by Wolf, Bree
Connie swallowed. “Then it is true,” she whispered. “You don’t remember, do you?”
“How did you know?” Nessa’s father interrupted. “You spoke of an invitation.”
Connie’s eyes went wide and, once again, she clasped her hands over her mouth. “Oh, no, I’ve ruined the surprise!”
“What surprise?” Nessa frowned, seeing an equally confused expression on her father’s face.
Connie’s lips thinned as she pressed them together, clearly fighting not to betray someone’s confidence. Grant’s?
“You spoke of a surprise,” Nessa’s father pressed as his narrowed gaze swept over Connie’s face. “You might as well tell us as you can be assured we will not let you rest until you do.” A chuckle rumbled in his throat. “We Bottombrooks can be quite relentless.” Again, he chuckled. “You should know.”
Smiling, Connie stepped closer, her gaze quickly sweeping around the front hall, ensuring that they were, indeed, alone. “I wasn’t meant to say anything,” she began, “but your husband is planning a ball in your honor to re-introduce you to the neighborhood. He bade me not to speak of this to anyone.” Gritting her teeth, she shook her head, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’m so sorry. The moment I saw you, it fled my mind. Please don’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed.”
Sighing, Nessa nodded, overwhelmed not only by this rather impromptu meet-and-greet with a cousin she could not remember, but also by the thought of a ball given in her honor. What would it be like to walk into a room and find all eyes turned to her? A room full of people she could not remember? And yet, she could not hide at Wentford Park forever. At some point, she would have to leave the safety of the estate and resume a normal life, at least as far as that was possible.
Still, despite her jittering nerves, Nessa could not deny that the thought of Grant’s thoughtfulness warmed her heart. Indeed, with each day that passed, she seemed to care for him a bit more. If only their reunion wasn’t overshadowed by this dark cloud that seemed to have taken up residence over Wentford Park. It was as though a storm were coming. Nessa couldn’t say what exactly gave her that idea. It just felt as though there were something in the air speaking of a violent change upon the horizon.
Nessa sighed. She could only hope the ball would not end in a disaster.
“I’ll leave you two to get reacquainted,” her father said as he placed a gentle hand on Nessa’s back. His kind eyes found hers, and he nodded at her encouragingly. “I’ll go and see what mischief the girls are up to.” Then he walked away, a slight skip in his step.
“He is such a darling man,” Connie commented, a warm smile on her face before she turned back to look at Nessa. “When the news of your accident reached us, I thought for sure we would lose him as well. He mourned you deeply.”
Swallowing, Nessa nodded, beginning to feel a deeper connection to the woman who seemed to know her like a sister would. “And yet, he never gave up.”
With a deep smile on her face, Connie reached for Nessa’s hand. “I’ll forever be grateful to him for that.” Tears misted her eyes before she quickly blinked them away. “It must be strange for you…to be back here when you do not remember anything. Is it truly all gone?”
Once again, Nessa felt as though she had failed someone dear to her, someone who had placed their trust in her and she had not lived up to it. “I’m afraid so.”
Connie squeezed her hand. “But you and your father seem as close as ever.” A question twinkled in her eyes before she shook her head as though she’d just remembered something she’d forgotten. “I’m so sorry to have kept you here in the hall. You might not remember it, but I have a tendency to talk too much.” A grin came to her face that felt oddly familiar.
Returning her cousin’s gentle squeeze, Nessa smiled. “Do not worry, dear cousin. In fact, it should have been me to invite you in and offer you some refreshment.”
“Well, now that you mention it…” Grinning, Connie looped her arm through Nessa’s before they wandered off toward the drawing room, bidding Brighton to have tea and biscuits brought in immediately. “I’m famished,” Connie admitted as she bit into a piece of lemon cake. “Ever since I received your husband’s letter, I could not think of anything else but seeing you. I can’t remember when I’ve last eaten.” A chuckle rumbled in a throat before she suddenly stilled, the piece of cake forgotten in her hand.
