The Keeper of Her Heart

by Stacy Henrie

  Cover

  The Keeper of Her Heart

  Even at a young age, Ada Thorne knew that she would marry only for love, never money. So when she finds herself irrevocably drawn to Ned Henley, the lowly gamekeeper on a neighboring estate, she defies her parents and society by eloping with him to London to build a new life.

  Without her family’s support, life in the city is far more difficult than the one of ease and privilege Ada has always known. She’ll find herself relentlessly tested in ways she never imagined—especially when Ned, answering the call of duty, enlists to serve his country in World War One.

  Alone and near poverty with a child to raise, Ada’s resolve will be strained at every turn. And as she struggles to remain true to her convictions and live life on her own terms, Ada will embark on a journey of courage, faith, and love that will surpass even her own humble dreams . . .

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Keeper of Her Heart

  Stacy Henrie

  Copyright © 2017 by Stacy Henrie

  Cover design and illustration by Dar Albert, Wicked Smart Designs

  Published by Beyond the Page at Smashwords

  Beyond the Page Books

  are published by

  Beyond the Page Publishing

  www.beyondthepagepub.com

  ISBN: 978-1-946069-38-2

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of both the copyright holder and the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Epilogue

  Author’s Note

  Love for All Seasons

  Books by Stacy Henrie

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Yorkshire, April 1908

  “It is not proper, Ada. And I will not abide it any longer.” Charles Thorne’s voice could likely be heard by the servants all the way in the basement of Stonefield Hall. “You will give up riding out alone or I will sell that horse of yours.”

  Ada kept her hands clasped demurely in her lap to hide their trembling. It wasn’t fear she felt, though; it was anger and confusion. “I don’t understand, Papa. I have always been allowed to ride Prince Albert alone on the estate.”

  “What your father is trying to say,” Victoria Thorne interjected in a more subdued tone, “is that next week you will turn sixteen, my dear. The year after that you will be out in society. And it is no longer ladylike to ride around without a proper chaperone, even on the estate.”

  Charles bobbed his head in agreement, but his dark eyes were still as stormy as Ada knew hers must be. After all, the two of them were cut from the same stubborn cloth.

  “I shall have one of the stable hands accompany me then.”

  Her father threw his hands in the air and stalked to one of the drawing room windows. “You are not thinking as a young lady ought. Riding about in the company of the servants is nearly as unseemly as riding out alone.” Crossing his hands behind his back, he turned to face her again. “You are reaching an age when independence of spirit ceases to be a virtue. If it ever was . . .” he added in a mutter. “Perhaps we have indulged you too much in the ways you spend your time.”

  The first prickle of alarm crept up her spine. She loved the freedom of her days—reading, riding, walking about the estate or down the road to Gran’s house. What would she be expected to do once she turned “of age”?

  Her mother supplied the dreaded answer. “It is time to begin your training in earnest, so you are well prepared before your next birthday.”

  “My training?” Ada repeated past her closing throat. “Training for what?”

  Charles let out an immense sigh as he glanced at his wife. “We have failed, in spite of all the well-qualified governesses we’ve employed for her.”

  “That is not true, my dear. Ada has a very keen mind and a lovely complexion. We have not failed yet.”

  It was not the first time her parents had discussed her as if she were not present. But today, after hearing the bitter news that her daily rides alone had come to an end, their detached discussion only added to her mounting frustration and the headache building behind her eyes.

  “What is it I am to be trained for?”

  Her father shot her an impatient look. “To be the wife of a gentleman and a proper society woman.”

  “Once I fall in love,” she added.

  “What?” He eyed her in confusion.

  Ada sat up straighter. “The training is to help me be a wife and a woman in society once I’ve fallen in love and married.”

  “What does falling in love have to do with marriage?” he countered.

  Shocked at the strange question, Ada looked to her mother for help. But her mother’s expression appeared pained as she returned her focus to her stitch work. “You want me to love the man I marry, don’t you?” Ada’s heart thumped faster with sudden dread.

  “We want you happily settled.” Victoria directed the words to her needle and thread. “Love does not have to come in the beginning, Ada. If a couple is well-suited and equally matched in station, they may discover a type of love throughout their marriage. Certainly they can expect a fondness to grow for one another.”

  Ada let her mouth drop open in unladylike astonishment, though no sound came out. Didn’t her parents love each other? Wasn’t that why they had married? Pressing her lips together, she studied them carefully. They seemed to have the fondness her mother had spoken of, and yet, Ada had never sensed a deep connection or affection between them.

