by Sarah Ladd
Unwilling to wait for Captain Sterling to be properly announced, she hurried from the breakfast room to meet him in the hall. She arrived, breathless, just as he was stepping through the threshold. He swept his beaver hat from his head and handed it to James in one fluid movement. His stormy gray eyes met hers. Her breathing slowed, and something fluttered in her heart—an emotion she did not understand.
He forewent a formal welcome. “Are you all right, Amelia?”
She flushed at the informality with which he addressed her. The only men to call her by her Christian name were her uncle and Edward. But why should he not? “Yes, I am well, thank you.”
“And Lucy?”
“She is well. I spent some time with her in the nursery earlier this morning.”
“Good. Any sign of Littleton?”
“He has not returned to Winterwood, although I have just learned from my uncle that he is still in Darbury.”
“I cannot say I am surprised.” The captain’s every word conveyed purpose. His eyes darted about, as if searching for something. “Is your uncle at home?”
She nodded, purposely diverting her gaze from his split lip. “He is in the breakfast room, with the family.”
“I will speak to him, and then I believe we should call on the vicar and explain the situation. In light of what has happened, the sooner all is finalized, the better.”
He spoke as if checking items off a list, but with every word Amelia relaxed. He was as committed to this plan as she was. His determination boosted her confidence.
“Will you take me to your uncle?”
She nodded. “If you’ll just follow me.”
Amelia would not have thought it possible, but upon her reentering the breakfast room, accompanied by the captain, the room’s oppressive atmosphere grew even colder. Helena stared at something in the middle of the table. Aunt Augusta glared at the captain, and Uncle George continued eating, ignoring them completely.
Amelia’s voice cracked as she spoke. “Uncle, Captain Sterling is here to speak with you.”
Captain Sterling bowed toward Aunt Augusta before turning to her uncle. “Mr. Barrett, I was hoping to have a moment of your time.”
Her uncle’s lips disappeared into a thin line. “You said quite enough last night. I think you should be on your way, sir.”
“That is not an option, I’m afraid. We need to speak. In private.”
“You’ll find my opinions have not changed.”
“I supposed as much. Still, there are matters to discuss.”
As if suffering from a great inconvenience, Uncle George pushed back his chair and stood. He said nothing, but pursed his lips and tucked his paper under his arm, then pointed to the threshold and walked through it. Graham followed.
Amelia rubbed her neck and rested her hand on her shoulder as she watched the men disappear. Unable to endure the breakfast table any longer, she withdrew to the drawing room to wait.
Outside the window, the sun’s white light caught on the edge of the silver clouds and reflected to the ground below. The frost shone like diamonds on the expansive lawn. Everything looked so calm. So peaceful. Why couldn’t it storm to match the restless turmoil churning within her?
Graham tapped his fingers on the carriage windowsill on the short ride to the vicarage. His conversation with George Barrett echoed in his mind like a noisy gull. He’d hoped to smooth things over for Lucy’s sake as well as Amelia’s, but the old man had proved every bit as stubborn as his niece.
He watched Amelia as she fussed with the fur lining of her pelisse and adjusted her cap. Only when she looked at him with those bright blue eyes did he realize he was staring.
“You seem lost in thought, Captain Sterling.” Her voice seemed tranquil, though her shadowed eyes and tightly laced fingers told another story.
He shifted in his seat and braced himself as the carriage lurched forward into motion. “I hope last night’s events were not too disturbing for you.”
She shook her head. “’Tis a shame it happened, but I daresay it was to be expected. I knew Edward was of a passionate bent, but I would never have expected him to strike you.”
“I’ve taken my fair share of blows in my days. This was little different.”
“Be that as it may, he had no right to do so.” She fiddled with the lace trim on her reticule, her eyebrows drawn. “What did Uncle George say when you spoke?”
Graham looked out the carriage window. How could he tell her the truth—that if she proceeded with this marriage, she was as good as dead to her uncle? “It was . . . in keeping with what he said last night.”
