Edenbrooke

by Julianne Donaldson

  I turned and saw Mr. Kellet standing at the edge of the terrace. “What are you going to say to him?”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not sure. But it may take a while.”

  She flashed me a sly smile before she walked away. Mr. Kellet disappeared around the corner of the house and she followed him.

  I was the last one to enter the dining room for breakfast the next morning. Philip and William and my father all stood at my entrance. In Philip’s eyes was such a look of warm affection that I blushed to have everyone see it.

  As I sat down, I noticed the stares of everyone present, and then Rachel suddenly said, “Oh, have you two finally worked everything out? Thank goodness! Now we can all talk openly.”

  Philip chuckled, and I blushed even harder. Every person in the room, from Lady Caroline to the footman standing behind Philip, smiled. Louisa’s smile was more tentative than the others’, but I was happy to see any sign of friendliness from her. I was also happy to see Cecily there, and not off somewhere in Mr. Kellet’s arms. I would not put it past him to run off with her, but Cecily had more sense than that, it seemed.

  Congratulations were offered, and Rachel and Lady Caroline began discussing the glorious task of planning a wedding. Philip, I discovered, had already spoken to my father, who looked very happy as he smiled at me from across the table. My home was only one county away from here, which meant we would be close enough to visit as often as we wished. Cecily would return to London and our cousin Edith, where she could enjoy the diversions of Town life.

  A footman appeared at my side with a letter on a silver salver. It was from Grandmother. I opened it and read it over my breakfast.

  Dear Marianne,

  You little ninny. Of course I sent you to stay at Edenbrooke, and you should be thanking me instead of calling me to repentance. A rich heiress needs a man to protect her, and how else could I be sure of your protection while your father was away? I only kept it a secret because I knew you would not go if you suspected the truth. Silly girl. You were fortunate that Sir Philip was willing to take on the assignment of protecting you while you were living there.

  By the way, I have heard from Lady Caroline that Sir Philip is besotted with you. He must not mind the way you run wild like a farmer’s brat. If you manage to make such an advantageous match, I suppose I will leave you my fortune whether or not you ever become an elegant young lady. I look forward to meeting him, and I think I may even come to Edenbrooke to see you married.

  Sincerely,

  Grandmother

  P.S. Mr. Whittles has offered for Amelia, and she has accepted him. I suspect this is your doing?

  I breathed a sigh of relief. My meddling had worked. And thinking of what my grandmother had written about Philip’s assignment, an idea suddenly occurred to me. I looked across the table at Philip’s aunt and uncle. Mr. Clumpett had a book propped open in front of his plate, and Mrs. Clumpett was smiling as Lady Caroline talked about the success of the ball.

  I turned to Philip. “Did you ask Mr. Clumpett to protect me while you and William were gone?”

  “I did. Why?”

  I smiled. “He has been miserable here with your disorganized library, you know. And Mrs. Clumpett has missed her birds.”

  Philip laughed. “Well, they will be free to go home now to their own library and birds. I will have to look for some books on India to send to him as thanks for protecting you so well while I was gone. I can’t imagine what would have happened if he hadn’t been wandering through the woods that day.”

  I glanced at the Clumpetts again, reminding myself to thank them for all they had done for me. Both of them.

  I reread my grandmother’s letter and realized with a deep sense of contentment that I had not had to change at all in order to have every hope for happiness in life. I had not had to learn to sing for company or to behave like Cecily or to stop twirling. I could be myself and be loved deeply. I was, in fact, a lot like Meg, who had always been a racehorse. I just hadn’t known it.

  After breakfast, I escaped to the orchard. I was so happy to be here that I felt the same way I had upon arriving at Edenbrooke: as if I had come home to paradise. Mixed with the feeling of homecoming was the great surge of joy I felt about my future with Philip.

  I closed my eyes and tipped back my head and felt the sun warm my face and head and outstretched arms. And then I did it. I twirled. I twirled and twirled with my eyes closed and my head back and my arms outstretched.

