“I can honestly say that I do not know.” He smiled at the question. “I am sure they do. Why do you ask?”
“Because I have been thinking about Caesar. I miss him ever so much. Do you think he misses me?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt he does. Who else would be riding him?”
“That is what worries me,” she said, shaking her head, her lips forming a pretty pout. “Nobody else is small enough. Nobody except for me. What if he is lonely or sad?”
“Mr. Carter is with him. Do you think Caesar does not enjoy his company?”
“I suppose so, but Mr. Carter does not always give him the sugar that he likes. He thinks he knows which is Caesar’s favorite, but he doesn’t.”
Mr. Galloway shifted Lizzie in his arms. “If it will make you feel better, I shall take some sugar to Caesar on my next visit to Emberwilde. How’s that?”
Lizzie furrowed her brow, as if contemplating the offer. “When will you go next?”
“Well, from here I must go to London, but I should be back in Northrop within the week.”
“I suppose that will have to do,” she said. “I do not know if I will ever go back to Emberwilde. Isabel says she does not know if we will ever go there again.”
Mr. Galloway looked up at Isabel before responding. “Well, I’ve no doubt that your sister knows what is best for you.”
“I do,” Isabel said, joy unfurling in the bottom of her heart. “And what’s best for you, Lizzie, is neither at Emberwilde nor here.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
When Mr. Galloway returned with a carriage two days later, Lizzie and Isabel were prepared.
Several months ago they had left Fellsworth with very little.
Recently they had made their way back with little more.
And now they each clutched only one valise but possessed something far more valuable: security.
Mary, who was standing to Isabel’s left, squeezed her hand as the carriage rumbled to a stop. “How cruel it is to have to bid farewell to you twice!”
Isabel turned and hugged her friend, who had been with her through so many of life’s ups and downs. “I will send for you, Mary. You have my word. As soon as I am settled, you are coming to live with us.”
Mary’s eyes filled with tears. “I should like that very much.”
Isabel squeezed her in a tight embrace. Then, with Lizzie’s hand tucked in her own, she stepped toward the carriage. A small crowd of students had gathered, as they usually did whenever a carriage arrived, and Isabel searched the faces for Mr. Galloway.
Her heart leaped at the sight of him. He was head and shoulders above the rest of those gathered, and he was speaking with Mr. Langsby.
Isabel told herself not to allow her mind to run away with her, not to get lost in the questions and the hurts of what had transpired at Emberwilde. There would be time to sort those feelings. But now it seemed as if she had been given a gift: The gift of having lived with plenty and with little. The gift of having seen the true versions of herself and Lizzie in both circumstances. It was an experience she would never forget. She hoped Lizzie never would either.
The carriage jostled them away from Fellsworth for the second time, and it rumbled across the back roads and through the Surrey countryside. Sunlight peeked through the clouds. Isabel leaned to look out the window, and from where she sat she could see Mr. Galloway through the window, riding Sampson alongside the carriage.
She recalled seeing him for the very first time through the carriage window when they had arrived at Emberwilde. Her heart swelled as she thought of how her opinions of him had deepened into a strong and unfamiliar affection.
Lizzie, who had curled up on the bench beside her, now rested her head on Isabel’s lap. How her sister could sleep on these rides Isabel would never know, but at least the child seemed to find peace.
Isabel took Mr. Galloway’s hand as she stepped down from the carriage. The breeze carried with it sweet scents of roses and earth. She pushed down her insecurities, her fears of everything she still had to learn, and enjoyed the moment. Her foot landed solidly, squarely on the ground. A shiver of connectedness surged through her, as if she had finally arrived home, as if she had finally found the place she was meant to be.
Mr. Galloway squeezed her hand, then turned to help Lizzie down from the carriage.
“Welcome home, ladies. Welcome home.”
Isabel’s breath caught in her throat as she beheld Heddeston Park. Even though Mr. Galloway had assured her the house was in excellent condition, she still had her aunt’s words in her mind and expected the home to be in ill repair. But the home before her was beyond her wildest dreams.
The redbrick house adorned with stone quoins at every corner rose three stories into the afternoon sky. It was capped by a hipped slate roof, and four symmetrical chimney stacks seemed to touch the wispy clouds. Tall sash windows complete with glazing bars were evenly spaced on each level. A white, cheery door served as the main entrance, and a fanlight positioned over it seemed to welcome her. Behind it, trees stood at attention, dressed in their full summer splendor.
A handful of neatly dressed servants were on hand to greet them as formally as any at Emberwilde ever would. Isabel’s time at Emberwilde had prepared her for such a day, and despite the pain associated with her recent time there, she was grateful. Mary was right—every step of her journey had prepared her in some way for the next.
She was sad to see Mr. Galloway depart shortly after their arrival, but he promised to return soon, and she was eager to explore the house and grounds with Lizzie. But her happiness was short-lived, for several hours after their arrival one of the servants brought her a letter.
“What’s this?” Isabel asked as the young girl approached her.
“A boy just came by the servants’ entrance and said I should give it to you right away.”
