“I hear congratulations are in order.” He pulled out a chair for me. “Your uncle informs me you have completed your coursework and that you have graduated near the top of your class. Well done. You are free at last.”
Nora sat beside me. “At last.”
“Yes, thank you,” I said. Free at last? I wished I could agree. “I guess all that is left is to discover what is next.”
William gave a slight smile, as if he held a secret. “I can think of one option.”
I waited for him to expound, but his grin only grew.
Nora giggled and covered her mouth. “For shame, William.”
My heart lodged in my throat. It was presumptuous to think William meant he was my future. And yet, the way he looked down at me, the way he had offered his arm to me so assuredly, I knew that was exactly what he had intended to communicate.
I blushed. He was as smooth as the butter beside me.
The doorbell rang. I flinched, letting go of the breath I had been withholding. I recognized Clara’s voice, and I stood. The comfort of a sister’s presence was just what I needed.
She met me near the entry and kissed my cheek. “It has been too long.”
I inhaled, and the aroma of Le Trèfle Incarnat—her preferred perfume—calmed my nerves. It had only been two months since Clara had shared the news of the baby, and at each meeting since, I searched for a hint of her condition. Her dress was cinched at the waist, the folds of the burgundy fabric concealing any recent growth. Under normal circumstances, I could hardly have hidden my excitement, but my nerves that night were enough to disguise it. I sorely wished to speak to Clara alone. I needed her advice.
“Congratulations, Elizabeth,” Clara said. Her eyes lighted. “Top of the class? Mama will be so proud.”
“And without any tutoring,” Thomas said, winking.
I gave a mock scowl. “I trust you are taking good care of Clara?”
Thomas gave Clara a side glance. “When she allows it.”
I had reconciled myself with Thomas Allred. He was much too flashy and handsome, and he doted on my sister excessively. It was not what I had wanted—to share my sister with him—but Clara had chosen him, with or without my blessing, and I could not risk losing her again.
Nora shuffled past me. “Come, there is plenty of time to discuss such things at dinner. Please, follow me into the dining room—Mr. Allred, William. Cook has prepared something special in honor of Elizabeth.”
We sat at the table, and dinner commenced.
“That color suits you,” William said after we began eating.
I ran my fingers along the silk sash, hoping I did not sound as green as the fabric. “Thank you. It was a present from Nora.”
He studied the dress, his eyes finally resting on my own. It was that gaze again—that one that left me speechless. He reached for the rolls, grazing his thumb over my hand. “I hope you will permit me a gift of my own.”
My mouth dropped, and a quick intake of air seemed to bring a smile to his lips. “William, you shouldn’t have.”
He straightened, that same secretive smile stretching across his features. “Will you allow me to accompany you on a drive tomorrow?”
I attempted to conceal my embarrassment. I took a sip from my glass and tried to swallow my nerves with the water. “I would be glad to. Shall I have Nora accompany us? She always looks forward to your visits.”
He chuckled. “Perhaps we should leave Nora at home this time.”
Words escaped me, and I took a bite to disguise my speechlessness. Roasted duck and berry-glazed salad—Uncle Johnny ensured I was spoiled.
“Then until tomorrow,” he said before grazing my hand once more.
My drive with William never came to pass, for hours before the appointed time, I received the following letter:
My Dear Elizabeth,
I hope this letter finds you happy and well. I am so proud of your efforts in your studies. Nora writes that you will finish at the top of the class! My heart swells with pride when I think of it, and I only wish I could be there to celebrate your triumph.
Dearest girl, I had hoped to make it through the summer without you, to allow you one last season of enjoyment before writing. But the truth is, your father’s health has taken a great turn for the worse. I have tried to hold to hope, but I am afraid he may not ever recover from what the doctor tells me was a recent stroke.
George has been hired on, but I still have not been able to find Paul. Elizabeth, we need you at home. The time has come. While I wish it were under happier circumstances, I will not deny how pleased I will be to hold my girl once more.
