The visit to Sir Walter’s manor house fourteen summers past was the last time Abbie had been in this area. Shortly thereafter, Abbie married Elwyn, and Alberta married the barrister, Reese Eaton, and lived outside of London for close to ten years. They had visited sporadically throughout the decade, but their letter correspondence never abated, nor did the affection and high regard that they held for each other. Today it was being put to the test.
Alberta sat, stunned, as Abbie relayed what Garrett had told her about Jonas and Megan in the gatehouse. “Oh, Lord. And here I said with such confidence that Jonas had never shown any romantic inclinations.”
Abbie passed her dear friend a fresh cup of tea. “He is a man, after all. With a young man’s yearnings, even if he is not sure what it all means.”
Alberta’s hand shook as she clasped the saucer. “I have been dreading this conversation. How to even broach it with Jonas?”
“Perhaps Garrett could speak to him.”
“A fine idea. I will ask Tensbridge to attend as well. He and Jonas have grown close the past couple of months. Jonas looks up to him. I know this is an imposition, but could you deliver a note for me tonight when you go to the hall?”
“Yes, of course.”
Alberta sighed wistfully. “And what do we do about Megan and Jonas? Keep them apart indefinitely? Seems cruel.”
“We will have to set boundaries. Certain rules of engagement. Perhaps Megan will grow out of this; perhaps it is only a girlish infatuation.” Abbie hesitated, taking a small bite from her biscuit and chewing thoughtfully. “Or perhaps she truly loves him, just the way he is. A young girl’s heart can be fickle, but mine never was. Perhaps my daughter is the same.”
“Goodness, are you suggesting they could marry one day?” Alberta’s tone was dubious.
Abbie smiled. “As my daughter pointed out to me not an hour past, she can marry. It is legal. Any girl can at her age, though most rarely do.”
Shocked, Alberta took another sip of tea. “Good heavens, what are they teaching her at that school?”
“The law of the land, I suppose, and, shockingly, twelve is the legal age of consent. Most young women wait to marry until they are eighteen. Do we impose such a restriction? Four years is a long time. However, it may be long enough to see if their love is constant and real.” Abbie reached for another biscuit. “And to see if Megan grows up a little. As it stands today, she is far too immature.”
“Yes, and if she wishes to marry Jonas, she will have to understand and accept his limitations. She would have to be fully able to handle it…and him. Truly, she will have to be the mature one in their relationship, if there is to be one. Oh, what a quandary. On one hand, I would be thrilled at such a union . Alas…” Alberta’s eyebrows knotted with worry.
Alas indeed. What a jumbled mess. Abbie should have stayed in her tidy little bungalow and forgot she ever saw Garrett Wollstonecraft at the sanatorium. It had been impulsive of her to come here—usually not her nature—but their entire past relationship had been impulsive.
Abbie closed her eyes briefly, reliving the kiss in the orangery. The desire between them still subsisted, pulsing with life. She came here to see if the intense love she’d felt for him years past still lingered. It did. She could choose to ignore it, allow it to return to a dormant state. Two days hence, she could hire another coach, return to Standon, and not look back.
But Garrett would never leave her in peace, whether he was physically in the vicinity or not. He’d stormed back into her life with the force of one of those new steam train engines. The only way she could move on was to confront the past and accept the present.
If there could be nothing further between them, better to face it head-on then continue always to wonder what if. It would take an infinite degree of courage. This time she would fight for what she believed in and follow where ever it leads—but remain wary. For she would not survive having her heart broken… again.
* * * *
Garrett arrived promptly at eight o’clock, driving a brougham, no doubt one of many carriages the affluent family owned. He assisted Abbie and Megan into the conveyance; he sat above in the box seat. Taking the reins, he clicked his tongue and the fine black gelding whickered and moved forward at a slow canter. Megan gazed sadly out the window at the Eatons’ residence as it disappeared from view.
“It’s only two nights. We will return to Alberta’s, I promise. Now, will you behave civilly and act as a proper young lady while we stay at the Wollstonecrafts? No pouting or sulking. If you wish me to consider a possible union between you and Jonas, you must discontinue acting like a spoiled young girl. Do you understand?” Abbie kept her tone polite, but firm.
