Cherished (Cutter's Creek Book 9)

by Vivi Holt

  “That sounds lovely – although I can’t walk far, of course.”

  He looked pained. “Of course. Can I just say again how sorry I am …?”

  “No need, Winston, really. It was an accident – these things happen. It’ll mend in no time, I’m sure.”

  He nodded, but remained silent under the wide brim of his beige Stetson. Camilla felt the awkwardness grow between them and her mind searched frantically for a topic of conversation to break the impasse.

  “I wonder, have you heard anything about Maria Holloway’s kidnapping?”

  Winston shook his head with a sad frown. “Unfortunately not. I don’t think the Army is any closer to discovering her whereabouts. I’d hoped they’d find her by now, but I’m beginning to think we’ll never see her again.”

  “I still have nightmares about it.” Camilla blinked, and swallowed hard. She hadn’t told anyone else about the dreams that plagued her . Even though she hadn’t actually witnessed the moment the savages killed Fred and wrenched Maria from the wagon on the Bozeman Trail three years earlier, her mind had conjured up a scene that woke her often, bathed in sweat and with a scream on the verge of being loosed from her throat.

  Winston gazed at her, sorrow in his eyes. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  She nodded, pushing back a sob. “I just hope she’s okay. I can’t bear to think of her in pain – she’d be so afraid, all alone out there. What must she think of us? We still haven’t rescued her, and it’s been so long.”

  Winston’s jaw clenched, and he turned back to watch the mare trotting ahead of them without a word. He put his arm gently around her shoulders to squeeze her once, then dropped it again to his side.

  She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it to her eyes, now wet with unshed tears. As the buggy jounced and jostled them against one another, she laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting the peace and quiet of their surroundings wash over her.

  Before long, they came to a small clearing in the midst of a clump of trees. He pulled the mare to a halt in the shade of a hemlock and climbed down to the grassy knoll beneath the buggy. He reached up his hand to help Camilla down before unhitching the mare and picketing her nearby to graze. “Well, here we are.”

  “Shall we walk, then?” asked Camilla.

  “Yes. It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  “It certainly is. After all the rain we’ve had since the dance, it’s nice to see the sun again.”

  They strolled arm in arm through the clearing, taking in the beauty around them. They entered a tunnel with tall trees framing them on either side, the ground covered in pine needles that crunched with each step. The hollow was shadowed by the regal forest surrounding it, and the air was cool, hidden from the warming rays of the sun.

  Winston walked with his arm supporting Camilla, who also leaned on her walking stick for support and shuffled along at a steady pace. “Do you ever think you could live on a hog farm?” he asked, his cheeks coloring as he spoke.

  Camilla’s heart fluttered in her chest. “I believe I could. Perhaps if I found the right man to marry.”

  He stopped and turned to face her, raising his hands to her shoulders. “Camilla, I …”

  “I think we should probably go back now, Winston,” said Camilla, a tremor in her voice. “My ankle is getting quite painful. Perhaps I should sit in the wagon to rest it.”

  He ducked his head and dropped his hands to his sides. “Yes, of course.”

  Camilla sighed quietly as they turned back toward the buggy. Winston had been about to propose, or at the very least to kiss her beneath the canopy of branches. It had been very romantic, and part of her wished she’d let him. But instead of excitement, she’d been filled with panic as he bent over her, that hungry look in his eyes. She didn’t want to lead him on – what if he despised her now? Had she just blown her chance of becoming Mrs. Winston Frank?

  He certainly didn’t look pleased. She glanced at his reddened cheeks as he strode along silently beside her, and felt a pang of regret as he quietly hitched the mare back to the buggy. “I thought we were going to have a picnic,” she whispered.

  He looked up at the sky. “Storm’s coming – we’d best get back before it hits,” he said gruffly.

  Camilla shrunk inside at the sound. Surely he couldn’t be angry with her. She’d done nothing wrong. She couldn’t let him kiss her if she didn’t intend to marry him, and she wasn’t sure about that yet. Yes, he was handsome, strong and would no doubt be a good provider. But she needed more than that. And maybe he would be everything she wanted, but she just didn’t know. She needed more time – time to get to know him better, to see how they got along.

