The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “Were you alone?”

  “Yes. I got cleaned up and started packing. Before I was done, the solicitor came to the door, telling me I had to vacate the premises. He waited until I had all my belongings together and escorted me off the property.”

  “What did you do then?” Quinn stood above her, his figure casting a shadow over the bench.

  “I went to see Dr. Clayborne.” Her mouth curved slightly at the memory of his kindness. “He took me home to stay with his wife and infant daughter. They let me live there for a few weeks until I got my bearings.” She sighed. “You know the rest of the story.”

  Julia sagged back against the wooden bench. She felt deflated, now that her secret was out, yet relief eluded her.

  If only she could really know what Quinn was thinking.

  Pregnant!

  Quinn strode over to the nearby tree and stared blindly across the street in an attempt to process all Julia had told him.

  She’d been assaulted and was now expecting Dr. Hawkins’s baby. No wonder Quinn had gotten such a bad feeling from the man when he met him.

  Quinn took a few breaths until he felt calmer, then turned to face Julia, noting for the first time her expanding waistline. How had he not noticed it before? “The day at the hospital with Harry,” he said, “was that the first time you’d seen him since the . . . incident?”

  She nodded.

  A muscle tightened in his throat. “So that’s why you pretended we were a couple.”

  “Yes.” She raised tortured eyes to his. “I knew he’d been trying to find me, and I hoped if he thought I was with someone else, he’d leave me alone.”

  “He doesn’t know about . . . ?” The words lodged in his throat.

  “No.” She lifted her chin. “And if I have my way, he never will.”

  Quinn stared at her, unblinking, his jaw tight. A thousand questions overwhelmed him, but he forced himself to slow his racing thoughts, mindful of the delicate nature of the situation.

  He returned to the bench and resumed his seat. They sat in silence until he took in a deep breath and turned toward her. “Did you ever consider going to the authorities?” he asked.

  She lowered her head, fiddling with the fringe on her bag. “When I was safe at Dr. Clayborne’s, I did consider it.” She paused, seeming to search for the right words. “But I realized it would be difficult to prove. It would be his word against mine. And who would believe me, a foreigner with no credentials, over a well-respected physician with deep ties to the community?” She shook her head sadly. “No one.”

  A primal urge to scream rose in Quinn’s chest at the unfairness of the situation. Where was justice in all this? Why did a man like Hawkins get to walk away from his crimes free and clear, while Julia would feel the repercussions for the rest of her life? He huffed out a frustrated breath. “I understand. Though I don’t like it. Not one bit. That miscreant should be in prison for what he’s done.”

  He closed his eyes, trying to block out the ugly truth. When he opened them again, he dared voice the other question rattling around in his head. “Are you going to keep the baby?”

  Julia hesitated. “I hope to. Mrs. Middleton has agreed to let me stay with her as long as I can do my job. She seems to think I could still perform my duties and that the maid and even Mrs. Neville, the cook, would help out with the baby if need be.”

  A mixture of respect and despair wound through his system. Of course she would want to raise her child, no matter who the father was. That spoke to the type of woman Julia Holloway was. One who knew the value of family and how it felt to be parentless.

  Unfortunately, it did little to ease his pain, only solidifying the fact that her future would follow a very different path than either of them had imagined. A path that, for the foreseeable future, he couldn’t see intersecting with his own.

  Perhaps down the road, when he had his family settled, he could consider returning to find her, but how long that would be he had no idea. And it wouldn’t be fair to put both their lives on hold for a whisper of a possibility.

  Quinn rose stiffly from the bench, a terrible ache permeating his chest. How did he say good-bye, knowing that this time it was likely for good? “Thank you for telling me this, Julia. I know how hard it must have been. And I understand now why you feel the need to stay here.” Coming home pregnant and unmarried would only prove the earl’s worst fears had been correct.

  Julia rose with him and reached out to grasp his arm, a hint of panic flashing over her features. “Quinn, please don’t say anything to my uncle about the baby. I’ll write to him and let him know.”

