“When do you plan to leave?”
My fingers twitched over the letter in my lap. “As soon as I am able.”
She threw me a look of suspicion. “Surely you plan to involve Mama and Papa in the travel arrangements? Papa will insist on everything being good and proper.”
I bit my lip.
“Lucy.” Rachel’s eyebrow arched.
It felt as if I were being forced to confess to a stern nanny, much less my caring sister. “I did not plan to inform them. I need to do this on my own.”
“Lucy, I must insist that you make the proper arrangements.”
I almost snapped at her, but saw that she was genuinely concerned. “I plan to travel by mail coach. It is the most affordable option.”
Rachel was quiet for a long moment.
“You won’t tell them, will you?” My heart pounded with dread. This was my grand opportunity. I could not afford to have anyone stop me. My heart would break all over again, this time at the hand of shattered dreams. I couldn’t carry on day to day with the same coastline, the same storms, the same bleak shops. The only thing that Craster shared with the countryside was the sky, but it was a different color there. I felt choked in confinement, seeing what I longed for but unable to touch it. Rachel had found love, joy, and contentment. I wanted the same.
“You should not be angry with them, Lucy.” Rachel’s voice was soft. “Mama and Papa had their reasons for keeping away these years.”
My jaw tightened and I looked out the window again. Yes, reasons that they would never speak of. Secret things.
When I didn’t reply, Rachel stood, smoothing her skirts. “I will not stop you from leaving. But please write to me often. Be safe.” When she met her husband at the door, she gave me a final glance over her shoulder before disappearing from sight.
What Rachel did not know is that I had already replied to that letter from Kitty. It had come weeks before, and I was leaving within the week.
I had been wrong, Rachel didn’t always understand completely. Mama and Papa may have had their reasons for keeping away from Rosewood, but I also had my reasons for being angry. By keeping me away from the countryside, they had deprived me of five summers—five summers I could have changed Nicholas’s mind. What if he had seen me grown up? I was no longer a little child. Year after year, I begged to be allowed to go visit again. I told my parents it was because of my cousins, and the sunshine, and the beautiful village, and it was, but they knew that I missed Nicholas the most.
The handsome men are always the ones to be chased. It didn’t matter whether they were intelligent, or humorous, or kind. I swallowed hard, clearing the lump in my throat. No girl had known Nicholas like I did. They hadn’t seen what was in his heart. I had always considered myself fortunate to have seen it, but now that it was certain that I could not have him, I regretted every moment. I had seen what was in his heart, and I had seen that I was not there. But a day had yet to pass that I didn’t wonder what might have happened if he had seen me turn sixteen, seventeen, eighteen—what might have changed? Now I was twenty. It had been too long.
I could never know what might have happened because Mama and Papa had taken that from me. The blame and the hurt welled up inside me until I couldn’t breathe. It was too late. Nicholas was married. I was not surprised at the news, but only at the pain that followed. I had thought my heart to have been stronger than that.
But I was still traveling to Dover. I would stay at Rosewood with my cousins and have a liberating and beautiful few months. I would put my past behind me and start anew. Before my mind could be reversed, I bolted to the stairs and found a place at the writing desk in my bedchamber. My heart raced, bringing tremors to each finger as I dipped the quill.
Dear Kitty,
I am pleased to hear that I will be welcome. You may expect my arrival on the twenty-fifth day of September, should all go as planned. I hope this note receives you well.
With love,
Lucy
After ringing for my maid to post the letter, I turned in my chair, chewing my lip with concern at the prospect of packing my trunk. It was tucked behind the gowns that hung in my wardrobe. Moving across the room, I faced the gowns in my wardrobe, wringing my hands together. These gowns would need to be packed eventually, and it so happened that my ‘eventually’ expired tomorrow. I would be leaving Craster. My heart quaked with excitement and fear at the thought.