“Is something wrong?” Nessa asked as she found Connie’s eyes glued to her face. “Does it not taste good?” She glanced at the piece of lemon cake in Connie’s hand.
“No, it’s delicious,” her cousin assured her, her gaze thoughtful as though she were weighing her words. “I’d all but forgotten about it these past few months,” she mumbled then, more to herself than Nessa.
“What is it?” Nessa asked, certain that her cousin was not referring to the cake. “Is something wrong? You look pale.”
Swallowing, Connie set down the cake, her light brown eyes resting on Nessa. “I don’t know if I should say anything; however, given that you cannot remember your life before, perhaps I should. Yet I cannot be certain with regard to its meaning or importance.” Shaking her head, she exhaled a deep sigh. “I don’t want to ruin anything, and Grant and you seem to be getting along well.” There was a slight rise in her voice as though she were asking a question.
“I suppose we are,” Nessa replied, feeling her skin begin to tingle with a strange foreboding. “Under the circumstances. Why do you ask?”
For a moment, her cousin remained quiet, and Nessa could all but see her thoughts racing, wondering what poor tidings Connie could bring. Had something happened before the carriage accident that she wasn’t aware of? Something no one in her family had thought to share with her?
Apparently having reached a decision, Connie opened her reticule and pulled out a slightly faded letter. It was folded neatly. However, Nessa could tell that it was well used. How often did Connie read it and why? Who had written it?
“I received this letter from you only days before your accident,” she said, her voice uncharacteristically quiet for a vivacious woman like Connie. “Do you remember?”
Nessa swallowed. “I do not.” She drew in a deep breath. “What does it say?”
“Here, read it,” Connie said, holding out the letter to her. “After all, it’s yours.”
With a shaking hand, Nessa reached for the faded parchment. What would it tell her? Nothing good judging from the look on Connie’s face.
“I always carry it with me,” her cousin suddenly said, a soft smile on her face as her eyes once more shone with tears. “After you…I couldn’t seem to part with it.”
At the warmth in her cousin’s gaze, Nessa felt a small smile tug on the corners of her lips. Then she turned her attention to the letter. Slowly, her fingers unfolded it, and a cold shiver ran down Nessa’s back.
My dearest Connie,
I write to you in a time of need. I have something urgent and utterly important to discuss with you, but cannot give you any further details in this letter.
I know this is very untoward and I apologize for unsettling you thus, but I must beg you to send me a letter, asking me to visit. Do not make mention of what I’m writing here. Please, simply ask me to call on you due to some kind of emergency. I’m certain you can think of something.
I cannot say more, only that my husband will not allow me to travel unless he is convinced that it is a matter of urgency. Please, whatever you do, do not mention this letter to him.
I shall explain all when I see you.
Yours affectionately,
Nessa
Staring at the letter, Nessa felt her insides twist and turn as her world once more began to sway. From one moment to the next, all she thought she knew, all she thought she’d been right to believe was ripped from her hands. Again, a black void stood between herself and her past, and her hands grew cold at the thought that all was not as it seemed.
“I admit I was shocked when I received thi
s letter,” Connie said softly, her eyes watchful as she looked at Nessa. “I didn’t know what to make of it. I…you always seemed so happy, so much in love.” A wistful smile came to her lips. “I couldn’t fathom why Grant would forbid you to travel or why you would be so secretive and so…frightened. My head spun, and I couldn’t sleep for days as I waited for you to explain what had prompted you to write this letter.” Her face darkened. “And then you died, and I never learned what it was.”
As though it were somehow harmful, Nessa dropped the letter onto the small coffee table, her fingers ice-cold as she curled them around one another. “Did you write the letter I asked you for?” she asked her cousin, noting the hint of guilt that came to Connie’s eyes.