  He gave a brief nod. “Very well.” With supreme effort, he attempted to corral his emotions behind a neutral façade until he could examine them later in private. He forced himself to look directly into her luminous brown eyes. “I wish you nothing but the best, Julia. You deserve it.”

  Pain twisted her features, tears welling in her eyes once more. “I’m so sorry, Quinn. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you believe that.”

  He released a breath, closed his eyes again for a brief moment, then nodded. “I believe you. I never wanted to hurt you either. It’s just a shame that . . .” He shook his head. “It’s just a shame is all.”

  A silent tear spilled down her cheek.

  His heart squeezed with the unfairness of the turn their lives had taken. But there was nothing he could do about it. In a few weeks he’d be on a ship to England, and in a few months she would have a baby. “Good-bye, Julia. Take good care of yourself.”

  “Good-bye, Quinn. And thank you for everything. I’ll never forget your kindness.” She stepped away from him, pressing a handkerchief to her mouth.

  His eyes misted over. “I’ll be praying for you and for the child. Always.” He gave her one more heart-wrenching look, then spun on his heel and walked away.

  CHAPTER 23

  Two days later, Quinn and Harry took the train back to Elmvale to pay Cecil another visit. One last-ditch attempt to get him to see reason and come home with them. For most of the ride, Harry kept Quinn occupied with an ongoing commentary on the countryside, the passengers, and anything else that piqued the boy’s interest. Quinn didn’t discourage the constant ramblings, since it allowed him to think of something other than Julia.

  Quinn had gone over and over her situation for the past forty-eight hours to no avail. He couldn’t seem to rise above the devastation he’d felt upon learning she was carrying another man’s child. Granted, the circumstances of the baby’s conception were not Julia’s fault. But he couldn’t get over the fact that any relationship with Julia would require him to be a father to that wretch’s offspring. What did it say about Quinn that the very thought terrified him?

  He’d always prided himself on being nonjudgmental, of being able to see people with compassion, through a Christian lens. Yet now Quinn found himself floundering and couldn’t deny that fear had him by a chokehold. What if he resented the child’s existence and couldn’t give it the love it deserved?

  He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. Despite his love for Julia, no matter how he looked at the situation, he couldn’t seem to come up with a solution for them to be together.

  When the train pulled into the Elmvale station, Quinn and Harry got off and headed to the livery to rent a cart and horse. The long distance to the Sherman farm would have been too much for Harry to handle, especially in the intense July heat. And at least when the horse reached a good trot, it gave them a slight breeze. Along the way, Harry pointed out every house and barn they passed, and Quinn had to keep reminding him they had a fair distance to go yet.

  Finally, almost an hour later, hot and dusty from the ride, Harry tugged on Quinn’s arm. “There’s another farm, Quinn. Is that it?”

  Quinn brought the horse to a slow stop. “Looks like the right one. We’ll need to take a back route to get to the barn. And that means walking the rest of the way.”

  Thankfully, Harry didn’t question Quinn’s
statement. They climbed down and he tied the horse to the mail post, then they continued on. All the while, Quinn kept a sharp watch on the boy, making sure he wasn’t overdoing it. When Harry had learned Quinn intended to pay Cecil another visit, he’d begged Quinn to take him with him. Quinn had weighed the decision from every angle and finally allowed him along, hoping that seeing Harry would be the factor that swayed Cecil to come back with them.

  Quinn made sure to avoid the farmhouse and headed straight for the barn. If they were fortunate, they would catch Cecil there. Alone.

  “I hope his farmer is nicer than mine,” Harry said as Quinn guided him around the rear of the building.

  “I do too.” Quinn stopped at the open door. “Wait here until I see if he’s inside.” He gestured to a wood stump, and Harry sat down. “I’ll be back soon.”

  Quinn peered around the door and was met with an unnatural silence. All the animals must be out in the pasture. If that was the case, then probably Cecil would be too. Quinn walked down the main aisle. A quick search indicated the barn was empty.

  He returned to Harry. “He’s not here. Come on, let’s check the fields.”