  I suddenly heard a crunch of branches and felt a scratch on my cheek. I stopped moving and opened my eyes to find myself within an inch of having my eye poked out by a branch. I tried to move away from the branch but found my hair was stuck.

  Oh, when would I ever learn to not twirl?

  I pulled at the branch without success. I tried to untangle my hair, but I could tell I was making a huge mess of it as more of it got tangled. In frustration, and with aching arms, I said, “Oh, drat!”

  I heard a rustle of leaves and looked toward the sound. Philip ducked beneath a tree limb and walked toward me. I blushed hard and wished I was not attached to this tree. But I had to stand and wait while he walked toward me, looking so well put-together I couldn’t imagine him ever being caught doing something as embarrassing as being stuck in a tree. Why hadn’t I learned my lesson the last time?

  “Don’t laugh,” I told him, noticing the amusement building in his eyes.

  His eyes darted to the branch and my tangled hair and his lips twitched. “How did this happen?”

  “I was twirling.”

  I could tell Philip was working hard to keep back a laugh. “Have you ever considered twirling with your eyes open?”

  “It’s not something I plan in advance.” I reached up and tried again to pull my hair loose, then winced with the pain.

  Philip stepped right up to me, took my hands in his, and lowered them so that they rested against his chest.

  “Allow me,” he said. Then he moved his arms around me and began to untangle my hair. If someone saw us from a distance, I suspected it might look as if we were embracing. I could feel him breathe, and I watched my hands move with the rise and fall of his chest. I could smell him—that mixture of clean linen and soap and something that reminded me of the woods on a sunny day. Something inside of me melted.

  I felt a gentle tug and his fingers brushed my ear, my neck. I was getting hot and rather breathless. To distract myself, I asked a question I had had on my mind for quite a while.

  “Philip, why did you keep your identity a secret from me when we met at the inn?”

  He paused to look into my eyes. “Fate handed me a rare opportunity to talk to a lady without wondering if she was only interested in my wealth or title. And not just any lady.” He smiled crookedly, and my heart skittered in my chest. “I couldn’t pass up that opportunity. Your candor was worth the risk of your anger.”

  It was as if his words had turned on a light. I understood Philip now in a way I never had before. I thought of how he had not wanted me to call him “sir,” even though that was exactly what I should have called him. And the day we talked in the library, he had gone to the kitchen himself to get us our food instead of sending a servant to do it. I thought of the promises we had made to each other. And I thought of how he had tried to run away from Cecily, who was only interested in his title and wealth. Philip wanted to be loved for who he was, without consideration of his inheritance.

  He gave one last tug and all of my hair fell free, cascading down my back. Philip had taken out all of my pins, and I felt undone. He stroked my hair from the top of my head all the way down my back. Then his hands circled my waist and he pulled me closer.

  “You know, we have some unfinished business,” he said. “I still want that painting, and now I have something of value to offer for it.”

  “What is that?” I was having a hard time focusing on his words because my gaze had caught on his mouth, and the line of his jaw, and the way the corner of his lips tw
itched when he was trying not to smile. I wanted to kiss it all.

  He touched my chin, lifting my face so that my eyes met his. “I will give you a title for it.”

  I chewed on my lip, regarding him with misgiving. This was wrong. In light of my recent understanding, I couldn’t accept his offer. I shook my head. “I’ve never cared very much about having a title.”

  His eyebrows drew together, and his gaze turned questioning. “Then what about everything around you? Would Edenbrooke be enough?”

  I pushed away the lock of hair that fell across his brow and sighed. “No, as much as I love it here, I can’t sell it to you for your land.”

  He looked utterly solemn now, and more than a little worried. “You don’t need my money.”

  “That’s correct.”

  He bent his head. I felt bad for the distress I was obviously causing him, but I knew this needed to be done.

  “I have nothing more to offer,” he whispered.