I have written to Clara and informed her of your father’s health, but I do not expect nor wish her to come, especially in her happy condition. I hope you will spare her the details of our difficulties and allow her to deliver the baby in peace. If you need an excuse, please say it is me. Tell her your mother needs you. It could not be truer.
My sister has been charged with your travels. I hope you will forgive me for calling you home so rapidly. It had to be done, however, and I hope you will come willingly, and soon. God speed.
All my love,
Mama
My expression must have showed my distress, my utter shock, for my maid, Dottie, dropped my hair, and her hands fell to my shoulders. “Miss Elizabeth, is everything all right?”
The sudden urge to cry overcame me, and I leapt from the dressing chair. “Nora. Where is Nora?” I asked, running from the room.
“But William will be here any moment,” Dottie said.
I choked back a sob. “You must tell him I cannot see him.”
Uncle Johnny pressed his hands to his temples, the lids of his eyes falling closed. “My dear Lizzie, it is unthinkable what your mother must be going through.”
Nora’s cheeks were tear-stained, her handkerchief a crumpled mess in her shaking and clenched fist. She had already ordered her trunk to be packed, along with mine, for an immediate departure. We only awaited Uncle Johnny’s instructions.
“It has been years since I saw James last, but if anyone can recover from such a tragedy, it is your father. I have never met a man with more stamina.” He paused to let out a puff of breath, and his eyes met mine. “I wish it were possible that I could deliver you home myself, but my responsibility at the school, my board members … I am afraid it cannot be done. I have spoken to Mr. Caldwell, and we both agree it is best if William accompanies you and Nora, for your protection, of course. I sent word to him hours ago, when my footman departed for the station.”
I turned from him. It was impossible to look into my uncle’s kind face without crying. Instead, my eyes rested on the piano in the parlor, the carvings along the legs of the bench, the purple fabric of the upholstered seat. I took a breath.
“William has my utmost confidence, and gratitude, Lizzie.”
I nodded, the tears leaking down my face. “I worry little about my travels. It is just—” I stopped, burying my face in my hands. It felt wrong to confess my true feelings.
“I know, your father,” Uncle Johnny said, taking me into his arms. “You have had quite a morning.”
I wished that he were right, that I was crying for Daddy and the stroke. But my head shook frantically against his arm. It was no use. I could not lie to him. “No, it is not that, Uncle Johnny. As much as I have missed the valley, I—I do not want to leave you. I love you.”
He pulled me close, his chin resting on my head. “Shhh. There, there, my girl. You will see it is for the best. These things always are. Your mother needs you. At times, I forget you are not my own.” His voice cracked. “This is not goodbye. We will see you soon yet. I give you my word.”
I wanted to believe him, and I wanted, even more so, to be strong. I forced a smile and pulled away. The warmth from his embrace, the texture of his suit coat, and the smell of his cigar lingered for only a moment.
Nora broke the silence with a sniffle. She stood from the sofa and gripped my
hand. “Clara will be here shortly. Please prepare yourself, Elizabeth. You cannot allow her to see the truth, not in her condition. As far as she is concerned, you are returning home after your studies. Your father’s health is mending wonderfully.” Aunt Nora lifted her chin and smiled, her practiced poise becoming dominant once more. “You must not betray the reality of your father’s condition. Make it as quick of a goodbye as you can.”
Clara knew how I had come to love my aunt and uncle. It was foolish to pretend I was happy to return home, as much as I missed Mama. But I dried my eyes, willing myself to accommodate the same practiced expression as my aunt. If it was her wish, I would play my part. “Yes, Nora. I will make it short, promise to write, and then we will be on our way.”
She seemed satisfied with my response, and I tried to be too.
It was a relief when my sister’s carriage pulled into the drive only twenty minutes later. The butler opened the door to let her in, and Clara ran to me in the sitting room. It was so unlike her to run.
Her tears almost unraveled my resolve. “Elle.”
