At least Jasper would say he had missed her even if he did not mean it. In all their time together, he’d only ever been complimentary towards her, sometimes a little too complimentary. Abby didn’t know if she should be happy or frustrated by that aspect of his character. While she appreciated his endless optimism and gallantry, she never knew what to believe and what to discard. Which was better, a man who spoke the absolute truth, even if it was hurtful at times, or a man who turned everything into flowery speeches?
“I shall look forward to seeing him soon then,” said Abby. She glanced up from her stitching, wondering about the woman before her. Had Lady Brigston loved her late husband? Did she miss him? What sort of marriage had they experienced?
“What was Jasper’s father like?” she blurted. “Will you tell me something about him, if it’s not too painful that is?”
Abby would have worried she’d overstepped, but a slight smile touched Lady Brigston’s lips, softening the lines around her eyes and mouth. “Adam was everything I was not. Vivacious, endearing, and so very tall. He looked and behaved much like Jasper in many respects, though as he aged, he became more steady, if you can understand what I mean.”
Abby thought she understood. Indeed, added steadiness sounded wonderful to her. Perhaps in time, she would be able to say the same of Jasper.
“He was not a typical father who left the rearing of his boys to a nursemaid. From the time they could walk, Adam taught them to fish, climb trees, ride, and even swim. When they were old enough, he bought them rifles, and they learned to hunt. The three of them were very close, and once they left for school, Adam would eagerly await their return during the breaks. He used to drive me mad, pacing about, glancing out the window every few seconds, but the moment he spotted the carriage coming around the bend, his grin warmed my heart.”
She set her embroidery on her lap, and a look of sadness crossed her features. “One particular break, Jasper opted not to return home, choosing instead to spend the time at a friend’s estate. Gradually, that became the norm with him. Oxford changed him. His friends changed him. Life changed him. Adam would never admit it, but it broke his heart, and after he passed on, Brigston began to change as well. Where Jasper became increasingly frivolous, Brigston became more solemn.”
Lady Brigston’s eyes shown bright with unshed tears as she looked at Abby. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that Jasper has found you. I may seem disapproving at times, but you have brought my son home. Although he has gone away for a short while, I’m hopeful that you and your unborn child will become the steadying influence he needs in his life.” She smiled at Abby. “I have already told the vicar’s wife that I will be making the christening gown for my grandchild.”
Abby didn’t know how to feel or respond. While her mother-in-law’s sincerity warmed her soul, she feared Lady Brigston would be disappointed. Her? A steadying influence on Jasper? Abby might have laughed at the idea if the circumstances were at all laughable. The only reason Jasper had come home, as Lady Brigston put it, was because Abby discovered she was increasing. She was also certain her husband considered her to be more of an impediment than a blessing.
I will change that, she vowed silently to herself.
As soon as Jasper returned, she’d do whatever it took to cherish and win the heart of her husband. Perhaps with both women hoping and praying, a positive transformation would come about. Miracles were not unheard of, after all.
“You’ve painted such a lovely picture of your husband and sons,” said Abby. “Do you think Jasper will teach this little one how to fish, swim, climb trees, and hunt?”
“I do,” said Lady Brigston with a twinkle in her eyes. “And you will teach him or her how to order cows about.”
Abby chuckled, and her mother-in-law did as well. For the first time since meeting the woman, Abby felt a glimmer of hope. Even if Jasper never became the sort of husband or father they both wished him to be, perhaps Lady Brigston would become something more than an austere and disapproving mother-in-law. Perhaps she could become a mother.
“ABBY, THIS IS remarkable.” Lady Brigston inspected the embroidery Abby had stayed up half the night finishing. She’d wanted to gain her mother-in-law’s approval in some way, so she had taken one of the christening gowns to bed with her and had burned through an entire candle before she’d been satisfied enough to set it aside and get some rest. That morning, she’d looked it over again with a pleased smile. The intricate line of ivy and flowers she’d sewn above the waistline was some of her best work. She’d sent up a silent prayer that Lady Brigston would agree and took the finished gown with her to the breakfast parlor.
