Once Beloved

by Amara Royce

  Gordon knocked loudly on the bedroom door but didn’t wait for a response before opening it.

  “Daniel! Wake up!” He halted just a few feet into the room when he realized Daniel wasn’t in bed. “What on—?” He whirled around, calling for his brother. When he caught sight of her boots, he froze. Then he turned slowly, the clock in the front room ticking away each inch.

  “Pardon me, miss! I didn’t—” He looked confused, almost alarmed. He was taller than she remembered and broader too. He filled the doorway, and a shiver skittered down her back as she tensed. He made an imposing figure, one that likely wouldn’t be pleased when he recognized her. “Do you know, ma’am, where my brother is?” His tone was cautious, as he looked from her to the rumpled bed repeatedly.

  “I think he’s in the barn,” she said quietly. She had to clear her throat before she could add, “He slept there last night.”

  Surprise was evident on Gordon’s face. “The barn, you say? Why? No, no need to answer that.” He scrubbed his hand over his face and looked toward the door. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I feared Daniel might have caught sick from a dunking in the beck last night. I best go see to him. I’m his brother, Gordon. Might I ask who—?”

  And there it was. He saw her now. The very air in the room changed as he recognized her. His face shifted to the same steely cold stare she’d seen on Daniel’s face at the Crystal Palace when she’d told him who she was. The chilling silence lasted for what felt like an eternity. That telling sour taste flooded her mouth as her scalp began to tingle, every hair alert to sudden danger.

  Finally, he said, “I’d heard you were back, Miss Thorton.”

  “Yes, Mr. Lanfield. I have returned,” she responded with a tone she hoped was neutral, masking the fear rising in her chest. “You may not have heard I’ve been Mrs. Martin for quite a while now.” Chagrined, she quickly added, “And it is I who should ask your pardon.”

  Glaring, he waved away her comment with a gesture of his meaty hand as he stepped farther into the room. His massive bulk blocked her exit, and her level of panic shot up, much like she expected a fox felt when run to ground. “Not my business,” he said gruffly. “What is my business, though, is what in hell you’re doing in my brother’s bedroom at dawn?”

  The barely leashed fury in his voice set her stomach churning. She had to get out of here, but she couldn’t think. She gaped at him, trying to piece words together that would make sense.

  “No, brother, that’s not your business.” Daniel’s voice carried from the front door, and his tone matched the frigidity of his brother’s. His heavy footfalls only marginally settled her rioting nerves. His voice grew louder as he approached, adding, “You’d best remember your manners, at least when you’re in my house.”

  “Danny! Thank God!” Gordon rushed out of the bedroom.

  Momentarily free from his hulking presence, she took a deep breath. When had she started shaking? She grabbed her boots and shoved her feet into them, not bothering with the laces. It was enough to have them on in case of a quick retreat. The sooner she left this place, the better! As long as she had all her belongings, including her bonnet and her cloak, she could manage something as pedestrian as fastening her boots out on a boulder somewhere. As soon as possible. She exited the bedroom just in time to see Gordon releasing his brother’s shoulders.

  “I was worried, brother, when you didn’t appear in the yard this morning. Thought I’d maybe find you retching your guts out or passed out with fever. Ruth and Hal too both feared you’d gone ill. You know better than to fight that swelling beck for a gimmer or two.”

  “I’m fine, Gordy, nary a scratch. The wee lambs needed help. They were caught in a fallen tree and wouldn’t have gotten out on their own. Lampy’s the only one that had trouble recovering.”

  “You and your naming. I’ve told you time and again you can’t name the bloody things. They aren’t pets.”

  “Lampy the Younger is doing fine, as am I,” Daniel said firmly. “No harm done. So you can go about your day. I’ll be out in the fields within the hour.”

  Gordon raised an eyebrow and tipped his head in Helena’s direction. “An hour, you say? Time enough to sort out whatever business you have with this one?”

