She did not care. She could not care. It would do no good to care.
She began to remove her jacket when Mariah came bursting through her door a moment later.
“What in the world has come over you? Why were you so rude to Mr. Aldridge?”
“It does not matter,” Joanna muttered.
“Indeed it does! I have never seen you so cold. What has happened?”
Joanna threw her jacket onto the bed. “What has happened? Mrs. Marchant died, that is what happened!”
“What?”
“She died! And because I arrived so late, there was nothing I could do to help her. If I had only been in more control of my time, I would have been there and may have been able to help her.”
“Joanna, I am so sorry. That is terrible.”
Joanna collapsed onto her bed, fresh tears wetting her cheeks as the memories of her mother’s death lingered in her mind.
“I do not know how much more I can stand. I do not know that my heart can manage any more pain.”
Mariah sat beside her and wrapped her arms around her older sister, rubbing Joanna’s back.
Joanna expected her heart to swell at the gesture. It terrified her that she felt nothing.
It was a miserable week. The coldness in Joanna’s heart faded, but the pain did not.
Two days after Mrs. Marchant died, Joanna took to the beach with her paints, desperate to release some of her emotions onto paper. But the moment she stepped onto the pebbly shore, she was overcome with memories. Mr. Aldridge listening so kindly to her woes, his eyes filled with compassion. Mr. Aldridge escorting her to a chair where she painted near the sea for the first time, finally achieving a sense of healing. Mr. Aldridge confessing his own fears, trusting her. A feeling of longing sprang up in her heart.
A feeling she could not encourage. She forced it down into silence, turned back the way she had come and walked home, disappointed and wondering if she would ever find a path she could be happy on.
Joanna spent the remainder of the week persuading herself that she did not miss Mr. Aldridge, no matter how her heart wailed it was not true. She went through the motions of life, endeavoring to convince herself all was well.
At her insistence, her uncle let her tend to more of his patients than she had ever helped with before. The distraction did little to stay her emotions, however.
She thought she had at least fooled others into believing all was well; but she soon realized different on Sunday afternoon when Edith, Rose and Fanny called on her together.
They sat down and shared the typical greetings, when Joanna began a conversation about an upcoming ball, Edith cut across her.
“Joanna, we have not come here for a simple visit.”
Joanna eyed her warily.
Rose, who sat beside Joanna, turned to her and took her hands. “We are concerned about you.”
“You have not been yourself as of late and we have all noticed,” Edith said. “You did seem to recover somewhat before Mrs. Marchant’s passing, but since then, you have seemed tortured again.”
“Won’t you tell us what is troubling you, dear?” Rose asked.
Anger rose up in Joanna’s chest. “There is nothing the matter with me. I am fine.”
Edith narrowed her eyes at Joanna. “Aside from your family, we know you best of all. Please do not insult us by telling us otherwise.”
Slightly humbled, Joanna lowered her gaze. “Thank you for your concern. However, I am fine.”
Fanny leaned toward her, her voice soft and tender. “Did Mrs. Marchant’s passing remind you of the loss of your own mother?”
Joanna nearly choked on the emotion the flared inside her. Fanny’s direct question required a direct answer, and she viciously fought the tears that accompanied it.
“No,” she whispered, but the denial was enough to send her emotions soaring over the edge of her control. Tears fell down her cheeks in quick succession.
Rose wrapped her arm around Joanna’s shoulders, letting her cry against her for several moments, until Joanna pulled away from her slightly, using a dry corner of her handkerchief to wipe the most recent tears from her eyes.
“This is ridiculous!”
“Why are you so angry?” Edith asked. There was no accusation in her voice, only concern.
“I am angry at myself for not being more able to hide my emotions. I had done it so well for so long, until a certain man came into my life and suggested I relinquish my control, sending me into a chasm it seemed only he could pull me out of.”
She froze at the revelation.
Was it true? Was Mr. Aldridge the only one who could pull her from her despair?
Her friends continued to watch her, as if expecting her to continue.
Fanny smiled softly. “We wondered if this was something to do with him as well.”
Joanna instantly shook her head, her defenses on the rise. “No, there is nothing to do with him.”
There can’t be.
“Joanna, why do you fight so much against this?” Edith was frustrated now.
“I do not want to end up like my father!” Joanna exclaimed.
The room was quiet and Joanna ducked her head to avoid the other’s gazes.
“He was so affected by Mother’s illness and then her death.” She looked up at Edith. “You said it yourself, Edith. It was not fair for him to put so much responsibility on me.” She shook her head. “I do not want to put that strain on my own children or to suffer as he did.”
Edith leaned forward. “Joanna, you are not your father.” She met Joanna’s eyes. “You have already proven yourself stronger than him just in the way you’ve allowed yourself to change these last few months, not to mention many other situations.”
Joanna felt the truth of Edith’s words, but the fear lingered. “I do not know that I can bear any more pain.”
Rose clasped Joanna’s hand. “Don't you think the pain is worth the joys that you will experience in exchange?”
Joanna shook her head again. “There were wonderful times with my mother, yet all I can seem to think on is the pain. On how very much I miss her.”
