22

Only when the bad weather comes will it become clear that these guide wires to which I tie my vines are not a constraint but a rescue.

—Notebook of a viticulturist

Our stay at the Armitage Estate was cut short the following morning when news of my apparent guilt reached the ears of our host. We were politely excused from our previous plans to stay another night, seeing as we’d need to return home and attend to matters. In other words, Lord Armitage did not wish to have a scandal unravel in his tidy home.

I had slept restlessly the night before, my mind spinning with confusion and disbelief concerning Donegan and our shared moment on the balcony, and that morning I found myself exceedingly tired as a result. It had been foolish, kissing him only to find temporary comfort from what truly plagued me. Shallow attraction mingled with my broken pride, my smarting wounds, had driven me into that selfish interlude, not a true and genuine affection for the man.

What was I to do about him now? Part of me wanted nothing more than another balcony encounter, but I could not bear the dishonesty of it. Unless true, deep feelings blossomed in me, I had no right to such kisses, no matter how wonderful the moment.

I slipped into the morning room to snatch a few bites of food set out for the overnight guests and found Dr. Caine lingering at the sideboard. He sampled the cherry tomatoes and selected a hunk of crusty bread before turning to smile at me. “Good morning, my dear. Did you enjoy the evening’s festivities as much as the open window of the carriage?”

I smiled. “Nothing could quite compare to an open window.”

He turned back to the tomatoes, lifting and inspecting one. “Not even a certain man?”

I glanced away. In the light of day, I could barely believe I’d been so brazen—and with our field manager. “It was nothing, really.” Yet as those flippant words spilled from my mouth, an engulfing heat invaded my body, climbing it and leaving awareness in its wake. Whether I loved or hated Donegan Vance, I could never quite be indifferent to him.

“With a man like that, it couldn’t possibly be more.” A muted warning light came into his eyes and he watched me, studying my reaction.

I frowned. “Dr. Caine, I thought you a higher man than one who judges a person by class.”

“That isn’t what I mean, child. It’s the wanderlust. I see the gleam of it in his eyes, and it’ll only grow stronger with time. His lifeblood is change and freshness in everything, from scenery to work to . . . well, young ladies. He’ll be on to the next before you can blink. You were merely a momentary fancy and he took it.”

“There’s more to it than that, Dr. Caine. You see, we’ve become friends. He’s been kind to me.”

He frowned. “A man admittedly in need of funds who has become friendly with an heiress. I suppose he’s also offered to help you find your father’s fortune.”

“Well, he . . .” My loyal heart rejected Dr. Caine’s words, but as his knowing eyes remained on me, warming patiently through my defenses, I wondered why I hadn’t seen it this way before. His insistence on helping with the search, his ardent and focused attention toward a girl of the elite set he so despised . . . I’d truly been blinded—by a kiss.

Feelings of utter foolishness pummeled me as I worked to shove aside all memories of the previous night. Once the treasure was discovered and he received what he could of it, he’d pack up and leave without a thought, on to the next town and another girl he’d kiss with the passion that likely came from much practice.

Pain resurfaced as I recalled the sight of Andrew leaving in the garish light of the carriage lanterns. To be left so abruptly, so casually, had only widened the emptiness that had existed before him, and Donegan Vance’s departure would be no less. This fortune tempted more men to my side than any woman’s charms, and it would be the ruin of my heart before it was even found. I would not allow myself to be so blinded by any of them again.

Dr. Caine tilted his head with a kindly smile. “Have no fear. He isn’t the only man who will enter your young life. Just don’t let him be the last.”

After I donned my traveling clothes, I made my way to the foyer where my cousins already waited. We passed a few meaningless pleasantries that echoed off the gleaming tile floor.

“I cannot imagine why it is taking so long for them to bring our carriage around.” Mother strode into the entry hall where our little group waited. “I asked a servant to bring some tea for your head, Tressa.”

“I’ll be fine, Mother.” I rubbed my temples where they ached. “Just a bit tired.”