“Did he tell you any more of Edward being in town?”
“He did.” Graham’s jaw twitched. If this had been purely a case of a jilted lover, the wounded beau would retreat and nurse his wounds. But this had nothing to do with affection . . . and everything to do with greed.
Graham swayed with the carriage as it jostled down the rutted road. He studied the profile of the woman who would be his wife very soon.
Wife. The very word denoted intimacy. And yet Amelia was still a stranger to him.
He knew she was intelligent. Loyal. Kind. Impulsive. Loving with children, terrible with watercolors. But what of her past? Her dreams? He wanted to know more about her. No, wanted to know everything about her.
His coat seemed to tighten as the carriage’s comfortable silence closed around him. He pulled his gloves from his hands and tucked them in his pocket.
Keep to business.
Jane Hammond didn’t wait for her butler to announce Amelia and Graham’s arrival. She met them at the door herself, her brow furrowed. “Edward Littleton was just here. I’ve never seen a man so beside himself.”
Edward, here? Amelia’s stomach clenched. The Hammond house had always been a refuge for her, and Edward’s visit felt like a violation.
“I need to talk with you and Mr. Hammond.” She gestured toward Captain Sterling, who followed her through the door. “We need to talk with you.”
Mrs. Hammond winced as her gaze fell on the captain’s lip. “For mercy’s sake, what happened?”
Amelia didn’t give him a chance to respond. “Edward struck him.”
Jane shook her head and ushered them in. Amelia handed her cap and reticule to a somberly dressed servant and attempted to remove her kidskin gloves. She hadn’t realized her hands were trembling until she tried to unfasten the tiny ivory button at the base of her palm. She bit her lip, determined to free her hand from the glove’s grip. Why couldn’t anything be easy?
So focused was Amelia on the glove that she nearly jumped when Jane touched her shoulder. “Here, dearest, allow me.”
Amelia sighed and extended her wrist to Jane, keeping her eyes downcast. What had Edward been thinking to come here? What right did he have?
Amelia swallowed as she watched Jane’s long, graceful fingers work the button through the loop and then gently pull the glove from her hand. She released a shaky breath and stretched her fingers. “Thank you.”
Jane called for tea, then ushered the party into the drawing room where her husband waited. Thomas Hammond’s kind, familiar smile should have soothed Amelia’s nerves, but it had quite the opposite effect.
Jane directed Amelia to the settee. “Do be seated, Amelia. And you too, Captain Sterling.” Amelia followed Jane’s bidding and sat down, but the captain crossed the room and stood next to the fireplace by the vicar.
Amelia’s eyes tracked Captain Sterling’s every movement. How she wished she could read his thoughts. The farther away she was from him, the more exposed she felt, even in the sanctuary of the Hammond home.
Jane took the empty space next to Amelia on the settee and took her hand. “Now, tell us what has happened.”
Amelia looked down to hide her trembling chin. She feared that the moment she opened her mouth, her every thought, every secret, would spill out.
Captain Sterling’s strong voice filled the empty silence. “We wish to be m
arried.”
Mr. Hammond drummed his fingers on the mantel. “I gathered as much from our visitor this morning.”
The captain reached inside his satchel and produced the license. “You’ll find that everything is in order. We wish to marry as soon as possible.”
Mr. Hammond took the extended document and held it to the light. His gaze shifted from the document to his wife. Their exchange made Amelia feel like a child. Heat rushed to her face. She didn’t want to be questioned, and she was tired of feeling judged.
Mr. Hammond folded the document and handed it back to Captain Sterling. “Why don’t we leave the ladies to their discussion? We can talk privately in my library.” The captain looked over at Amelia before nodding at the vicar and following him from the room.
Amelia rubbed her hand against her forehead before clasping her hands in her lap. She had tried so hard to keep her tears from falling. To be strong, like Katherine or Jane. But as the men took their leave, a shudder escaped.
