The Brightest of Dreams

by Susan Anne Mason

  “I always wondered why you’ve never been back,” Geoffrey said quietly.

  “I couldn’t face going back into that house.” Tremors raced through her. “I was too afraid to relive the trauma of Annie’s death.”

  “Are you sure you can face it now?” He stood up and moved toward her.

  She straightened her spine. “I hope so. But I fear that if I don’t try, I may never fully heal.”

  Geoffrey took one of her hands in his, a determined look on his face. “Then I’m going with you. You won’t have to do this alone.”

  Harriet’s lips trembled. “I was hoping you’d say that. I’d feel much better with you by my side.”

  “I’m certain that facing your past will do you a world of good.” He patted her hand and released it. “Now, I suppose I’d best be on my way.”

  She walked with him to the front door.

  Geoffrey reached for his hat from the hall tree. “Just let me know when you plan to leave and give me a bit of time to clear my schedule.”

  She nodded but couldn’t answer, her throat tight.

  He bent to kiss her cheek. “I’ll call you tomorrow. Sleep well, my dear.”

  As he strolled down the walkway, she watched his retreating back, not certain how she’d gotten so lucky to have such a wonderful man in her life.

  CHAPTER 29

  Three days after leaving Toronto, Quinn stared at Becky, Harry, and Cecil standing together at the rail of the ship in the Halifax harbor. Quinn still couldn’t believe their brother had surprised them by turning up in Nova Scotia mere hours before they were set to sail. He credited the occurrence to God’s doing, working on Cecil’s heart to give him the courage to leave his post.

  As the crew scurried around in preparation for their departure, the wind whipped Becky’s skirt about her legs and threatened to pull the hat from her head. She had one arm wound through Cecil’s, as though he might change his mind at any moment and run down the gangplank.

  But Quinn doubted that would be the case, for as Cecil told Becky, he didn’t plan on returning to Canada. Ever again.

  Secretly, Quinn believed something rather significant must have transpired for Cecil to change his mind about coming back to England, but he chose not to question his brother. If Cecil wanted to tell them, he would do so in his own time.

  Meanwhile, Quinn gave quiet thanks for the realization of his plan to bring all his siblings home. Now, if only Mum’s health improved, they’d truly have their miracle.

  A shout went up from the deck once the gangplank was pulled in. Excitement rippled through the passengers as the grand ship moved slowly away from the dock. Yet Quinn’s chest compressed with a new grief, for this meant he was truly putting an ocean between himself and Julia.

  Lord, keep her safe until I see her again.

  Much later in the day, once Quinn had discovered his sea legs, he approached Becky, who was seated on a deck chair. It had occurred to him, after observing the rapport his three younger siblings shared, that he really didn’t know his sister and brothers anymore. After all, he hadn’t lived with them for nine years, ever since he’d left to find employment following their father’s death. Perhaps it was time to remedy the situation. With Cecil and Harry napping in their cabin, he had time for a private chat with his sister.

  Becky had given up on her hat and had tied a kerchief over her hair instead. She wore a heavy woolen shawl to ward off the cool sea air.

  “How are you finding the voyage so far?” he asked, claiming the chair beside her.

  She lifted her face. “It’s quite pleasant. At least the weather is lovely, though I suspect the farther north we go, the colder it will get.”

  “That’s true. When I came over in May, it was much brisker than this. I plan to enjoy the sunshine for as long as possible.” He glanced at the papers in her hand. “A letter already?”

  “From Ned. He must have slipped it in my bag when I wasn’t looking.” A smile trembled on her lips. “It’s my first love letter.”

  Quinn realized how lucky his sister was to have found such a good man, yet his gratitude was tempered with more than a little shame at his initial reaction to Ned. “I’m happy for you, Becky. I’m sure he will make a fine husband.”

  “He will. I’ve never met a kinder person. I’m so fortunate to have him.” She sighed. “Which made leaving all the harder. But Ned insisted I need to make peace with the past in order to start our future together with no regrets.”