“It’s the bowls of dried lavender.” Ellen glided toward me and placed a companionable hand on my back. “Someone is enamored with it and has placed it all over the lower floor.”

“Perhaps they’re trying to chase us out sooner, for I cannot wait to curl up in the carriage and close my eyes.”

“Come, let’s settle you in this chair.” Ellen led me by the arm to a white-and-gold chair against the wall and urged me to sit. “I would stay and see to your comfort of course, but we shouldn’t keep the groom holding our carriage any longer. I’m sure yours will be along in a blink, and we’ll all be home by dinnertime.”

“You would leave your relations waiting while you journey home?” Donegan Vance stepped into the hall, once again dressed in a tunic, dark pants, and tall boots. “Politeness would suggest you offer the first carriage to those who host you in their home, even if it is a sordid old trap on wheels.”

My head pounded at his curt reprimand, and the stark light of morning beamed onto Donegan from the window, highlighting the blunt contours of his face. In that moment I was even more convinced of my true feelings—or rather, the lack of feelings—for the man before me.

“I know of no such standard.” Neville’s smooth voice fell from his lips. “Besides, our trap on wheels, as you call it, isn’t fit to carry these ladies who are obviously used to far better.”

“I’m sure Miss Harlowe would forgo her usual standards of luxury to find relief for her headache. Why not allow Miss Harlowe and her lady’s maid to take your carriage now and prepare the servants for the family’s early arrival? I can accompany them and see to their safety, then you may both ride home in the comfort of the Harlowes’ conveyance.”

Regret flamed into traces of resentment toward this man who suddenly thought he could dictate what I wanted, what I would do, because of a kiss. What had I been thinking, allowing such liberties last night? For once, Mother had been right.

Neville spoke again. “You assume she wishes your company, even at the risk of her reputation. Enduring a ride with you—”

“Might not be entirely objectionable to her.”

I frowned as my fate was laid out by these two men, neither of whom I cared for at the moment. Did Donegan Vance crave argument every second of the day? I took a bold step forward. “And then again, perhaps it might.”

This time I steeled myself as Donegan’s penetrating gaze swung to meet mine. His face flamed with surprise, but he said nothing. I dreaded watching his expression melt into hurt at my subtle rejection, but it remained unchanged.

I took the opportunity to end the debate on travel arrangements as firmly as possible. “I believe your horse can be brought around with a simple request to a groom, Mr. Vance. There’s no need for you to see us off. My cousins shall be leaving presently, and our carriage will not be far behind.”

Like a gun firing a bullet, these words released Ellen and Neville out the door. I stood for several awkward moments watching the groom assist my cousins into their carriage, wondering what I should say next to Donegan. But what could I say, with Mother hovering over us? When the pair had been loaded along with our lady’s maids, their conveyance jerked forward and started toward home.

As our carriage crunched around the long circle drive to the door soon after, Donegan leaned close enough for only me to hear his words. “I apologize if my company is now unwelcome. I suppose I was mistaken in offering it.”

Mother stepped forward and tucked her hand in the crook of my arm, and I turned for one last glance at the man. “We all make mistakes that do not occur to us in the moment.” The meaning of my words seemed to sink into the depths of his expression and harden his features.

So he would be angry at me now. It could not be helped, I suppose. I bound up the guilt in my heart by recalling what Dr. Caine had said. I was merely one in a long string of women and experiences for him, soon to be forgotten.

As the footmen piled our luggage onto the carriage, I tried not to think about Father’s notebook in Donegan’s possession and what might become of it now. I should have waited until returning home to speak this way, but I was no actress. I could not pretend to have certain feelings a moment longer than I truly possessed them. Wasn’t it he who endlessly encouraged me to be honest?

In the carriage, when the lull of a long country drive had put Mother to sleep, I once again met the smiling eyes of Dr. Caine seated across from me.

“It seems you’ve decided against Mr. Vance after all.”