“Amelia?”
She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came, just a choking sob. For the first time in weeks, honest, unbridled tears flowed freely. Jane wrapped her arms around Amelia and stroked her hair. “What is it, dearest? Tell me.”
Amelia’s thoughts raced. Where could she start? What should she tell?
Jane gently pushed Amelia away from her shoulder and looked at her. “Is it Mr. Littleton?”
Amelia wiped her face with the palm of her hand. “Yes. No. I mean—not just Edward.”
Jane frowned. “Is it Captain Sterling?”
Amelia hesitated. But what did she have to lose by telling Jane? The news of her and Captain Sterling would be all over Darbury by nightfall. She didn’t want Jane to hear any details from another source, and the weight of her situation threatened to pull her under. Amelia squeezed her eyes shut, drew a long, shaky breath, and forced the words. “It started when I . . . when I proposed to Captain Sterling.”
She paused, waiting for Jane’s gasp of shock. It didn’t come. She waited for the reprimand. Nothing. Amelia slowly opened her eyes, fearing her friend’s expression, but Jane’s eyes were soft.
Amelia swallowed, mustering courage to continue her confession. But once she started, there was no stopping. She shared everything from her proposal to their time alone in the graveyard to her family’s wrath.
Jane’s silence during it all unnerved Amelia, and she was glad when her friend finally spoke. “Oh, Amelia, this is news, indeed.”
“Do you disagree with my decision?”
Jane dropped her eyes as if carefully selecting her words. “You know my feelings about the Sterling family, William Sterling in particular.”
“But the captain is not his brother. You yourself pointed that out.”
“Be that as it may, Amelia, you barely know the man. At least, with Mr. Littleton, you know his nature and have your family’s blessing. Are you quite certain this is the path you wish to take?”
“I am. I know it seems imprudent, but I am convinced. Lucy is part of me, and the captain is very kind. And I have come to believe that Edward Littleton is quite unsuitable, perhaps even unscrupulous.”
Jane’s eyebrows drew together. “I do not like to see you in such a situation, Amelia. If only there was another way.”
“I have considered every possible course, Jane. You must believe I have.”
“And you have prayed about it?”
It was Amelia’s turn to hesitate. Yes, she had prayed. Perhaps she’d even experienced some answers. Then why did the topic make her so uneasy?
She stood and began pacing. “Aunt Augusta says I am selfish. I am beginning to wonder if she’s right. Yes, I love Lucy and want to raise her. But part of me, if I am completely honest, is also happy to be free from Edward. What if I just told myself that marrying the captain instead of Edward is God’s will, when in fact I am just trying to please myself?”
Jane looked up from where she sat. “God does not trick us. If you believe God called you to raise Lucy, then he will provide a way.”
“Even if it means bringing pain to those I love? My aunt and uncle are furious, Helena all but hates me. What I have chosen will cause them many difficulties.”
“It is impossible to get through life without facing such dilemmas. All we can do is seek guidance, do our best, and trust our Father for the outcome.”
Jane’s words should have comforted Amelia, but instead they sliced her conscience. She sniffed, not caring how unladylike it was. “I do believe this is the best course. With all of my heart I believe it.”
Jane squeezed Amelia’s hand. “I do believe you have more faith than you think.”
Amelia looked at her hands and sniffed again, wanting to change the subject from her faith—or lack thereof. “What did Edward say when he was here?”
“He wanted me to use my powers of friendship to persuade you to change your mind.”
Amelia wiped the traces of a tear away and sighed. “I dread what will happen when word of this becomes public—and it will. When the gossips learn I have broken my engagement at this late date and am to marry Captain Sterling, I shudder to think what they will say.”
“I would counsel you not worry much about them. They are all prattle, and soon there will be new rumors to divert their attentions. Now, sit and have some tea. You are making me nervous.”
Amelia complied, perching next to Jane on the settee. “But you know how quickly such things spread. People may get a false impression.”
