Once Beloved

by Amara Royce

  Vanessa squeezed her hand and said, “The boys will be so thrilled to see you! It’s good to be home!”

  Before either of them could knock, she already heard Tommy yelling, “They’re here! Mama’s home! Mark, she’s home!”

  When the door swung open, sure enough, Tommy rushed over and wrapped himself in her skirts. “Mama! I just knew you would return today! Auntie ’Lizbeth said not to get my hopes up, but I knew. I don’t know how I knew, but I was sure of it!” She couldn’t even take a step into the house with his small arms wrapped so tightly around her, and his exuberance brought tears to her eyes.

  “My darling Tommy! How wonderful to see you!” she cried, as she hugged him tightly. In the corner of her eye, she saw Mark coming down the stairs as well.

  “Welcome back, Mother. Tommy did just say this morning that today was the day, but he’s said it every day for a week now,” Mark said. He looked well enough, but he remained at a distance. “You were away much longer than we expected.” A mix of emotions played on his face. Surprise and relief washed over by wariness and—was he angry with her?

  “Come here, Mark, so I can hug you properly. You boys have both grown like weeds!”

  He took a few slow steps, then paused and asked, “Why were you gone so long?”

  Her heart ached at the vulnerable tone of his voice, and for a moment, she could only shake her head, so overwhelmed was she by memories of her trip. “Your great-grandmother was very ill, near death in fact. And so I am unspeakably pleased to say that she has made a full recovery. It took longer than anyone expected.”

  Tommy tugged on her sleeve and asked, “Where is Mr. Lanfield? He promised us he would keep you safe. Is he outside with his cart?” He moved to pull her toward the window, but she stopped him.

  “No, sweetling, he isn’t here. Vanessa and I returned on the train. In fact, I think we should take a train trip sometime soon. It would be a great adventure for us all.”

  Mark rushed down the remaining stairs, and he and Tommy stood before her with matching frowns. Damn, the mention of trains hadn’t caught their attention at all. She braced herself.

  “That snake!” Mark exclaimed. “He gave us his word that he would see you safe.” Tommy nodded in solidarity.

  “Have I not returned safe and sound? He provided safe transport for us to Marksby, but he had important work for the family farm. He couldn’t possibly spare the time to drive us back.”

  “I like him,” Tommy said.

  “You liked his horse,” Mark retorted.

  “Yes, but I liked him more.” Tommy’s chin tipped up firmly. “I knew he would watch over Mama and protect her.”

  “Now, Tommy, I don’t need protecting,” she assured him, as she ruffled his hair.

  “But—” Mark interjected.

  Before either of them could explain all the ways they hadn’t seen that statement to be true, she cut in, “I know I have been weak in recent years, but this trip has revived me. It was precisely what I needed to give me the confidence and fortitude I once had. And Vanessa and I made our way back from Manchester just fine without any help.”

  “I would feel better if he were here,” Tommy replied, his voice quiet.

  Wouldn’t we all? She threw a mental blanket over that thought and said, “Well, now that I’m here, we should go home. You’ve been in Aunt Elizabeth’s hair long enough. Go on and pack your things.”

  “But we have a surprise for you, Mama!” Tommy looked at his brother expectantly, and at Mark’s nod, he burst out, “Bart is home!”

  Bartholomew wasn’t due back for several months, at least! What had brought him back to London so early? Her mind immediately jumped to the worst possibilities.

  “What on earth is he doing back here so soon? Has he been injured? Has he been discharged?”

  Elizabeth, who’d been observing the exchange, said, “He’s completely fine, Lena. Safe and sound. They had good winds, he said, and his ship should be here a few more days.” She addressed Mark and Tommy, “There’s no rush, boys. You’ll stay with us until after dinner, surely. Bart will join us if he’s able.” Then her sister stared at her for a moment, as if working out a puzzle. “And, you, my dear, should at least take a few hours’ rest after the ordeal you’ve had. You know you can all stay as long as you like.” Her sister led the way upstairs and sent the boys off to find their cousins and clean up their belongings.