  And clearly they expected her to follow the same path.

  Desperation strangled her breath, making her light-headed. “If I am not to marry for love, then what is the purpose of such a union?”

  “To maintain the life you have always known,” Charles said, his voice rising again. “You will marry a man of good breeding and fortune who will see that you want for nothing.”

  An image of a content and pampered lap dog came to her mind. No wonder she preferred horses and their strength and power to other creatures meant to sit silent and look lovely.

  “Do you understand what we are asking of you, Ada?” This time his tone was softer and m
ore placating.

  Rising to her feet, she nodded. “I will not ride out alone anymore, and I will become the well-bred young woman you wish me to be.” She purposely left off the last item, regarding marriage, from her list of commitments.

  “Very good.” Charles looked relieved. “You may go on up to bed now.”

  She kissed her mother, then bid them both good night. But as Ada rushed up the stairs, eager to escape to her room, she felt a heady rush of determination. She would follow through with her word about the riding and her ladylike training, but she would never settle for a marriage without love—never. No matter how rich or poor or well-bred the men who came to court her, she would marry for love or she would not marry at all.

  Part 1

  Chapter 1

  Yorkshire, April 1910

  In the light from the single lamp, Ada Thorne eyed the open wardrobe and its remaining contents. Most of the gowns, including the plum dress of silk faille that she’d put on, wouldn’t exactly suit her future role as Ned Henley’s wife.

  “I think that is all of the dresses I need,” she whispered to her ladies’ maid, Hetty Trumble. Ada’s trunk sat open beside the bed, already half filled with clothes, undergarments, books, and a few pieces of her glass jewelry. Her real jewels were in a bank box in London and not likely to be accessible without her mother or father present. And after tonight, it would likely be a long time before either one spoke to her again.

  Her maid was kneeling before the trunk, helping Ada pack, her face ashen in the dim light. “Where will you live, miss?” she asked in a worried tone.

  “For the next three weeks, I’ll be living in Scotland.”

  “All alone?”

  Ada shook her head, though she couldn’t share any more information with Hetty. There was too great a risk of her parents learning of her whereabouts before she and Ned were officially married.

  “Why Scotland, miss?”

  “Because unfortunately, even at the age of eighteen, I’m not allowed to marry who I wish without my parents’ permission. However, in Scotland I can”—she smiled at Hetty—“providing I’ve lived there for twenty-one days.”

  “Ah, very clever, miss.”

  Ada searched the room for anything else she might wish to bring with her. She’d lived her entire life at Stonefield Hall. It felt strange and surreal to think of leaving it, let alone living elsewhere.

  “After we’re married, we’ll be moving to London.” She added some of her childhood books to the stack inside the trunk. “Mr. Whittington has promised to help Mr. Henley find a job there.”

  Hetty glanced at her. “Which Mr. Whittington, miss?”

  “The elder son, Hugh,” Ada answered absently, gazing about at the familiar furnishings and knickknacks.

  Would she ever return home? She didn’t know. Not if her father had his say. He’d made his thoughts quite clear last night. If Ada went ahead with her plans to marry a gamekeeper, she would not be welcomed back at Stonefield—ever again.

  “Ah. The more serious of the two Whittington sons,” her maid said, “but I think he’s the handsomer.”

  Ada didn’t respond. Hugh Whittington might be serious and attractive, but it was Ned, with his kind blue eyes and handsome face, who’d been a beacon to her, a steadiness in the otherwise glittering but cold world of the upper class.

  After talking to him during a shooting party last year, Ada had made certain her daily walks took her in the young man’s vicinity. They’d courted secretly for the past six months before she’d announced to her parents that she and Ned intended to marry. But she’d known nearly from that first moment they’d met that she was in love with him.

  “You won’t . . . starve . . . in London, will you, miss?” Hetty shut the trunk lid and climbed to her feet.

  Forcing a light laugh, Ada slipped her coat on over her gown. “No, I don’t believe we’ll starve.”

  Deep down, though, a germ of fear attempted to sprout inside her. She’d never known deprivation or difficulty or hard work. But she was determined to see her decision through—she would prove that marrying for love wasn’t the swift path to misery and regret that her parents believed it to be. She loved Ned. And she trusted that his current employer, Hugh Whittington, would follow through on his promise to help find Ned a new job.

  A move to London would hopefully bring them more opportunities and independence. At the very least, it would put needed distance between her and her parents and the way Ada had been brought up. She would raise her family differently. Her sons and daughters would be encouraged to marry for love and to lead lives of compassion and goodness rather than ones motivated by appearances, position, and wealth.