“Then you are not focusing on the right memories,” Rose said. “Of course if you only think on the sad times then you will only feel sad.”
“The trick,” Edith interjected, “is to focus on the good times while they are happening. To earnestly enjoy every good moment. If you do that, then when the hard times come, you will have those wonderful memories to buoy your spirits.”
Joanna saw the tears threatening to fall from Edith’s eyes and knew she spoke from her own experience. The darkest part of Joanna wanted to ignore them all and retreat into her sadness. It was easier that way. But she could not deny the sincerity in their expressions and the love she felt from each of them.
“Thank you,” she said, looking at each of her friends in turn. “It helps to know I have such wonderful friends.”
Fanny smiled in earnest now. “What else are friends for, than to show you your faults and how to fix them?”
They all laughed and Rose leaned back into the cushions of the couch. “Now, weren’t you saying something about a ball?”
They visited for another hour and Joanna’s spirits were indeed buoyed up. As the remainder of the day passed, she spent much time reflecting on their words.
That evening, she sat in the drawing room, quill in hand, and began to compose a collection of fond memories of her mother. Before long, she felt herself smiling, and realized it had been a long while since she had felt such happiness in regard to her mother.
Perhaps with this and my painting, I will be able to heal after all.
So engrossed was she, that she remained at her task until nearly midnight. Realizing the time, she pulled her papers into a neat stack and rose to go upstairs.
The drawing room door flew open, and Susan bustled in, Aunt Garvey close behind her.
“Mrs. Garvey, ma’am,” Susan announced, though the introduction was hardly
necessary.
The tranquility Joanna had experienced vanished at the expression her aunt wore.
“What is it?” Joanna asked.
“Oh, Joanna! I am glad you are yet awake. Your uncle sent me a note. I thought I should come to you and inform you of what’s happened. I have seen how close you have become.”
Aunt Garvey was not making any sense.
“Is someone sick?” Joanna asked, taking her aunt’s hand.
Mrs. Garvey met her gaze and looked at her as if she could not believe Joanna did not know. “Mr. Aldridge.”
Joanna’s heart plummeted and she dropped her hand. “Mr. Aldridge?” She blinked rapidly. “Surely it is only another relapse of his condition?”
Her aunt shook her head, and the fear in her eyes sent chills down Joanna’s back.
“No, dearest, it is more than that. He came home early from London today. His valet said he was suffering before they left, but insisted on coming home. When he exited the carriage, he lost his balance and hit his head.”
The stubborn man!
“Your uncle writes that he has not yet gained consciousness.”
Joanna’s thoughts came to a halt. “How long ago did he fall?”
The concern on her aunt’s face did not cease. “It has been several hours.”
Joanna drew in a shaky breath.
Several hours?
Mrs. Garvey looked at her kindly. “You ought to go see him, Joanna. You two have become very close, have you not?”
Panic welled up inside her and she scrambled back into the safety of denial.
“No! No, of course not.” Joanna hesitated. “We are friends, but nothing more. I am certain he would not wish me there. He did not want me the last time he was ill.”
Her aunt looked surprised. “Joanna, do reconsider. He may not—”
“Don’t!” Joanna raised her hand, unable to hear the prognosis. “Please. I am sorry, but I cannot go.”
Mrs. Garvey studied her niece for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Very well. I am sorry to have made such an assumption and come at this late hour.”
“It is nothing.”
“I ought to see if your uncle is in need of anything. Good night, Joanna.”
“Good night, Aunt.”
She wrapped Joanna in a hasty embrace then hurried out the door.
The moment the door was secure, Joanna collapsed to the floor, sobbing, her heart torn in two.
Mr. Aldridge was sick, perhaps gravely injured, and once again she had refused him.
She allowed herself a few moments of release before ordering her heart to obey her will. She leaned against the door and closed her eyes.
“Mr. Aldridge is only a friend,” she whispered to herself. “You care for him no more than you care for any other man.”
The moment the words left her lips, her heart throbbed again and she could not stop the tears.
“I cannot love him,” she begged. Yet she knew it was a lie, and had been for some time. She did love him, more than she had ever thought possible. She loved him more than she’d ever loved before.
Her tears came fast now as realization washed over her. The one thing she had never wanted. As hard as she had tried to avoid it, love caught her. Love caught her and swallowed her whole. She could not imagine life without him.
And now I might lose him.
The thought terrified her.
She looked around the room, her eyes unfocused.
“What am I going to do?” she wondered aloud.
The tears subsided and she waited for an answer, though none came.
As she gazed around the room, hoping for an answer to reveal itself to her, a small change caught her eye.
The curtains. They were different.
She stood, walked to the nearest window and fingered the crisp fabric. They were nearly identical to the previous curtain in color, only the pattern differed. Yet, contrary to her fears, they coordinated with the remainder of the room perfectly.
The door eased open and she turned to see Mariah enter, looking around. “Is someone else here? I was certain I heard Aunt Garvey’s voice.”
“You changed the curtains.”
Mariah’s eyebrows came together, then she smiled and chuckled. “I wondered how long it would take you to realize that.”
“When did you put them up?”