I sighed. “I merely had a weak moment, a crack in my common sense, and he was there to fill it.”

He studied me with idle amusement. “You know, I’m not quite sure you belong at a dreary place like Trevelyan. You’re far too bright and intelligent to be cooped up so. Have you considered going to London? It would give you a chance to excite your imagination.” He offered an understanding smile. “And perhaps forget about certain young men.”

“I’m afraid going to town does nothing but dull it. Trevelyan excites my imagination more than any other place on earth. I feel as if I’m only half alive when I’m anywhere else.”

On the journey home, we spoke freely of many things from literature to marriage before falling into peaceful silence, and I couldn’t help but respect this man who was, without effort, endearing himself to me greatly. For a flickering moment, I had the traitorous thought that he should be my father rather than Josiah Harlowe.

“I am grateful for your words of wisdom today, Dr. Caine. I hope you don’t mind me saying it, but you’ve become like a guardian to me, in the absence of . . .”

His gentle face softened. “I only wish I could be your true father. What a blessing of a daughter you would be.”

These words brought an unexpected prayer of thanks to my heart. Even though God had not yet revealed the treasure to me, he was caring for me in the background of my daily life. I lifted a smile to the man and wondered if, after everything, I’d end up with a father after all.

“I wanted you to know that if you are ever in need of anything, I am at your service. Every girl needs a protector in whom she can trust, and you may freely ask of me anything you need.”

I tucked his words into a sacred place in my mind, storing them there to be taken out and used in a dark time that likely lay ahead. “Thank you for the great kindness you’ve shown me, Dr. Caine. You are a life raft in stormy waters.”

His weathered face crinkled into a pleasant smile and we slipped into silence. I rested my chin on my arm in the open window to watch the newly watered grass fly by, studying the few lone cottages and ruins along the way. We turned and the scenery became vast expanses of water on the left beyond the steep dropoff as we climbed a hill along a coastal road.

As my tired mind was lulled into a sleepy stupor, a slight tremor in the carriage disturbed my peace. Water roared far below us as we continued to climb the coastal road. Then the vehicle shuddered in earnest and panic jolted me upright. Mother awoke and braced herself against the side of the carriage as it jerked and banged over rocks and veered toward each side of the road in turns.

Wood splintered underneath us and the horses surged forward with grunts and whinnies as our damaged vehicle wobbled perilously toward either edge of the road. I couldn’t even scream. Hot and cold chased through my body. I clung to the window, willing the carriage to veer right, away from the steep drop. It jerked hard to the left, discharging something heavy from the roof. I watched with horror as Mother’s elegant blue steamer trunk hurtled over the cliff, banging down the rocks.

I clung harder. Dizziness overtook my senses.

With two final jerks that gave me far too clear a view of the water below, the carriage lurched right and crashed into the side of the rocky hill. Horses bucked with a clink of reins against the dead weight behind them, but to no avail. We were stuck.

I forced breath in and out and closed my eyes, hand to my fluttering heart. The overhead clunk signaled the dismount of our driver. After a clatter and grumble, his round face appeared in the window beside Mother. “My lady, I’m afraid we cannot go on. The wheel has dislodged and the impact of hitting the road has broken the axle.”

“Not go on?” Her breathless voice was thin with panic. “We’re in the middle of the road! What shall we do, jump into the water?”

“We’re a short piece from a little wayside inn, if it remains in business. We’ll have to delay there while we see about repairing the carriage. The inn’s a quarter of a mile or so.”

“And what will become of our things still strapped to the carriage?”

His dirt-smeared face wrinkled into a frown. “You might have to go on without them. We cannot risk being struck by another carriage on this road, or we’ll be—”

“Mother, it’ll be an adventure.” I clutched her hand and shot a warning glare at the driver to discontinue his dire projection. “We’ll have our second night away from home just as you wished, in a charming seaside inn. It’ll be lovely, and then we’ll return home well rested.”

Hopefully they would merely hand us a note for our stay here and we could add it to our growing debt when we returned home.