Kneeling down, I pulled the trunk out from behind the skirts of those dresses, hands shaking as I unclasped the latch. Staring down into the contents of my trunk, I frowned. The trunk was almost full already with my hats and other necessities.
Laying the gowns out on the floor, I first tried rolling them, but the densely packed fabric crushed the fine feathers of the hats. I breathed a sigh of frustration, settling on bringing only half of the dresses to Rosewood. Surely I could have more dresses made upon my arrival. Or perhaps I could learn to make them myself.
Or I could learn to make hats.
The idea sent a tingle of joy rolling over my skin. There were plenty of much larger shops in Dover, and I could only imagine how much the local milliner’s had grown since I had last visited six years before.
After I was satisfied with the arrangement of my belongings, I sat back on my bed, breathing deeply and trying to formulate a plan. Mama and Papa would need to be informed of my planned departure. It was something I had been putting off for weeks. I had no idea of how they would react, but I knew that I couldn’t let them change my mind. Nothing could change my mind.
“Lucy?”
My head snapped toward my door. It was Mama’s voice.
“Are you there?”
In panic, I leapt from my bed, landing in front of my trunk and sliding it forcefully underneath my bed. I cringed at the deep, grating sound of the leather as it scratched across the floor. Pushing my dark hair from my eyes, I found my place on my bed again and clasped my hands in my lap.
“Yes.” My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “What is it?”
The door eased open and Mama walked in. She was smiling, as she always did when she knew I wouldn’t be. She thought it would make me smile more willingly if she never stopped. I wanted to smile, but I had found it very difficult lately.
“Lucy, dear, what are you always doing up here in your bedchamber?” She crossed the room to sit beside me on the edge of my bed. “I have missed my cheerful girl.” She rubbed my arm. I loved her, but there were times she cared too much. She tried too hard to make me cheerful rather than understand why I could not be. She didn’t know the pain she had caused me by not letting me leave Craster. How could she have known? I had kept it hidden for years. I had never shed a tear in front of her; I had never complained. I had never confided my attachment to Nicholas to her or anyone else. Yet something buried deep inside of me found her and Papa to blame for these feelings of confinement and sorrow.
“Would you like to take a walk with me to visit Charlotte and James? Their piano duets always seem to remedy your spirits. Perhaps Clara and Thomas?” Mama was trying to pull my eyes to hers, but I could not look at her for fear I would cry. She hadn’t seen my tears since I learned of Nicholas’s marriage. She couldn’t know how much the news had affected me.
When I didn’t answer, Mama squeezed me closer. “Where is my cheerful girl? Shall we run you up a new hat?”
“I am not a girl, Mama,” I croaked. “I am twenty.”
She fell quiet, pulling away so she could see my face more clearly. I glanced at her, feeling the sting of tears as emotion tore through my skull. I could not contain them now. Ducking my head, I scooted to the other side of the bed to hide my face from her as my tears slid down my cheeks. What had come over me?
“Oh, Lucy,” Mama whispered. “If I knew what was troubling you I would do everything in my power to help you. Please—please tell me what I can do. Please tell me what is wrong. It seems you haven’t smiled in weeks.”
I wouldn’t mention N
icholas’s marriage. There were some secrets that felt too precious to reveal to anyone. I kept those tucked deep in my heart where no one could find them. I took a deep, quaking breath and smeared the moisture off my face. “I wish to leave.”
She stared across the bed at me. I expected to see disbelief in her expression, but instead I saw understanding. “I know.”
Sniffing, I turned so I faced her.
“I know you wish to leave, but we cannot allow you to travel alone. As you know, Rachel was just married, and your Papa and I cannot hire a coach at this time. We simply do not have the remaining funds, and—”
“That is not why,” I said, my voice sharp.
Mama’s eyes widened and she crossed her arms. Her face quickly softened and she tried to move closer again, but I stood.
“You have known how much I longed to return to Rosewood all these years, yet you have refused because you didn’t wish to go. I know that Aunt Edith has passed away, but that was years ago. You still have your niece, your brother-in-law …”
Mama’s gaze fell down and her shoulders tightened.
