The English Proposal: Christian Victorian Era Historical (Window to the Heart Saga Trilogy Book 1)

by Jenna Brandt

  “Good thinking, brother. I will go find her immediately.” With that, Catherine rushed out of the room to go find the one person who might have the answer.

  He was glad that they were finally going to get to the bottom of this and get through to his wife. He loved her, and he was not going to stand by as she self-destructed.

  Hearing the door open, Henry turned to find Catherine walking in with Sarah. She looked a bit nervous, and she quickly asked, “What is it you wish to see me about, my lord? I need to get back to Lady Margaret.”

  Henry waved off her request. “It is about Lady Margaret that I wish to speak to you.”

  His wife’s companion stared at him without saying anything. He continued, “Why does she sit by the window all day?”

  Sarah paused, as if not wanting to betray her mistress by revealing the details of her past pains.

  Noticing the anxiousness and frown Sarah wore, he added, “Margaret would want you to tell us what you know. You are the only one who can help us help her!”

  Appearing reluctant, Sarah finally replied, “When her twin brother died, she sat by a window in Davenmere without ceasing. She reacted almost the same way, but this does not make sense. You see, he died in a shipwreck off the coast of France. She told her father that he was not dead because she would have felt it. So she sat by the window, waiting for him to return. Why she is sitting there like that now is beyond me. But I sit with her day and night because she is my mistress. I will not abandon her.” She glared at Henry pointedly.

  He realized that from Sarah’s point of view it must seem like he had deserted Margaret because he had not spent much time with her since he brought her home from the funeral. The truth was that up until today, he felt that there was really no hope. But this new information helped a great deal.

  “Thank you, Sarah. You may return to Lady Margaret. And fear not, for I will be up shortly to check on her.”

  Sarah nodded and turned around and left the room.

  “It is easy to see that she is not pleased with you,” Catherine said.

  “So it seems,” he commented absentmindedly.

  “What do you plan to do with this new information?”

  He smiled grimly. “I plan to flush her out.”

  Henry made his way to his wife’s chambers and knocked on the door. As expected, she did not respond. Entering anyway, he went to sit next to her on the window seat.

  “Margaret?” No response.

  “Darling, it is me, Henry.” Still no reaction.

  With a glance at Sarah, he dismissed her from the room.

  “Margaret, I want to talk with you about your brother Randall. What if I told you we can go looking for him once you feel up to it.”

  For the first time in two weeks, Margaret’s focus flickered from the window. Her eyes made a darting movement to where his voice was coming from and then refocused on the window.

  “Did you hear me? I want to help you find Randall.”

  This time, her eyes found his and did not return to the window.

  “You want to help me bring Randall home?” she asked in a confused voice.

  “Yes, my dear, and you need to come back to us so we can bring him home together.”

  A look of puzzlement crossed her face, then anger. “You are lying! Randall was supposed to come home seven years ago, but he never did. He never did! And neither is my father. My father is never coming back. Never!” she shrieked. “Leave me. I want to be alone.” She howled, “Just let me be!”

  Grabbing her, he crushed her hard against himself. “No! I will never leave you, Margaret. Do you hear me? Never. You are my life, and if you leave me, then my life is over.” He held her in his embrace for several minutes as he stroked her hair. “I love you, Margaret. I need you to come back to me. I cannot do this on my own.”

  She gripped his shirt in her hands as if he were the only thing that could keep her sane. She looked up and whispered with a flustered voice, “Henry?”

  He smiled down at her lovingly. “Yes, my love?”

  Defeated, she whispered, “Hold me, just hold me.”

  He pulled her even deeper into his embrace. “Yes, my love. Until forever, if you will let me.”

  Chapter 17

  Leaning over to serve Margaret breakfast in bed, Henry said, “You look better.”

  “I feel much better.” She stared at the food with hunger. “You did not have to do this. You could have had one of the servants bring it up.”

  He smiled. “No, I wanted to. I love serving you.”

  She blushed lightly. “Thank you. It looks delicious.”

  Chuckling, he said, “Well, that honor goes to Cook. He said he was not about to let the lady of the house wither away.”

  At first, she tried to eat as daintily as possible, but her hunger overrode her protocol and she began to shovel the food in. She licked her lips between mouthfuls and wiped them with the napkin Henry had provided.

  Glancing up from her breakfast, she found Henry still in the room and, in fact, staring at her while she ate.

  Margaret blushed again. “Must you really watch me eat?”

  He shrugged. “Why not? You are adorable when you eat.”

  Rolling her eyes, she said, “You must be going crazy yourself to think that.”

  “Perhaps, but it is true nonetheless.”

  Turning to exit the room, he stopped suddenly, saying, “Would you like to go for a ride after you finish eating?”

  Her eyes shone with excitement. “Yes, I would enjoy that immensely.” She knitted her eyebrows together in contemplation. “And would you mind terribly if Catherine came along?”