It was the first time in three years that she had called me by that name. I squeezed her hand. “Oh, Clara, don’t you worry yourself. Daddy will be better in no time, and Mama is dying to see us. She simply cannot wait until you have the baby.”
Clara blinked back tears, her breaths nearing hyperventilation. “Yes, yes. It’s just so sudden. Can’t you stay another week? I don’t understand the urgency, if all is well, as you say.”
I shrugged, pulling her to the sofa beside me. “If Mama wants me home, I am glad to go. It has been three years, and if I stay any longer, you know I am in danger of becoming … It is possible that I might not go home in the foreseeable future at all.”
It was a stretch. I had no indication that William had a ring. He had teased me, yes, and he had looked at me with admiration. But it was only a start, and a weak one at that. I would not be leaving a fiancé or anything close to that.
She rested her head on my shoulder. “Of course, Elle. You must go to Mama.”
We both cried, our tears mixing together. I did not tell her how much I wished I could stay, nor that I feared finding Daddy on his deathbed. I stroked her hair and tried to lighten the dark mood. “Isn’t it ironic that we came to Virginia together, more distant than ever, and now I am about to put actual distance between us once more, when we are finally reconciled?”
Clara choked back a laugh. “Oh dear, what a horrible thing to say.”
I smiled, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I was never good at saying the right thing.”
She laughed, nodding. “I suppose you always were more direct than tactful.”
I laughed, but my eyes grew misty once more. “There is no use in pretending, now is there? I do not want to leave you, Clara,” I said. It was the first genuine thing I had said to my sister that morning.
We sat in silence, huddled close together, until Clara whispered, “At least we have each other.”
Chapter Nineteen
THE TEACUP RATTLED AGAINST THE SAUCER, the rhythmic tinkling in perfect sync with the dining car. The liquid threatened to splash out of the cup. I had forgotten how shaky the train was. Or there was the possibility that I had become weaker. My head ached, and I longed for a decent bed. Four days on the train and already I pined for solid ground.
The leather seat did little to cushion my aching body. I took another sip of tea, staring at my pastry. I wanted to eat it, but sugar would only make me feel worse. As much as I had tried to overcome my partiality to sweets, I still craved them. I had not been able to nurture the restraint required of a true lady.
Nora sat across from me, staring out the window at the western desert. She was smiling, her eyes twinkling. “Well, it is not much to our Virginia. I cannot imagine why anyone would wish to travel to Wyoming. Sage brush and antelope, a few clouds, plenty of dry ground—I can understand why bandits first settled here.”
I laughed, rubbing the front of my head. “Yes, well, thank goodness that this is not home.”
“You know, I do miss the West. It has been at least eleven years since I left with John. My father was so sad to see me go. He said it was the last I would ever see of him.” Her smile fell. “I would not change my decision to marry my John, but Father was right. I never saw him again.”
I sighed. Grandfather had died two years before, and I had harbored feelings of guilt at his passing—guilt that I had not been able to travel back for the funeral, guilt that I had not been able to comfort Mama, and guilt that I was already losing the memory of his deep voice and musky scent.
I hated that moments faded and memories disappeared forever. At times, I had tried to imagine Grandfather’s face and voice, but I was not sure how accurate a picture it was. The image in my mind had become closer to a children’s book illustration than the flesh of my deceased grandfather.
“It is good you will see your father again,” Nora said, “and your mother. I am sure they are far from passing on, but with you being in Virginia all this time … I think it is best you see them again. Just think, if you had married after your schooling, you might not have returned for more time. Three years can easily slip into fifteen.”
I nodded, my eyes shifting to the man walking toward us. It was William. Ever since we left Wieser Street, William had pulled away, his seeming interest replaced with a tangible aloofness. He had not called me Elizabeth since the dinner party, referring to me only as Miss Pratt once our journey began. That was especially odd, considering our longstanding friendship. He had called me Elizabeth for over a year.
