“I think you should honestly acknowledge the context in which those things existed.”
Henry shook his head. “What am I not acknowledging?”
“I believe Olivia cared for you deeply. But she was also dedicated to the foundry. As our father grew more frail, she took on more and more responsibility. She did it not because she had to, but because she loved the work. She thrived on all of it: sleeves pushed back, hard negotiations with vendors, long evenings poring over the accounting and finding ways to make those numbers add up the way they should. She loved the grit and grime and excitement of it all. She found fulfillment in a job well done. And, although it required so much from her, it also gave her a sense of freedom.”
“But those are exactly the reasons I fell in love with her,” Henry insisted. “What’s the problem?”
“You would have taken her away from all of it. If she married you, she would have had to leave her world for yours. To marry into the aristocracy brings with it an entirely new set of demands that are much different from the sweat and heat of the foundry.”
Henry had known this, but he’d always been able to justify it in his mind. “She would have excelled as a countess, too.”
“I’ve no doubt of it. Yet it would have meant losing an important part of who she was. This was the hard conversation she could never bring herself to have with you. She was fearless in so many things, yet this daunted her. The whole situation unsettled her. Falling in love with you shook the foundation she’d laid for her life. It left her with fearful questions. After all, you had not known each other long. What if the love you felt for her turned out to be a passing infatuation? What if she married you and left her other life behind, only for you both to realize it had been a terrible mistake?”
“How could she even consider those things?” Henry said in disbelief.
“Olivia never made any decision lightly. She looked at a question from every possible angle. I believe she accepted that invitation from our aunt because she felt the need for some distance between the two of you. Especially after you never actually declared your love for her outright before you returned home.”
“I loved her! I will always regret that I did not declare myself. I told myself she must know how I felt. Ironically, I assumed her decision to go to the continent was proof of that. I thought she was going in order to round out her education, acquire some culture. I thought it meant she knew I was going to ask her to be my wife, and she wanted to be prepared for it.”
Jacob said nothing for several moments, and Henry thought perhaps he had persuaded his friend of the error of his thinking.
“I cannot say whether you are right or wrong,” Jacob said at last. “Olivia is gone, and the deepest thoughts of her heart are gone with her. But I feel led to remind you that all of that is in the past. It is unchangeable. You must put it behind you and look to the future.”
Henry had been wrestling with this problem for years. He shook his head, his eyes stinging with tears. “I cannot figure out how to do that, Jacob.”
“Maybe you can.” Jacob’s voice was calm, confident, consoling. “Maybe that road is before you, if you will only open your eyes. Maybe it’s right in front of you.”
“You are speaking in riddles.”
They pulled into the station yard, and Henry brought the carriage to a halt. In his agitation, he reined in the horse too hard. He tied the reins and jumped down, giving the horse a pat in silent apology.
After pulling his luggage from the back of the carriage, Jacob came to stand face-to-face with Henry. He extended his right hand, grasping Henry’s hand hard when he reached out to shake it.
“You must think about what you really want, Henry. And what you honestly need. Let us be clear: I’m not saying there was anything good about Olivia’s death. I’m only saying that perhaps God had a different plan for you all along. You’ve just been too wrapped up in grief to see it.”
Henry found it ironic that just a short while ago he’d been thinking about how Jacob always helped people. The words his friend spoke now burned worse than salt on any wound. It was impossible to think Olivia might not have married him. That she would have preferred the foundry to life with him. It was insulting that Jacob should even imply it.
Henry couldn’t bring himself to say another word. He turned on his heel, climbed into the carriage, and drove away.
Henry fumed all the way home, although he tried not to take it out on the horse this time. He kept the mare at a measured pace, which also gave him time to think. Once he returned to the house, the other business of the day would force itself upon him. He had promised Mr. Thompson he would go to the east wing to inspect the work going on there. They’d run into some issues that required his attention. Nothing in his life ever ran on a smooth course.
What had led Jacob to say all those things? It was as though he were deliberately trying to ruin their friendship. But had Henry been nursing an idealized memory of Olivia all these years? He wasn’t ready to concede it.
As he turned onto his property, Henry surveyed the landscape. Everything was picture perfect. Even the house, damaged as it was, was impressive. Survivor of time and of fires, Morestowe Manor was venerable and beautiful. Had Olivia truly thought she would not be happy here? Had she imagined she’d be restricted to deciding the menu and organizing house parties? There was so much more to running an estate—overseeing the rents and working with the tenants being just a few of them. He would have welcomed her help with all of it. His biggest mistake was that he hadn’t made this clear enough. He had let the opportunity slip through his fingers.
Henry delivered the carriage to the stable hands with as few words as possible. Still wrapped up in his thoughts, he walked toward the main house. He planned to spend a few minutes alone in his study before going to see Mr. Thompson.
“Cousin Henry!” Amelia’s gleeful voice stopped him in his tracks. She and Cara were coming across the lawn from the dower house, hurrying to catch up with him. They both carried paper and drawing implements.