  Quinn led Harry into the closest pasture and, keeping to the outer perimeter to avoid detection, they made their way to where a group of cattle were grazing.

  Halfway there, Harry stopped and bent low over his knees.

  “How about a ride, lad?” Quinn asked.

  Harry’s face brightened. “Sure.”

  “Hop on, then.”

  The boy climbed onto Quinn’s back and flung his arms around his neck.

  “All right now, you keep a lookout for people.”

  “I will.” Already the boy sounded better. Well worth the extra weight under the very warm sun.

  “I can see horses,” Harry said once they’d crested a hill. “And someone riding one.”

  Instant tension seized Quinn’s gut. Please let it be Cecil and not one of the other farmhands. He stopped and squinted against the glare. From the man’s slight frame, it could very well be their brother.

  Nothing to do but continue on and hope for the best.

  When the man spotted them approaching, he pulled his mount to a halt. Then, slowly, he slid from the saddle and pushed off his hat, which swung from a string around his neck.

  Cecil.

  Thank you, Lord. Now if you could just help us change his mind . . .

  “It’s him, Harry.” Quinn bent low so the boy could jump off. “Why don’t you go and surprise him?”

  Clutching his side, Harry moved forward, smiling despite the obvious pain. “Cecil! It’s me, Harry.”

  Cecil started running toward them. When he reached Harry, he swooped the boy up into a hard embrace, burying his face in Harry’s neck.

  “Careful of his ribs,” Quinn called as he neared the pair. “He’s injured.”

  Cecil broke away, set Harry down, and wiped his eyes. “How’d you get injured?”

  Harry’s smile faded.

  Quinn laid a hand on the younger boy’s shoulder. “A hazard of the job.” He gave Cecil a pointed look.

  Cecil’s face darkened, and he turned his head to scan the fields around them, as if Quinn had reminded him of the potential danger. “We can’t talk here.” He grabbed the horse’s reins. “I have to ride out to the train station to pick up some supplies on the next freight. I’ll hitch up the wagon. Meet me on the road, and we’ll talk on the way there.”

  Quinn nodded. “Right. We’ll wait by the mailbox.” He didn’t need to explain the situation to Harry. The boy’s grim expression said it all.

  Ten minutes later, the rumble of a wagon sounded on the road. Upon spying Cecil at the helm, Quinn and Harry stepped out from behind the cart, where they’d been trying to stay out of sight.

  Quinn approached the wagon as it slowed. “I rented this cart and horse from the livery in town,” he told Cecil. “I’ll tie the mare to the back of the wagon. She’s pretty docile, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Cecil nodded.

  Quinn helped Harry onto the bench seat, then went to secure the horse behind them.

  When he came back, Cecil had his arm around Harry. He made a strange noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob and pressed a kiss to Harry’s hair. “I never thought I’d see you again, Harry lad. I’m so sorry I couldn’t keep us together. I tried my best, but they wouldn’t listen.”

  Quinn hauled himself up onto the bench. “It wasn’t your fault, Cec. You had to go where they sent you.”

  Cecil raised his head and swiped his elbow across his face. He met Quinn’s stare, gave a brief nod, then ruffled Harry’s hair. “So, you found Harry and managed to get him away from his farm?”

  “I certainly wasn’t going to leave him there under those conditions.”

  “Quinn took me to the hospital, and the doctors fixed me up right fine.” Harry grinned.

  “Glad to hear it.” Cecil smiled, then shot a look behind him. “We’d best get going.” He clucked to the horses, and they started off down the road.

  They traveled in silence for several miles until at last Cecil relaxed. His shoulders dropped a few inches, and he let out a long breath. “Is there a reason you came here other than bringing Harry to see me?” He shot Quinn a wary glance.

  “I found Becky,” Quinn said quietly. “She’s working for a family in Peterborough.”

  Cecil’s eyes widened. “Is she all right?”

  “She’s fine.” Quinn paused. “In fact, she’s getting married in a few months.”

  “Married?” Cecil whistled. “Imagine that.”

  “And we’re going back to England soon,” Harry piped up. “Becky’s coming with us.”