  “A wise fellow.”

  “What about you?” She tilted her head. “Are you ready to tell me the story behind your sudden marriage to Julia?”

  Quinn deliberated with himself for a second but quickly decided that his family needed to know the truth. “As you probably noticed, Julia is with child.”

  “I did notice.” She stared at him. “Are you the father?”

  He hesitated. It would be easy to claim the child was his, take the brunt of Becky’s judgment upon his shoulders rather than reveal the true circumstances. But Quinn felt Julia would want Becky to know the truth.

  “Unfortunately, no. An unscrupulous cad took advantage of Julia’s trusting nature and left her in a compromised position. After several months, he found her again and started making trouble. I couldn’t stand to see her at the mercy of such a man, so I offered to marry her and be a father to her child.”

  Becky’s eyes went wide. “But that’s a huge sacrifice, Quinn. Why would you do such a—” She stopped. “Oh. You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  He met her frank stare and nodded. “I am, though I don’t know if she returns my feelings.” He frowned. “I hope you don’t think badly of her. Julia is a kind and generous person, one who trusted too easily. She didn’t deserve to have this happen to her.”

  Becky reached out to pat his arm. “Of course I don’t think badly of her. From the little time I spent with her, I came to admire her very much.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, watching the white wisps of clouds overhead.

  Finally, Quinn dared broach the topic weighing on his mind. “Becky, would you tell me about your life with Mum after I left to work for the earl? The real story of how things were?”

  The more he’d gone over the past and tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle together, he still couldn’t fathom what had led his mother to such a desperate act as to surrender her children . . . unless circumstances were not as she’d made them seem.

  Becky’s features darkened. “It’s not a time I care to relive.”

  “I take it things weren’t as rosy as you made out when I came home for a visit?”

  “No.” Her shoulders sagged. “Mum made us put on a brave front for you, saying you worked hard to keep us clothed and fed, and we owed you a cheery disposition.” Her forehead furrowed. “But it was far from happy. Most days we had barely enough food for one meal. The three of us would go out and beg in the streets while Mum cleaned houses and took in mending.”

  Guilt squeezed Quinn’s chest. “Why wasn’t there enough money? I thought my wages would have been sufficient.”

  She glanced over and shook her head.

  He waited for her to explain further.

  At last, she sighed. “There would have been plenty, if Mum hadn’t taken to the drink.”

  “What?” He’d never once seen his mother touch an alcoholic beverage.

  “Turns out she’d been taking a wee nip in secret ever since Dad died, but she managed to hide it. After you left, the nips became more and more frequent until soon she didn’t go out to work anymore, wasting what precious money we had on liquor.” The hardness in Becky’s voice matched the set of her jaw. “One day, she said she was very sorry but she couldn’t keep us any longer. She told us to pack our things. Then she took us to the orphanage and left us there.”

  “Sweet saints above.” Quinn scrubbed a hand over his jaw.

  “At first, it was a relief. No more begging. No more coping with Mum’s drinking. And at lea
st we had food every day. But then the director told us we were being sent to Canada, and they packed us all onto the ship.”

  How had he been so oblivious to what was happening? To the horrors they’d endured? “I’m so very sorry, Becky. I had no idea.”

  “How could you have known, when she hid her drinking from you?”

  The slow burn of anger twisted Quinn’s gut. He’d felt so sorry for his mother, when all along she’d brought most of this on herself. And here he’d been scrambling to rectify the situation, blaming himself for not being a better provider for his family.

  Becky squeezed his fingers, her gloves warming him. “Don’t be too hard on yourself. Or Mum. Sometimes adversity brings out the best in people, and sometimes it brings out the worst.”

  “To be honest, Becca, I’m grateful you agreed to come at all after what Mum put you through. No wonder you were reluctant to leave.”