  Henry smiled affectionately. “Of course not. I think that would be wonderful. I will go let Catherine know so she can get ready, and then I will be back to collect you for our outing.”

  “That will be perfect.”

  After he left the room, Margaret quickly finished her meal. Once done, she went over to her vanity and began getting ready. She knew that getting some fresh air and doing something she loved would be good for her, but she felt guilty that she was trying to move on with her life so soon after her father’s death. She just had to keep telling herself that he would want her to be happy.

  When Henry arrived to take Margaret to the stables, she smiled at him and said, “Thank you for asking me to do this. I am so glad I have you to pull me out of my shell and make me live again.”

  “I love you. That is what you do when you love someone.”

  Margaret wanted to say she loved him back, but something kept her from it. She knew she was content in her relationship with Henry, and if she admitted it to herself, she could be falling in love with her husband, but the small doubt in the back of her mind kept her from declaring it.

  “Let me pin on my hat and we can make our way to the stables.” She grabbed her black hat with feathers that matched her black pants and blouse and quickly donned it.

  “You look lovely,” Henry said as he smiled at her.

  “Thank you.”

  “Come on, I think we should go back to the lake.”

  “I think that is a great idea.”

  Henry and Margaret walked to the stables where Catherine was already waiting for them. Catherine gave Margaret a big hug and said, “I am glad that you wanted to go riding with us today. I have missed spending time with you.”

  “I know, and I with you.”

  Margaret mounted Charlie and immediately felt at home. It felt good to be doing something that was normal to her before her father passed away. He had been the one to teach her and Randall how to ride, and because of that, she felt like he was with her now.

  The wind blew through her hair as she galloped Charlie in the open fields, and she felt some of the pain fall away. Riding was one of the few things that was always able to bring her joy.

  When they reached the lake, the three of them dismounted. Henry looked at Margaret and stated, “I would love to take a walk with you along the lakeshor
e.”

  Margaret turned to Catherine, not wanting to exclude her, but Catherine insisted, “Go. I want to sit with my feet in the water anyway.”

  Henry took Margaret by the hand as she gave Catherine an appreciative smile.

  The two of them walked along the water for several minutes without a word, neither needing to say anything as it felt soothing just being in each other’s company. Margaret rested her head upon Henry’s shoulder and wrapped her arms around his. This was what she needed. It was as if she could breathe for the first time since she lost her father.

  “Henry, I am so glad that I have you. My father was right when he chose you for my husband. I wish I could have told him that while he was still alive.”

  “He knew I made you happy. He told me at our ball that he had never seen you happier than he had that night.”

  Margaret sighed in contentment and said, “I am glad to hear that. I like knowing he knew I was taken care of before he left this world.”

  “I want you to feel more than taken care of, Margaret.”

  “I do, Henry. I know you adore me.”

  “And that makes me happy.”

  Looking out over the lake’s water, she whispered, “How happy would me giving you a child make you? I had been contemplating the idea of starting a family before my father’s death.”

  Henry stopped dead in his tracks and turned to face Margaret. “Are you serious? You are ready for that step in our marriage?”

  Margaret nodded and said, “You are my family now, and I want us to start our own.”

  Lifting her up, he twirled her around, laughing, and after several minutes, they both fell down to the ground in a fit of joy.

  As they gazed up at the clear blue sky, Margaret asked lightheartedly, “I take that as a yes, then?”

  “Nothing would make me happier!”

  Chapter 18

  A week after her father’s death, a letter was delivered to Brookehaven addressed to Margaret from her father. She had been in no condition to mentally process it at the time, so it had remained unopened until she worked up the courage to read it.

  My Dearest Daughter,

  I know that this letter finds you in a state of mourning, but I ask you not to grieve on my behalf. I am where I have always wanted to be—with my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. I know that you have not allowed yourself to believe in the Lord since your brother’s death, and I realize that I have not always been the best example of what God’s love should be. I have prayed and can admit now that maybe I made a mistake by putting my promise to Henry’s father over the desires of your heart, my dear sweet child. I am not saying that the duke was right for you, but what I am saying is that you deserved a man who believed in God and would lead you spiritually in the right direction. I fear that, although Henry lives a good life, he is not where he should be with God. In the months after your marriage, I noticed you were not attending church regularly as you had when you lived with me. I cannot help but feel I failed you in that regard. That is why I feel it is my duty to tell you how much Jesus loves you and wants you to let Him be a part of your life. He died for you, Margaret, so you would not have to suffer alone. He gave up His life that you might never perish. He rose again and lives eternally. If I could ask you to do one thing in my memory, it would be that you would accept this most important truth and let Jesus be your salvation. In order to do this, I am asking you to go to the church we used to attend together and talk with the new Reverend Fisher. If you do, you will never regret it. There will be tough times ahead, but the Lord will see you through them if you will let Him. Although I prayed in private, never doubt that you were always at the center of my prayers. I love you.