  “You can nap in the nursery. It should ensure you the most solitude and privacy, and I shall ensure that you are not disturbed.”

  “That’s not necessary, Lizzie,” she said, although the strain of the journey, of everything that had happened, suddenly felt like a crushing weight. She followed her younger sister, despite her protestations.

  “My dearest, I’ll be blunt,” Elizabeth said softly, with a hint of smile. “You look awful. And your letters were cryptic, at best, about anything but Gran’s condition. You can be sure I plan a full interrogation very soon about the treatment you received in the village . . . and about whatever transpired between you and Mr. Daniel Lanfield. But it wouldn’t be sporting of me to begin the discussion when you appear ready to drop where you stand. So here we are.” She concluded her little speech as they entered the nursery and gestured toward the small bed.

  How could she resist the promise of a few quiet hours? The bed indeed beckoned like a siren, promising the luxury of sleep. The noises from the street made clear that she was no longer in Marksby, and yet they and the sounds of the children below were faint. Just a few hours of forgetfulness. A handful of minutes to keep her thoughts at bay a little longer. She could manage that.

  “Sister,” Elizabeth said, her voice tentative, “do you need anything else?”

  When she turned to look at Elizabeth, at the naked worry in her sister’s eyes, she couldn’t hold back the wave of emotions any longer. Couldn’t stop a tear from slipping down her cheek. That one tear broke the dam, and she fell to her knees sobbing. Within a blink, Elizabeth was kneeling next to her, holding her close, whispering soothingly.

  “Was it so terrible there, Lena? I knew I shouldn’t have let you go back.”

  She looked up at her sister and shook her head. “No, Liz. You don’t understand. I don’t regret a moment of that trip. There were hard moments, especially in the first few days, but . . .” She took a few deep breaths before she could continue. “It was wonderful too. Almost like starting a whole new chapter of my life. I didn’t even know I needed it. And now that I’ve returned, I have no idea what to do with any of it. I feel as if I’ve been given a fresh start, fresh eyes, and I am overwhelmed. I don’t know what to do with myself, and I am terrified to go home.”

  “Why, sweetheart? You love that house. It’s been your sanctuary for so long.”

  “That’s exactly why. What if this has changed me too much? What if I return to that house and find it lacking? What if, when I walk in, I lose my taste for all the things I loved about it? What would that say about my fickleness? About my lack of abiding love?”

  “You’re simply overwrought and need rest, I’m sure. You are anything but fickle. You never turn away entirely from that which you love. And your family defines your home, not the things within. Rest now. Everything will be clearer once you’ve had a good sleep. Trust me.”

  “Elizabeth, I’m in love with Daniel.”

  Her sister blinked and then moved toward the door. “We will talk later. I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours.”

  As she prepared for church, Vanessa wondered if today would finally be the day when she saw Billy again. He hadn’t been in any of the places she expected to encounter him, and he hadn’t tried to communicate with her at all since her return. Busy with work, she told herself. She’d been busy too. So perhaps she’d been as much to blame for their missed reunion as he.

  When Mother called up to her, she did her duty, rounding up her siblings and making sure they were all presentable. With the way they clomped down the stairs, you’d think
they were a herd of rambunctious goats.

  Billy would be by the park entrance. Waiting. She’d make some excuse about stopping to talk with friends. They’d have a moment behind the tall hedge to speak privately.

  Since she’d returned with Aunt Helena from Marksby, unanticipated ripples of guilt flowed over her at odd moments. She loved him, didn’t she? He was industrious and bold and full of cunning energy. But then, Hal’s quiet confidence and easy manner would come to mind, and she’d waver.

  Vanessa wondered what had happened between Aunt Helena and Mr. Lanfield. The precise reality of physical intimacy was still an obscure mystery to her, but she hadn’t missed her aunt’s appearance and demeanor on the moonlit nights when Auntie had snuck back into the house. Her aunt probably couldn’t tell, but her emotions had shown easily on her face during quiet moments at the farm—those fleeting seconds of faraway thought, of blushing heat, of tiny and maddeningly enigmatic signs.