  Mam had always told her that a woman didn’t need time to fall in love, that she’d know the moment the ground gave way beneath her feet. But what did Mam know? She’d ended up married to a drunk who gambled his wages away while his children starved and froze around him. She didn’t want to wind up like Mam. She wanted to really get to know Winston, find out for certain whether he was the man she could trust with her future.

  They rode back to town in silence as Camilla eyed the black clouds that skidded across the sky above them, squeezing against one another as they vied for space over the narrow valley. She felt as though she might cry. Winston had seemed so warm, caring and concerned on the drive out and when they’d walked together through the clearing. Then in a moment his mood had changed. Now his temper seemed to mimic the sky above them – dark and dangerous.

  He pulled the buggy to a stop in front of the Todds’ cozy cottage. A wisp of smoke crept skyward from the narrow chimney, and a warm light beckoned through the front window.

  “I’m sorry if I upset you,” said Camilla, her face turned up and her eyes fixed on his. “I certainly didn’t intend to.”

  “I’m not upset.” He forced a smile across his face.

  “Really? Because you seem so, though I’m not certain why.”

  “Camilla, I like you. You know I do. But if you don’t feel the same way, you have to tell me.”

  “I just think we should take some time to get to know each other better, that’s all.”

  He tipped his head to one side. “I know everything I need to about you. Time won’t change how I feel.”

  Her face flushed with heat and she felt her heart thud. “Still, I’d like to spend some time with you before I commit. We don’t want to rush in and make a mistake – a lifetime is a long time to live with something like that.”

  “You think it would be a mistake to marry me?” His eyes widened and a muscle tightened in his jaw.

  “No, but we’ve hardly spent any time together. What do we really know about each other? This is the first time we’ve been alone together or really had a chance to talk other than at the dance. Did you really think I could marry you after such a brief courtship?”

  Camilla’s neck felt like it was on fire, and her heart pounded loudly in her chest. She hated confrontation, especially in a situation like this. She could see her words were wounding Winston, and it brought her no pleasure, but she couldn’t lie to him. He had to know that she wasn’t certain of the way forward. Marriage was a serious business, and now that she’d finally found a man who wanted to marry her, she wasn’t sure she could go through with it.

  All of those years of watching Mam’s pain and hardship, loneliness and grief over Da’s actions came rushing back into her mind. She saw Mam crying over an empty larder, rocking hungry babies in her arms, pressing her lips to the forehead of a dead child, working her fingers to the bone to clean, cook, sew, mend, wash and provide for her family …

  She shuddered, and climbed quickly from the buggy before Winston could assist her. “I’m sorry, Winston – I have to go in. I’ll see you soon, I hope.” With a quick wave, she turned away from his clouded face and hurried inside. Closing the door swiftly behind her, she leaned back against it with closed eyes and a loud sigh.

  “What is it, my dear
?” asked Estelle from the sitting room, her knitting needles raised over her lap.

  “Oh, nothing, Aunt Estelle. Winston brought me back because there’s a storm approaching, that’s all.” She forced a smile onto her face and reached up to push a stray curl behind her ear.

  “Oh my, what a shame. You two would have had such a lovely time. It’s a pity you had to cut your visit short. Oh well, no doubt he’ll be back before you know it. I saw the look in his eyes – don’t you worry about that.” She smiled and resumed her knitting.

  Camilla peeled herself off the door and wandered toward her bedroom. What was wrong with her?! All this time she’d so longed for a family of her own, a husband and children. For months she’d been pining over Winston, daydreaming about the moment he’d lean in to kiss her or run his fingers through her hair, fantasizing about the myriad romantic ways he might ask for her hand. Yet when the time came, all she could think about was Mam and Da, and how much she wanted to run as far away from him as she could get.