He took a deep breath, working to compose himself. “Where are you going? It’s too early for tea.”
“We are on our way to the garden,” Cara said.
Amelia was swinging her pad and pencils, a bundle of energy. “Cousin Langham said we should go outside and practice drawing the flowers or something.”
He could tell she had quoted him verbatim. She seemed happy at Langham’s suggestion and not the least bit aware that he’d really just told her to leave him alone. When Langham had first proposed that Amelia could be involved at the dower house studio, Henry knew it wouldn’t be long before his brother found her presence tiresome. Especially if she was wound up, as she seemed to be right now.
“Would you like to come with us?” Cara offered. “It’s such a lovely afternoon.”
“I have other things to attend to. Enjoy yourselves.”
She made a little movement to keep him from walking off. “Why not come and sit with us for a few minutes?” She spoke kindly, looking troubled at his gruff manner. “It’s a good time to try out those new benches Jacob delivered.”
The mention of Jacob only made his anger rise up again.
“Cousin Langham told me a joke,” Amelia said. “Do you want to hear it?”
“I don’t want you repeating any of Langham’s jokes.” Henry knew there was little in his brother’s repertoire that was suitable for children.
“I’ve made sure he only tells her the harmless ones,” Cara assured him.
He might as well get it over with so he could go. “All right.”
Amelia opened her arms wide. “Life is short.”
He stared at her, confused. He did not understand this joke at all. But then Amelia grinned, and he saw that she’d been pausing for effect.
“It only has four letters in it!” She started laughing, jumping up and down and acting silly. Much the same way that Langham laughed at his own jokes.
Henry was not prepared to b
e bombarded like this. “Don’t do that!” he barked. He scrunched up his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, his soul still burdened with the dark thoughts he’d been nursing.
Amelia’s laughter stopped. He opened his eyes to see both ladies staring at him—Amelia with a hurt expression, and Cara with earnest concern.
“I apologize for my brusqueness,” he said and began to turn away. He ought to leave before he caused any further damage.
Cara laid a hand on his arm. “Please come with us.” Her voice was gentle, entreating. Too kind for what Henry deserved.
“Are you sure you want that?”
“It’s why I asked.” She spoke firmly, but Amelia did not look so sure.
It was the child’s expression that told Henry what he must do. He could not take out his anger on her. “Perhaps a turn in the garden will do me good.”
They skirted the house and made their way to the garden behind it. Even though it was early September, there was still plenty of color. His gardener had designed the garden so that something was blooming nearly year-round.
Cara chose one of the benches and set her things on it. “This one will be good, I think. A nice view of those dahlias.”
“I don’t want to draw.” Amelia had not recovered from Henry’s sharp words. He recognized the petulance in her voice; he was beginning to realize it was born of a sense of rejection.
“Why don’t you go and play?” Cara suggested, taking the pad and pencil from Amelia’s hand.
Amelia ran to the far end of the garden. She was a resilient little thing, and soon she was looking for butterflies and following them as they flitted between the plants.
Henry sat brooding, watching Amelia at play, while Cara opened her sketch pad. After a moment he glanced down to see her hand moving across the paper as she drew the garden scene, including a girl beaming at a butterfly. The sight of it choked him up a little. He was growing to like Amelia more and more, especially since Cara had helped bring out many of her better qualities. He remembered her laughter yesterday during the riding lesson as she successfully landed the jumps. He truly wanted her to be happy despite her rough start in life.
Quiet minutes stretched by. Cara seemed too wrapped up in her work to say anything. Or perhaps she sensed he had no desire to talk.
Henry felt the intensity of his anger ease as he listened to the birds and the buzzing insects and the breeze that occasionally stirred the flowers. He loved it here. He was required to spend portions of the year in London due to social obligations and his work in the House of Lords, but this estate was always the place he returned to. It was why he worked so hard. This land was a part of him.
“This is a nice place, isn’t it?” Henry said it more to himself, not really expecting a response.
“It’s very nice,” Cara answered.
“Anyone would be glad to live here, don’t you think?”
“I think it would be wonderful to live in such a place.”
Henry had only been musing aloud, not intending to draw such an effusive response. He turned to see that she had also turned toward him. Her expression was warm and bright, her face close to his, her lips parted in a smile. He thought of the day he’d seen her in D’Adamo’s studio. She’d been breathtaking then, but somehow she looked even better here, perfectly framed by the garden’s greenery and flowers. At ease in her surroundings. Undeniably appealing.
Henry understood what Jacob had been trying to do. His friend was a romantic, it seemed, in addition to having an unshakable conviction that simple faith could smooth the roughest path. But it wasn’t as easy as that. Even supposing Henry was ready to look for a wife—which he wasn’t—things were infinitely more complicated now than they’d been that summer when he’d fallen in love with Olivia.
He’d been a brash young university student then, ready to defy the wishes of his parents. A woman whose family owned a foundry—even a prosperous one—would not be considered suitable for a man who would one day inherit an earldom. He had not known it then, but that was the last time he might have had the freedom to make such a choice.
