The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “That might not be so bad.” Julia attempted to smile. “I don’t have many friends here. And now that Sam is . . .” She pressed her lips together to fight back a rush of tears. When would she ever be able to say his name without breaking down?

  “I’m very sorry about your friend.” Quinn’s voice was gentle. “It must have been a terrible blow.”

  “It was. I . . . I was the one who found him.” She closed her eyes, fighting visions of Sam’s lifeless body on the bed, surrounded by blood-soaked sheets, his face as pale as the walls behind him.

  “Why?” Quinn’s one-word question tugged at her very soul. How many times had she asked herself that same question? “Why would he take his life?” he asked.

  “I don’t know for certain.” She frowned. “It happened after he’d received some bad medical news. News I wish I’d known about. Maybe then I could have done something to prevent his death.” She drew in a sharp breath, pressing a hand to her abdomen, then slowly released it, willing the persistent nausea to leave her.

  Quinn stared at her with open sympathy.

  “I knew he had an appointment with Dr. Clayborne that afternoon, but he insisted on going alone. And later he wouldn’t tell me what the doctor said. He locked himself in his room, saying he wanted to be alone. The next morning, when I went to wake him, I found . . .” Her throat seized.

  “You don’t need to explain. I can imagine the rest.”

  Julia shook her head. “I can’t help feeling responsible. As his caregiver, I should have checked on him. I should have known.” She pinched her eyes shut, trying to block out the pain.

  Warmth surrounded her chilled fingers as Quinn took one of her hands in his. “Don’t do that to yourself, Julia. You can’t blame yourself for Sam’s actions.”

  She opened her eyes to find Quinn’s face close to hers, empathy swimming in his gaze. She clung to his hand, drinking in the comfort he offered, until the unbidden memory of Dr. Hawkins and his brand of comfort made her pull her hand away.

  The sound of rattling cups preceded Mrs. Chamberlain into the room. “Sorry I took so long. I decided to brew a fresh pot after all.” She set a tray on the table in front of the sofa and looked at Julia, taking in her distraught appearance. “Oh, my dear. Please don’t fret any longer. I have a small room available on the third floor. One of my boarders is making it up for you now.”

  Julia dabbed her cheeks with her handkerchief. “That’s very kind of you. But I . . . I don’t think I can afford the rent.”

  “Now, now. I’ll hear no talk of money tonight. There’ll be plenty of time to discuss the future tomorrow, when you’re rested.”

  Rested? Julia’s gaze flew to the ornate clock on the mantel. It was already after midnight. How would she be at the hospital by seven o’clock and clean all day on so little sleep?

  “I have to work very early tomorrow. And I don’t know how to get to the military hospital from here.” A bone-deep weariness made thinking a chore. At this rate, she’d get no sleep at all.

  “No need to worry. We’re all early risers around here. One of our girls, Nora, works at a bank right across the street from that hospital. She’ll help you get there on time.”

  All the muscles in Julia’s back sagged, and she sank back against the cushions.

  Mrs. C. pressed a cup into her hands. “Drink your tea, dear. By the time you’re done, the room will be ready.”

  Quinn drained his cup in one long gulp and set it back on the tray. “Thank you so much, Mrs. C. Now that I know Julia’s in good hands, I’d best be going.” He rose from his chair.

  “You’re welcome, Quinten. Come by and see us whenever you like.”

  Quinn gave Julia a long look. “I plan to do just that. Sleep well, Julia. Until tomorrow.”

  CHAPTER 6

  Quinn paced the sidewalk outside the military hospital the next afternoon, waiting for the end of Julia’s shift. He hoped she wouldn’t try to avoid him by exiting through a back door or an employee entrance. He imagined she might be feeling embarrassed and perhaps a tad put out with him for the way he had dealt with her landlord.

  Still, Quinn didn’t regret his actions. He could no more walk away and leave Julia to that man’s mercy than he could leave his little sister in such a situation. Honor dictated he take action to aid the earl’s niece, who had obviously fallen on hard times.