“Each side of the design appears to be an exact replica of the other. However did you do it?” Warm brown eyes peered across the table at Abby, and she had to fight the urge not to blush.
“I draw my designs on paper with ink, lay the fabric over top, and trace them using a sharpened pencil. It isn’t perfect, but I’m pleased with how it turned out. I hope you don’t mind that I took the liberty of embroidering this dress without your consent.”
“Why would I mind when it is superior to mine? I only worry the mother will want the twins to look the same.” Her brow furrowed as she held the gown up for inspection once more. “They will be mostly the same, I suppose. Only the embroidery is different. Do you think she will care?”
“If it were me, I would want some distinguishing feature to help me tell them apart.”
Lady Brigston nodded thoughtfully. “I hadn’t considered that.” She carefully folded the fabric and placed it on the table at her side. “That settles it then. I shall finish the other one this afternoon, and we’ll deliver them on the morrow. I can’t thank you enough for your help, Abby. You have proven yourself to be quite the seamstress. I am impressed.”
“I’m glad to have at least one redeeming quality.” Abby smiled, hoping Lady Brigston would take her teasing in stride.
“You have already proven to have more than one, my dear. You can draw as well.”
Abby grimaced and shook her head. “Not unless you call forgery a talent. I stole the ivy design from one of the pillows in my room.”
Lady Brigston chuckled. “Then you are a marvelous forger.”
From the corner of her eye, Abby saw Brigston enter the room. She brightened, ready to turn her smile on him until she noticed his ashen face.
He quickly dismissed the few servants in the room before closing the door, his body trembling as he leaned against it for support.
Lady Brigston stood and faced him. “What is it, Morgan?”
He closed his eyes briefly, and a tear rolled down his cheek. Good heavens, something terrible must have happened. Abby froze, wondering if she should leave. Was this a private family matter? Had Brigston even noticed her?
“Tell me this instant,” demanded his mother, her voice shaky but stern.
“A messenger just arrived from Barlow. He rode all night to inform us that…” Brigston’s voice became ragged, and he looked at Abby. “Jasper has met with an accident. He’s… he’s gone.”
Gone? Abby thought. As in… gone?
No.
It suddenly felt as though all the air left the room. Abby leaned over the table, gulping in air, her thoughts frenzied and frantic.
Gone.
It couldn’t be. It just… couldn’t. Not now, not when she had determined to change, to be better. Surely God wouldn’t deprive her of that opportunity.
“What do you mean, gone?” demanded Lady Brigston in a shaky voice. The question was almost a challenge, daring her son to give her an answer she could accept.
“He’s dead, Mother.”
Lady Brigston’s hands covered her mouth as she shook her head. “No,” came her whispered plea. “No.”
Abby felt the room tilt and spin. She closed her eyes against the pain of loss, disappointment, and strangled hopes. Jasper was dead—the man who’d always seemed impervious to everything, who could find something to lau
gh about even in the most dire of circumstances, the man who had willingly sacrificed his freedom to protect hers.
Her chest clenched in anguish. This was all so wrong. So very, very wrong.
Brigston went to his mother, enfolding her in his arms as he searched Abby’s gaze. Lady Brigston’s strength must have finally given way because she clung to her son and began to sob into his shoulder. The sound wrenched at Abby’s heart, tearing it apart even more.
She stared at the mother and son as one might from the outside, looking in. Sounds and thoughts collided in her head, thundering through it like a herd of cattle on the run. When it reached the point she couldn’t handle it any longer, Abby rushed to the door and threw it open, ignoring Brigston when he called out to her. She ran to her bedchamber, slammed and bolted the door, then crumbled to the floor in a wretched heap, clinging to her knees and burying her head in her skirts.