  Becky’s forehead crinkled. “Ned made me realize that I need to see her again, to tell her I forgive her, and to finally let go of the past. Before it’s too late.” She paused. “At first, I hated Mum for her drinking and what it led to, but then again, if she hadn’t put us in the home, I’d never have come to Canada and met Ned.” Her whole face softened at the mention of his name.

  “To be fair,” he said slowly, “Mum believed it was a temporary measure. She didn’t know they had any intention of sending you abroad.”

  “I know. It was all part of God’s plan, I suppose.”

  Scowling, Quinn scratched his chin. “Perhaps. Though hearing the whole story now, I’m having a hard time with forgiveness myself.”

  “Give it some time.” Becky patted his arm. “I finally learned to accept that Mum just isn’t as strong as we are.”

  Quinn looked at his sister with new appreciation. “You’ve turned into a fine young woman, Becky. I’m very proud of you.”

  “Thank you, Quinn.” She tucked the folded letter into the pocket of her jacket. “Try not to have too many expectations when we see Mum again. That way you won’t be disappointed if things don’t turn out as you’d hoped.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Quinn didn’t bother to tell Becky about his initial plan to find a home where they could all live together. He was thankful he’d let go of that idea after realizing he wouldn’t get the earl’s farm. If his mother was still chained by her need for alcohol, he couldn’t in good conscience bring her into their home, especially with a young child like Harry. After what the lad had been through, he needed a stable, loving environment.

  But it was too soon to speculate about all that now. Quinn would have to wait and evaluate his mother’s condition when they arrived.

  And then he’d let events play out for all of them as God intended.

  Eight days later, after docking in Southampton and traveling by train to London, Quinn checked them into a modest-looking boardinghouse. The room consisted of two twin beds, a chair, and one dresser. He would let Cecil and Harry have one bed, Becky the other, and Quinn would make do on the floor. If he could, he’d have gladly paid for two rooms, but the advance on his wages had dwindled to practically nothing. In fact, he’d even dipped into the funds meant for Julia’s return voyage, certain the earl wouldn’t mind adding it to Quinn’s mounting debt.

  Tomorrow, Quinn would stop in at his employer’s townhome to discover whether his lordship was residing there at present or was staying in Derbyshire. He hoped the earl might be in a position to offer Cecil a job in his household. Quinn thought the boy would do well as a groom at the Brentwood stables or even as a footman, if there was an opening.

  After an uncomfortable night’s sleep, the four of them met in the dining room for breakfast to discuss their next move. Thankfully, most of the boarders had left for work, so they had the room to themselves. Though the eggs were a tad cold, the savory bacon and sausages filled Quinn’s empty belly.

  As he sipped his first good cup of British tea, he leaned back against the rough wooden chair. “Where should we start today?”

  “I suppose we should see Mum.” Becky set down her fork. “But I’d like to go by the shops first. I have a few things I need to buy.”

  Cecil and Harry said they’d go with her.

  Quinn supposed delaying their trip to the infirmary by a couple of hours wouldn’t really matter. “Fine. That will leave me time to call on Lord Brentwood.” He took out his pocket watch. “I’ll meet you back here at ten o’clock.”

  Not wanting to waste a minute, Quinn left the boardinghouse on foot to walk to the townhome on St. James Square. As he breathed in the familiar scents of London, his chest expanded with a sense of well-being. Seeing the city through fresh eyes, he found the street vendors and traffic, local shops and uniformed bobbies brought forgotten feelings of nostalgia to the surface. Toronto was a vastly different city—cleaner and newer than London. Still, each had its own merit.

  When he reached the townhome, Quinn walked around to the servants’ entrance and knocked on the kitchen door. Nerves jumbled in his belly. Would Lord Brentwood be here? If so, how would he react to everything Quinn had to tell him?

  One of the kitchen maids answered. “Mr. Aspinall,” she exclaimed. “Whatever are you doing here? We weren’t expecting you.”

  Quinn removed his cap and stepped inside. “I’ve just returned from Canada and was wondering if Lord Brentwood might be in residence?”

