“He shall need to be fed too.”
“Right away, sir. I shall go and fetch something from Cleda. I daresay, she shall probably accuse me of bumming the scraps for myself. Just goes to show how little I get fed around this place.” With a chuckle and a pat to the dog’s head, the groom left the stables in silence.
Felton finished with Eliza’s horse and moved on to his own. The question wouldn’t leave him alone. The one the old woman had asked, half smiling, with eyes that imagined she had guessed the relationship of her two new guests.
Young and married, she’d asked.
Funny that he should be plagued by that now. Amidst so much going wrong, with loss so heavy on both of their hearts, why should he even think of such a thing?
Of course they weren’t married. They’d never be married. Felton Northwood had other plans for his life, plans that didn’t include a young and helpless and unsophisticated child of the forest who…who needed him. And looked at him with longing in her eyes. And touched him with gentleness that made him want to pull her closer instead of always pulling away.
Gads, but he was a fool.
Miss Haverfield.
Miss Haverfield.
Miss Haverfield. Beautiful, rich, perfect Miss Haverfield. Maybe if he chanted the name enough times this nonsense would leave him alone.
Slamming the brush back on its shelf, Felton strode from the hall and nearly tripped over Merrylad. Dashed dog anyway. Why was the creature always in his way?
Instead of baring his teeth, or backing away from Felton as he normally did, Merrylad wagged his tongue. The brown, dark-lashed eyes blinked up at Felton, smiling almost.
Certainly, there was nothing to smile about. Not today. Even so, he lowered before the animal and stroked one ear. “Still gloating, are you not?”
The dog edged closer and licked Felton’s hand.
“I’ve a scar from that bite, you know—”
A moving shadow. A crunch of boots on hay.
Felton sprang to his feet, whirled, but something smacked the side of his head. His vision blackened. He hit the ground, heard a bark, as a second blow knocked the breath from him.
Eliza.Her name screamed in his head, as the tunnel of blackness ended into nothing at all.
Dear Eliza,
Ye know I’m no good with letters and such. Much easier for me to tell stories than worry wif the spelling of things. I don’t know if ye’ll ever be reading this anyhow. I reckon I’ll probly never send it. I keep it here in my Bible wif the other names. I know I never telled ye who they were. It don’t be mattering none. They just be people I had a part in destroying, and I reckon that’s just something a man can’t never forget. I done a lot of bad things, little girl, that ye never knowed about. Before ye came to me, I was nigh to dying inside. But ye made me want to live again. Ye and God and these woods gave me something I never thought I could have, and that’s a good feeling in me agin. That’s why I had to let ye go. I couldn’t let ye stay here, growing as ye was, without a chance to meet the world I been always telling ye of in stories. Ye stay with that lord, love. He be yer father. He be yer blood. I’m sorry for all the wrong I done, and I’m sorry I couldn’t keep ye here wif me always. More than anything, I’m sorry I’m not the father ye always thought I was. The rest of my life, I’ll be wishing I was.
Yer very affect and loving Captain
All the words swam across the page. She read it again, then again, and pictured him standing in front of her. He held his cap in his hands, the little brown one she’d mended more than once, and his eyes had that crinkly, soft look again. The one that came over him just before he was about to pray or bend over her and whisper kindness into her ear.
God, I love him so.She traced the letter, as the sob that couldn’t come before started pushing through her. She leaned down on the bed. She covered her mouth with both hands and tried to stop the sounds from escaping into the room.Captain, Captain, how shall I live without you?
He had wanted her. Right to the end, he had loved her and been true to her and thought of her. What a fool she’d been to question him. She should have remembered the lute. She should have remembered everything.God, thank You for the letter. Thank You.
A tap sounded on the door.
Sucking in air, she swatted away her tears and sat up. “Felton?”
“No, miss. Your chambermaid, miss, with somefing for you to eat.”
She tucked the letter into her pocket and went to the door.
A young girl, thirteen or fourteen, swept inside with dark hair strung into her eyes. She blew it away and set a plate of boiled salt beef and vegetables on a stand. “Is that look good for you, miss? I’ve pasties downstairs, and I can bring up some milk.”
Eliza shook her head, blinking hard against more tears. “No.” Her voice lacked strength. “No, this will be fine.” She didn’t know if she could eat anyway.