  Since she’d come to Toronto as Private McIntyre’s personal caregiver, Quinn guessed her employment had died with Sam. And since Julia had no formal training as a nurse, only her experience in the war, he doubted it would be enough to earn her employment in the field.

  Yet scrubbing floors? Surely there was some type of work more in keeping with her skills. Something less demeaning. He’d have to be careful how he approached that topic of conversation and somehow bring up the suggestion that returning to England might be her best option.

  A door opened, and Julia exited onto the sidewalk. Upon seeing Quinn, she hesitated, then gave a tentative smile. “Good afternoon, Mr. Aspinall.”

  “Good afternoon. And remember, it’s Quinn.” He held out his arm to her. “I found a charming eatery on the next street. I doubt they have true English tea, but I’m willing to brave it if you are.”

  She gave a light laugh that went straight to his chest, loosening the tension there as they started toward the corner. “I’ve yet to find a truly good cup of tea,” she said, “though Mrs. Chamberlain’s came very close.”

  “I thought so too. How did you sleep?”

  “Quite well. And Mrs. C. was kind enough to provide me with a bagged lunch. I don’t know how I’ll ever repay her. Or you, for that matter.” She looked at him with solemn eyes.

  “No need to repay me. The money came from funds your uncle provided for any expenses I might incur during my search for you. I thought it only fitting to use a portion of it to pay your landlord, since I couldn’t bear the thought of you being indebted to that man.”

  They turned onto the next street, and Quinn pointed to the restaurant he had in mind. When she nodded, he escorted her inside. The place bustled with noise and activity. Most of the booths, as well as a long row of stools at the counter, were filled with boisterous patrons. The hostess led them to a small table by the window where they could watch the traffic passing by.

  Once the waitress took their order for tea and biscuits, Julia folded her hands on the tabletop. “So, my uncle paid you to find me.” The quiet words held a trace of hurt. “That’s why you came to Canada?”

  “Not exactly.” Quinn kept his tone even. “I’m here to find my three siblings. When I told the earl of my intended trip, he leapt at the chance to have me look for you as well.” He leaned forward, needing to make her understand. “Your uncle loves you very much, Julia. He regrets the ultimatum he gave you and wants you to return home. The money he gave me was simply to allay any additional expenses I might incur on his behalf.” There was no reason to tell her about the generous advance the earl had given Quinn on his pay, nor the promised tenant farm, since it had no bearing on the truth of his words.

  “I see.” Her cheeks grew rosy as she toyed with her napkin, her lashes sweeping down.

  What was going through her mind? Would she forgive her uncle for his harsh treatment and agree to come back? Perhaps Quinn should have asked his lordship to write a letter asking her to return. Maybe then she might be more inclined to trust the validity of his claim.

  In the ensuing silence, Quinn took a moment to assess her. At least she appeared more rested today. The dark circles under her eyes were less prominent. She’d removed the kerchief from her hair, and the long blond locks he remembered were pulled back into a rather severe roll at the nape of her neck.

  She raised her head, a frown marring her brow. “Have you had any luck finding your siblings?”

  “Not yet.” He gripped the water glass in front of him. “It’s turned out to be a complicated process.”

  “How did they end up so far from home?”
>
  “That’s a rather long, sad tale. One I won’t bore you with.” He attempted a smile.

  But she didn’t return it. Her gaze remained solemn.

  The waitress reappeared with two small metal teapots and a plate of biscuits. Julia poured some milk into her cup, then added the steaming brew.

  Quinn stirred a spoon of sugar into his and tried to come up with a way to return the conversation to coming back to England. But how?

  Julia took a sip, studying him over the rim. “I’d like to hear about your siblings, if you don’t mind sharing the story.”

  Quinn hesitated. He was far more interested in learning about the events that had led to her dire circumstances. Yet maybe if he told her about his own situation, she might be more inclined to trust him.

  “I was fifteen when my father died,” he began. “Being the oldest, I gave up any notion of going to university and found work to support my family. I did a variety of odd jobs until I was fortunate enough to get hired on at your uncle’s townhome as a footman.”

