AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lenora blinked. “Home? You mean to the townhouse in London? But I thought you gave up the lease?”
“No, not to London.” She drew in a deep breath. “To Dewbury.”
There was no need to give her reason for returning. Not with Lenora. Understanding and sadness flared in her eyes. No, Lenora would know that returning to Dewbury, the little hamlet close to Epping Manor and the seat of the Viscounts Tesh for generations, did not mean Margery was returning to see her father.
She had seen her father once since he’d turned her out of the house, when he’d visited her in London just after they’d learned of Aaron’s death. He had decreed in his brusque way that she was to return to his home and care for her stepmother.
Margery had told him in no uncertain terms that she would never do that, and had not had contact with him since. And she had no intention of changing that now.
Aaron’s family home, on the other hand, where he had grown up, where she had been welcomed as a child, where she and Aaron had stayed for several days as a newly married couple shortly after their elopement before heading to London…
She bit her lip. Perhaps in going back there she might feel close to him again, and remember what they had been to one another.
And maybe, if God was kind, she might stop loving the one man she shouldn’t.
Chapter 21
Margery left for Dewbury within the hour. A necessity, she knew, for the more time she thought about returning to Aaron’s childhood home the more chance she had of reversing her course. The ferry trip and carriage ride there, five hours on a good day, would do enough damage to her resolve.
Something that was proven as the carriage approached the turn into the small hamlet.
Dewbury, just outside of Ampleforth, was something out of a fairy tale. Small stone cottages with trim little gardens, a wide main avenue, ancient trees that shaded a neat green. The sun had just dipped below the horizon, the light of day quickly fading, yet there was still life about, men and women returning home from a day of work, small children running at their mothers’ calls, eager for their dinners.
Margery’s heart lurched in her chest at the sight of it. It was all so very dear to her, so very familiar. She had spent much of her childhood on Synne with her grandmother. But the majority of those halcyon days had been spent at Epping Manor, or running wild here in Dewbury. Here was where she had met and struck up a friendship with the blacksmith’s son, where they had played. Where they had fallen in love.
She bit her lip to keep from crying. She had not been back here since leaving with Aaron, beginning what she had thought was to be a long and happy life together.
How very wrong she had been.
The carriage pulled up before the small inn. Before she could compose herself, Gran’s groom opened the door and held out a hand for her. Swallowing hard, Margery descended to the street and entered the building.
She had known this visit would be difficult. But seeing Mrs. Manning behind the desk, so very familiar, made her realize just how difficult it would be.
The woman’s eyes widened as large as saucers from behind her spectacles when she spied Margery. “As I live and breathe. Miss Ladbrook, is that you? Ah,” she said, pity saturating her features. “I mean Mrs. Kitteridge. I was so very sorry to hear of Aaron’s death, my dear. He was such a good boy. All of us in Dewbury miss him terribly.”
It wasn’t the pity that struck Margery so forcefully. It was the sugary words of affection for a man the village had reviled in his final days here. Margery had been the local nobleman’s daughter, who had married so far beneath her that her own father had cast her out. The scandal had been well known in Dewbury. And suddenly Margery remembered the ridicule that Aaron had dealt with in marrying her. While she had been pitied for marrying down, Aaron had been despised for daring to marry so far above his station. It had pained him, she knew, having these people who he had grown up around turn their backs on him.
And now that he was gone, they would think of him fondly?
Without a word, unable to speak for the grief and anger closing her throat, Margery spun about and stormed out of the inn. And ran right into a large male with arms the size of tree trunks.
“My God,” the man exclaimed in awe. “Margery? Could it truly be you?”
At the sight of Aaron’s father, still strong and broad though decidedly older, his tanned face made ruddy and lined from a thousand fires—as well as the grief of losing his only son—Margery’s hold on her composure slipped completely. The fury of moments ago vanished, leaving only a bone-deep grief in its place. Hot tears spilled over then, tracking in rivers down her cheek, and she could do naught but stare at this man who held remnants of Aaron in his gentle eyes.
“Ah, my girl,” he murmured. Placing a burly arm about her shoulders, he guided her down the street. “Come along, and we’ll get you a bracing cup of tea. No worries, my good man,” he continued, presumably to Gran’s groom. “I’m the lady’s father-in-law; I’ll make certain she’s safe.”
Their walk to his house was a haze for Margery. The only things she was aware of were the comfort of his arm about her, and his soothing, rough baritone murmuring in her ear. Soon they were tucked in his small kitchen, Margery gently pressed into a sturdy wooden chair. He worked slowly as he boiled water, and Margery, her shock receding at this comforting familiarity, saw what she had missed before: shoulders still broad but stooped now, hands stiffer than they had been, the knuckles knotted. He winced and fumbled as he grabbed the wooden handle of the kettle.
Margery was on her feet in an instant. “Let me get that for you,” she said with a gentle smile.
An embarrassed flush stained his cheeks but he nodded his thanks and sat at the table with a weary sigh. “These hands aren’t what they used to be, I’m afraid,” he said, his voice gruff.
Margery cast him a worried look as she filled a pair of plain stoneware cups and carried them to the table. “Are you able to work?”
“Haven’t for a year now. My youngest daughter’s husband has taken over the business.” His chest, still wide, puffed up, a light returning to his eyes. “He’s got a talent, that one. My Joan was lucky to snap Bill up. And they have a wee one now, too. They’re out for the time being but should be back soon. They’ll be so very happy to see you.”
Margery smiled, remembering Aaron’s sister, a dark-haired imp who had followed them about, causing chaos with her high spirits and mischievous ways. Fetching the milk and sugar, she placed them on the table before taking a seat herself across from Aaron’s father. And so Joan had wed Bill? It was hard to imagine the girl married, and a mother. It made Margery realize just how much time had passed since she’d left.