  She had to snap out of it. Winston was a kind, caring, wonderful man, and any woman would be thrilled to have him as her husband. When he came calling next – if he ever did – she’d make sure he knew how she truly felt. She just hoped she hadn’t succeeded in driving him away.

  Chapter Seven

  October 1871

  Camilla hurried up the long drive, gasping. The last time she’d seen Charlotte, her friend was beside herself over her parents’ impending arrival. She’d made Camilla promise to come over before they got there to help her prepare.

  And now Camilla was running late. It didn’t help that Sam was busy with the wagon and there were no horses for her to borrow – not that she was really comfortable riding a horse yet. So she’d had to walk five miles, and the climb up the steep hill on which the house sat was draining the last of her energy reserves.

  Finally she reached the top and paused at the stairs to catch her breath. She hoped she’d beaten them back from town. Since she couldn’t see Harry’s wagon in its usual place beside the barn, it looked as though she’d made it in time. He must still be in town waiting to greet the stagecoach, thank heavens.

  Charlotte had decided not to go with him since she had so much to do at home. And anyway, she’d said, Johnny’s nap time coincided with their arrival, so it was better for her to stay with him at the house. The last thing she wanted was to introduce them to their grandson for the first time, only for him to be cranky.

  Camilla’s breathing slowed, and she climbed the stairs to the porch and entered the front door. “Hello, Charlotte!” she called, peering around in search of her friend.

  “In here,” called a voice from the kitchen.

  Camilla removed her sun hat and coat and hung them by the door, then looked around. The house gleamed, as though it had been scrubbed and scoured from floorboards to ceiling. Charlotte had certainly worked hard to prepare for her parents’ visit. She hurried to the kitchen, where Charlotte stood with her hands in a large wooden bowl. Her apron was dusted with flour, as was her brow where she’d wiped it with a whitened hand. “Hi, Char. What are you doin’?”

  “Making bread. I thought I had everything ready when I lay Johnny down for his nap, but then I noticed we were out of bread. How could I have missed that? I can’t entertain guests without fresh bread.” Her face was stricken with panic.

  Camilla chuckled beneath her breath. “Oh dear. Charlotte darlin’, they’re comin’ to see you, not eat your bread. I’m sure it’ll be dandy. Calm down, you’ll burst a blood vessel.”

  Charlotte sighed, and Camilla walked around the table to embrace her sister-in-law. “It’s all going to be okay. I know you’re nervous seein’ your parents again, but they must love you a lot to come all this way just to see you, don’t you think?”

  “You’re right, thank you. Honestly, I’m just so surprised they’re coming, I don’t know what to think. I never imagined them making the trip. I thought I’d never see them again. I’m so glad they’re coming, but I feel I have to prove to them that I made the right choice. I gave up marrying a duke and a life of luxury for this. I want to show them that I’m doing well, that I didn’t make an enormous mistake. I don’t want them to pity me – I want them to be happy for me.” She pulled away with a frown, plunged her hands back into the bowl, lifted the dough out onto the table and began kneading it.

  “Are you happy, Char?”

  Charlotte stopped kneading. Her eyes met Camilla’s and she smiled. “Yes, I am. I’m exhausted, sleep-deprived and dreading my parents’ arrival, but I’m happy. I have Harry, Johnny and you. I’m living my life the way I want, without anyone telling me what I should or shouldn’t do. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. Of course, I miss some things – being able to go riding, and Mary of course. I know she was just the maid, but she was my only true friend back home in England. I could do without laundry and cleaning, but those things are really immaterial to happiness in the end, aren’t they?”

  “I think so.”

  “What matters really is that God loves me, I have a family whom I adore, and we’re all okay. So I suppose that’s the long answer – yes, I’m happy.”

  “Well then, your parents should be happy for you. You can’t worry yourself about the what-ifs and all the possibilities. Just be yourself, unapologetically, and they’ll see you’ve made the right choices. And even if they don’t, it’s your life and you don’t owe anyone an explanation for it.”