Swallowing, her cousin nodded. “I did, and not a day has passed that I did not regret doing it,” she sobbed as tears fell from her eyes. “I don’t know if you know, but you were on your way to see me when the accident occurred. For some reason, the horses bolted and the carriage’s axle broke. It slid down the riverbank and…” A loud sob escaped her throat, and she clenched her lips shut. “If I hadn’t written the letter, none of this would have happened. You wouldn’t have—”
“It’s not your fault,” Nessa interrupted, placing a gentle hand on her cousin’s, finding Connie’s as cold as her own. “You didn’t know. I asked you for a favor, and you complied as any good friend would have, as any sister would have.” As with her father, Nessa could not deny that there was something deep and meaningful that connected her to her cousin. Still, Nessa had also felt so with regard to her husband. Had she been wrong? Could she no longer trust her instincts? Did they no longer serve her properly now that they had no past experiences to rely on?
“You don’t know why you wrote this letter?” Connie asked as her sobs had calmed. Yet, her hand was still clutching Nessa’s as though she feared her dear cousin would once again be yanked from her life.
Nessa sighed, once more feeling overwhelmed. Would this never stop? “I do not. Did you ever speak to anyone about it?”
Connie shook her head. “You asked me not to say anything to Grant and after the accident, I didn’t think it would make a difference. Still, I always wondered what it was you wished to talk to me about.”
Nessa swallowed as she tried to focus her thoughts. “Have you ever been back here since…?”
Connie nodded. “Once or twice. I admit I hated visiting Wentford Park without you here. Everywhere I looked, I expected to see you. Milly came to visit us every once in a while. I think it was good for her, and Audrey missed her.” Her nose crinkled. “And then Grant married that debutante,” she hissed, her eyes narrowing. “I never forgave him for that. I didn’t go to the wedding. I couldn’t. I think he knew because he didn’t send me an invitation.” She sighed and, for a moment, closed her eyes. “When I received his letter, I was tempted to throw it in the hearth. I can’t believe how close I came to never finding out you had survived.”
“How did…how did Grant appear to you after I…?” Nessa asked, wondering if something had happened between them before her accident. Only step by step, he had spoken to her about the less than pleasant aspects of their life together, and a part of Nessa wondered if he was keeping something else from her.
“Heartbroken,” Connie replied without delay as fresh tears pooled in her eyes. “Of course, I wondered after your letter, but not until he married that debutante did I doubt his love for you. He seemed broken all the way down to his core, beyond himself with grief. For days, he wouldn’t sleep or eat. He wouldn’t speak to anyone except Milly or to bark orders at the search troops he sent out. It seemed the only thought on his mind was to find you, to bring you back.” Connie sighed, and the breath shuddered in her throat. “And then days passed, and then weeks and months, and except for the broken pieces of the carriage, no trace of you was ever found. Eventually, we all gave up.” Her hands tightened on Nessa’s. “I’m so sorry. We should never have. We should have kept looking. We—”
“You did nothing wrong,” Nessa counseled. “No one can live their life in such a fashion. I understand what happened, and I understand that you all did everything within your power to discover me. I’m grateful for that.” The gentle smile of relief on Connie’s face touched Nessa deeply. Would she truly feel such a connection to her family if there was no truth in it? “Perhaps…perhaps you were not meant to find me. Perhaps everything had to happen the way it did. I don’t know. I don’t think it was anyone’s fault. It was a terrible situation and we all did the best we could.”
At least Nessa hoped that was true.
What on earth could have happened that had prompted her to write such a letter to her cousin? Never had Grant appeared controlling in any way. In her heart, she had no doubt should she ask him for anything, he would grant it so long as it was within his power. What then had stood between them?
Nessa swallowed. Could it have been the loss of their son? He would have been four years old now, which meant that they had lost him roughly one year before Nessa’s accident. What had happened in that year? Had they drifted apart? Had grief sent them down different paths?
The way Grant had spoken to her of that time had suggested utter sadness, of course, but also a moment of shared grief. A moment that had bonded them together as they’d clung to each other in order to survive their loss. Had he lied to her?
In her heart, Nessa could not believe it to be true. All her instincts told her that she ought to believe Grant. And yet, her mind warned her to remain cautious. After all, she didn’t know. She didn’t know anything.
What was he not telling her?