  Since their return, though, Aunt Helena was a changed person. She hadn’t had a spell since Marksby, even though she was going out of the house more and more these days. Auntie’s newly acquired confidence was remarkable. This was the vibrant aunt she remembered from her childhood, the one who would take her and her cousins to play in the park on a whim.

  Her aunt still had moments of hesitation and still sought to avoid crowded areas, but she seemed determined to focus on life and energy and happiness.

  Still, she couldn’t ignore the occasional look in her aunt’s eye—the longing, the sense of something missing. It wasn’t new, really—Auntie had carried that look for a long time after the death of Uncle Isaiah. But there was a difference now—a new sense of urgency, of regret. She couldn’t help but think it had something to do with Mr. Lanfield.

  Was it just the midnight assignations? Were they so significant?

  Mr. Lanfield had been nothing but respectful and considerate toward her in the brief time she’d been in his company, but he’d obviously felt strong antipathy against Aunt Helena, as strong as any of the other villagers, at least at first. How did one trust such a drastic change in feeling? Yet he’d been kind, as his nephew Hal had been kind. He’d been protective and caring, and Auntie was obviously drawn to him, whether she willed it or no.

  Could you desire someone you didn’t like, didn’t admire, didn’t trust? Could you give your heart to someone even knowing there was no future in it?

  Was that what she was doing with Billy?

  He wasn’t at his usual waiting spot.

  A girl she’d thought was her friend shared some gossip about Billy being sweet to other girls. Whether the rumor was true, she couldn’t find it in herself to care. Such coy and fickle games were a waste of her time.

  As she returned home, Hal’s open smile hovered in her mind’s eye. Hal said what he meant. He was kind and attentive and didn’t push. Hal was someone who inspired trust. She wondered what he was doing right then. Would he be walking amid the flock or galloping along the Lanfield perimeter? Would he be chasing that impudent ram and quelling mischief?

  Hal was the kind of person who would respond if someone wrote him a letter. That thought bolstered her. She hurried to the writing desk, relishing the texture of the paper and the weight of the pen as her thoughts flew. She wanted to know if he thought of her, if he missed her, but mostly she just wanted to communicate with him and capture some of that companionship she’d felt between them during her brief visit. It didn’t matter when she crossed out lines and words and started again; he might even be amused to see the workings of her mind that way. Hours and pages later, she felt a lightness she hadn’t known since leaving Marksby.

  Chapter 27

  Sharing tea with the Needlework ladies above Evans Books, Helena continued to rebuild her shattered heart. Her work and her friends served as another supporting layer, reminding her of where she belonged, of how she was needed. Bartholomew was home with the boys for a few days longer, and she could immerse herself in the trials and tribulations of the less fortunate. Her life was complete, and she wanted for nothing. She didn’t need the strong arms and gentle blue eyes that pierced her dreams and left her tense and panting. She didn’t need his stalwart presence bolstering her spirit, soothing her panic. Not anymore. Since her time in Marksby, her debilitating fear of the world had eased. She’d attended a performance at the Lyceum with Marissa, and she’d even braved the Lowther Arcade, as a treat to the boys, without any assistance from her dearly protective coterie. She didn’t need a man, any man, to be the head of her household. Not even a man who’d, in many ways, brought her back to life.

  Honoria appeared in the doorway with an odd expression. Then again, odd expressions had been characteristic of her friend since her return—small, intimate smiles when Honoria thought no one was looking and a generally unguarded effusiveness. The woman carried herself with a new and reassuring sense of contentedness. And it was no wonder. Her dear friend was in love. With a viscount, of all people. She supposed that if someone like Honoria, who’d been so wary, so detached, could fall in love again after the loss of her husband, surely . . . No! She raised a castle turret in her mind to block that line of thinking.

  “Helena, someone is here to see you,” Honoria said. Were her eyes dancing? Must be a trick of the light. She tried not to notice the way her pulse quickened, the way it pounded so strongly she could feel it in her temple.

  “Is it one of the boys?” she asked, as she moved toward the stairs, even though she knew it was a silly question. If it were any of her sons, he would simply come up with Honoria.