Mother straightened. “I shall remain here with my things. Who knows what sort of bandits lay about these parts.”

I dared not glance down at the raging waters below or imagine what would become of her if another carriage thundered around that corner before we returned. “It isn’t raining this time, and a walk will do you good.”

The driver cleared his throat. “Dr. Caine, if you would be kind enough to take the ladies on to the inn, I’ll warn off other drivers and see what can be done about rescuing the horses.” Then he stepped close to me. “I’m afraid the carriage and belongings may be lost. I cannot manage both the baggage and the horses, miss.”

“Save the horses, let the rest go.”

Mother clutched my arm at these words. “My trunk! We must fetch it. Oh Tressa, I cannot leave it down there.”

“Mother, we can’t possibly climb down that rock face. They are just things, and not worth the risk.”

She gripped my hands in her gloved ones, squeezing with the force of her frantic words. “They’re all I have left. The only part of him.”

“Mother, what are you talking about?”

“The beads from India. I’ve nothing else from my brother, and I shall never see him again.” Great tears poured down her face.

“You brought those beads? What possessed you to do such a thing?”

With shoulders trembling, she looked at the ground and leaned on me. “He told me when he sent them home forty years ago that I wasn’t to hide them away. That he wanted me to wear them whenever I could. No other jewelry is so precious to me.”

My eyes slid closed in helplessness as I wrapped an arm around her delicate frame and turned her away from the cliffs, picturing my own little opal ring. I said nothing, for there was nothing to say. Any promises made would be empty ones, and words of comfort would fall short. Together we trudged up the hill, Mother’s weary body leaning heavily on mine. She’d been crushed when her brother Roger, father to Neville, had been killed abroad in service to the queen. Watching her lose the last remnant of his affection toward her brought back the wretched memory of those days of grief, as if she’d lost him again.

The groom came panting up behind us, and I released Mother into Dr. Caine’s care and fell back to see what he wanted. He spoke in a low voice. “Someone has tampered with the carriage, miss. That was not a mere accident. I just thought you should know.”

I shuddered as I nodded, and forced my mind to remain on moving forward. I channeled every ounce of strength toward not thinking about who had done such a thing or about our four sleek horses still tethered to the carriage on that horrible winding road.

We did not arrive at the inn until we’d traveled twice the estimated distance, and by then we couldn’t even see the carriage behind us. The three-story stone building with three chimneys and half a dozen gables sat atop a small hill, welcoming and full of life. I remained with Mother while Dr. Caine journeyed toward the inn to inquire about overnight lodgings. The sun had begun to descend, lighting the decrepit pile of fishermen’s homes below us with a soft orange and pink glow. Storm clouds rolled over the dying light of day.

“Bad news, I’m afraid.” The doctor approached with a posture of apology hunching his frame. “They’ve no room for us, and they suggested we journey back or toward home immediately. It does look like rain.”

I looked to the doctor, pleading for him to offer a solution. “Haven’t they a small back room they can spare us? Anything?”

He only shook his head. “Nothing but cider and tea and well wishes.”

When rain began to drip from cloudy skies, we stumbled into the crudely appointed serving room for lack of any better plan. I sighed under the invisible weight resting on my shoulders as we settled at one of the thick wooden tables, wondering what should be done when nothing really could be done.

Mother spoke up to the woman serving our drinks. “I need to hire a man to fetch my trunk. Can you send someone around?”

“Aye, someone’ll go after it, if you truly want them to. Be warned they’ll be helping themselves to a large fee from its contents for their trouble.” She cackled heartily.

“My beads.” Mother gripped my arm. “My necklaces from Roger. I can’t bear the idea of them down the cliff like rubbish.”

I shared a glance with Dr. Caine and avoided voicing the response uppermost in my mind: better your beads than us.

Practical and somewhat crude, the lower level where we sat began to fill with plainly dressed working-class patrons. The place was somewhere between the elegance to which we were accustomed and the fishing shanties lining the beach below.