Why did good and honorable people have to die while deplorable people lived and breathed and went about their deplorable lives? God was supposed to be good and just, but where was the justice in this? Where was the mercy? Where was the love?
I could have loved him the way he deserved to be loved. I could have been a good wife. I could have made him more steady.
Jasper did not deserve this fate. His family didn’t deserve to suffer the consequences.
Abby lifted her tear-strewn cheeks to the ceiling. Why, God, why? Why didn’t you take me instead?
Even as she thought it, Abby felt a fluttering in her abdomen. She slowly dropped her hand to her belly, wishing with all her heart that she could have another go at this past year. If she could, she would be wiser and less self-absorbed. She would make different choices, accept the responsibilities for those choices, and seize control of her life instead of turning it over to others.
If only such a thing were possible, Jasper would still be alive.
A hollow, oppressive feeling weighed down on her, eating up the last of her strength. Abby lay down on the cold, marble floor and curled into a ball.
THE DAYS DRAGGED by in a blur of grays. Thunder shook the gloomy skies, and for the first time in weeks, rain poured down upon Oakley Grange, beating against the roof and slamming into the windows. An undertaker had been engaged to handle all funeral preparations, but Lady Brigston insisted that she and Abby would wash and dress Jasper’s body.
They worked mostly in silence, saying only what needed to be said. There seemed to be no tears left to cry—only grim countenances as they watched their son and husband’s body being laid out on a table in a room shrouded in black silk. Friends and neighbors came to pay their respects, speaking in quiet, cheerless voices, but it all sounded loud to Abby.
It wasn’t the thing for women to attend the burial services, so Abby watched from her bedchamber window. A small chapel sat on a small rise in the distance. It was no longer used for meetings, but generations of Campbells had been buried in that churchyard, so the local clergyman had agreed to officiate. Though it was too far away to make out details, Abby could see a cluster of men gathered around the gravesite. She couldn’t pry her eyes away as they lowered the coffin into the ground and covered it with layer after layer of earth.
After a time, the solemn group returned to the house, all except one, that is. Abby would recognize his straight back and sturdy frame anywhere. Brigston stood next to the grave, holding his hat in his hands with his head bowed. How lonely and small he appeared on that rise.
Abby swallowed against what had become a constant lump in her throat and turned away from the scene. Tonight she’d be expected to dine with those who had come to mourn. She’d be expected to accept their condolences and thank them for coming.
She dreaded it.
How could she look the others in the eye? How could she pretend her pain was more or equal to theirs when they’d known Jasper longer and better than she had? Their memories of him dated back to his school days, childhood, and birth. Abby had only been granted a few months with him, and during that time, he’d masked his true self. She knew that his favorite food was venison, his favorite color was blue, and his favorite breed of dog was a bloodhound, but she hadn’t uncovered anything deeper than that. Jasper had let people see what he wanted them to see, nothing more.
Now here she was, the bereaved widow—the person who should be suffering the most.
Abby felt like a fraud. Although she’d cared for Jasper, she missed what they might have become more than what they’d had. Her name might be Lady Jasper Campbell, but she didn’t belong to this family or Jasper’s circle of friends, and she certainly didn’t deserve to mourn as one of the chiefs among them.
For a brief moment, she considered crying off from dinner. They would understand. How could they not? But that would be the cowardly thing to do, and if there was one thing Abby had learned over the past few months, cowardice only worsened matters. She would go to that dinner, she would graciously thank all those who had come, and in the coming days, she would tell The Dowager Lady Brigston and her eldest son what she should have told them from the beginning.
She owed them that much.
MORGAN RUBBED HIS dry and tired eyes, blinking at the documents his solicitor had recently delivered. As much as he didn’t want to deal with any of this right now, Jasper had left his finances in a muddle, and there were certain matters that needed to be dealt with straightaway, especially when it came to Abby.
“My lord,” said his solicitor quietly, “you ought to think this through before making any rash decisions.”