“Well, we will just have to intervene.” Jane poured Amelia a cup of tea and handed her the dainty cup. “It’s simple. Mr. Hammond and I will host a dinner to welcome Captain Sterling back to the neighborhood and to celebrate the engagement. You know how all of the gossips cling onto Mr. Hammond’s every word as truth.”
Jane was right. If Mr. Hammond showed favor to Captain Sterling, his parishioners likely would as well. At the very least, that should help control the local gossip. “You are clever, Jane. Clever indeed.”
A playful smile curled Jane’s lips. “I didn’t survive being a vicar’s wife for almost thirty-five years without picking up a trick or two along the way.” She poured a cup of tea for herself, took a sip, then sighed. “We’ll schedule it soon. I should think that if we have it within the week it will show my husband’s blessing. The rest will follow. I fear that there is no way around inviting your betrothed’s brother, is there?”
Amelia simply gave her a look.
“Well, too bad about that.” Jane took another sip. “Nevertheless, all shall be well, my dearest. You will see.”
Amelia stood in Winterwood’s vestibule, watching through the window as the carriage returning Captain Sterling to Eastmore Hall clamored down the drive.
My plan is proving to be successful. So why do I feel this way?
It just didn’t make sense. With Lucy safe at Winterwood, the conversation with the Hammonds behind her, and her wedding scheduled for the following Friday, she should be excited, filled with plans. Instead, her back muscles ached, her temples throbbed, and she couldn’t seem to make her feet move any farther.
Oh, Lord, please help me make it to Friday. She straightened and started for the stairs. But then a sharp noise echoed, and she froze. She peered down the hall to her left. A light shone under the library door. Someone was home.
Desperate to go unnoticed, she hurried across the vestibule just as James appeared in the hall. “Welcome home, Miss Barrett. I trust your outing was enjoyable.”
Amelia’s heart hammered in her chest at the volume of the man’s voice. She raised a hand to silence him, but too late. The library door flew open, and her uncle filled the doorway.
He came toward her. “Amelia, you have a visitor.”
A prickling sensation climbed her spine. “I am not feeling well. I think I will—”
“Not this time, Amelia.” He reached out and wrapped his pudgy fingers around her arm. “It’s time you faced the consequences of your
actions.”
She shifted her weight backward. “But I still have my outside things on. Give me a minute to tidy up and I—”
“It would be rude to keep your guest waiting.”
He yanked on her arm, causing her to stumble forward several steps. Only when she almost fell did he loosen his grip. “Take off that coat and hat. I’ll wait.”
His eyes were hard under wiry eyebrows as she removed her outer garments. She threw a pleading glance at James, as if he could in some way help her, but her uncle was the master—for now, at least.
Slowly she freed herself from the pelisse.
“Come on, girl.” Uncle George walked ahead of her down the hall and stepped back to give her room to enter. She handed her items to James before stepping into the sunlit chamber.
She scanned the room. Her aunt and cousin sat on the settee. Aunt Augusta regarded her with a haughty sneer. Helena would not look at her. Instead, she stared toward the far corner of the room.
Amelia’s breath caught as she followed Helena’s eyes to see Edward Littleton standing there. Jane had been correct—his appearance was much altered. Red rimmed his dark eyes, and his complexion, usually vibrant, was sallow and pale. A day’s worth of stubble blackened his strong jawline. A crumpled cravat hung loosely about his neck, and his wrinkled tailcoat hung open over dirt-smudged fawn breeches. She gaped at him in stunned silence.
Aunt Augusta stood abruptly, pulled Helena to a standing position, then half dragged her to the doorway.
“Wait! Where you are going?” To her own ears, Amelia sounded like a bewildered child. She took a step to follow them, but they ignored her. Uncle George opened the door just wide enough for his wife and daughter to slip past, then followed them out and slammed the door behind him.
Amelia turned slowly to face Edward. She clenched her fists with such intensity that the nails dug into her palms.