’t.” His shoulders drooped. “I guess I’m not as brave as you imagined.” Regret and sorrow swirled through the blue depths of his eyes.

  She held his gaze for several seconds, absorbing the pain and disillusionment, then shook her head. Why had she ever imagined he’d choose her? They’d shared some meaningful conversations and a few stolen kisses in the moonlight. At no time had he ever promised more.

  She squared her shoulders, mentally erecting a wall to shield herself from any further pain he might inflict.

  “I’ve provided a month’s wages for you,” he continued, “as well as a letter of reference. I’ve left them on Father’s desk. You shouldn’t have any trouble finding another job.”

  He came toward her then, close enough for her to catch the scent of his aftershave. “I want you to know that I’ve forgiven you, Grace. Once I got over my anger, I was finally able to understand why you had to lie, and I can’t really blame you for it. ” He stared at her, holding her in place with just his eyes. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t seem to make herself move away.

  “I pray that one day you’ll be able to forgive me too.” Slowly, he reached out and placed his palm against her cheek.

  She closed her eyes against the heat of his fingers on her skin. Against the exquisite torture of his touch. Then he removed his hand and the warmth vanished.

  “What will you do when you leave here?” he asked sadly.

  With immense effort, she pushed back all her feelings and allowed a cold detachment to settle over her before she opened her eyes. “Actually, your loyalty to your family has reminded me of a promise I made to my mother before I left home. A promise I intend to keep.”

  “So, you’ll go back to England then?” The defeat in his tone threatened to unravel her carefully held composure.

  “Yes.”

  He froze for a split second, then nodded. “It’s probably for the best.” His eyes held her captive, regret alive in their depths. “Good-bye, Grace. I wish you every happiness for the future.”

  She opened her mouth to respond, but the words lodged in her throat. To wish him the same would be an exercise in futility, for she knew with every fiber of her being that he would never be happy with Cecilia.

  In the doorway, he gave her a final lingering look, and then he was gone.

  CHAPTER 35

  December 7, 1918

  Dearest Grace,

  How my heart bursts with joy and sorrow in equal measure. Two days ago, I gave birth to a son. A beautiful baby boy who will never know his father. I endured eighteen hours of labor, but when the midwife put him in my arms, it all became worthwhile. Never have I felt such overwhelming love. I named him Christian Francis—Christian in honor of the faith that sustains me—and Francis after his father. If only Frank could be here to meet his son.

  While the entire household was in an uproar with preparations for the wedding, Grace sat numbly in the rocking chair, watching Christian play with his toys on the rug, and tried not to imagine Andrew dressing for his bride. Her stomach twisted every time she thought of him shaving off his beard to please Cecilia and not wearing his glasses for the same reason.

  Did he not see that he was denying his true self by marrying her?

  And what did that mean for Christian?

  Grace no longer held any illusion that Andrew would be able to keep Cecilia from going through with her plans for the boy. The woman was right about her ability to get her own way, even if she had to resort to underhanded tactics to achieve it. Somehow Cecilia would convince Andrew that boarding school was best for Christian.

  The more Grace thought about it, the more certain she became that for the sake of Christian’s well-being, she had to take action. And it would have to be today when everyone was too distracted to notice the nanny and her ward.

  By 10:40, the house would be empty, since even the servants were going to the cathedral to watch the wedding. The ceremony would take about an hour, at which time the staff would return to Fairlawn and resume their workday, while the other guests attended the wedding reception in the ballroom of the Easton Towers Hotel.

  By then, Grace and Christian would be gone.

  Grace bided her time until Christian went down for a nap, then she pulled a small valise from the top shelf of the closet. With shaking hands, she filled it with as much of the baby’s things as it could contain and stored it back in the closet.

  Leaving the connecting door open, Grace gathered her own things, most of which she had already packed in her suitcase, knowing she would be leaving Fairlawn in the near future. For once she was grateful for so few belongings.

  She’d just returned to the nursery when the door opened, and Serena entered.

  She observed Grace’s attire with a frown. “Mrs. Easton sent me to see if you’d be bringing Christian to the church.”

  With effort, Grace kept her expression neutral. She’d rather poke a fork into her eye than witness Andrew pledge his life to another woman, but Mrs. Easton didn’t know that. “Christian has been fussy all night. He has a bit of a fever and may be teething. I think it’s best to keep him home.”


  Serena hesitated in the doorway. “Very well. I’ll let her know.”

  “Thank you, Serena. Enjoy the wedding.” How Grace managed to fib so smoothly and then smile about it, she had no idea. But she was banking on the fact that no one would challenge her decision an hour before the wedding.

  She was right. No one else bothered her, and finally, after the flurry of footsteps in the hall died away, the main door slammed shut. Grace waited a few seconds, then crossed the hall to the guest room and peered out the window that overlooked the front of the house. From there, she watched the entourage leave the property. When everyone had departed, she waited another ten minutes in case someone had forgotten something, and then returned to her room.

  She removed her apron, folded it and laid it neatly on the bed, then pinned her straw hat in place. As she donned her wrap, she took one last look around the room she’d lived in for the past several months before collecting her valise and returning to the nursery. Thanking her good fortune that Christian had awakened from his nap in a good humor, she picked him out of the crib, grabbed his small bag, and checked the room for anything she might have forgotten. The photo of Rose and Frank on their wedding day stared back at her.

  “I’m doing this for you, Rose,” she whispered.

  On impulse, she grabbed the picture and stuffed it in the satchel she wore over her shoulder. A lump rose in her throat. How she would miss this room, where she’d experienced such a sense of peace and love. With a last fortifying breath, she pushed back any traces of regret. There was no point in dwelling on what could never be.

  “Ready for an adventure, sweetheart?” She kissed Christian’s cheek and walked out of the nursery for the last time.

  Grace chose the rear staircase on the off chance that someone might return. Her footsteps echoed in the empty stairway, making her painfully aware they were alone in the house. She wished she’d had the chance to say good-bye to Mrs. Hopkins, who had been so kind to her. She would have liked to have seen Mrs. Easton too, but how could she face the woman, knowing she was taking away her grandchild—the only reminder of her son?