  With great hope,

  Your father

  The letter struck Margaret with its earnest sincerity. It was hard to think of God right now when she was in so much pain, but she could not let go of her father’s last request.

  What harm would it cause to go back to the church? It was a new reverend after all, and she could go and see if things had changed there. Maybe they would have answers to the questions she had.

  Margaret had given up on God a long time back, and Henry had never been much of a believer. Granted, he thought the Bible was filled with good principles to live one’s life by, but as far as having a relationship with God, he was right there with Margaret. Believing in God was not part of their lives.

  She wondered if Henry would go to church with her. All she could do was ask. Finding him in his study, Margaret came in and sat down across from him.

  “Henry, I have a subject that I need to broach with you.”

  Smiling, he replied, “Then by all means speak, my dear wife.”

  “As you know, I got a letter from my father.”

  “Yes,” he said expectantly.

  “In it, he said that he wanted me to….” How was she going to get this out? She knew that Henry was going to think her an utter fool when she told him she wanted to go back to church. She knew that Henry had merely gone to church to keep up appearances with her father.

  Trying to rephrase it, she started over. “He thought it might benefit me to talk to the reverend about his death,” she finished lamely.

  Henry asked, “You mean you wish to go talk to Reverend Fisher?”

  Pausing to gauge his reaction, Margaret cautiously replied, “Actually, I was thinking about going to church Sunday and talking to Reverend Fisher after the service.” She paused and took in a deep breath. “I was hoping you would go with me.”

  Frowning, Henry stated, “You know how I feel about religion, Margaret.”

  “I meant, would you go with me for support?”

  “Frankly, Margaret, I find church a waste of time.”

  “I know, but I think I need to do this. It was my father’s last request.”

  After several seconds of deep thought, Henry finally waved his hand in appeasement, saying, “If you feel you must go, you have my permission, but I will not be going with you. I have several things I have to take care of that will take me through Sunday afternoon.”

  “Thank you. I know you do not understand why I need to do this, and honestly, I can say I am not quite sure myself, but I thank you for letting me sort this out.”

  As Margaret walked out of her husband’s study, she masked her feeling of hurt. It bothered her that Henry was unwilling to go with her when she clearly asked for his support. He said he loved her, and sometimes it felt as if he truly meant it, but when he did such selfish things as refusing to help her when she asked for it because he did not see the point, it made her feel unloved.

  She wanted to understand why he only put her needs first when it did not conflict with his own desires. Why could he not have spent one afternoon doing something he did not want to do if it was something she needed him to do with her?

  Margaret pushed her troubling feelings aside. Maybe she was being too hard on her husband. No man was perfect, and she needed to accept her husband’s limitations.

  Margaret stood outside the doors to the church she had not set foot in since her father’s funeral. She patted at the black mourning dress she was wearing and took a deep breath, then pushed the left door open and stepped inside quietly. She had purposely come late to avoid all of the greeting that went on before service.

  She took a seat towards the back just as the last hymn ended.

  Reverend Fisher took to the podium as everyone began to sit. He smiled at the congregation and, after several moments’ pause, said, “Let us bow our heads in prayer.”

  Customarily lowering her head, Margaret continued to keep her eyes open. She smiled wryly as she thought back to when she was little and had feared that God would strike her dead if she opened her eyes during prayer. That was when she had naively believed the words of Reverend Fisher’s predecessor, who had constantly berated them with hellfire about anything and everything. He had said that God was there to watch them and make sure they did what he wanted, and if they did not, he woul
d make sure to punish them.

  She had never understood that. If bad things happening to you were punishments from God, then why had her brother died? He was only a small boy when his ship went down and sharks claimed his life; surely he was unable to really do anything that would warrant such a harsh punishment.

  It was not until after her brother’s death that she first opened her eyes, both physically and mentally, to the lies that the former reverend had preached at her and all the others that attended church there. When she opened her eyes back then and nothing happened, she decided in that moment it was time to quit going to church.

  Her father had fought her constantly about her attendance, and it was a never-ending battle. He would win and she would go for a stint. Then she would stop talking to him in retaliation and he would give up for a while. This went on for most of her life. But she knew, even though he made her go, he could not make her really believe the way he did. Now she discovered he had never stopped praying for her.

  She wondered if that was what had kept her safe all those years through all her wild antics: riding horses that most grown men were afraid to ride, riding by herself in the woods that were full of animals and possibly bandits, walking two miles in a snowstorm in order to get the new shoes she had wanted so badly for a tea party. She had always thought she had been lucky, but could it be that her father’s prayers had kept her safe?

  But if that were the case, then why had Randall died? Why did her father’s prayers not protect her brother?

  She wondered if she would ever find the answers.

  After the prayer ended, Margaret raised her head reluctantly. She feared a long sermon was coming.

  “Today, I have prepared a sermon concerning love. Please turn with me in your Bibles to 1 Corinthians 13:4, and stand for the reading of God’s Word.” The congregation stood together, and then the reverend quoted the scripture.