  “No, I don’t recognize the gentleman.” With a small grin, her friend paused dramatically.

  Helena corrected herself; her friend had been mesmerized or possibly possessed by a demon. She tried not to notice the tiny flip her stomach made. “Did this gentleman give you his name? Isn’t it exceedingly odd that someone would come to find me here?”

  “Lanfield, I believe his name is.”

  When she tried to respond, nothing came out. Her chest felt so tight she couldn’t breathe. Yet this wasn’t the same type of panic she’d experienced before. Daniel had come for her! She rushed down the stairs, unsure of what to say or what to think, and almost stumbled near the bottom in her haste. Forcing herself to slow down, she gripped the railing tightly and considered the moment. She was being ridiculous. This solved nothing. She couldn’t leave, and he couldn’t stay. Pasting a polite smile upon her face, one she hoped wouldn’t show her inner turmoil, she pushed through the curtain and stepped into the front of the shop.

  “Good afternoon, Mrs. Martin. It is a pleasure to see you.”

  Despite everything she’d told herself about the impossibility of caring for Daniel Lanfield, her spirits crashed when she saw the man at the counter. Gordon Lanfield stood there, twisting his cap in his hands. Her disappointment was so acute that she couldn’t bring herself to speak. A petite woman next to him took the hat from him and grasped one of his hands firmly. She couldn’t see the woman’s face, nor could she hear the words the woman spoke to him.

  “Hello,” Helena croaked. Pathetic. She must seem like a fool.

  “Pardon us for surprising you thus. I contacted your sister when we arrived in London, and she told me we could find you here. We want to speak with you. But, first, please allow me to introduce my wife, Ruth. I should have done so while you were visiting the Grand-dame, and I beg your pardon. You might recall Ruth from our younger days.”

  His demeanor was surprisingly deferential, especially considering their last confrontational meeting. What could he and his wife possibly want with her now? How else could she atone?

  “Of course,” she said, tamping down her unruly emotions. “I remember you fondly, Ruth!” And she meant it. She could still see the sweet, meek girl she had been; the passage of time had given her a mature grace that suited her.

  “And I you, Helena. I’m sorry we didn’t meet during your trip. There never seemed to be a fitting time,” Ruth said
warmly, coming close and giving her a buss on the cheek. Her surprise at the affectionate greeting must have shown on her face because Ruth added, “All these years, I have owed you a great debt. I cannot thank you enough!”

  Surprise transformed to shock as she tried to decipher Ruth’s statement. Everyone from Marksby hated her, the Lanfields more than anyone else in the village. She’d had no false expectations about being welcomed with open arms. Gran’s unconditional acceptance had been more than she’d even dreamed. But for someone to thank her?

  Gordon interrupted her thoughts, saying, “How are your children? I’m sure being separated from them was difficult, and I trust they missed you something awful.”

  “They did, yes, but they’re fine,” she said cautiously. “My oldest is back from sea for a few days.”

  He cleared his throat and said, “How nice.” Ruth returned to his side and tugged him down by the shoulder so she could whisper in his ear. He cleared his throat again and said, “I never thought you’d be back, not after everything. It was a shock to see you.”

  He sounded sincere. She couldn’t detect any of the bitterness or anger she’d seen at Daniel’s home. If anyone had a right to be angry, a right to ignore her or berate her, it was Gordon.

  “It’s a joy to see Ruth with you,” she responded honestly. “You dear lady, you were a lovely girl, and I’ve no doubts you’re an excellent partner for Mr. Lanfield. Exactly what he needed.” Exactly what I couldn’t be. “And I thank you for your many kindnesses to my grandmother. Time has taken such a toll.”

  He nodded and looked down at Ruth with a fondness so intimate that she felt mildly uncomfortable witnessing it. “Ruth’s a good woman, better than I deserve.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true. I’m sure you two are well matched. You’ve always been a good man yourself. And you needed someone who would be devoted not only to you but to the Lanfield farm.”

  He stiffened, as if she’d insulted him. Only then did she realize the resentment was still there, a faint but unmistakable undercurrent.