by Gill, Tamara
Chapter 17
Elizabeth stayed at Moy Castle for the night before heading to the estate her brother had gifted her. A home she had come to love but now was no longer so sure she wished to keep. She could sell it, she supposed. Her brother had mentioned the option if she could not bear to keep it.
The carriage rolled to a stop before Halligale, a rambling and whimsical home she'd come to love. She jumped down without waiting for assistance and looked up at the estate. Her mind, try as she might, could not help but imagine Sebastian here as a child. Running about the large home, the manicured gardens, being chased by his brother, nanny, or mother.
She had not been listening to him as much as she should have, she supposed. As a woman who came from a loving family—her brother, at least—she could understand Sebastian wishing to gain his estate back. The one place he had the happiest memories of childhood.
Sighing, she headed inside. The housekeeper greeted her in the foyer. Elizabeth ordered a bath and the fire to be lit in her room, exhaustion nipping at her heels. After her travels these past days, and the emotional toll that accompanied her, all she wished for was a relaxing bath and sleep.
To be alone and sort out her life, what she would do, how she could move forward with the truth she now had to live with.
Her room was just as she remembered it, warm and welcoming, the light drapes and bedding giving the space a feminine feel and lighting up the dark-timbered woods. She sat on the edge of the bed, watched as the maid fussed about with her trunks and gowns, a scullery maid working hard to light a fire in the grate.
"Would ye care for ye dinner to be served, Lady Elizabeth?"
She nodded, ignoring the fact they were still calling her by her unmarried name. Of course, they would. They did not know that she had been married, and was now the wife of Earl Hastings. A countess.
"I will have it in here in an hour. Thank ye," she said, not wanting to use the dining room.
Two footmen carried up a copper bath and set it before the hearth before a whole line of servants brought up bucket after bucket of water. Her bath was soothing, relieved her aching bones, and relaxed her for the first time in two days.
As she climbed into bed later that night, she couldn't help but wonder where Sebastian was. Had he returned to London? Was he at his new estate next door, or was he in Edinburgh? A small part of her hoped he was at Bragdon Manor so she may see him, have him explain to her yet again what his reasoning was to break her heart. Anything to make her understand, to believe that she had not been duped into marriage all for the sake of a house.
Days passed, and she had been back at Halligale for almost a week when Julia descended from Edinburgh to visit her. Elizabeth poured them tea in the downstairs drawing room. She had not written to her friends telling them of her pain, her situation as it stood with Sebastian. So why was Julia here? She was curious to find out.
Julia held her tea in her hands, her attention traveling over Elizabeth and not missing one detail. Thankfully her friend was polite enough not to mention the dark shadows beneath her eyes or that she had lost weight and none of her gowns fit her properly anymore.
"Georgina and I had a visit from Lord Hastings several days ago," she said matter-of-fact. "He suggested that we travel down to Moy Castle and see you. Georgina could not get away from Edinburgh, but I came, only to find that you had decamped from Moy and were back at Halligale. I'm glad to find you at home here."
Her friend’s guarded words put her on edge. She sipped her tea, studying Julia. Whatever had her friend heard? That Sebastian had gone and seen them, well, she wasn't sure what she thought of that. If he thought involving her friends, getting them to side with him would help his cause, he was delusional.
"Sebastian visited ye. I suppose ye were surprised to see him and without me in attendance."
"We were both surprised, and before you ask, no, he did not say why we should come here and see ye, only that he was concerned and thought ye may need a friend."
Elizabeth bit the inside of her mouth, fighting off a flow of tears that up until right now she'd been able to blink away. She would not cry. She would not allow anyone to make her succumb to tears again. After her embarrassment in London—Lucky Lizzie—she had sworn never to cry over trivial things.
This is hardly insignificant, Elizabeth.
She stared down at her hands, at the wedding ring that now circled one finger like a beacon of her failure. "Lord Hastings married me because this house that we now sit in was his childhood home. His brother lost it in a game of cards to my brother two years ago, or thereabouts. I was his means of getting it back."
Julia's mouth gaped, and for several moments she did not speak at all. Elizabeth shoved away from the embarrassment that wanted to swamp her. This was not her fault. This was Sebastian's fault. He was the bastard who had set out with this plan. She had been merely the innocent party in the affair.
"Lord Hastings did what?" Julia's teacup rattled on its plate, and she set it down with a clank. "He told ye this?"
Elizabeth nodded. "He did, yes. When we traveled to Moy, my brother made the connection and saw through his marriage to me. Sebastian could not deny it, tried to make me see the reasoning as to why he did what he did. I still cannot believe it myself." Elizabeth stood, walking over to the window and looking out over the estate. The grounds that Sebastian thought more of than she did. "He grew up here with his mother, who was Scottish. A lot of happy memories, so it would seem. An ancestral home he was loath to lose and therefore thought to trick me into marriage as an easier way in which to get it back."
"But surely," Julia said beseechingly. "He loves ye. I'm certain of it. Is there a chance that he fell in love with ye during his courting of ye as well? And so, his fixation on the estate shifted to ye, and the home became secondary. I simply cannot believe any man could treat a woman with so little respect. I cannot believe it of him. It is too awful."