Isabel took the letter, dismissed the servant, and retreated to the drawing room, where she sat on one of the west-facing window seats in the sun’s warmth to read the letter. The handwriting was vaguely familiar, which both intrigued her and concerned her, for who would already know that she was here? She broke the seal with her finger and unfolded the paper. Her eyes skimmed quickly the signature: Edmund Bradford.
Her hand flew to her mouth. It was highly improper for a man to send her any manner of correspondence, especially without being engaged to her. And she had made her feelings on the matter perfectly clear. Confused yet curious why he should be writing her, she angled the words to the sunlight.
My dear Miss Creston,
Allow me to be among the first to offer my sincerest congratulations on your new endeavor. Heddeston Park is a splendid home, and it pleases me to think of you there.
My apologies on disrupting you when you have so recently returned, but I am writing with news that I think will be of concern to you. One of our young girls, Jane, has fallen quite ill. She has asked about you several times, and knowing your kind nature, I thought you would like to know that your presence has been requested.
It pains me to think of how things were left between us, but that does not change the fact that I always did admire your willingness to assist. I do hope that what has conspired between us does not affect your affection for the children. If you are agreeable, please come at your earliest convenience. I know she would be most grateful for your visit.
Yours respectfully,
Edmund Bradford
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Colin’s body was weary from the days of travel, but satisfaction spread through him. Miss Creston and her sister were safe, and not only in the sanctity of their new home. There was no need for them to fear or to worry who would provide for them.
Despite his personal desire to remain in Miss Creston’s presence, Colin had not lingered at Heddeston Park any longer than necessary. The day had been overwhelming for his charges, and they needed to be settled.
He spent the afternoon on his own land. Work had begun on clearing the sp
ace where the original manor once was, and he found himself actually excited for the estate’s future. His injured heart had always been closed to the land, unwilling to revive it to its former glory. But something in him seemed to change today. Maybe it was frustration with his current role. Maybe it was a dissatisfaction within him that urged him to settle down. But whatever the reason, his attitude toward his birthright was changing.
Colin was eager to catch up with McKinney on the town’s happenings while he was away, but one task remained before he could visit his friend to recap the week’s events. While in London on business, he had retrieved a package for his aunt, and he aimed to deliver it before day’s end. By the time Colin returned his personal items to his room at the boardinghouse, twilight’s purple had given way to a misty night. A tentative rain drizzled down, cloaking the earth in a chilly dampness.
When he arrived at the cottage, however, he was surprised to learn that his aunt had already retired for the evening. Lockert Cottage was dark, save for the main fire and the candles winking from the front window. It was Miranda who greeted him. His nephew and the few servants were nowhere in sight.
Colin had not spoken privately with Miranda since their conversation at the dinner at the Atwells. Whether by design or coincidence, she had kept her distance. Now she leaned against the doorframe in the shadow of night, as she had so many other times. If she was reluctant to see him, she gave no indication. He reminded himself that there was no reason why he should feel uncomfortable.
After explaining his reason for being there, he handed the package wrapped in brown paper to Miranda. “I am sorry I missed her. If you could tell her I will be by tomorrow, I would appreciate it.”
Given her recent behavior, he expected the conversation to end then and there. But she said, “Will you not come in? It is quite cold out, and the fire is still strong. It would not take any time at all to heat a meal for you.”
There was hope in her voice, and an eagerness he could not deny. “I thank you for the offer, but I am due to speak with McKinney before the night is out.”
He tipped his hat and turned to leave, but she reached out to detain him, her hand just short of brushing his sleeve. “I have heard that Miss Creston is the heiress of Heddeston Park and that you’ve brought her back with you.”
“News does travel fast, does it not?”
“I suppose so, but Henry told me the real reason for your trip not long after you left.” She toyed with the hem of her work apron. “I suppose your willingness to travel on your cousin’s behalf had less to do with the inheritance at hand than with the personal endeavor involved.”
Colin drew a deep breath. Personal endeavor. He could pretend that was not the case, but the truth was winding its way around him. Each interaction with Miss Creston bound him to her tighter and tighter. Even if he wished it to be otherwise, he doubted he could change the course of his attitude toward her. And apparently, his attempts to hide the true nature of his feelings were insufficient to trick those who knew him best.
“I did what needed to be done, under the law.”
She laughed. “Come now, Colin. We are not children, and I am not blind. It does not do for you to hide from the truth. For as you know, all truth eventually comes to light, does it not? I wonder when the Ellisons will learn of her return.”
“Henry was to send a message informing them that the estate has been settled. If they do not already know, they will very soon.”
“I see.” She folded her arms over her chest, a coy smile on her face. “I cannot help but wonder if Mr. Bradford has also heard the news. His anguish at her refusal is well known throughout Northrop. He has not been at church since Miss Creston left, and he is rumored to be quite heartbroken. But I daresay one man’s pain is another man’s gain.” Miranda continued. “Does she return your regard?”
This topic was highly improper, yet he did not reprimand her. For the question lingered in his own mind—it was one he had wrestled with since he learned she had been sent from Emberwilde. “I can only hope that she does.”
He looked at Miranda, really looked at her. He could see the longing in her eyes, just as he did nearly every time he encountered her. He did not want to see her hurt.
