“I’m going to miss you,” Patrick said quietly, his eyes filling with tears. “You’re my bestest of friends.”
“I will miss you, as well,” she whispered before kissing his forehead. “But I will write to you, and you can write back when you return to your lessons.” She leaned in and embraced him, and when the door opened, she released him. “Keep your chin up, Patrick the Brave, for you are just that: Brave. Always remember that.”
He sniffed and wiped his nose on the sleeve of his coat. “I will.”
With a ruffle to his hair, she had him leave the carriage first so she could collect herself. Using her handkerchief, she dabbed at her eyes; she had no business showing such emotions in this situation. The boy was returning to the home he deserved.
The door of the house opened to an older man in his late sixties, his unshaven face showing a frown. “What do ye want?” he demanded with narrowed eyes as he glared at Abigail and then Patrick. His unkempt clothing clung to him as if they had not seen a washboard in weeks, and he grasped the frame of the door in order to keep himself from falling over.
“Mr. Pollard?” she asked, hoping he would reply that he was not.
“Who wants to know?”
Abigail straightened her back. “Allow me to introduce myself,” she said and then paused. Should she give her title? Perhaps it would be best if she did not in this particular situation, at least not yet, anyway. “I am Abigail Seton, and this young man,” she put her hand on Patrick’s shoulder and guided him to stand in front of her, “is your grandson, Patrick.”
The man gave the boy an unsteady stare and once again narrowed his eyes as if giving him a careful study. “So, yer the boy?” he asked finally. “Ye look like that worthless father of yers.”
Patrick said nothing as his eyes widened in fright, but Abigail had enough anger for the both of them, though she said nothing. This was the boy’s grandfather, she reminded herself. He deserves to know his grandson regardless of whether or not he and his daughter had not been on the best of terms.
“So, what do ye want with me?”
Her training was the only thing that kept her from taking a step back from the odor of whiskey on his breath. “As you are the closest living relative of the boy, I was thinking that he would reside with you.” She offered the man a smile, but he did not return it.
“I don’t have no time for a kid,” he said with a wave of his hand. “I ain’t got enough money to take care of meself, how’m I to keep care of ‘im?”
“I can work, Sir,” Patrick said with a shaky voice. “Earn my own way so you don’t have to worry about me.”
The old man snorted. “Ye’d prolly end up like yer lazy, no-good father.” He shook his head. “No, I don’t want ye.”
Abigail felt Patrick stiffen beneath her hand, and she could hold in her anger no longer. “Patrick, return to the carriage,” she ordered without taking her eyes off the lout who stood before her.
The boy turned and ran to the carriage, and Abigail knew he was doing all he could to keep his tears under control. He had lived a hard-enough life without his own grandfather treating him in such a dreadful way, and Abigail would give the man a few choice words.
“How dare you,” she said, seething. “Your grandson was sleeping in a stable, performing menial tasks just to eat. Have you no mercy for him?”
Mr. Pollard spat out the door. “None,” he stated. “Leave ‘im with me and I’ll take ‘im to the orphanage, mark my words. They might even give me a few pounds for ‘im.”
Abigail stared at the man, unable to believe what she heard. He treated his own grandson as nothing more than a piece of livestock! “You will do no such thing,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. She glanced over her shoulder as she removed three ten-pound notes from her bag as well as a letter she had asked a solicitor in Brighton to create for her before she had left. At first, she had thought it a waste of time, but now she saw that it had been intuition on her part. “You will sign him over to me.” When the man went to grab for the money, she pulled it away. “Sign first.” She pushed the paper toward him. “You have a pen?”
He nodded, staring at the money greedily. “I’ll go get it.”
She was glad he did not invite her inside; if his housekeeping was anything like his personal hygiene, she felt better waiting outside.
“Mr. Drummond,” she called out to the driver, “would you come here please?” When the man arrived, she said, “I would like you to witness this man’s signature on this document if you please.”
“Of course, Your Grace,” he said.
“And none of the ‘Your Grace’ in front of this man,” she warned him.
The driver nodded and remained silent as they waited.
Mr. Pollard returned with a pen, the nub broken and the feather just a stick, but it did what it was meant to do as he signed his name in an unpracticed hand. Then Mr. Drummond followed suit, signing as the witness.
“Now, give me me money,” he demanded.
“You are not to tell anyone that money has been exchanged,” she threatened. “Do you understand? I will deny any such accusation. And who will people believe, me or you?”
The man gave her an unfocused glare. “I won’t say nothin’,” he replied.
“Good,” she said as she placed the document in her bag. “Good day to you.”
He took the notes greedily and gave her a wide grin. “That it is!” he said before stuffing the notes in his pocket. “Now, get off me property, and tell the boy to never come here again, nor ye.”
Abigail gave him a derisive sniff. “Do not worry, neither of us will darken your door again.” And with that, she returned to the carriage, elation guiding her steps.
“Miss Abigail?” Patrick asked as the carriage rolled over the high grass as the driver turned it around. “Why’re we leaving? Isn’t this my home now?”
