Chapter Twenty-Eight
Whitney handed her card to the butler of the neat redbrick building overlooking the channel, heart in her throat. She hoped she was doing the right thing by imposing upon a connection, because the alternative was too horrible to bear. “I believe Lord Acton told you to expect me.”
The doorway widened to admit her immediately, and an old man without a scrap of hair on his head smiled widely. “He certainly wrote that it was a possibility you would come. Welcome, Miss Crewe.”
She spared her companions a quick glance of relief then entered. Whitney stepped into a pleasant front hall and sighed at the peaceful atmosphere surrounding her.
“Ah, what a charming home.” The past few days and nights had not been ideal for her. Everett’s generous offer of his unoccupied property, save for a pair of servants, not far from the port, was perfect for her needs. It was close enough to her ship and a relieving distance from the unsavory characters who had appeared suddenly at the inn she’d settled into. Staying, despite the changed mood of the place, had been essential until her companions had arrived to join her. She was very glad to have an alternative so readily available to her party.
“May I introduce my companion, Mrs. Roberts? Her husband, Thomas, will be along shortly with our luggage.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance. Lord Acton was very keen to be of assistance, should you require his help.” The man rang a bell to his left. “There’s just the two of us, myself and the housekeeper, who will come along at any moment to settle you in. Let me first help with your luggage.”
A rail-thin older woman appeared and ushered Whitney into a nearby parlor. “Would you care for tea, my lady?”
“It is Miss Crewe,” Whitney stressed. “And tea would be lovely indeed.”
She fretted until her luggage was carried inside, but directed the servants to store almost all of her belongings in the dining room. She would need very little luggage for the one evening she planned to stay in Everett’s home.
The butler shut the front door and rejoined her. “There now,” he said with a satisfied smile. “His lordship will be very glad to know you have come. He was quite concerned for your welfare in his letters.”
“Letters?”
“Yes, indeed. There have been several about you.”
Mrs. Roberts nudged her. “He is still thinking of you.”
Whitney sighed, realizing she had blubbered on Mrs. Roberts’ shoulder far too much since meeting the woman. She couldn’t seem to help herself, and laughed nervously, hoping to make light of the matter before Everett’s man. “He’s very kind.”
“He must have truly been in love with you,” Roberts whispered. “Men only fuss this way if they care about a woman very deeply.”
Whitney swallowed, fighting another bout of tears, resolutely squaring her shoulders and trying to put what might have been firmly behind her. “When you have the opportunity, please convey to his lordship my appreciation of his generosity in allowing me to stay,” she choked out.
“Tell him he may very well have saved her virtue, too,” Mrs. Roberts added.
The butler’s eyes widened in alarm. “What has happened?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Whitney promised the fellow before he was too shocked, casting a sour look at her new companion. The woman was as blunt as a well-used axe. Whitney usually liked that trait in her friends, but not so much today.
Nothing had happened, thanks to the stout wood and locks on her door and the timely arrival of her traveling companions. Discovering she wasn’t invulnerable at the inn had been a very nasty shock. “The inn was much too crowded for me to remain another day.”
“Noisy?”
“Ooh yes, until all hours.”
“That ain’t even the half of it,” Mrs. Roberts said in a loud, clear voice. “The tavern weren’t fit for a lady. I told my Thomas we should have come earlier than we promised.”
Thomas Roberts, a great hulking fellow with the sweetest disposition toward his wife, lumbered into view, holding the Roberts’ pitifully small trunk. “Should have listened to you. I know.”
Mrs. Roberts beamed at her husband and he went on his way.
“Oh, dear,” the butler grumbled. “You were staying at a tavern? I could have told you it was the worst possible place for a lady if you had come here first.”
“Well, we are all here now.” Whitney felt her optimism in the good of mankind returning but rubbed her brow. “I’ve hardly slept a wink with all the strangers pounding on my door by mistake,” she admitted. “Half the patrons at the inn seemed incapable of finding their own rooms without directions.”
Instead of laughing, the poor butler appeared even more stricken. “Then we are glad you have come. His lordship said we were to look after you as if you were part of the family. You can be assured of our protection and discretion and privacy.”
“I don’t require protection, now that I have Mr. and Mrs. Roberts at my side, but I do thank you for your concern.” Whitney forced a smile. “All I require is a bath, a meal, a peaceful evening, and a bed to sleep in later. I expect a caller very early tomorrow morning. Captain Williams will come and provide instructions for our voyage.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “Let me show you around and to your room. His lordship suggested that the master bedchamber be prepared. It is the best room in the house.”
Whitney pushed away her despair. She would have enjoyed the room more if Everett could have joined her there. But today was the day of his wedding, and it was past time to stop thinking of him.
She followed the butler upstairs, encountering the housekeeper on the way down, and stepped into a warm room. Dark wood, rich fabrics, and wide-open windows surrounded her. There were no drapes in this room and the sun warmed the space perfectly.
“How lovely,” she murmured as she ran the tip of her finger along the damask comforter, thinking of the man she loved sharing this bed with his wife. She curled her fingers into her palm. She could no longer think of Alice as her friend. She could no longer consider herself Alice’s.
Was Everett nervous?
