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L
ady Lettice Jonesboro tamped on a sigh as she contemplated her embroidery for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour. Her stitches were impeccable and the colored threads pleasing enough, but the design of a flower bouquet didn’t hold her attention. Neither did the robust laughter from various family members around the drawing room where everyone had currently gathered, with the exception of her parents.
“Lucy, dear, what is so funny that you’ve turned into a giggle box?” She set her fancywork aside, for it wouldn’t be finished anytime soon.
A sudden flush stained her daughter’s cheeks. She glanced over with wide eyes. “Uncle Graham told a silly story. I laughed because everyone else did, but I don’t know why a parrot in his cups is so funny.”
Letty hid her smile with her fingertips. “Don’t spend too much time with your ne’er-do-well uncles.”
“But they’re funny and lovely!” Her daughter flung herself into Stephen’s arms.
He hauled her into his lap and shot an affectionate grin at Letty. “Don’t worry. We won’t corrupt your daughter.”
“Much,” Graham added with a laugh.
She didn’t quite trust the mischievous expressions on their faces, for they only served to make her miss her husband more acutely. Would he have been right there in that knot of her brothers, causing trouble and playing tricks?
Of course he would. Especially now at Christmastide. It was his favorite time of year.
“We’re thinking that if the snow tapers off later, we’ll take Lucy and John sledding,” Stephen said while trying to keep a straight face. “Will we meet with objections from you?”
All three brothers, plus Stephen’s soon-to-be stepson, as well as Lucy, looked her way.
“You have my permission, but if it grows too cold, the children should come inside. No exceptions.” She sounded much like the headmistress she was, so she modulated her tones. “After that, perhaps you could persuade Cook to warm some drinking chocolate and part with a platter of her special Christmas pastries.”
Lynette—Stephen’s fiancée—nodded. “I’ll arrange that when everyone is outside.”
Before Letty could respond, Nora—Griffin’s fiancée—entered the drawing room with her black medical bag in hand. She frowned. “Is there a problem, Nora?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but I’m looking for the duke. It’s time for his afternoon tincture and I can’t find him anywhere.”
Letty cleared her throat. “Has his condition worsened?” There’d been whispered talk through the family regarding the duke’s health; he’d even admitted not so subtly that his heart was weak, yet he certainly didn’t act like it.
“I wouldn’t say that, but I do need to monitor him.” Doubt clouded her eyes. When her gaze landed on Letty’s oldest brother Griffin, though, her expression softened and her face lit, as if the misgivings had never occurred. “Have you heard from your father?”
“No, but I’ll go on the search with you.” He patted Lucy on the top of her head. “Don’t get into trouble without me.”
“I won’t, Uncle Griffin,” Lucy said with a smile that bordered on infatuation.
When the two left the room and her brother touched a hand to the small of Nora’s back, a stab of jealousy speared through Letty’s chest. She missed those little affectionate gestures, those niceties a man showed a woman he cared for her.
A trace of tears misted her eyes. If Henry hadn’t died prematurely, would they have had another child, perhaps two? Oh, Lucy would have been a wonderful older sister. Her heart ached so intensely that it stole her breath. Grieving was never over. At times it was held in the background, but then something would come along, and that pain would hit all over again, as strong as if the loss had just happened.
I need to remove myself from this situation before I become a watering pot. That was the last thing she wanted to do in front of her daughter. Emotion was perfectly acceptable, of course, but indulging in it overly much was cause for concern. Quickly, Letty stood and shook out the skirts of her navy gown. The satin sash of robin egg’s blue reminded her of Henry, for it was he who would always find the first broken open shells of those birds in the spring. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a few things to attend.” She met Graham’s eyes. “Behave yourself in front of the children.”
“Yes, Lady Lettice,” he shot off in tones as lifeless and lackluster as some of her students did.
Stephen shook his head. “Remember, sister dear, you’re on holiday and away from your precious school. There’s no need to act the proper headmistress around us.”
“I think, perhaps, there is every need, when the lot of you are two steps away from mischief all the time.”
