Drops of Gold(77)

Layton leaned back against the trunk of an obliging tree and thought about that. He had to admit there was truth in it. Even after accepting that God might not have condemned him, he’d continued to condemn himself, berating himself as a failure. “I couldn’t save Bridget.”

“I think, Layton, the one you were meant to save was Caroline.”

“Caroline,” he whispered.

“She could have suffered enormously at losing her mother.” Philip flung another stone across the river’s surface. “Instead, she is happy and loving and loved. You saved her, Layton. You saved her.”

Saved Caroline. He hadn’t entirely failed his daughter. In fact, she seemed quite happy, especially since Marion had come to them.

“I hope we will see you in church every Sunday.” Philip wandered toward the water’s edge. “Throckmorten has decided to retire to some other county. I am thinking of offering the living to Harold after he takes Orders.”

“I think you had planned to all along,” Layton said.

“I should have replaced Throckmorten long ago.” He shook his head in obvious frustration with himself. “I knew he was cold and uncaring, but I told myself things weren’t bad enough to warrant letting him go. If I’d been here more often, I might have realized how vicious he had become, how unpleasant and hateful a place he had made the church. Father would not have allowed things to go on this long.” Philip’s shoulders dropped. He rubbed at the back of his neck, his posture one of disappointment. “I should have dismissed Throckmorten years ago instead of waiting for Holy Harry to grow up.”

“Harry will do very well.”

“Yes, he will,” Philip answered with a hint of pride in his voice. “Does that mean I won’t have Caroline climbing all over me during the sermon from now on?” A certain urgency in his tone belied his casual choice of words.

“I always did like attending services,” Layton remembered wistfully.

“You were the only one of us brothers who actually read your prayer book outside of church.”

“Harry did,” Layton reminded him.

“Harry preached from it,” Philip corrected, flashing a grin over his shoulder. “Entirely different matter.”

“Holy Harry.” Layton laughed as he shook his head. “I suppose I should show up for a sermon or two. Support the family, you know.”

“I would appreciate that,” Philip said. “Without the benefit of Lady Marion’s calming influence, Caroline would wreak havoc on the masterpiece my valet makes of me every morning.”

Layton knew he was supposed to laugh, but his brain was caught on the first part of that sentence. Marion was leaving. He’d almost forgotten. She would be gone soon.

“Caroline was quite beside herself when she said good-bye in the churchyard,” Philip said.

“Good-bye?”

“Lord Grenton and Lady Marion left for Derbyshire immediately after services. You weren’t there. It’s one of the reasons I came looking for you. Perhaps it was only my imagination, but I thought you would have wanted to at least say good-bye.”

“She’s gone?” Panic swelled in him.

“She’ll be miles from here by now. They’ve been on the road at least two hours.”

Two hours! How long had he been sitting on the banks of the river?

“Have you ever seen anything quite like that before?” Philip asked, pointing toward the river. Layton barely registered the rhetorical question. Would Marion come back? Write, at least? “End of February, and we have a whole assemblage of autumn leaves holding court right there in the river.”

“Leaves?” Layton came to stand beside Philip.

At least a dozen leaves, the golden brown of late fall, swirled amongst the roots of a tree growing close to the water’s edge.

“Drops of Gold.”

“Drops of Gold?” Philip replied incredulously.

“Marion.” Layton half sighed the name as he fished out a handful of damp leaves. “What have I done, Flip?” There was no answer. He didn’t need one. “I have to stop her.”

“Take Devil’s Advocate,” Philip immediately offered. “He’s tied to a tree back a few yards.”

“You rode here?” Layton asked, hardly believing he’d missed the sound of a horse’s approach.

“I led him. I figured you couldn’t chase down your lady fair without a daring steed.”

“But how did you know . . . ?”

“Sorrel told me.” Philip shrugged. “And I always listen to my Sorrel. She is by far the more intelligent of the two of us.”