“We close up in a matter of hours. You’d best find lodging for the night.” The server spoke plainly but firmly.

Mother looked to me with wide eyes of desperation that begged me to fix the situation. I glanced about for an answer. Would they forcibly eject us if we lay down upon the benches along the wall?

When each of us had drained two mugs of cider, no solution had occurred to me. Rain dripped off the rotting eaves of the place, and all I could do was beg God for help. Make a way when there seems to be no way, God.

More time passed in which we silently waited for brilliance to strike.

The proprietor approached as closing time neared. “It seems it’s time to leave, my lady.”

“Where do you propose we go?” I straightened, preparing for a debate.

“Home, I suspect. Your carriage be out front blocking me whole entrance.”

I jumped up and ran to the doorway, grabbing the white frame, and took in a magnificent sight. There stood our sleek carriage with four perfectly aligned horses, simply waiting to carry us home. I uttered a small cry and ran to touch it. The battered side attested to its recent misadventure, but everything on the underside, from the wheel to the axle, appeared perfectly positioned and firm. I stood before the rescued vehicle and closed my eyes, turning my face heavenward. Thank you, Lord. Thank you.

The rest of the party joined me and soon we were all packed inside and ready to depart. “Mother, who brought our carriage around from the road? Did they tell you?”

She pursed her lips with a smile around the answer that obviously delighted her. “It was Andrew. He found no one willing to repair it, so he fixed it himself in the barn. Isn’t it perfect? His Tressa is in trouble and he comes to her rescue. He’s loved you all these years.” She laid a hand on my knee across from her. “No one is perfect, you know. You can’t expect to find anyone who is.”

Biting my lip, I tried to rearrange my thoughts and final decisions regarding the man. It would not have surprised me to see him throw a bit of money at the problem and hire someone to repair it, but to climb on the ground and fix it himself? This was an unexpected turn. Perhaps he’d seen it as yet another puzzle to solve—or an apology for his cowardice last night.

“He got the horses to pull it up the hill all himself. The woman said he was simply covered in mud, head to boots. All for you, Tressa dear.”

I met her gaze and spoke honestly. “I don’t know how to return to loving him, Mother. He crushed all that when he left, and I cannot put the pieces back together again.”

Her lovely eyes softened as she leaned toward me. “My dear Tressa. It’s a man’s task to love and a woman’s task to accept it. Loving a man more than he loves you will only drive him to annoyance and resentment, but a marriage can be built on a man adoring a woman who remains just out of reach. He’ll never cease trying to earn your affections, and believe me, with the right man that sort of life is not terrible.”

Doubt filtered her words as they fell on my ears, for last night had made me aware of a vast wealth of passion waiting to be released upon the man I would marry someday, and I could not imagine merely doling it out in little drops for someone to chase. After a lifetime of bottling such passion, it would likely explode in utter chaos if it had no release.

Yet the thought of restoring the relationship whose loss had caused such pain enticed me. Perhaps it would repair what was broken and allow me to live as a whole and healthy person.

As the carriage lurched forward, I hung out the window for a final glance back. Perhaps the sight of Andrew covered in mud for my sake would ease my heart toward him. But a stream of light from the stables fell upon a different figure perched atop a proud stallion, black cloak flapping over muddy clothes that clung to his body. There in the shadows, Donegan Vance watched our little company depart as the wind whipped his dark curls over his masculine face. My heart somersaulted through all manner of confusion.

I breathed deeply of the moist air, then settled back into my springy seat. “Mother, who told you about Andrew repairing the carriage?”

“Why, the proprietor, of course. She said a handsome man from our party who was traveling separately was responsible. He must have completed his business matters speedily and come to seek you out. Can you imagine? All that he did for us, after the way you ignored him last night.”

I watched that darkly cloaked figure and his horse until we rounded a corner and they were out of sight, and somehow it was fitting. More so than if I’d seen Andrew there watching from the shadows. “No, Mother. I can’t imagine.”