  “We’ll be fine, Hetty,” she said as she quieted her momentary panic. “Now help me carry this trunk downstairs.” She didn’t wish to wake their butler. He would surely alert her parents of her departure, and Ada wanted to be long gone before they rang for their breakfast in a few hours.

  Even with the trunk only half full, it wasn’t light. Ada gripped one of the side handles and her maid the other, and together they lugged it out the door. Moonlight from the large window on the landing lit their path down the carpeted stairway to the front door.

  As they exited the house, cool air rushed up the stone steps and across Ada’s flushed cheeks. Shadows obscured the gravel drive, but she thought she could see the outline of a wagon a short distance away. Ned had come for her as they’d planned.

  “Just a little farther,” she coaxed Hetty. The two of them hauled the trunk toward the waiting vehicle.

  “Ada,” Ned called out quietly.

  She directed her maid to lower the trunk to the ground, then Ada rushed forward to embrace Ned. His tender kiss to her cheek abolished any remaining doubts or fear.

  She was following her heart, and like Ned, exemplifying a bit of faith in the process. Whether that was in herself, in them, or in God, she still couldn’t say. But she did feel content and free, and that was something she hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Once Ned had secured the trunk in the back of the wagon, he nodded toward the seat. “Are you ready?”

  “Almost.” Ada turned to face her maid. “Thank you for all of your help, Hetty. Please see that my mother and father get the note I wrote them.” In it, she’d told them she was happy and hoped that eventually they could be happy for her as well.

  Even in the faint light, she caught sight of the girl’s curtsy. “Yes, miss.”

  “I shall miss you.” In a sudden wash of affection, and possible homesickness, Ada hugged her. “I wish I could take you with me; I truly do.” But there was no extra money for employing the girl—now or in London. Ada stepped back. “My mother will likely find a new position for you here at Stonefield, but even if you leave, I am confident you will not want for a position. Not with your talents and proficiency.”

  Her maid sniffled as she bobbed her head. “Thank you, miss.”

  “We ought to go, Ada.” Ned slipped his hand into hers and gave it a squeeze.

  She cast one long glance at the shadowed manor house before turning to face her husband-to-be. “I’m ready now.”

  • • •

  Even though she suspected she was dreaming, Ada felt certain if she placed her hand alongside the oak tree’s trunk that the bark would grate against her palm. She knew at once where she was—after all, she’d stood in this exact spot numerous times, waiting for Ned.

  Anticipation blossomed in her stomach as she turned away from Stonefield’s oldest tree to face the nearby Whittington estate. Rainy mist shrouded the details of the neighboring property, though the splaying branches of the tree kept her protected from the elements. Any minute now, Ned would materialize through the fog to meet her.

  But he didn’t come. The tendrils of fog thickened, obscuring Ada’s view in all directions. Her excitement soured into concern, then fear. Where was Ned? Had he forgotten all about her? She tried to swallow past the panic coating her throat to call out his
name, but the mist choked her . . .

  Scrambling to sit up, Ada placed a hand against her nightgown, where her heart still thudded with fear. Moonlight doused the room through the open curtains. She wasn’t at home beneath the old oak. She was in Scotland, and had been for two weeks, in the home of one of Hugh Whittington’s sisters and her husband.

  She lay back down and pushed out a breath. There was only a week to go before she would travel by train to meet Ned for the wedding. A keen longing to see him again made her heart ache. They’d exchanged letters, but it wasn’t the same as seeing him every day, seeing the love she felt for him reflected in his blue eyes and quick smile.

  Was she secretly worried Ned had changed his mind about marrying her during their prolonged separation? Could that be the reason for her dream?

  Ada wasn’t sure she’d blame him if he had decided against the wedding. She’d detailed in her letters about assisting the great house’s cook and housekeeper to learn the skills she would need in their new life together. But perhaps that had been an unwise idea.

  It was painfully obvious from her fumbled attempts at cooking and cleaning that she had no hidden talent for housekeeping. She felt as if she was living the reversal of a fairy tale, in which the princess had become the servant instead of the other way around. Still, Hugh’s sister and her husband had treated her kindly, even if they weren’t quite sure what to make of her domestic lessons.

  “Despite that, Ned still loves me,” she whispered into the darkness. “He loves me.”

  There were other things she’d felt less certain about, such as where they would live in London. At present, though Ned had secured a job at a print shop, they didn’t have a flat yet. The uncertainty about their housing had also wound its way into her dreams until she’d received Ned’s last letter.