“No,” she replied with a caring smile as she took his hand in hers. “Your home is now with me, and will be for as long as you wish to remain.”
The grin he gave her only confirmed that what she was doing was the right thing. “Then that will be forever,” he replied as he hugged her tightly.
She returned the embrace, finding that she felt precisely the same way.
Chapter Twenty-four
Abigail was unsure if she or Patrick was more excited to see Richard, though in her heart, she believed it was she. Over the past week, she had come to realize how much she missed him, how much she relied on him, and more importantly, how much she loved him. It was the love that she had first felt at thirteen, a love she had thought forever lost. However, it was not lost. In fact, it was stronger than it had ever been, she just had not realized it until they had been forced apart.
During the three days it took to return to Brighton, Abigail had devised a plan to finally admit that she did, indeed, care for him with a fierceness she had not comprehended even a week earlier. How could she have been so blind? Yet, she and Richard had grown closer during their time in the cottage, and she knew what they had been through only strengthened what she had once thought lost.
As the carriage made the final turn into the drive that led to the cottage, Abigail had to fight to keep herself from jumping from the vehicle before it came to a stop. She certainly did not need to twist an ankle when Richard sat confined to a wheelchair unable to walk; it was imperative she maintain her own health in order to care for him.
“I’m so happy,” Patrick said as he bounced with excitement. “Now I’ve a real home with people who love me.” He shook his head in awe. “I never thought it could happen.”
“And yet it did,” Abigail said with a smile. “We do love you, very much.”
The door swung open, and Mr. Drummond helped her alight from the carriage. “See to the luggage, if you would, please,” she told him as Patrick bounded toward the front door. She caught the boy by the shoulder. “And you, wait for me. We will go inside together.” She would not miss the sur
prised look Richard was bound to have at seeing the boy returned to them. Then she turned back to the driver. “If you leave our bags in the foyer, I will see they are taken care of from there.”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the man said with a low bow before moving to do her bidding.
The sun was just above the western horizon, its last rays causing the sky to burn with a pink hue, and she took Patrick by the hand.
“Richard?” she called out as Patrick hurried toward the sitting room.
“He’s not here,” Patrick called out. Then from a further distance she heard, “And he’s not in his room, either.”
Abigail went into the sitting room and walked over to the window. There sat Richard in his chair gazing out over the water at the end of the pier.
“Can we go talk to him?” Patrick asked.
“Very soon, I promise,” Abigail replied. “I must speak with him first. Would you like to read your book for a while?”
“But I wanted to tell him I get to stay here. He’ll be happy because I do so much for him.” Then he paused with a frown. “What if he thinks I want him to pay me?” He shook his head. “No, I’ll tell him I don’t need payment. You’re both always so kind and let me sleep in a real bed and give me food. That should be payment enough.” He gave a firm nod as if to punctuate his words.
She squatted beside the boy and pushed his hair from his face. “I’m sure he will easily agree to that,” she said with a smile as she tried to keep from laughing. “However, I must speak with him alone first, and then we will share our news together. Will that be all right?”
“Yes,” he replied, though his face dropped.
“I do promise that I will not give him any more news than necessary.”
This made the boy brighten. “Then I’ll sit here and read my book until you call for me.”
“I swear that I will say nothing of your plans to offer your services in exchange for room and board,” she said as she pretended to button her lips together.
This made him grin and he went to his bag and produced the book Richard had given him upon his departure. He used what little ability he had to attempt the words, but he spent the majority of his time with the book studying the pictures.
She smiled at the boy before heading outside and toward the beach. She walked over to where Richard sat, and he looked up at her with a wide grin that rivaled the one Patrick had given her.
“You have managed to get out here alone,” she said before leaning down and kissing his cheek. “How are you feeling?”
He reached up and brushed away a strand of hair that had escaped from beneath her bonnet. “I am pleased now that you have returned,” he said. He glanced around and added, “And Patrick? Did you give him a nice sending?”
“I will tell you later in detail,” she said as she glanced back toward the house. It would be more difficult than she realized to keep the secret she had promised Patrick. “Let me just say one thing, and you must swear you will not reveal that I have said anything when the time comes.”
Richard scrunched his brow. “Very well,” he said slowly. “This is very ominous.”
She laughed. “Let me just say that we have gained a…new member to our family.”
“Wonderful!” he replied. “He will have the very best, and he will be loved by both of us.”
Rising from his embrace, Abigail took his hand. “I wanted to share something with you, something I must say and have needed to say for some time.”
“Very well,” he said again. She wanted to laugh; it was as if everything she wished to share with him would be detrimental to him. Though, perhaps what she had to say now was.
“Many years ago, I fell in love with you. Years later, I thought that love lost—perhaps forever.”
He squeezed her hand and went to speak, but she shushed him.
“However, it is not lost, it was simply hidden. Hidden behind fear, worry, doubt…All I know is that I do not wish to think of the past any longer; I want only to focus on the future.”