  I grasped his lapels and stood on my toes so I could look clearly into his eyes—so he could not mistake my meaning. “I do not want anything you can offer me. Remember our vows?”

  He nodded. His hands rested on my waist, pulling me closer.

  “I just want you, Philip. You. I will give you the painting in exchange for your heart.”

  He looked away quickly, and I sensed a great struggle within him. When he finally looked back at me, his eyes were shining with amazement and admiration and that great secret I had seen at the inn after his fight with Mr. Beaufort. It was shining just as clearly now as it had that night, but now I knew what to call it. Philip loved me.

  “Marianne,” he said in a throaty voice that made my heart thud hard in my chest. He lifted a hand from my waist and stroked my blushing cheek with the back of his fingers, his touch as light as a breeze. His skin felt cool against the heat of my blush.

  “You darling girl,” he murmured, tilting my chin up as he lowered his lips to mine. This time I knew enough to kiss him back. He caught his breath, and then I felt his lips curl up into his wicked grin. It was delicious.

  A few minutes later, he moved his lips from mine to kiss my cheek, the corner of my jaw, the soft spot behind my ear. “I was just thinking about our honeymoon.” His breath tickled my neck.

  “So was I,” I breathed. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it.

  Philip lifted his head to look at me, his eyes bright with amusement. “Well, that too,” he said with a low chuckle.

  I blushed as I realized what I had just admitted.

  “But I was actually referring to our trip. How would you like to go to the Continent? I could give you your very own Grand Tour.”

  I couldn’t speak.

  “You’re welcome to twirl if you need to,” he said with a laugh.

  “You don’t mind?”

  He shook his head. “I’ve been dying to see it, actually.”

  So I twirled for Philip, with my hair flying around me, feeling like I could break into flight at any moment. He grabbed me around the waist when I was close to colliding with another tree. “That was lovely,” he said, pulling me close. “But perhaps you should keep your eyes open in the future.”

  “Good idea,” I murmured, smiling into the eyes of my best friend, who did not mind my twirling at all.

  “I just remembered,” Philip said, reaching into the pocket of his coat. “I forgot to give you this.”

  It was my locket, which Philip had demanded from Mr. Beaufort. I had forgotten about it after the drama of the events at the inn. Now Philip clasped it around my neck, and I felt it settle like a charm about me. I put my hand over the locket, pressing the precious reminder of my mother against my chest. My own heart beat strong and sure beneath it, and I felt that everything that had been missing was restored and that all was right in the world.

  Then Philip and I walked hand in hand back to the house and made our way to the library, where we finally played that game of chess.

  Acknowledgments

  I started dreaming of Edenbrooke five years ago, when I didn’t have the first idea of how to write a novel. The fact that Marianne’s story has made it this far is the fulfillment of my wildest dreams. I owe my eternal gratitude to the many people who have helped make it happen.

  First, I want to thank the team at Shadow Mountain for falling in love with my story and providing such a wonderful home for it. In particular, I wish to thank Heidi Taylor and Chris Schoebinger for their vision and encouragement. Lisa Mangum is a fabulous editor and a genuinely nice person. Heather Ward created the gorgeous cover.

  I couldn’t ask for a better agent than Laurie McLean. She wows me every day with her brilliance, her contagious optimism, and her dedication to making great things happen.

  I have to thank my best friend and husband, Fred. If I know anything about real love, I have learned it from and with him. He has been a constant support to me and has believed in me in my hours of self-doubt and disappointment. I am so happy to have him at my side and that we can celebrate our dreams coming true together.

  My children—Adah, David, Sarah, and Jacob—are some of my favorite people to hang out with. They bring me great joy, and, at the end of the day, remind me that family is more important than books.

  I want to thank my parents, Frank and Ruth Clawson, for letting me grow up with my nose in a book and for teaching me to work hard. I’m thankful for my sisters, Kristi, Jenny, and Audrey, for laughing, telling stories, staying up late, and watching girl movies. I’m grateful that Nick joined the family and taught my kids how cool a skateboarder and biker could be.