  “You’re right, of course. But I do think I owe them an explanation. I ran away from home, their home, without a word, and disappeared from their lives. They deserved better than that, and I feel horrible about it still.” She dropped the ball of dough into a bread pan, covered it with a cloth and carried it to the windowsill.

  “Perhaps you should apologize.”

  She paused, then nodded her head. “I know,” she whispered.

  They heard the trot of hooves outside, and Charlotte’s eyes widened. “Oh, they’re here! Cammie, help – what should I do?”

  Camilla laughed, grabbed a dish cloth and wiped the flour from Charlotte’s forehead with a smile. “Take off your apron and go greet your parents. I’ll clean up in here.”

  “Thank you!” Charlotte grinned, removed her apron and hurried from the room.

  ***

  “My my – this is all very rustic, isn’t it?” Lady Cheryl Beaufort, Charlotte’s mother, bustled into the room, the train of her full skirts dusting the floor as she went. She looked a little under the weather; no doubt the coach ride had been tiring. She scanned the room with wide eyes, which soon fell on Camilla standing in the kitchen with a dish towel in her hands.

  Camilla set the dish towel onto the kitchen table and hurried over to greet the woman. “Hello, Lady Cheryl. You may remember me – I’m Camilla Brown, Harry’s sister.”

  Lord Edward Beaufort strode over to stand beside his wife, a frown creasing his wide forehead. “Of course, Miss Brown – how nice to see you again. I wonder, do you miss the village, and your mother? Surely you must.”

  “Yes, your Lordship, I do. I miss home a great deal.” Camilla took Lady Cheryl’s hand, followed by Lord Edward’s, and shook them demurely.

  “Well, of course you do,” Lady Cheryl sniffed, pulling her gloves off one finger at a time. “I only wish my Charlotte had your sense of loyalty to her own home.”

  Charlotte and Harry followed them into the room with Mary close behind, and exchanged a nervous glance.

  “I hope the journey wasn’t too bad,” said Camilla as she made her way back into the kitchen to fix drinks.

  “Hmph! It was dusty and uncomfortable. I’m glad it’s finished.” Lord Edward’s eyes scanned their surroundings in disbelief.

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Father,” said Charlotte as she joined Camilla pouring water into cups and setting them on a tray.

  “Come into the living room and have a seat,” Harry offered. His cheeks were red, and sweat trailed down the sides of his face. Camil
la had never seen him so uncomfortable before.

  The guests followed him to sit side by side, awkward and erect, on the love seat. Harry sat opposite them in an armchair, and Charlotte handed the drinks around as an uncomfortable silence descended between them.

  Finally Lord Edward cleared his throat and narrowed his eyes on Charlotte. “Well, Charlotte my dear., it is good to see you, although I do believe you owe us an apology. Your mother and I were quite put out by your little adventure. The Duke of Notherington was not at all pleased. He won’t receive us, and the scandal your escape caused has been the root of more than one snub in our circle, I can tell you.” He grunted and pulled a pipe from his vest pocket, turning it over and over in his hands.

  Camilla felt a rush of embarrassment on Charlotte’s behalf.

  Charlotte nodded. “You are right, Father, I do owe you an apology. What I did was unforgivable, I can see that now. Will you forgive me?”

  “Hrumph. Yes, I suppose we already have, but still it’s nice to hear you’re sorry for your actions.”

  “I am, Father. And thank you for your forgiveness – it means so much to me.” Charlotte’s cheeks were red as she took a sip of water.

  “Well, here we are,” said Lady Cheryl with a roll of her eyes. “And what a journey! I was beginning to believe we’d never make it.”

  Harry laughed, then covered his mouth in an attempt to turn it into a cough.

  “I’m sorry – did I say something amusing?”

  “No … it’s just that Charlotte rolls her eyes exactly the same way you just did,” Harry pulled at the tie Charlotte had forced him to wear, loosening the knot.

  Lord Edward chuckled, “Yes, she does. They look just the same when aggravated. Ha!” The tension was broken by the joke, and everyone seemed to finally relax.

  “I was wondering where the servants quarters might be?” asked Mary quietly.