The mystery of our drive in the park haunted me. I wished William had given me my present. I had fantasized that it was a ring. It was silly to think such things, the ultimate feminine faux pas. But what grated me the most was the absence of feelings I seemed to have for William. I had cared about his compliments, the way he looked at me, a marriage proposal, perhaps living near Nora and Uncle Johnny, but had I ever cared about William?
He dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Miss Pratt.” He sat beside my aunt.
I pushed my tea forward, scooting into the aisle. “I think I will go back to the passenger car. I am still not feeling quite myself. Perhaps a rest will do the trick.”
William stood, his brow furrowing. “I do hope the tea helped.”
I smiled. “Yes, thank you, William.”
Nora wiped her napkin across her plump lips. “You have more color in your cheeks now.” She turned to William and winked. “I think it did the trick. A rest should restore her in no time.”
His body swayed with the car, and I realized he had been waiting for an invitation to accompany me. I cleared my throat. “You are welcome to join me,” I said. “I was only going to rest and read.”
His eyes clouded over, evidence of a mental struggle lingering in his hesitant movement and staggered breaths. “I should help your aunt. I will only be a few minutes behind you.”
It was confirmation enough for me that he did not care, or at least that he had decided not to. I nodded, sweeping my skirts away from the booth and toward my notebook and novels.
I got to my bench and picked up a book. It was a novel that had become a favorite, ever since I left the valley. I opened the cover, and a tattered and folded piece of paper fell to the floor. I picked it up, recognition pulsing as I unfolded the worn-out map. It was the record of my first travels, my sketches and notes along the ink train route. I laughed. My letters looked like chicken scratch, my sketches like crude petroglyphs.
I folded it back, tucked it in my skirt pocket, and began reading the first chapter of my book …
The old stagecoach was rumbling along the dusty road that runs from Maplewood to Riverboro. The day was as warm as midsummer, though it was only the middle of May, and Mr. Jeremiah Cobb was favoring the horses as much as possible, yet never losing sight of the fact that he carried the mail.
I smiled, my fingers passing over the words. I had forgotten, but
seeing them now—I could recite them by heart, remember the next lines before I saw them. Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm, my favorite book.
I sighed and settled against the bench, the story unfolding before my eyes—a young girl raised on a humble farm, aunts who agree to take her in and provide an education, and an assortment of experiences (good and bad) that lead to Rebecca becoming an accomplished young lady.
I felt a stab of recognition within the pages. Had not I been sent away to an aunt, struggling to become a lady? And yet, had I? Was I, like Rebecca, happy? I swallowed. Certainly. I loved Nora and Uncle Johnny and Clara. I missed Paul and Mama, and I often hoped Daddy would love me like I did him. But I still did not know where I fit. There was a restlessness that never left me.
I delved deeper into the pages, inclined to believe that some answer to my life’s purpose lay hidden within the pages.
It was an hour or so later when William seated himself across from me.
I started, marking my place in the book with the old map. “William,” I said, straightening.
He held his hand toward the book. “May I?”
A lump bobbed in my throat, as if it would never sink. I handed the book to him, chiding myself for being so nervous around William. “Rebecca of Sunnybrook Farm,” I said, but it came out as a croak. I cleared my throat. “It is a favorite.”
His fingers flipped through the pages, sending a waft of air in my direction. I gave an audible exhale. He was reading random passages, his eyes moving from mine to the words on the paper and back again.
“A decent distraction,” he said, handing the book back. “I am more a Dickens man myself.”
I grinned. “I remember. Is it David Copperfield that you favored?”
His gaze drifted to me once more. “Yes.”
“It is not that different of a plot, you know—a boy taken in by an aunt, his coming of age, the realization of his life’s work … it seems to be a common theme among novels.” I gave a half smile. “And in life. I do not think there is anything more unnerving than not knowing where one fits in the grand scheme of things.”
Forever Elle (Regency Romance) Page 12