“Will your grief keep you from seeing them? It will not keep me. I have stayed away for you long enough.” Emotion tore through me and brought new tears to my cheeks. “I do not belong here. I want fresh country air and horses and flowers. I am tired, so very tired, of the ocean and the color gray.” I breathed, feeling stronger than I had in weeks, finally bearing my soul to my mother. “I miss Kitty.”
She stood, gripping my hand, and gave a sad smile. “I understand that you wish to leave. Perhaps one day, but we are approaching winter now. Perhaps next summer we may go.”
I shook my head.
“You have been happy here too,” Mama whispered. “Have you not?”
“I have tried. But I do not belong here.” The truth of the words filled me with determination. I was leaving whether Mama condoned it or not. There were two options. Mama allowed me the trip and I would travel there by mail coach in two days, or Mama refused, and I would still travel there by mail coach in two days, however, I would be forced to sneak away. I had been saving my pin money for months, and had even sold back some of my lightly used hats to the milliner and gowns to the mantua maker. Mama did not know this, nor did she know that I had been assisting the town seamstress in her mending for a shilling a week for months now. Since Kitty’s first note I had been preparing, allowing hope to take root inside me. It had flourished far more than I had intended.
“Please allow me to travel to Rosewood.” My voice was desperate. “If only for a few months to revive my spirits.”
Mama watched me. She appeared more tired and frail than I remembered. She was always working to lighten the burdens of others. She had been a mother to Rachel and me, but she had also been like a mother to many others in town, always spreading her love and kindness. I had tried to be like her, to distract myself with goodwill, but I found it to be exhausting, while Mama thrived off of it. I needed to take this opportunity for myself. I needed to return to Rosewood at last.
“I’m sorry, dear. I’m afraid I cannot allow you to take this trip. Your papa will agree. We cannot afford a private coach for that great a distance at this time, and I will not have you traveling alone, even if we could afford you such an excursion. I’m sorry, Lucy. Perhaps next year. Or perhaps the funds might be put to better use. Perhaps a season in London?”
I shook my head, my mind racing. So it seemed I would be sneaking after all.
Mama hurried around me, wrapping me up in her arms. “I will speak with your papa about getting you a little extra pin money for some new dresses. I know how much you love visiting the milliner. It may not be enough, but I will try my best to help you.” She stepped back to look in my eyes. “Now. Shall we take a trip to visit the Worthams?”
I thanked her and nodded. The Worthams were my dearest friends here in Craster. I would miss them very much. A visit to them would be perfect, for soon I would be away for months. Mama swiped away a tear that still balanced on my lower lashes. Her face split into a smile. “Off we go.”
Hooking my arm through hers, I felt a flutter of excitement and a bit of rebellion over the prospect of traveling to Rosewood anyway … against the wishes of my parents. I swallowed hard.
“Off we go.”
The walk to the Worthams’ was fairly short. Mama and I were silent as we walked, and I took the opportunity to make a list in my mind of all the things I would be glad to escape about this place. It was not a difficult list to compile; it only took a quick glance in any direction.
First, the air smelled of fish and salt, and was always chilly and wet with mist. Spring and summer had their virtues, but we were quickly approaching fall and winter, when the sand would freeze and the water would appear a dismal gray. Rain would fall when snow did not, and the village was always full of more freezing, poor people than could be helped. Today the sky was light, edged in blue and covered in a thick layer of clouds. The sun was not to be found.
We followed a rough stone pathway to the front door to the small house of the Worthams, winding around rich green plants that would soon fade to brown. The rooftop rose up in two peaks, brought together by a row of red tile shingles. As we approached the door, I exhaled all my concern and fear and imagined invisible threads at the corners of my mouth, pulling it up into a smile.