“It’s a good jot better than being wicked, eh Letty?” Graham waggled his eyebrows.
When laughter rang out in the room, Letty shook her head. “You are all incorrigible. I wash my hands of you.” What Lucy truly needed was a male in her life that took life seriously and didn’t joke around all the time. She needed to know that somberness wasn’t a bad thing, and neither was respect.
I love my brothers, but I can’t help but feel they’re doing more harm than good with her.
“Letty?”
The softness in Stephen’s voice gave her pause. “Yes?” She narrowed her eyes as he moved toward her location.
“It’s all right if you let yourself have fun for a few minutes.” He touched her arm. “Henry wouldn’t mind if you found joy in some of the entertainments of the holiday season.”
“I know, but it seems so scandalous, feels too much like moving on without him.” A sigh escaped her. “As if I’d do his memory a disservice.”
Compassion and worry clouded in her brother’s eyes. “Above all, he’d want you to be happy, so isn’t doing exactly that dishonoring him as well?”
“I... I’ll think about that.” Moisture pooled in her eyes. “Please excuse me.” She swept out of the room and quick-marched through the corridors before the first of her tears fell. Even though Ivy Castle was a huge edifice, it felt all too smothering at the moment. Though she appreciated her family, she needed to talk with someone who’d gone through loss, who fought with grief, someone who wouldn’t offer up well-meaning platitudes in the hopes the words would ease the pain.
An image of the new Baron Henshaw flitted into her mind’s eye. She’d seen him only briefly last evening at the ball and had been surprised, for he was observing the requisite mourning period, yet neither of them had made an overture to speak with each other. Through gossip from her mother, she’d heard he’d recently lost his father and that was why he’d returned to the Warwickshire countrywide. Perhaps he felt much like her in grief.
Will he appreciate a social call?
In the event that he might, Letty made her way to the kitchen, where she ordered a basket of baked goods from the matronly cook. “Put in all your favorites, for I intend to run over to Beckwith Trace and welcome the new baron to the area. Since he’s in mourning, he and his sister might like to see a friendly, supportive face.”
“Of course, Lady Lettice. I’ll send you with a good showing from Ivy Castle,” the roundly-shaped woman replied with a grin and a wag of her head.
“Thank you.”
A half hour later, Letty finally escaped the confines of the castle. She tugged her cloak more tightly about her person. Though it was a foul day weatherwise, the cheerful robin’s egg blue wool lined with black satin kept her warm and provided a nice contrast against the unrelenting stark white. She wore the color often as a way to keep Henry close.
She adjusted her hold on the willow basket she carried. The errand she was currently on had been a spontaneous decision, for she couldn’t remain inside Ivy Castle with her well-intentioned family one second longer. A widow of four years, even the chattering of her five-year-old daughter had driven her to exasperation, as had the mischief of her brothers. They acted as if they were children again, the nodcocks. Someone should have some decorum, after all. But the closer the calendar moved to Christmas Day, the more melancholy Letty grew, and the greater the ache around her heart went. It didn’t matter how long ago she’d lost her Henry; at this season of the year, the time he loved the best, she remembered him all the more fiercely.
Lucy, the dear heart, adored Christmastide with that same tenacity, for she took after her father more than she did her. But sometimes that enthusiasm was like sending a hot poker into Letty’s chest. As did the happy chatter of her older twin brothers.
Griffin and Stephen had recently become engaged during the past few weeks with an alacrity that still made Letty catch her breath. How could they be certain the women they’d pledged their troth to were their true loves after such a short time together?
Not that she didn’t believe that lightning could strike and bring love or romance so swiftly; she’d experienced that herself when she’d wed Henry. However, it might be a tad suspect that both twins announced engagements within two weeks of each other.
Letty sighed. Her breath clouded about her head in the winter’s cold. Snowflakes dotted her cloak, settled on her upturned face as she briefly contemplated the swollen gray skies that promised more snow in the offing. Each kiss of the flakes cooled her overheated cheeks. Of late, her family had become stifling. Everywhere she turned within Ivy Castle seemed to scream love and romance, for Stephen had festooned the whole lower level with mistletoe. All too often she’d accidentally come across her brothers in corners or empty corridors stealing kisses with their fiancées. And each time made her heart ache with loneliness and grief.