Now was the moment to set things right, once and for all. “Our paths diverged a long time ago, Miranda, and you must know that it was never my intention for you to feel any discomfort or pain because of me. But I do think things are best the way they are.”
It was not the first time he had spoken such words to her, but as they left his mouth, something felt different. Perhaps it was the expression on her face as she received them. Perhaps it was because he believed them himself this time. Perhaps it was because he knew his heart was no longer his to give.
“I do beg your forgiveness if I have caused any pain,” he continued, taking note of the manner in which she averted her gaze to the ground. “If there is anything I can do to make things easier, please know I am at your service. But my heart belongs to another.”
After leaving Miranda, Colin approached the Pigeon’s Rest Inn. Two torches blazed outside the tavern’s main entrance. As he stepped over the cobbled stone to the door, it was flung open from the other side. On the threshold stood none other than Bradford.
Colin had only seen Bradford once or twice since interrupting him and Miss Creston that evening in Emberwilde’s Blue Parlor, and they had not spoken since that night. But he was surprised to encounter Bradford here, for he was not one to frequent the Pigeon’s Rest Inn.
Bradford ducked to step through the low-beamed doorway. By the torches’ light Colin could not deny the fact that Bradford appeared much altered. A shadowy beard masked his normally clean-shaven jaw, and his hair hung disheveled beneath his hat. Dark shadows cupped his eyes as one deprived of sleep. If Colin had not heard the rumors of Bradford’s broken heart, he would have judged the man to be ill.
He expected Bradford to pass by him without a word. Instead, Bradford blocked the way, preventing Colin from advancing.
“Galloway. Just the man I have been waiting to see.”
Colin stopped, bracing himself, unsure of what to expect. “What can I do for you?”
“Heard you made a delivery to Heddeston Park today.”
Bradford’s words held a challenge. Colin cleared his throat. “If you are referring to Miss Creston and her sister, then yes. They have been safely delivered and are, no doubt, settling into their new home as we speak.”
Bradford laughed and looked to the distance, but the expression on his face was anything but amused. Within moments, his tone once again sobered, and all trace of laughter dissipated. “I imagine she believes you rode in and saved the day. Quite the hero.”
Colin brushed off the sarcasm in an attempt to end the conversation as soon as possible. He thought of the conversation he had with the Ellisons, and the role that Bradford played in using Miss Creston for financial gain, and he bristled. “You forget my cousin is a solicitor involved in finding the heiress, and I work for my cousin.”
Bradford snorted. “You visited Miss Creston on behalf of your cousin? Come now, Galloway. Despite what the rumor of the day may be, I am not a fool. Your interest in her is hardly a secret. Let me ask you this. Do you think it better for her to be attached to someone like you instead of someone more established? Her family approved the match. I believe she did as well. Until you filled her head with other ideas. Accusations against me.”
Colin bit back his words, for the very family that had approved the match had also attempted to take advantage of her situation. Both were unforgivable. “I made no attempt to sway her.”
“So you deny it,” Bradford accused. “You deny that you knew full well her aunt’s intentions—”
“Were you aware?” Colin challenged. “Did you know that Margaret Ellison’s intentions were to prevent Miss Creston from laying claim to Heddeston Park?”
Bradford sighed and looked out at the drizzling sky. The anger left his voice. “I
did not. Whatever you may think of me, my affection for her was sincere.”
The signs of his grief inclined Colin to believe him, and yet something in him resisted. For even though Miss Creston had not a farthing to her name when she arrived, she now had an impressive fortune, and any man who married her would be wealthy indeed. Even with this knowledge, Colin thought he could muster some compassion for the man, until Bradford said, “You were the manipulative one.”
With each word that Bradford uttered, Colin found it increasingly difficult to keep his own temper in check. “Miss Creston, regardless of what you may think, is hardly a puppet to be manipulated. She has every right to make up her own mind, especially regarding her future. I had no part in her decision to refuse you.”
“Did you not?” A sly smile curled Bradford’s lip. “I am sure that once you learned of her inheritance you thought you could bend her situation to your advantage.”
Colin shrugged. “She could inherit thousands of pounds and it would make no difference to me. But what about you? Now that she has fallen out of favor with the Ellisons, is your love still strong enough to chase her? Or can you not afford the cost of Mrs. Ellison’s fury?”
Bradford’s face twisted in anger, and he pushed past Colin into the dark of night.
Colin looked back to the inn to see McKinney’s thick build filling the doorframe. Warmth and light tumbled from the door, and the sounds of clanking pewter and laughing patrons met his ears.
He wondered how long McKinney had been standing there, and if he had heard Bradford’s insinuation of his interest in Miss Creston. But McKinney only shook his shaggy head, looking out toward Bradford’s retreating form.
“Wondered when you would get here.”
“Would have been here sooner, but I just had a little conversation with Bradford.”
“Nothing will mess with a man’s senses quite like a woman.”
Colin followed McKinney’s gaze and watched as Bradford turned the corner to the main bridge and disappeared into the night’s shadows. He was not sure how to respond. Perhaps the man’s heart was broken, but if so, Colin doubted it was from unrequited love. More like an unrealized fortune.
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