  “Gordon,” Daniel warned, “I shan’t tell you again to mind your manners. Mrs. Martin and her niece saw me and Hal struggling with the flock by the water. She was kind enough to bring me a warm meal, but the storm raged too strong for her to go home safely.”

  “So you slept in the barn?” Gordon said skeptically.

  “Aye, so I slept in the barn,” Daniel replied, his chin up.

  “And Mrs. Martin here was only being a good neighbor?”

  “Aye. Watch your tone.” The curt reply came through gritted teeth, but Daniel wasn’t the only one whose ire was up now. She’d grown tired of observing this brotherly exchange, which fleetingly reminded her of dogs bracing themselves to face off against each other. She was no one’s bone to bicker over.

  “Gentlemen, I am still here. And, yes, whatever you think of me, Mr. Lanfield, I was trying to be a good neighbor. I didn’t think your brother had anyone here to care for him, and clearly I was right. I thought he would benefit from one of Mrs. Weathers’s hearty stews, seeing as he would be too busy to see to a hot meal himself. I’ll be leaving as soon as I can ready myself.”

  “No use atoning for your sins here in Marksby, bitch.”

  Before she’d even fully comprehended Gordon’s words, Daniel pinned his brother against the wall, a hand to his throat. The unadulterated hatred in Gordon’s words and in his eyes as he and his brother stared each other down made her stomach turn.

  “Enough, brother! Apologize to Mrs. Martin. She knows she’s done wrong, but that was a long time ago, and we’ve all changed.”

  Gordon shoved Daniel away and advanced on him. “Seems like you’ve changed quite a bit in the month you’ve been gone. The Daniel I know wouldn’t forget his home and his family so easily.”

  “You think I’ve forgotten anything?” Daniel replied, now toe to toe with his brother. Mirror images, they stood tall, defensive, glaring at each other. “I’m a Lanfield, same as you. I know as well as you what our family has suffered. But I wasn’t about to send a defenseless woman out into that fierce night.”

  “To a Lanfield of Marksby, she’s not a defenseless woman.” Gordon jerked a thumb in her direction. “She’s a bitch and a frow, and she always will be.”

  Bollocks! That was more than she could allow! She charged forward, catching Daniel’s cocked arm and pushing him away. She stood between the two men, unable to recall when she’d been more infuriated.

  “Gordon Lanfield!” For the first time since Daniel had entered the room, Gordon looked at her straight on. He stared down at her as if he meant to do her harm, but she would have none of it. He might be entitled to some anger toward her, but he had no right to question her devotion to her husband or her children. “I do sincerely regret the pain and embarrassment I caused you so many years ago. Truly I do. But I won’t bide you insulting my husband and my family by questioning my virtue.”

  “Virtue? As if such a one as you has any at all,” Gordon scoffed.

  She curled her hands into fists and pressed them against her legs, fighting the urge to slap him. Meanwhile, Daniel reached around her to grab his brother by the shirt and bodily whirled him toward the bedroom door.

  “Out! I warned you. This is finished. Mrs. Martin will be on her way home shortly, and I’ll be about my work soon after. That’s all you need to know. Now get out!” He herded his brother through the main room and yanked open the front door. Gordon glared at her malevolently before Daniel shoved at his shoulder. “Go, Gordon. No good will come of this.” More gently, he added, “Go home. See Ruth and your children. I’ll run the fields today. Just let this bide for now.”

  She could have cried with relief when Gordon turned his back and stomped out. She slumped against the bedroom doorframe be
fore realizing that her boots were still undone.

  “I’ll be ready to go in just a moment,” she said quickly as she hobbled to a chair.

  “We should talk,” Daniel replied without looking at her. His voice had a flat, empty quality, but she refused to let herself interpret his demeanor.