Being unattached during this time of the year was trying indeed.
She needed time removed. Away from Ivy Castle, away from her siblings, away from her family, away from the memories. If that were possible. Letty didn’t mind the snow. In fact, she welcomed it, for each piece that stung her face or stuck to her eyelashes reminded her of days spent with Henry and all the times they’d spent at Ivy Castle during the winter months, exploring the property, playing games with her siblings, joining the area ton and gentry for gay holiday parties and gatherings.
It also prodded her to shed the tears she’d forced herself to ignore these past years, for she hadn’t really had time to herself to grieve properly, since she’d been a mother with a one-year-old when Henry had perished on that far-away battlefield. Then she’d become the headmistress of a girls’ finishing school shortly afterward, due to the fact she’d needed to financially support herself and her daughter.
As she trudged through the snow, letting her thoughts wander, Henry lingered at the back of her mind as he always did, but her musings meandered to her childhood when she and her brothers couldn’t wait to run through the snow or dig out the sleds and sleighs to zip all over the acreage. They’d played with area children and practically lived outside until bright red noses and nearly frozen fingers sent them inside for warmth.
She blew out another breath. The willow basket in her hand recalled her to the errand she’d concocted on the spur of the moment. Last night she’d spied Courtland Beckwith in the ballroom of Ivy Castle, but he hadn’t come over to speak to her nor had he asked her to dance. Instead, he’d chatted briefly with her parents, talked to a few people, but he’d made his escape. They’d been close friends in childhood and during their adolescent years. There’d been deep-seated grief in his eyes, discernable even at a distance—at least to her—and it had tugged at her heart, for she understood that emotion all too well.
That, coupled with the need to flee the castle, had resulted in the trek through the snow. Though the accumulation came up to her ankles and made walking slower than usual, the exercise helped to clear her mind. Perhaps the additional time in the weather would assist in controlling her imminent emotional torrent. Besides, the baron and his sister might appreciate a welcome back to the Warwickshire area. Yet why did she feel compelled to seek him out now? If she went by the gossip of the county, the baron had returned nearly three weeks prior.
If she were honest with herself, she could say she didn’t know. However, that wasn’t her way. Letty smiled to herself. He’d been handsome last night, had grown into a tall, dark man with exquisitely tailored clothing and hair done in the latest popular style, straight out of the novels she forbade her students to waste their time reading, and her curiosity had been piqued. Would he remember her from their childhood?
Heat slapped at her cheeks. Oh, she’d had such a secret crush on him as a young woman! And if she were being further honest with herself, she wished to know if those feelings had lingered. Not that she planned on doing anything with the knowledge if they did. Lightning didn’t strike twice when it came to love.
Letty sucked in a surprised breath. Was that what she searched for, love? Surely not. And with Courtland Beckwith? She shook her head even though there was no one around to see it. He was a childhood friend, nothing more. A man in grief, perhaps, who she could help through those often-dark pathways, for she’d had more years of experience on him in that.
Nothing more.
Thirty minutes later, she walked up the drive that led to Beckwith Trace. The tidy manor house featured green ivy vines on the front in the summertime. The plant life had withered away with the winter, but the absence didn’t hinder its charm. Smoke curled from a few of the chimneys. Warmth would feel heavenly right now, for her feet were frozen, as were her fingers inside the gloves she’d worn.
Her right foot landed wrong, either on a rock beneath the snow or in a small hole. Pain wrenched through her ankle, and with a cry, Letty fell to the ground, landing hard on her palms. The basket she’d carried was tossed a few feet away. Only one hand pie had escaped.
Well, this is rather ignoble and no way to make a decent impression.
When she attempted to stand, she tumbled into a heap with another cry of pain. The ankle was either turned or broken. What to do now when the steps up to the manor’s front door were at least twenty feet away and Ivy Castle was much farther than that?