Elizabeth shrugged, unable to turn and face her friend. "That is what he says. He says that he fell in love with me while working toward his original plan, but I cannot suppose that." Or perhaps she did, but she could not forgive him for his treachery. That all those sweet words, the long considerations across a ballroom floor, the waltzes they had shared had all been a ploy, a game for him to see how hard it would be for her to fall at his feet.
Heat rushed her cheeks. She had been uncommonly easy to form an attachment, had barely given anyone else a chance after Lord Hastings had started to follow her skirts about town. What a mindless fool she had been. What a cad he had been in turn.
"He looked wretched when he came to see us, Elizabeth, as if he had hardly slept."
"Good," she spat, harsher than she ought. Julia did not deserve her wrath, her disappointment in Sebastian. "I'm sorry. Please know I'm not angry at ye."
Julia came and joined her at the window. "Know that I'm on your side, and I shall defend and support ye to the bitter end if that is what you wish of me, but before you make any hasty decisions, ye must think on this. There is the possibility that Lord Hastings may have started out with underhanded intentions, but that they were soon scuttled when yer charm and warmth, and it caught him unawares. He loves ye, does he not?" Julia asked.
Elizabeth nodded once. "So he declares."
Julia clasped her hands, shaking them a little to gain her attention. "Ye are loveable, Elizabeth. No matter what nickname London termed you. Lord Hastings ignored all that, he came to know ye, the real ye, and he fell in love with that woman. If he did not care, he would not have come back to Edinburgh to your friends and beg them to go to Moy. He would have turned about, traveled to London, and set his lawyers for Scotland to gain back this estate."
"There is still time. He may have already done such a thing for all that I know."
"He was still in Edinburgh when I left."
Elizabeth did not know what to think. Over the past days, her emotions had experienced a range of highs and lows. Of hope and despair. It was no
surprise he had not chased her down to Halligale after she had told him she did not wish to see him again. But she knew she needed to take Julia's words into consideration. People do change. Was it possible that Sebastian had done so?
"When people find out that I inherited Halligale and that the previous family who owned it is none other than my new husband, there will be talk. I'll be ridiculed at every party I attend, pitied because people will think Sebastian married me for his lost estate."
"They may say such things," Julia agreed. "But after years of a happy marriage, of children and love, Elizabeth, what can they say after that?" Julia smiled. "They will say they were wrong, and ye can make them eat their words. Ye can live a happy marriage and not care what their opinion is."
For the first time in what felt like weeks, she smiled. Julia was so very smart and insightful. When one was melancholy and unable to see straight through their pain, she was always the one friend who was honest and offered a different point of view.
Not that Elizabeth had not been hoping, wondering the same thing, but it was nice to hear it from someone else all the same.
She would face talk, snickers, and giggles as she walked by, reactions she had come to loathe after her embarrassing Season, but she could survive it. With Sebastian by her side, with his support and love, she could sustain anything.
"I need time to think all of this through, to decide what I wish to do." Elizabeth pulled Julia into a quick embrace. "Thank ye for coming down here to see me. To tell me what ye have. You are the best of friends."
"I want ye to be happy, Elizabeth, and something tells me that yer heart too was touched with Lord Hastings. Without him, I fear you will never be content. Think about everything I said, decide your path. As I declared earlier, Georgina and I will be there for ye, no matter your choice."
"Thank ye," she said, more grateful than Julia would ever know for her insight. "I know that ye do."
Sebastian could not stay in Edinburgh long. The Season held no appeal for him or the city now that Elizabeth was not within its walls. He traveled down to Bragdon Manor, took daily walks, and thought over how he could win her back.
So far, he'd failed at the task. Any way he looked at his predicament, a solution, nothing proved he loved her more than the estate.
The way he set out to win Elizabeth had been wrong, ungentlemanly, and cruel. Of course, he'd never meant for her to find out. That idea more than imperative after he realized he was falling in love with her.
A foolish ideal that would never happen. Not with her brother knowing the truth and seeing his motives.
Now that she did know his motives, he would forever be frowned upon in her family if he ever came within a foot of them again. After the laird's dismissal of him, Elizabeth's too, he doubted that would ever occur.
"Damn it all to hell." He swiped a long stick he held in his hand over the tall grass he was walking through on the boundary of his estate and Elizabeth's. He'd found out by a footman that she was in residence there, alone. Her friend Lady Julia had visited last week but had returned to town after staying but a few days.
He stopped, staring over toward his childhood home, watching as the afternoon sun made the west-facing windows reflect the golden rays. Several chimneys bore smoke, a homely, welcoming place he had to admit he no longer cared too much about.
What he cared about was the woman who sat within its walls. What was she thinking? Had she calmed down somewhat after the explosive truth had ruined what had been between them? He did not know, and right at this moment, he was too fearful of finding out. The fear of her reaction of her pushing him away a second time made him want to cast up his accounts. How on earth could he make her see he loved her? Truly loved her and not her inheritance.
A twig cracked somewhere to his right, and he turned to see the startled face of Elizabeth, her bonnet hanging idly in her hand by a blue ribbon. Her light-blue afternoon gown made his heart stutter in his chest.