“Lucy! Mrs. Abbot!” Charlotte stood in the open doorway seconds later, one petite hand on her growing belly. Her other hand, marked by scars and missing fingers, held the door open. She had come to be happy here despite the most tremendous of hardships. She had suffered injury and loss, but somehow she had grown stronger and altogether kinder because of it. I admired her for it.
A deep voice rumbled behind her and a head of dark hair and striking eyes appeared above her. “So the Abbots have come to be graced with our company again,” Mr. Wortham said, stepping up beside his wife. “You are quite fortunate that Charlotte did not devour what remains of our lemon cake. She saved a slice for each of you.”
Charlotte gasped before falling into laughter. “Please ignore the incorrigible man beside me. In truth I have saved half a slice for each of you.”
I smiled as I watched the two of them. How perfectly matched they were. Perhaps observation of love would be my only means of feeling the joy that accompanied it. I knew I was destined for spinsterhood. I had once fancied Mr. Wortham, actually, at a time I had dared to think of men and courting. But it had been nothing more than a superficial adoration, and Nicholas had always been deep below the surface, striking my heart with every thought of him. Sadness threatened my composure again, so I focused on my dear friend and tried to be happy because she was.
We were welcomed into the house and ushered to the small sitting room that adjoined the entryway. The Worthams employed no servants, but relied on their own skill and work to run the tiny household. While most of society would scorn them for it, most people in the small town of Craster found it admirable. This was not a place of easy living and comfort. Was it wrong that I wished for precisely the opposite?
Mama and I were seated on two wooden chairs, while Charlotte and James sat on the low sofa across from us near the pianoforte that used to be ours. Mama and Papa had given it to them for their wedding a year before. I had been surprised by their generosity. Something bitter inside of me wondered if the money that had been used to procure a new pianoforte for our home could have been used in allowing me to travel. I shushed my mind and scolded myself for being so selfish.
“I trust you are feeling well, Charlotte?” I asked.
She shifted, laughing lightly. “The babe has grown a mite larger since we had our last visit.”
“That is why I’m betting we have a robust little man on the way,” James said, throwing a smile at Charlotte.
“Not so. Why can it not be a robust and strong-willed little girl?” Charlotte wrinkled her nose at him, to which he sat back in defeat.
“I suppose it may be. God has three m
ore months to decide.” He wrapped his arm around her and she lay her head on his shoulder before straightening again as if remembering something important. “I must fetch the cake.” She moved to stand but James stopped her.
“I’ll prepare the tray for our guests,” he said, exiting the doorway with long strides. “Will it be another slice for you as well, my dear?” he called over his shoulder.
“I will leave that up to you,” Charlotte said before turning to me. My thoughts had been wandering again, and I had forgotten to keep up my smile. Charlotte noticed, and her pale blue eyes twinged with curiosity. She seemed to sense the tension between my mother and me, but decided to leave the subject untouched. I thanked her with a little smile.
The conversation was simple, the usual talk of the people in town and the success of the village. I marveled at the excitement that the two other women in the room could bolster at a topic that was so unstimulating that I felt choked by it. I was sinking into the floor, fighting the invisible chains at my ankles. Oh, how opinions differed among friends.
Shortly after James returned with a humorously large slice of cake for Charlotte and ordinary slices for Mama and me, we decided to take our leave. My heart stung a little as I hugged Charlotte in farewell. I could not tell her of my plans to leave, not with Mama so near. So when she asked, “May I call upon you the first part of next week?” I nodded my head yes. Surely she wished to inquire after the dullness in my eyes, but I would have no explanation, for I would be halfway across the county by then.
THREE
I had never been a devious person. I had always honored the rules of my family and of society, living a righteous and honest life. However, there was a phrase that I had often been told by my father that I had never forgotten: A folly is never so grievous if it is done for a just and worthy cause.
It was time I grow up and claim my independence, whether Mama and Papa approved or not. Summer was nearing its end, and I wasn’t going to miss the chance at a few sunny days at Rosewood. I had a plan.
Road to Rosewood Page 2