Since then, he’d come into the title and all the responsibilities that came with it. Burdens that often outweighed the privileges. Marriage to Olivia would not have changed any of that, of course. Nor could it have changed the past five years of bad crops. But they would have faced those challenges together. He was sure she would have come to love this place and find it worth fighting for. And four years ago, when his father died and his mother was forced to tell him about the existence of Amelia, they would have dealt with that problem together as well. Perhaps then Henry would not have been subject to the rumors he’d endured since bringing the girl to live with him. It had not been an easy choice. He’d only known he could not allow his own niece to live in poverty when he had the means to give her a better life.
What would Cara do if she knew Langham was Amelia’s father? She cared so much for the girl. Yes, memories of Olivia had held Henry back. But so, too, had the embarrassments and disasters in the years since her death, especially those caused by his own family members.
“Langham told me your family is facing some financial issues. Is that what’s troubling you?”
“Partly.” He wished Langham were not so free with information that ought to be kept private. “How did you two get onto that subject?”
“There was mention of a copper mine at dinner the night before you went to Roxwell Abbey. I asked him about it. Does Lord Nigel want to get involved?”
“No.”
“Was there a specific reason?”
He looked at her, wondering why she was so interested, and tried to sort out how much he was willing to share. “His funds are tied up elsewhere.”
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s too bad.” Somehow, though, she looked relieved.
“If you happen to know any rich industrialists who might like to invest in my mine, I hope you’ll put me in touch with them.” He couldn’t believe he was making a joke at a time like this, with so many troubles and painful memories crowding his heart. Yet it made him feel strangely better.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Her smile and the inner light reflected in her bright blue eyes really were extraordinary. Her kindness was a balm, yet everything else about her produced emotions too conflicting for one person to survive.
He stood up. “There are things needing my attention.” He cleared his throat, not quite meeting her gaze. “Thank you.”
As he walked away, he didn’t hear her say anything in response. Somehow, though, he felt she knew what he’d been trying to convey.
CHAPTER
26
I’VE BEEN THINKING about something Henry said to me. It was a joke, but maybe there is something to it.” Cara had wanted to talk to Langham about this for a day or two. Since he had taken a break from his painting, she thought this was a good time. “We were talking about the challenges he’s having with finding investors for the copper mine.”
Setting aside his palette, Langham rolled his eyes. “Our perennial worry.”
“He said if I happen to know any rich industrialists to put him in touch with them.”
Langham looked at her with interest. “Do you know any?”
“No, but you do. In a way. Isn’t Louise’s sister, Mariana, going to marry one?”
“Philip Everson. Yes, it looks that way.”
“Since you’ve been writing to Louise, I thought perhaps you could mention it.”
He shrugged. “It’s a tenuous connection. Why should our mine matter to him?”
“You may be in-laws one day.”
“Cara, you are an incorrigible romantic, aren’t you?”
“It’s the best kind to be,” she quipped in return. “But really, the way Mariana was talking, she wants to help you and Louise get together. Why not give it a try? If you can help get your family on better financial ground, wouldn’t that bolster your cause?”
Langham nodded, thinking it over.
“I suppose you’re right. It can’t hurt to try. I’ll mention it in my next letter to Louise.”
Cara went back to her painting, but she couldn’t resist humming to herself. She had a feeling that all sorts of things were going to turn out very well.
“Why can’t we go down to the woods?”
It wasn’t the first time Amelia had asked this question. Cara had been careful whenever the two of them were out alone never to stray from sight of the house. “I don’t know the way, and I would not want us to get lost.”
“But I know the way. I know all the paths in the forest, and in the deer park as well.”
“I’m sure you do. However, I would prefer that we have your guardian or your cousin Langham along if we decide to go that far.” That was Cara’s standard answer, although the real reason was that she was doing her best to keep her promise to God. Even to be out here walking the pasture that edged the stables seemed to be pushing it. Over the past few days, Cara had found herself alone with Amelia more often than not. Henry always seemed to be busy, and Langham was more and more absorbed in his painting.
There had been another art lesson and another riding lesson as well. But in both cases, neither Henry nor Langham had been present. Cara had sensed Amelia’s disappointment and had done her best to keep the child from feeling neglected. They had just spent an hour at the stables, but Amelia was still antsy and looking for outdoor amusements.
“Why don’t we walk to the east garden?” Cara suggested. “We haven’t really explored there yet.”
Amelia agreed, although she did not look happy about it.
The path to the east garden skirted the drive. As they walked along it, a carriage approached from the main road. Amelia shielded her eyes from the sun to get a better look. “Oh no.” She stamped her foot. “I told you we ought to have gone to the woods. That’s the countess.”
The carriage came to a halt as it drew alongside them. The driver jumped down and opened the door, assisting the Countess of Morestowe as she descended from the carriage.
The Artful Match Page 24