Hell, he'd missed her. Her beauty, hair hanging loose over her shoulders, held off her face by a few pins, her green eyes wide with shock at seeing him again. He stared at her for a long moment, captivated by her charm. "Lizzie," he said at length, not moving for fear she'd bolt.
"You're at Bragdon Manor?" she asked, glancing quickly toward his estate.
"I am, but not for long. I'm having my things packed and readied for transport to England. I'm selling the property and going back to Nottinghamshire." Lizzie did not deserve to have him living near her in Scotland, certainly if she did not wish him to be near her again. He would honor her wish, give her what she wanted and live in the hope that one day she would forgive him and return to his arms.
"Oh." Was all she said, nodding slightly. "I suppose since the law states what is mine is yours, you have your ancestral home back and do not need two estates side by side."
"That is not why I'm selling," he corrected her, hating that she believed what was no longer true. Had not been the truth for him for several weeks. "I do not want Halligale either. You can do whatever you want with the estate. I shall not stand in your way."
"Really." The word was curt and held an edge of suspicion to it. As if she did not believe a word he said.
The one way he could prove he did not care about the estate was to leave, go back to England, and continue his married life alone. "What I say is the truth, Lizzie. I no longer want Halligale, for I've come to understand that it has to hold those you love within it for a house to be home." He took a cautious step toward her, and yet she stepped back, out of his reach. "I could take the estate, live there, but I would not be as happy as I was as a child, for you would not be there with me. In gaining the estate, I would lose you, and nothing is worth that."
She studied him a moment, but he could see she was unsure of his words. Distrusted him. Would he ever earn her trust again, relish in her love and warmth once more? Hell, he hoped he did.
"I know you do not believe me, and that is why I'm going. I cannot change our situation. We're married, and there is no undoing that." He shrugged. "This is the only way in which to think to prove myself to you. To leave, but know," he said, trying to take her hands and failing a second time, "I do love you, Lizzie. Somewhere in my grand plan of gaining back what was mine, I captured something so much more precious."
She swallowed, her eyes glassy and bright. "And what was that, Lord Hastings?"
He flinched at the use of his title, but what did he expect? He'd lost the right for her to call him Sebastian. Husband. Lover.
"Your heart." This time, Sebastian clasped her upper arms and kissed her quickly on the cheek before turning and striding away. This was for the best. He could not stay. To do so may push her further away. If he had any chance of winning her back, England was where he had to decamp. Wait and hope she would one day arrive on his front step.
Ready to claim what will always be hers.
His love.
Chapter 18
Three months passed and what Sebastian had told her the day out on the heather-strewn land, that he was leaving, still held true. He had not come back to Scotland in all that time, had remained at his estate in Nottinghamshire. What town gossip she did receive from family and friends in England stated, in any case.
From all accounts, the once rakehell, most sought-after bachelor in London had eschewed the city's delights and secluded himself away at his country estate. She had not believed he would sell the estate next door, but within weeks the home was sold, and the new owners were already living in and enjoying their Scottish abode.
When the home had sold, and news reached her that Sebastian was safely back in England, and the distance gnawed at her like a cancerous tumor.
As the weeks turned into months, his absence weighed her down, and for the past few weeks, she had started to look at her situation a lot more clearly. See past her initial anger and disappointment and understand why he'd done what he had.
He may not have banked on falling in love with her, but he did,
and she now believed that more than anything else. She had visited Moy several weeks into his departure and found out Sebastian had signed over any claim to Halligale. If she wished to, she could sell the estate and be done with the connection, but no matter how mad he had made her, she could not do that to him.
The estate had been his childhood home. The very walls, rooms and gardens she had come to love, she adored even more because of the boy who grew up within its stone and mortar.
She could not sell it just to prove that he loved her.
His leaving, giving up of the home, the despair she had read in his eyes the day out on the land when their paths crossed, told her his affections toward her were true.
He loved her. Had fallen in love with her despite his initial plan, and if it were the estate she had inherited that had brought about that love, then she would cherish the house forever.
The carriage turned into the gates of Wellsworth Abbey, and Elizabeth moved to look out the window at the large Georgian mansion that was Sebastian's English estate.
It was more formal than the wild, rugged one his mother had owned, and yet it was just as beautiful. Nerves tumbled in her stomach at the thought of seeing him again after so many months. Would he admit her? Did he still love her?
Elizabeth knew to the core of her being she loved him. Had missed him, no matter how much she may have tried not to at the beginning of their separation.
Their estrangement, no matter how painful, was required, however. She needed time to think, time to heal, and move past her hurt. To forgive him.
The carriage rocked to a halt, and a footman bounded up to the vehicle, opening the door. Elizabeth stepped down, stretching out the soreness in her bones that miles of travel had wrought on her body.
A gentleman rounded the corner of the house, his attention on the paperwork in his hands, his head down, and not looking where he was going.
Warmth ran through her like whisky at the sight of Sebastian. He was dressed in tan breeches and black hessian boots that were covered with dust. A shirt and waistcoat, no jacket, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows. Had he been out and about the estate, looking in on his tenant farms, the fields?