  The wagon bounced and jostled them, almost unseating Harry, who winced.

  “Watch the holes if you can. Harry’s ribs can’t take the bouncing.”

  “Sorry.” A muscle in Cecil’s jaw ticked. “Is that why you came, then? To pressure me into going with you?” He stared straight ahead at the road before them.

  “Not to pressure you. To appeal to your conscience. We’re all going back for Mum’s sake. Even Becky’s making time, despite her upcoming wedding.” Quinn attempted to push back his frustration. It would serve no purpose to rile Cecil. “You could do the same. Come back for a visit and then return here, if you’re so determined to stay.”

  “Please, Cecil.” Harry tugged on his sleeve. “We’d all be together again. It would make Mum so happy.”

  The train station came into view, and Cecil slowed the horse’s gait. “When?”

  “There’s a ship leaving Halifax at the end of the month. I aim to be on it.”

  “So soon?”

  “I only pray we’re in time and that Mum lives long enough to see us all again.”

  Cecil’s thin frame stiffened. “I’ll hand it to you, Quinn. You have manipulation down to an art.”

  Irritation spiked in Quinn’s chest. “This is not about me.”

  “Of course it is.” Cecil’s eyes flashed. “It’s all about you needing to prove yourself. To make everything perfect. Like you’ve been trying to do ever since Dad died.” He pulled the reins sharply. “But life isn’t perfect, Quinn. Not even close.”

  Quinn clamped his lips together to keep from arguing. Nothing he said right now would help matters. Instead, he counted to ten as his brother reined in the horses behind the station.

  “You’re right, Cecil. Nothing is perfect.” He withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket where he’d had the forethought to write down the boardinghouse address and phone number. “You can get a message to me or Harry here. I’ll be praying you change your mind.” He stood and jumped lightly to the ground.

  “Please come,” Harry said. “It won’t be the same without you.” Then he flung his arms around Cecil’s neck, hugging him hard, before accepting Quinn’s assistance off the bench.

  Cecil sat in the wagon for several seconds before he climbed down and tied the horses to the post. “I’ll g
ive it a good deal of thought. That much I can promise you. And if Mr. Sherman agrees to give me the time off, I’ll consider making the trip.”

  “Thank you.” Quinn stood looking at his brother, very aware of how little he really knew him anymore. He longed to pull him into a tight embrace, but an awkward silence developed between them instead. Quinn straightened his posture. “Take care of yourself, Cecil.”

  The shrill sound of a train whistle pierced the air. The ground beneath them began to vibrate.

  Cecil stepped away from the wagon. “Have a safe trip, and if you don’t hear from me, give Mum . . . and Becky . . . my love.” He reached out a hand and once again mussed Harry’s hair. Then he turned and jogged over to the platform to meet the approaching train.

  CHAPTER 24

  “Will you be coming to church this morning?” Mrs. Middleton asked Julia the next Sunday as she cut into her poached egg.

  Julia’s hand stilled on her fork. How she wished she could attend, but with her ever-expanding belly, someone was bound to notice her condition, and she did not want to take the chance. “I don’t think so. But thank you for asking.” She patted a napkin to her mouth. “I’m sure Mrs. Banbury will go with you, if you’d like.”

  “I expect she will. But I prefer your company.” Mrs. Middleton winked at her.

  “I enjoy going with you too. However, until the baby comes, I feel it would be best to stay out of the public eye as much as possible. I wouldn’t want to cause you any undue criticism or mean-spirited gossip.”

  “Balderdash.” Mrs. Middleton set her teacup down with a clank. “No one would dare say anything to me or risk being on the receiving end of my wrath.”

  Julia reached over to lay her hand on the woman’s arm. “Your support means the world to me. But you needn’t fight my battles.”

  “Very well, my dear.” Mrs. Middleton rose. “Any word from that young man of yours?”

  A stab of pain ripped through Julia at the mere mention of Quinn. He’s not my young man, she wanted to say. Instead, she shook her head. “I don’t expect to hear from him again.”