  “That was before I came to live with him, I imagine.” She began to nibble at one of the biscuits.

  “Yes. By the time you arrived, I’d been in his employ over a year, and we’d moved more permanently to his estate in Derbyshire. At that time, the earl promoted me to his personal valet, which was indeed an honor and a privilege. I admire Lord Brentwood a great deal. He’s been very good to me.”

  Her gaze fell to the table as she fiddled with her spoon. “For all his high-handed ways, Uncle Howard is a good man,” she admitted, a tad begrudgingly. “I only wish he . . . I wish we hadn’t parted under such difficult circumstances.” She looked up again. “But back to your story. Where were your mother and siblings during the time you worked for my uncle?”

  “Living in a small flat in London. Mum earned a meager amount cleaning and sewing. But it was my salary that provided the majority of income.” He took a breath. “I used to see them on my days off, until the move to Brentwood Manor. Then it became too far to travel for one afternoon a month.”

  She set her cup down with a loud clank. “Is that all the time off you were allowed?”

  He shrugged. “I didn’t mind, except that I couldn’t see my family. Then the war started and everything changed.”

  Her face darkened. “Did you enlist right away?”

  “Pretty much, as all the young men did. The earl was kind enough to send a stipend to my mother every month as a supplement to my soldier’s pay.”

  “That was kind of him.” She nodded gravely. “I guess you were already gone by the time I left Brentwood to help with the war effort, much to my uncle’s chagrin. He didn’t approve of my involvement with the wounded men. It never occurred to him that helping in some small way would allow me to feel useful for once.”

  “As I recall, his lordship expressed his opinion about it on the few occasions I visited Brentwood while on leave.” Quinn’s lips twitched as he bit into a biscuit.

  “Ah, I suppose being his valet, you were privy to many such complaints about my behavior.” Her brows rose in a haughty manner, which immediately reminded Quinn of the high-spirited girl he remembered.

  “A good valet never reveals his master’s private conversations.”

  She raised her cup to her lips as though to hide her smile. “I’m sure you would never have known I was gone, save for my uncle’s rants.”

  “On the contrary. I was very much aware of your absence.” The minute the words left his mouth, his neck heated. Why had he admitted such a thing?

  Julia’s brown eyes widened. “You were?”

  “Well, yes. The manor was far less cheerful with you gone.”

  “What a lovely thing to say.” Her face softened as she patted a napkin to her lips. “When I first saw you at the hospital, I couldn’t place you, but I knew I recognized your voice,” she said. “I remember you at Brentwood. I often thought how lucky my uncle was to have such a devoted employee. You were so steadfast and . . . unflappable.”

  A laugh escaped him. “Unflappable. Well, I suppose there are worse qualities to be remembered for.”

  She giggled, and a blush spread over her cheeks.

  Quinn stared into her warm brown eyes until she lowered them. He gave himself a mental shake. Had he taken leave of his senses, flirting with Julia that way? He had absolutely no business behaving in such a manner with Lord Brentwood’s niece.

  A waitress appeared with more hot water for their tea. Julia busied herself pouring another cup, while Quinn struggled to strap down his emotions. He needed to remain aloof, in control. And he definitely needed to turn the conversation around to focus on her.

  “What happened to your family while you were away at war?” Julia asked before he could begin.

  Quinn pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. Just thinking about that time was enough to make his stomach twist. “When I returned from duty, I discovered the flat where they’d been living had been rented to someone else. I found my mum in a workhouse in London.” He paused and took a drink to wash away the bitterness from his tongue.

  “How dreadful. Were the children with her?”

  “No. It turns out she’d placed them in an orphanage to spare them that fate. She intended it to be a temporary measure until she was able to find work and a decent place to live, but that never happened.” He blew out a frustrated breath. “If only she’d told me how dire her circumstances were, I would have tried harder to make sure they had enough money.”

  Julia placed a hand on his arm. “You did the best you could, Quinn. There was nothing else you could have done.”

  Looking into her earnest face, he longed to believe her. The tea, along with the constant ache of guilt, churned in his gut.