Mariah smiled fully. “Nearly two weeks ago.”
Joanna balked. “Two weeks? How have I not noticed?”
Mariah looked past her to the window. “Do you like them?”
“I do, they are lovely.”
“You see!” Mariah crooned. “The old curtains were fading from such exposure to the sun. I only wanted to freshen them up, not redecorate the entire room.”
She met her sister’s gaze. “All you had to do was trust me.”
All I have to do is trust.
The words rang through Joanna’s mind. In an instant, she recalled when she and Mr. Aldridge had had a similar conversation.
“In my experience, releasing your control to others comes to one basic question- Do you trust the person to whom you are relinquishing your control?” He had asked, followed by. “So, Miss Leighton, do you trust me?”
Her answer had come instantly. Yes. She did trust him.
But can I trust him with something as important as my heart?
That answer came just as quickly.
Yes.
A wave of peace swept over her. Yes, she could trust him. She could trust in the love she felt for him. And she could trust in herself to be different than her father.
Mariah’s voice broke through her thoughts. “Joanna? Are you well?” She came closer. “You have been crying. What is wrong?”
Without a word, Joanna wrapped her arms around her sister. “I will be well. I hope.”
Mariah held her back at arm’s length. “What is happening?”
Joanna shook her head. “I cannot tell you just now. I have to go.”
She embraced Mariah again and turned to leave the room. She was uncertain whether Mr. Aldridge could forgive her for her rudeness, but knowing what she felt for him, she knew she could not stand idly by while he suffered.
“Go? Go where?” Mariah asked.
“To choose my course!”
I only hope I am not too late.
Mable’s eyes were wide when she answered Joanna’s knock. “Miss Leighton, what’re you doin’ here?”
“I have come to ask on Mr. Aldridge. How is he?”
“Not well, ma’am. The doctor is with him now. Mrs. Garvey just left a moment ago.”
“Will you show me to them?”
Her face reddened. “Oh! Of course, ma’am. Please forgive me.”
She stepped back to allow Joanna entry, helped her remove her jacket, and took her bonnet and gloves before showing her up the stairs. She knocked on the door to Mr. Aldridge’s room and Mr. Garvey came to the door, appearing tired. Joanna worried for him as well as Mr. Aldridge.
“Joanna? I did not expect you.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle. Aunt told me what happened and I had to see what I could do.”
“Very little, unfortunately. His injury is rather severe. His breathing is shallow and his pulse is weaker than I would like.”
Joanna’s heart dropped. “May I stay with you? I can help in any way you may need.”
He studied her in a way quite similar to his wife before he nodded. “Yes, come in.”
Her heart broke at the sight of Mr. Aldridge. He was pale and slightly shaking. A bright stain began to show on the white bandage around his head.
Mr. Garvey directed her to a seat near the fire where she sat for some time, watching her uncle repeatedly check Mr. Aldridge’s pulse and breathing. At length he joined her, looking more exhausted than before.
“His vitals seem to be improving. If only he would wake.”
“Are you certain there is nothing I can do? Do you need anything?”
He shook his head. “There i
s nothing to do but wait.”
Joanna stirred in her chair, uncomfortable with the thought of doing nothing at all. “I think I’ll ask Mable to make some tea.”
Mr. Garvey smiled. “That sounds lovely.”
Joanna stood and left the room, wondering where she might find Mable. She was relieved to see Mable just outside the room, dozing in a chair. Joanna nudged her shoulder and she sprung awake.
“Oh! Miss Leighton! I’m sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep.”
Joanna smiled at her. “It is fine. I only wondered if you might bring us some tea.”
“Of course, ma’am. I should’ve thought of that myself. I’ll get it now.”
Mable hurried away and Joanna turned to reenter the room, steeling herself for the sight of Mr. Aldridge again. She pushed the door open and gasped to see Mr. Aldridge awake, her uncle by his side, checking his pulse.
Mr. Garvey turned at the sound of her entrance, a small smile on his face. “He is awake and he seems much improved.”
Joanna let out a shaky laugh, filled with relief. She cautiously approached the bed where Mr. Aldridge looked at her, but did not return her smile.
“Hello, Mr. Aldridge. It is good to see you awake.”
His brows creased and he closed his eyes for a long moment before looking at her again.
“It is my niece, sir. Joanna Leighton.”
Mr. Aldridge closed his eyes again, longer this time. He finally opened them and gazed at her again, though she suspected his vision was still not clear. “I’m sorry. I—”
He closed his eyes again, this time they remained that way.
Joanna’s stomach dropped. Was it possible that he could have forgotten her?
Mr. Garvey shook his head and led her back to the seat by the fire. “He is likely still quite confused from the effects of his injury. It may take a while for him to return to himself.”
Joanna nodded, though she felt little consolation.
The remainder of the night passed slowly. Mr. Aldridge woke for short periods, where he said naught that gave Joanna any real comfort.
At last the first hints of sunrise began to shine through the windows. Joanna rose from her seat and moved to the largest window, which stood near Mr. Aldridge’s bed. She watched for several moments as the sun pushed the darkness from the sky.
Healing Hearts (Roselund Heights Book 1) Page 14