  “No, Daniel, there’s nothing to talk about. I won’t darken your door again.” He looked as if he wanted to object, but he said nothing. A few minutes later, she walked out. And she refused to be upset that, in all that time, he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

  Chapter 17

  No one was more surprised than Helena to find herself again a passenger in Daniel Lanfield’s cart. It had been several days since the unpleasant incident with that nasty woman at the village shop, several days since that disconcerting night she’d spent at his home, several days since she’d sworn to herself that she would avoid this man without exception. What was that saying about necessity and its offspring, invention? Ha. Vanessa and Mrs. Weathers certainly invented some fantastically pressing reasons why she simply had to accompany Mr. Lanfield on his day trip to Bradford. She touched the list of “rare but essential” items that couldn’t be acquired in Marksby. Utter rubbish. It was as if everyone meant to torment her.

  To be fair, Vanessa still oscillated between indignation and stubbornness. One moment she insisted they couldn’t give “that virago” any of their business or their money and the next she declared that they must make daily visits until the shrew gave her aunt the proper respect. But when Mr. Lanfield arrived at the door to fetch Mrs. Weathers for the excursion, it was mortifying to have the woman hem and haw and insist that Helena go in her stead. Helena had sworn she’d avoid his presence entirely. And he’d maintained a neutral stance through the entire exchange, as if it didn’t matter to him who rode along to Bradford. But Mrs. Weathers and Vanessa were so peculiarly insistent that she go to Bradford, it didn’t seem worth arguing. So here she was, sitting alongside this silent rock of a man. She tried not to look at him, tried to focus on the road ahead, but she was constantly aware of his every move, even the slightest twitch of his hands as he steered. When he finally relaxed into the seat, his thighs flexing beneath the rough fabric of his trousers, her heart was beating faster for reasons she didn’t want to explore.

  It seemed pointless to try to make conversation, but the silence stretched oppressively over miles and miles, and she had to do something to distract her from this unaccountable sensitivity to his presence. Finally, she blurted, “Why are you helping me?”

  “Because of your grandmother.” His curt, facile reply irritated her.

  “There are myriad ways to provide aid to her without suffering my presence. Why are you helping me?”

  “Because you need it. I’ve seen enough in these past weeks to know that you couldn’t manage this trip without assistance.”

  “That is untrue!”

  “How would you get to Bradford otherwise? Mr. Weathers? It’s hard for him to make such journeys these days. And I was already going.”

  “But you despise me.”

  “No, I don’t,” he replied matter-of-factly. She stared at him in disbelief. And, damn him, all he did was stare right back.

  “Oh, suddenly you don’t? That’s news. Care to explain?”

  “No, I simply don’t. Does an elephant despise an ant? Does the ocean despise a grain of sand? I don’t despise you because you are simply too inconsequential now for me to bother.”

  She didn’t believe that either, but she couldn’t garner the nerve to confront him about the kiss they’d shared in his home, the kiss that was burned into her memory and made her skin tingle even now. No, it would be better to leave that particular incident unexplored. Better to accept his indifference than to follow that kiss down its mysterious, ambivalent path.

  As they entered the city, she found that Bradford wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d been a child when she last visited with her parents, and since then, the town had exploded into a metropolitan hodgepodge. The buildings were a mix of old and new and gave her the impression of a colorful flower garden overtaken by imposing weeds.

  “Do you think Marksby would have grown this way if the railway agreement had gone through?” She hadn’t meant to say the words aloud, and she was as startled as he by the question.

  He looked around thoughtfully before replying, “There’d have been growing pains, no doubt. Bradford was already a metropolitan center. Would the village have changed this drastically? Who can say? But I doubt it. I don’t believe we would have allowed it to modernize quite so severely.”

  She nodded but couldn’t help wondering if modernization would have benefitted the village as much as everyone seemed to think.