  “How did they end up in Canada?”

  “The Dr. Barnardo’s Homes where Mum left them are known for sending large numbers of orphans to Canada. Supposedly to give them a better life, living with a family and working on a farm. The idea sounds noble enough in theory, but I’m certain my mother had no idea of their intention.”

  “That’s terrible. No wonder you’re desperate to find them.”

  “Indeed.” Quinn attempted to push aside the stress brought on by reliving such unpleasant memories. “What about you? I assume that after Private McIntyre’s death you were left without employment.”

  Her features grew pinched, and she nodded. “Also without accommodations.” She set her cup down. “Before the war, Sam inherited his parents’ home. But upon his death, the house passed to a male cousin who kept only some of the staff.” Her gaze flickered. “Unfortunately, he made it clear he had no need for my services and demanded I leave immediately.”

  Quinn did his best to hide his outrage. How unfeeling could a man be to evict a single woman with no ready means of securing another place to live?

  “I’ll admit I was rather desperate. Dr. Clayborne was kind enough to get me the position at the hospital. Still, it’s only part-time, and most landlords aren’t willing to lease a flat without the guarantee of a more secure source of income.” She bowed her head over her plate. “Which is how I ended up in that horrid building.”

  Quinn made a sympathetic murmur while carefully choosing his next words. “Did you ever consider going back to England?”

  When she raised her head, tears shimmered in her lovely eyes. “Even if I’d had the money for my passage, I wouldn’t have been welcome at my uncle’s home.”

  “I know you didn’t part on good terms, but if you were in trouble, I’m certain he would have helped you, no matter how angry he was.”

  “Perhaps. However, my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit he’d been right.” She sighed. “I hated the thought of returning a failure and wasn’t about to beg. I decided to work until I could save enough for better accommodations or for a ticket home.”

  Quinn raised a brow. “And how is your plan going?”

  “Not very well.” Her lips twitched. “Turns out I’m a rather poor money manage
r. Though it’s hard to manage what you don’t have.”

  All the more reason she should jump at the earl’s offer.

  Quinn’s heart beat hard in his chest. He leaned forward. “Julia, your uncle gave me enough funds to cover your passage home. Would you consider coming back to England with me when I return? You can stay at Mrs. Chamberlain’s until I find my siblings. Then we could all go back together.” He could picture it so clearly in his mind. The lot of them on the deck of the ship, laughing and sharing stories. He’d come back a hero, bringing the prodigal daughter back to her loving family. Julia would be safe, and Quinn would reap his reward.

  She wiped her mouth with a napkin and set it down. “I know you mean well, but I really must do this on my own. Uncle Howard hurt me deeply when he disowned me, and I don’t know if I can forgive him quite so easily.” She lifted her chin. “When and if I return, I’ll do it on my own terms. It’s a matter of pride and self-reliance. You understand.”

  The wind left his sails in a whoosh as his beautiful dream faded. He blinked, not sure what else he could say to change her mind.

  “However, if I’ve managed to save enough by the time you’re ready to leave, I’d be happy to join you on the trip back.” She gave him such a blinding smile that Quinn forgot to breathe.

  Heat blasted through his chest, and he knew with startling clarity that he would slay any dragon or overcome any obstacle to make sure Julia was all right before he ever left Canada. Despite everything, he couldn’t help but admire her courage and determination to make her own way in the world. He could certainly understand those sentiments, since he’d been struggling for years to do the same.

  He nodded. “It’s a deal, then. And I intend to hold you to it.”

  Color stained her cheeks once more, but she laughed. “Very well. It’s a deal.”

  ———

  Quinn pulled out some money to pay the bill. “May I walk you back to the boardinghouse?”

  Julia’s lighthearted mood instantly turned sour. She’d been so engrossed in her conversation with Quinn that she’d forgotten her main problem: the necessity to look for new accommodations. “I really must find somewhere else to stay. I know I can’t afford to pay Mrs. Chamberlain’s rates.” She picked up her purse and rose from her seat.