  I want to give a special shout-out to some of my extended family from the Donaldson side: Christine, Jinjer, Jennie, Sarah, Emma, Heather, Louise, Johanna, Joan, and Lavina. I love you all. (I love the Donaldson boys, too, but this is a girl’s book.) Thanks to the Clawson clan, the Hinmon clan, the Donaldson clan, and the Hofheins clan for being interested in my dreams and applauding my successes. A girl couldn’t ask for a better extended family.

  I owe a very special thank you to my friend Jaime Mormann. She went to England with me, dreamed with me, talked through writer’s block with me, edited with me, and loved accents with me. Through every up and down, I knew I could call her and she would either laugh or rant or rejoice with me, as needed. I feel richly blessed to have such a devoted and talented friend.

  I am indebted to my fellow writers for their help and feedback: Julie Dixon, Pam Anderton, Ally Condie, Erin Summerill, and Jessie Humphries. I want to thank every friend, neighbor, and relative who helped watch my kids so I could write. You are too numerous to list here, but you are listed in my heart! I am also grateful for Tracy McCormick Jackson, who introduced me to and encouraged me to love the Regency period. It has changed my life.

  Last, but certainly not least, I must acknowledge that I could not have written this book without God’s help and His generous gifts. I hope that He is pleased.

  About the Author

  Debut novelist Julianne Donaldson is a hopeless romantic. Her degree in English has only fueled her passion to write. She and her husband live in Salt Lake City, Utah, with their four children, but she takes every opportunity she can to travel the English countryside.

  Discussion Questions

  1. What does Marianne want at the beginning of the story? How does this desire shape her actions? How does her desire change during the course of the story? How does Marianne get what she really wants by the end of the story? How do you relate to Marianne’s longing to be loved for who she is?

  2. What do we learn about Marianne from her interactions with the highwayman and, later, with Mr. Kellet? What would you have done in her situation?

  3. Most romance novels present the hero as the only significant man in the heroine’s life. Were you surprised that it was Marianne’s father who saved her at the inn? Why was that scene significant? How would the story be different if it had been Philip who had saved her? What role does Marianne’s r
elationship with her father play in her relationships with others? How do our relationships with our fathers shape our romantic relationships?

  4. Why do you think Philip wanted Marianne’s painting? What is Philip’s motivation for keeping his identity a secret? What does this tell us about Philip’s character?

  5. Before Charles died, Philip would have had a plan for a future career. Many men in this time period who did not inherit the family estate went into careers in the military, the clergy, or academics. What do you imagine Philip would have done with his life if he hadn’t inherited Edenbrooke?

  6. There are a lot of deaths involved in this story. How does Marianne’s mother’s death change Marianne’s life? How does the death of Charles change Philip’s life? In what ways has the death of a loved one changed your life?

  7. Marianne struggles with comparing herself to her twin sister, Cecily. How do we compare ourselves to other women? How is it helpful? How is it detrimental? What do you think about the resolution between the sisters at the end? What do you imagine their future relationship will be like?

  8. Marianne’s relationship with her grandmother does not, on the surface, appear to be a loving one. Is there love between them? What evidence do you find in the story to support your theory? Have you ever had a relationship like this one?

  Q&A with Julianne Donaldson

  Q: What made you interested in writing a romance set in the Regency period?

  A: When I was seventeen, I contracted pneumonia and spent a month in bed. A good friend saved me from boredom by giving me a stack of Georgette Heyer novels. I devoured each one, and then read them again and again. I have been in love with the Regency period ever since. I studied British Literature in college, watched every movie produced that features the Regency time period, and dreamed of men dressed in breeches. When I decided to try my hand at writing a novel, my mind automatically went to the Regency period and refused to leave. It was like the hometown of my imagination.