  The girl beamed at him. “Yer in luck. His lordship’s in town for the week. Business to attend to, or so we hear.”

  Relief overshadowed dread for the moment. “Excellent. I’ll ask Mr. Davis if his lordship has time to see me.”

  Quinn made his way through the kitchen, which was unusually empty, and up the narrow servants’ staircase to the main level.

  Mr. Davis, the butler, met him in the hallway. “Mr. Aspinall. What are you doing here? I thought you were in Canada.”

  “I was, but I’m back now, and I need to speak to his lordship, if possible. It’s important.”

  The butler inclined his head. “Very well. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

  A few minutes later, after being told the earl would see him, Quinn approached the library and knocked on the heavy wooden door. He clenched his damp palms into fists and prayed for a favorable outcome to this meeting.

  “Come in.” His employer’s familiar voice rang out.

  Quinn entered the study, strong memories of his first years of employment surging to the forefront. Nothing in this room had changed since that time when he’d been a lad of about Cecil’s age. He’d been every bit as nervous that day as he was now.

  “Mr. Aspinall.” The earl looked up from his desk with a smile. “You’ve returned at last. Please, have a seat.”

  Quinn took one of the chairs, his mouth going dry in anticipation of the conversation to come. “We arrived yesterday, my lord. I wanted to see you as soon as possible. It is fortuitous that you are in residence.”

  The older man’s face turned serious, pinning Quinn with an unnerving stare. “Did you find her?”

  Quinn met the man’s gaze. “I did.”

  “But she’s not with you.” A deep frown lined the man’s forehead. “That does not bode well, I take it.”

  Quinn reached into his pocket and removed Julia’s letter. His fingers trembled as he considered the news it contained, and he prayed the man would be reasonable upon learning all that had befallen his niece. “Julia asked me to deliver this to you.”

  The earl took the envelope. “Can you tell me how she’s doing? Is she well?”

  “She’s fine, my lord. But she has explained everything in the letter.”

  Quinn’s stomach churned as he waited for the man to open the envelope. How would he take the news of their marriage? Would he throw Quinn out on his ear? Or would he be grateful for the protection Quinn had provided her?

  Slowly, the earl chose a letter opener from a drawer and slit the flap open. With a sigh, he opened the pages and began
to read.

  Quinn tried hard to remain still, to keep his foot from tapping. Discreetly, he rubbed his palms on his pant legs. The crackle of flames in the hearth and the ticking of a clock were the only sounds to break the silence. He glanced repeatedly at the earl’s face as he read. When the color drained from Lord Brentwood’s cheeks, Quinn knew he’d learned of Julia’s condition and their subsequent marriage.

  The earl tossed the pages down with such force they slid across the desktop. “You mean to tell me that you and my niece are married?” he thundered.

  Quinn swallowed. “We are.”

  A few choice words passed the other man’s lips as he surged to his feet. He crossed to the sideboard, where he poured a large splash of brandy. With one gulp, he swallowed the contents and banged the glass back down, seemingly oblivious to the early hour of the day.

  Quinn forced himself to take even breaths. He needed to give the man a minute to come to grips with the situation.

  Lord Brentwood raked a hand through his thick gray hair. Then, with another glare at Quinn, he resumed his seat, gathered the pages, and read the remainder of the letter. When he finished, he folded the papers and set them in front of him.

  Quinn wished he knew exactly what Julia had written. What she’d told him about the baby’s paternity. Maybe then he’d have an idea how to appease her uncle. He cleared his throat. “Let me assure you, sir, that I care for Julia very much, and I intend to do everything I can—”

  His lordship held up a hand. “Nothing you say will make this situation any better. Every calamity I feared would befall my niece has come to pass. She is a ruined woman.”

  Quinn shot to his feet. “She is nothing of the sort. Julia is an amazing woman. Brave, strong, and selfless. I am proud to call her my wife.”