Morgan firmed his jaw. “This is not a rash decision. My brother amassed most of those debts prior to his marriage, and Lady Jasper should not be made to pay for them.”
“It is not Lady Jasper’s money any longer, my lord. No marriage settlements were made or signed. Her entire portion became your brother’s as soon as they married, and that sum should now be used to pay for his debts. If there is anything left, we can settle it on the child.”
“You know as well as I that there won’t be anything left.” Morgan sounded as frustrated as he felt. “It isn’t right to leave Abby with nothing simply because she behaved rashly. I’ll not stand by and allow that to happen.”
“But, sir—”
“Enough, Mr. Kline,” Morgan said firmly. “You may go now. Please send word when the papers are ready to be signed.”
“Yes, my lord.” The deep grooves around the solicitor’s eyes and mouth made his displeasure clear. Mr. Kline had served Morgan’s family for nearly forty years. He was intelligent, hard-working, and trustworthy, but he managed money using his mind and not his heart. Normally that was a good thing, but in this situation, compassion was required.
Not five minutes after the solicitor had gone, a quiet knock sounded on the door.
“Enter.” Morgan threaded his fingers together over the documents and waited.
Abby took a step inside the room, looking ghostly against the stark black of her mourning dress. The morbid color did not suit her at all, nor did the dark circles under her eyes. If it wasn’t for the golden highlights in her hair, she’d look like death itself.
“Smithson said you wished to speak with me.” She curtsied, appearing as though she’d lost some weight when she should be gaining it. Her appearance only reaffirmed Morgan’s resolve to put an end to some of her troubles.
He gestured to the chair opposite him. “Please have a seat. There are some things we need to discuss about your financial situation. I realize this is not a conversation either of us wants to have right now, but it cannot be helped.”
Abby nodded and did as he asked, but before he could decide where to begin, she blurted, “You needn’t explain the sorry facts to me, Brigston. I am well aware of the disadvantages of elopement and the precarious position of my affairs.”
Morgan ran the quill’s feather through his fingers. “Precarious is putting it mildly. You’ve been left with nothing, Abby.”
She drew in a shuddering breath but still met h
is gaze squarely. “Do not think I expect you to provide for me. As soon as I can make the arrangements, I will be leaving.”
Morgan didn’t know what he’d been expecting her to say, but not that. He’d assumed she’d remain at least until the babe was born if not longer. They were her family now. Where would she go? To her absentee father’s home? Back to Lord and Lady Knave?
“You wish to leave?”
“Wish it or not, I can’t remain. I don’t belong here.”
Morgan couldn’t fathom how she’d arrived at that conclusion. “We are brother and sister, Abby. You are carrying my nephew and my mother’s grandchild. You belong at Oakley Grange as much as I do.”
Abby shook her head, her hands running up and down her skirts in a nervous fashion. “You don’t understand.”
“Pray, enlighten me.”
She pressed her lips together and blinked rapidly. When she glanced towards the window, Morgan caught the sheen of unshed tears sparkling in her lovely, blue eyes. She was crying? Why? He’d said nothing offensive or unkind, had he? On the contrary, he’d honored her by calling her family. Deuce take it, she was family.
Morgan leaned back in his chair. “Abby, you are under no obligation to stay. If you’d prefer to go elsewhere, Mother and I will support you in any way that we can. But, like it or not, you are family now, and—”
“The child I am carrying is not Jasper’s.” The words came out in a tumbled, anguished rush.
For a moment, Morgan thought he’d heard wrong, but the sheen in her eyes, the shame and misery in her expression, and her clammy, fidgeting hands all testified that he had not. He stared at her in disbelief.
“If not Jasper’s, then whose?”
She shook her head, her eyes dropping to her hands. Her lips trembled before she pressed them together in a tight line.
Morgan didn’t want to believe her. He might have found several reasons not to if her admission had not shed some light on other things. The short courtship, the elopement, the lack of joy in her features at the wedding ball. The truth of it churned his stomach.
My Brother's Bride Page 5