  Still exceedingly sensitive to his nearness, she was relieved when he suggested they meet at a designated location in the shopping district after their respective errands. She was even more relieved by how smoothly her transactions went, without the slightest malice or unpleasantness. She didn’t even think they overcharged her. But as she exited the last shop, purchases in hand, her senses were jarred by the overwhelming surge of passersby. She stepped back into the shop, trying to catch her breath. Leaning her forehead against the shop window, she closed her eyes and focused on the cool glass against her skin. Surely, she could get to the meeting location just a few blocks away. It was at the edge of a park. She just had to keep walking. As she ran through calming thoughts in her head, she looked out the window and noticed that the crowd had dissipated somewhat. So she took a deep breath and then determinedly stepped out the door, staying close to the buildings so that she could slip into a doorway if a large group of people passed. She just barely managed to keep the anxiety at bay until she found their meeting spot.

  As she sank onto a park bench, she couldn’t help but notice that it was at a slight remove from the walking paths and traffic but still easily visible from the thoroughfare. When Daniel finally appeared, she was embarrassingly relieved that he came down and tied up the cart.

  “We should stop for a meal,” he said gruffly. “I was told we should try the inn at the end of this street. Simple but good.”

  His nonchalance startled her, despite her hunger. He was treating her as he would a friend, and it was . . . disturbingly appealing. But could she manage that kind of environment after struggling just to get to the park? Looking at his expectant face, she felt a strange and unfamiliar confidence. It was only a meal, and it was nearby. And she couldn’t bear being so trapped by her emotional reactions. When she agreed, he led them silently down the lane, his presence serving as a calming protection against the rest of the world.

  When they entered, they found that the only space left was at a table already occupied by a well-dressed man who was greeted by everyone who passed by. Helena’s internal alarms rang in her ears. Too many people. Too much. But Daniel’s low voice gave her focus.

  “I won’t allow any harm to come to you,” he said quietly. And she believed him. Just before they reached the man’s table, Daniel asked one of the barmaids whether they should join him or wait for another table.

  “Go on!” she said brightly, “Mr. Salt is always happy for company. He tends to be quiet, but don’t let that dissuade you.”

  Annoyed by the overly familiar way in which the barmaid leaned against him when she answered, Helena was watching his face carefully for his reaction. So she didn’t miss how he cocked his head when he heard the man’s name.

  “Who is he?” she asked.

  “Mr. Salt? I only know what I’ve heard, which I never count for much.” He shrugged but looked at the table intently. “He introduced the import of alpaca here, which has affected the local farms quite a bit.” His voice took on a hard edge, but he shifted his jaw as if struggling to suppress his reactions. “He’s held important posts here in Bradford too. I’ve heard he has grand plans to revolutionize conditions for mill workers. In fact, you’d get along with him well, now that I think about it.”


  The mention of mill conditions did, in fact, draw her interest. She’d spoken privately with so many factory workers in London, young and old, who suffered horrible conditions, even with all the reform laws. It would be fascinating to discuss potential solutions. And the idea that the popularity of alpaca wool affected Marksby reinforced her thinking that more factors shaped the village’s prosperity than just her long-ago escape. Focusing her attention on the table ahead, she felt the rest of the room fall away, her anxiety held at bay by concern for those in the mills.

  When they approached Mr. Salt, he didn’t make much of a physical impression, but then again Helena was fully aware that appearances didn’t always convey reality. The man’s hair and thick beard looked difficult to tame, and he had a distant look on his face, as if he was working to figure out a complex problem. Hesitant to intrude, she touched Daniel’s arm and whispered, “Perhaps we should find another table. The man is clearly occupied, and we shouldn’t disturb him.”

  Her voice must have carried more than she anticipated because, to her chagrin, the man abruptly shifted his attention to them and stood politely.

  “Please do join me,” Mr. Salt said with a slight bow of his head, his voice low but earnest.

  After engaging in niceties and introductions, they were convinced that he meant his invitation sincerely, and Helena was pleased to find him a straightforward and engaging dining companion, especially when their talk turned to factories. As they compared London’s and Bradford’s situations, she was both excited and horrified by the similarities.