Megan met her gaze, an incredulous look on her flushed face. “Consider? Truly?”
“There is much to discuss, and Garrett Wollstonecraft will be involved in those discussions, but you must prove that you are capable of acting in a grown-up fashion.”
Megan’s eyes glistened. “I will, I promise. I love Jonas to distraction. My feelings will never waver.”
“Well, that remains to be seen. Threatening to marry him without my permission is not the way to go about this.”
Megan lowered her head. “I am sorry, Mama. The thought of never seeing him again upset me so.”
Abbie shook her head. “How dramatic. No one threatened you with never seeing Jonas.”
Frowning, Megan pointed to the front of the brougham, where Garrett sat outside on the bench seat. “He will. You did not see his face when he broke the door down at the gatehouse. Mama, he is scary.”
Abbie bit her lower lip to keep from smiling. “Anyone would have been shocked at your brazen behavior. He does have a temper, but I’ve found his anger often vanishes as quickly as it appears. I imagine that he’s the same as I remember.” She paused. Megan should know what kind of man her father is. “Allow me to tell you about Garrett. He is praiseworthy and generous. Do you know he’s been coordinating the renovations at Alberta and Jonas’s home? Even donated building supplies and labor. From what Alberta tells me, he has done it for many of the Wollstonecraft neighbors and tenants if they fell on hardships because of failed crops and the like.” She took her daughter’s hand. “He is a good man. Give him a chance. Give the family a chance.”
Megan sniffled. “All right, Mama. I will try.”
Perhaps she should heed her own words.
Moments later they arrived at the hall. As the sprawling residence came into view, Megan gasped. “What a magnificent house!”
It never failed to impress Abbie. Such a stark difference in style, but for some reason the eclectic divergence worked. Much like the men in the family. Heavens, butterflies formed in her stomach. She was eighteen all over again, coming to the hall for the first time.
The brougham came to a stop and a number of tall, handsome footmen rushed forward to help them from the carriage and take charge of their small cases. Martin, the butler, stood by the entrance and bowed. “Welcome to Wollstonecraft Hall, Mrs. Hughes, Miss Hughes.”
“Thank you,” Abbie replied.
Garrett came up behind her and laid his hand gently on her back. A roll of heat moved up and down her spine at his touch. “Father and Julian are in the Georgian parlor; it’s the wing that you will be staying in. We’ve set up a small tea as a welcome: sugar biscuits, frosted cakes, and assorted treats. Are you hungry, Megan?”
She whirled about to face Garrett, as she’d been completely caught up in inspecting the ornate Tudor hall. “I adore frosted cakes,” she replied politely.
Good girl. Abbie smiled. Make an effort.
Garrett escorted them to the parlor. When they entered the two men stood, and Abbie was struck by how little both had changed in fourteen years. Garrett’s father, the earl, still stood straight, a fine figure of a man who must be well into his sixties. More white hair than she remembered, a few more lines, but it only enhanced his classic handsomeness. His gaze softened as it landed on Megan. “Moira,” he whispered. His large blue eyes shimmered with emotion. The sadness in his eyes touched Abbie’s heart. He stepped forward. “Forgive me. Miss Hughes reminds me of my late wife, Garrett’s mother.”
“Megan, this is my father, the Earl of Carnstone,” Garrett said.
Megan gave a perfect curtsey. “My lord.” Well, the school turned out to be good for something, Abbie mused.
“Ah. Lovely.” The earl nodded his approval. He stepped toward Abbie and clasped her hand. “I do remember when you were here for the dinner all those years ago. I never would have guessed that there was anything between you and Garrett. You both hid it well.” He winked, and Abbie flushed in response. He bent over her hand, then released it.
“This is my older brother, Julian Wollstonecraft, Viscount Tensbridge,” Garrett said.
Besides threads of gray at his temples and those attractive little lines fanning out from his eyes, he hardly looked to be a man in his forties. He was certainly as self-contained as she remembered. The viscount bowed. “Mrs. Hughes, Miss Hughes.”
Abbie reached into her reticule and pulled out the note, then held it toward Garrett’s brother. “Alberta asked me to deliver this to you, my lord.”