She lifted her gaze along the bed and encountered a letter resting on the pillow. “What is that?”
“It is a message for you,” the butler advised, taking one last look around the chamber and nodding. “Lord Acton sent it with hope that you might come and read it before your departure.”
Her hands trembled but she did not rush to snatch it up. “I will read it later,” she promised, turning toward Mrs. Roberts. Her companion appeared intrigued, but then she sighed. “I could use a nap, too, after this morning.”
“Your room is this way, Mrs. Roberts. I directed your husband there before you came upstairs.”
Mrs. Roberts left the room and the butler promised Whitney tea and biscuits soon. They left Whitney, and she busied herself by unpacking the few things she would need for the night. Anything to stop herself from snatching up that letter.
When the housekeeper arrived bearing a tea tray, Whitney was as calm as she could be. The housekeeper backed out with a quick glance at the unopened letter. Whitney let out a sigh and collected it before returning to sit in the window seat overlooking the street. She ran her fingers over her name, deciding Everett had handsome handwriting, and broke the seal.
She covered her lips as she read the first lines.
My dearest Whitney,
I cannot thank you again for the pleasure of your company and friendship. The hours we spent alone together have been the best of my life, and I am bereft that you have gone away, my darling girl.
Nothing has changed here since I saw you last. Emily’s health remains in decline, and she is as ever utterly unrepentant of her past misdeeds. I know you wish me to be angry with her, furious, but I cannot in my heart turn aside the years of affection that existed between us. Her doctors have stopped suggesting I have hope now.
The Taverham house party has finally ended, and immediately after your carriage left, I was invited by Exeter to call upon him when I visit London next. I thought he seemed genuinely cast down by how things ended between you. I know he considered you a great friend, and I also suspect he knows how I feel about you. Do let me know if you wish me to pursue a friendship with him for your sake? I’ve no doubt you could again enjoy his company upon your eventual return.
Will it surprise you to learn that Lady Taverham, Miranda, knew of Emily’s location all along? Miranda and I have spoken of Emily’s health on several occasions, and she has been more of a comfort than I deserve. I remain astonished that she accepts what I’ve done for Emily’s care, though I know she remains a little anxious about it all. She also admonished me for informing Taverham about Emily. She says Taverham has become unbearably concerned and worrisome. Taverham’s open devotion to Miranda reminds me every day that I should never have let you slip through my fingers. I have never been happier than when I am with you.
Since you are reading this letter, you must be in my house, in my bedchamber hopefully, enjoying the view of the sea through the front windows. How I wish I could be with you. My servants will look after you well enough in my stead, and I truly hope you can be comfortable and happy there.
Now I must beg a boon from you. I know you will tease me for suggesting it, but I beg of you to write to me no matter where you go in your grand adventure in the years to come. I could not rest easy without having a letter from you tucked beneath my pillow at night, and will cherish each and every one you send. If I cannot see you, I must hear from you, as often as you can bear to write me, and I promise I will write to you very faithfully each week.
You will find me at Warstone Manor until the worst comes to pass. After Emily is gone, I have decided I will spend the mourning period traveling, hopefully abroad. I should like to call on you one day, if you agree to see me again after all that has happened between us. I very much look forward to having you show me the places you’ve written about. If my health continues to be strong after six months has passed after Emily, we could deepen our friendship if you still like the idea. For that to happen, please write with your new directions as soon as you are settled abroad, and tell me of your journey.
Yours most faithfully,
E
Whitney wiped at her streaming eyes hurriedly. Damn him. Now she would look for him coming every single morning. The last days had been hard enough without the torture of hope.
She read the letter again, memorizing every loving word. She missed him. She missed him so much that it hurt. As she scanned the last lines of the letter for the third time, she frowned. He spoke only of his own future, and said not one word of Alice, or his marriage.
…we could deepen our friendship if you still like the idea.
Whitney’s breath came fast and shallow all of a sudden. Everett spoke only of remaining at Warstone for Emily’s sake. He said nothing of traveling with his new wife. What wasn’t he telling her? Had something gone wrong with his engagement to Alice?
Concerned and hopeful all at once, Whitney covered her face with both hands and muffled a soft scream of frustration. Alice and her parents had been suspiciously absent that last day, when they had previously been always calling upon the marchioness daily. She should have asked Everett what had kept the Quartermanes away the day she’d left Twilit Hill.
Had the engagement been broken before she’d even left Twilit Hill?
For a moment, Whitney considered swooning.
There was no other reason for that sweetly worded letter than to express hope of a future together. That beautiful, secretive, idiotic, darling man might not be married, and could have been hers to claim.
He should have told her he was free. She would have delayed her journey to wait for him.
Whitney sprang to her feet, searched every room in the house until she found a writing table and paper, and then penned an expansive letter to Everett, telling him everything of her last few days, assuring him that she, too, could not wait to see him, and then asked after the new Lady Acton.
She did not think he would lie to her in a letter.
Once that was sent and on its way, she ate, bathed and then, exhausted, slid between the sheets of her lover’s bed. She fell asleep to dream that the man she loved had not married, and that he was racing along dark roads to join her. Their reunion had been so happy that she woke in tears as the sun rose and, for the first time in her life, considered giving up her voyage to return to him.