Chapter Twenty-Three
A Family’s Counsel
The sound of little feet drew Grant from his study. If he was not thoroughly mistaken, it was not only Milly’s shoes he heard tapping on the marble floors, and her giggle seemed to have received a strange echo. If he didn’t know any better…
Stepping out into the hallway, a smile came to his face as his daughter came racing toward him, followed on her heels by none other than her cousin Audrey. Had the girls always looked this alike? Grant wondered, feeling a sting of regret that he had allowed the connection to slip after Nessa’s loss. He ought to have ensured a steady contact between the two girls. Milly would have loved that and from the looks of it, so would Audrey.
“Look, Father! Audrey is here! Audrey came!” Joy lit up Milly’s face as she flung herself into his arms. “Isn’t it wonderful?”
Laughing, Grant swung her around. “It is, indeed,” he told his daughter, then looked down to greet Milly’s twin. “It is good to see you again, Audrey. Did you come with your mother?”
The girl nodded. “She’s talking to Nessa.” Then her brows crinkled. “I thought she had died.” Her light brown eyes locked on his face as she was clearly waiting for a satisfying explanation.
Grant cleared his throat, uncertain what to say. Perhaps they ought to step into a drawing room and settle down first.
“There you are!”
Maynard’s call saved Grant from a no doubt awkward answer, and he looked up to see his father-in-law hastening toward them. “I take it you’ve been looking for these two rascals.” Grinning at his daughter, he set her back down.
Linking arms, Milly and Audrey giggled. Then they exchanged a devious look—for six year olds—before darting away. “Catch us if you can!”
Laughing, Grant watched them go before he turned to a slightly panting Maynard. “Are you all right, old man? I do not wish to insult you, but I doubt you have any chance of keeping up with them. You might as well forfeit now.”
Grinning, Maynard drew in a deep breath. “Truer words have never been spoken,” he gasped as his breathing slowly calmed. Then his gaze narrowed and he turned to look at Grant. “Why did you not tell me you were planning a ball for Nessa?”
Rolling his eyes, Grant groaned. “I suppose Cornelia let it slip?”
Maynard nodded. “You should have known the woman can’t kee
p a secret, especially from Nessa.” He stemmed his hands in his sides. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Grant laughed, clasping a hand on his father-in-law’s shoulder. “Again, I do not wish to insult you, however, you must admit that you’re equally inept at keeping secrets. It seems to be a typical Bottombrook characteristic.” He sighed, and the laughter faded from his heart as he remembered another conversation. “I did not wish to burden you with a secret. However, I judged poorly with regard to who to share it with.” He drew in a long breath. “My mother was less than enthused when I asked for her help with the preparations.”
Instantly, Maynard’s face darkened. Although Grant knew that Maynard was not on the best terms with his mother—in truth, no one seemed to be, not even him—the look on Maynard’s face was darker than usual as well as laced with fury.
“What did she do?” Grant asked the moment his father-in-law opened his mouth to speak.
Gritting his teeth, Maynard shook his head. “I shall leave it to my daughter to inform you. However, I must say I never would have expected to hear such a thing from anyone, not even your mother. Nessa was heartbroken.”
Grant nodded, feeling his own blood begin to boil. He had noted that Nessa had been quiet as of late. However, he had believed it to be due to her recent discovery of the loss of their son. He knew that she mourned him anew. How could she not? And he had wanted to give her time and not crowd her with too many questions and offers of sympathy. Sometimes, Nessa needed time alone with her thoughts. He knew that.
Thinking on it, perhaps what she would have needed was a friend. Someone to confide in. Someone who was only hers. Someone who wasn’t Grant.
“Milly said Nessa is speaking with Cornelia?” Grant inquired of his father-in-law, relief coming to his heart at the thought of the deep bond between those two women.
Maynard nodded. “It will do her good.”
“I ought to have written to her sooner,” Grant admitted with a sigh. “I didn’t want to overwhelm Nessa with too many people. But I should have excluded Cornelia from that. She’ll be furious with me.”