“I do, as well,” Richard replied, still looking confused. How she wished she had the words of the great poets to speak with elegant prose. However, what she did have was what was on her heart.
“I say all that in order to tell you that, when I asked you to rescue me, you did. The truth is, I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know that.”
“Our signal,” she continued, raising her hand, “is of two fingers. One thing I noticed only recently is, side by side, they stand together.” Her heart swelled as the words poured from her, her eyes meeting those of the man she adored. “Forever, I will stand by your side because I love you, more so than I ever have before.”
“And I love you, Abigail,” he whispered.
She leaned over and pressed her lips to his. Their first true kiss was as wonderful as she ever imagined a kiss to be, and she did not want it to end.
When it did, Richard said, “You have given me strength and taught me patience.”
“Have I?” she asked in shock as she stood once again.
“Turn and look at the waves a moment,” he said, pointing out toward the water. “That night I was out here, I had hoped those waves would roll in and take me away.”
His words pained her heart. She had not known! How could she have not known his hurt was so bad?
He grabbed her hand and kissed it. “However, in the midst of that storm, you came back to me…and rescued me.”
“It was because of my love for you,” she replied as she pulled her hand away and turned her gaze to the last rays of the sun, which lit the horizon, leaving the remainder of the sky dark above them.
“I have known for some time how much you care for me,” he said. “Even if you had not realized it.”
Tears filled her eyes. She did not want him to see them, so continued to stare across the waves as she wiped them away. “But how? I have not said…”
“It was the patience of helping me with my exercises, even when I refused. You showed me strength even when I was weak. You encouraged me to try and walk again. Knowing you would stay with me despite your declaration of not loving me spoke volumes, for you could have easily left me to fend for myself.”
“I could not bear the thought of hurting you,” she said, unable to stop the flow of tears. “Nor leaving you alone.” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “However, we love one another, and with Patrick, we shall have the start to our family.” She paused and looked down at the sand. “I should not have told you that.”
Richard laughed. “I have no idea about what you speak,” he said. Then he added, “A family based in love, trust, and strength is what we will have, for it is your strength that gave me hope, that made me realize that I can walk again. You believed in me when I did not believe in myself.”
Abigail smiled and went to turn to the man she loved, now not caring if he saw her tears. She would do whatever she could to make him happy, even if he never walked again. For love transcended all things, including the gravest of challenges.
However, when she turned, she brought her hand to her mouth to cover a gasp, for before her stood her husband, and though he had to hold onto the chair to keep his balance, he was standing! She cried out in joy and wrapped her arms around him as his arms wrapped around her. With the ocean to their side, they held each other, Abigail crying into his chest. And as always, he was there to comfort her and love her. The love she had for this man was unmeasurable, his ability to stand a testament to his strength and courage. She could not have been prouder!
“Let us go speak to the boy,” Richard said. “I cannot wait to see him.”
“Wait!” Abagail said. “There is something I must give you.”
“And what would that be?”
“Your reward,” she replied. And this time, she did not kiss his cheek. No, she kissed her husband as a wife should, yet she knew in her heart that the reward was hers. It was not the kiss that was great—though it was quite fulfilling! —but wh
at was important was the love behind it.
When the kiss ended, leaving both of them breathless for several moments, they turned toward the house, and, with small steps, they made their way back inside. Together.
***
Abigail and Patrick listened intently as Richard shared about the day before leaving for Brampton. “And my toes moved! I could not believe what I had seen, and yet, I concentrated everything, and they moved again.” He was beaming, and Abigail could not blame him. What a wondrous occurrence!
“Why did you not tell me?” she demanded, though she was not truly angry with him. “What a horrid thing to do!” She slapped him playfully on the arm, yet she could not have been more pleased.
“But it was a nice surprise, was it not?” Richard asked with a grin that split his face.
“It was a nice surprise,” Abigail replied. She still could not believe he had kept this wondrous information from her, but what a grand homecoming. It had taken them much longer to return to the house; his gait had been extremely slow, and they were forced to stop every few feet, but he persisted until they got to the house. Patrick, just as excited as they, rushed out to retrieve the wheelchair, in which Richard sat now.
“Now, young man,” Richard said, turning to the boy, “I must speak with you, not as the Sir you address me, but rather as the Duke.”
Patrick stood and straightened accordingly. “Yes, Your Grace?” he asked, his eyes wide. “Did I misbehave?”
“No,” Richard said, sending a wink to Abigail. “Quite the contrary.”
During the long trek back to the house, Abigail had explained what had transpired with the boy’s grandfather, to which Richard had grunted in annoyance. Together, they had made yet another important decision, of which they were to share now.
“My wife has told me how helpful you have been since we arrived at the cottage. She says that you went into town to make purchases, helped around the house with the cleaning, and that you even prepared food. And you did it without one word of complaint. Am I to believe this is true?”
Rescued by the Duke: Delicate Hearts Book 2 Page 17