Page 7

“In the name of all that is good and holy, please stop this carriage at once!” Mina’s voice rang of desperation, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care that she’d dropped her composure somewhere along the rutted road.

Thankfully, the driver acquiesced, and they trundled to a halt. Mina unlocked and flung open the door before the driver had even settled the reins; she kicked down the steps and lurched free of the vehicle before the man had the opportunity to descend and assist her.

It was odd. She knew the world was no longer moving, but she swore she could still feel the vibrations in her limbs. It was a wonder she hadn’t accidentally bitten off her own tongue!

“We’re nearly there,” came the driver’s voice. He was a grey, wiry man of middling years. Mina had hired him to transport her and her remaining belongings from her former home to Ravenshire Manor both because she found his rate to be more than fair, and because he had kind blue eyes framed with lines from laughter. She could tell he hadn’t quite known what to make of her when she’d assisted him in loading her trunks and boxes herself, but he’d warmed quickly when she asked him questions about his home and his family. This reinforced Mina’s belief that she’d made the right choice in hiring him. Traveling as a woman alone was not always safe, so it was reassuring to be comfortable in his company.

Mina closed her eyes and willed the ground to stop vibrating beneath her serviceable black traveling boots. She just needed a moment of silence and stillness to regain her bearings.

She breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth several times.

There.

Opening her eyes, Mina could finally appreciate her surroundings. The familiar verdant fields and smattering of trees, the boundary lined with stacked boulders worn smooth from countless years in the elements, the spring air slightly tinted with dew and grass and grazing herds, the joyous birdsong that still traipsed through her dreams. All of it was so familiar and yet…she felt like a foreigner there rather than a native. She’d been away for so long, and, in truth, she hadn’t been so far gone, but she’d felt a world away from Ravenshire Manor and the girl she’d once been.

Standing on that road surrounded by so many familiar sights, sounds, and smells leeched the tension from her spine just a bit, and made Mina feel a tiny bit more like herself than she had in ages.

“Only another mile,” added the driver, scratching at his temple.

Mina nodded. She knew precisely the distance between where she stood and Ravenshire Manor. Shielding her eyes with her hand, Mina could make out the shape of the home just beyond the furthest hill. Her heart performed an unexpected flip.

She was nearly there.

“Just about,” commented Mina as she made a futile attempt to shake the wrinkles from her black traveling gown. Even by mourning standards, the gown was painfully plain; however, there simply hadn’t been time to commission a proper wardrobe for herself—not to mention, she could not justify spending the sum when she did not plan on being in situations where anyone would notice or comment. She’d had to settle for dying a few old dresses and hoping they passed muster. She liked to think Robert would have approved of her creativity and resourcefulness. Her late husband had once commented that he was baffled by the way her mind worked.

“I simply cannot comprehend it,” he’d said, shaking his head in incredulity as he’d examined the water-gathering and distribution system she’d assembled in their garden while he’d been away on business for several days. She’d been tired of hauling bucket after bucket of water to assist the cook in saving the kitchen garden from withering in the summer heat, so she’d devised a system of chutes and pulleys to collect the water, gather and store it in a cistern made from a barrel, and then utilized a separate pivoting chute system to deliver the water to the crops.

“Is that good or bad?” she’d asked him, more than a little nervous about his answer.

“Good!” Robert had remarked. “Unique. You are a singular woman, Mina.” She’d warmed beneath the praise because, for so long, she’d despaired that anyone would appreciate her mind like Harry once had.

Even the memory managed to trigger a dull ache behind her breastbone.

“I think I shall walk the rest of the way,” Mina announced and immediately began striding in the direction of Ravenshire Manor.

“Missus?” the driver reared back in shock as she passed him.

“You will have to follow the road to the house, but I know a bit of a shortcut. We should arrive at approximately the same time. If we do not, then please wait for me, and I will provide you with the final payment for your services.”

“Y—You mean to walk the rest of the way?” the poor man stammered.

“With all due respect, God Himself could not entice me back into that carriage—not on this road. That is not a remark against your abilities as a driver, but this horrendous path. For whatever reason, it has been left to disintegrate.” She kicked a rock down one of the ruts to underscore her point. “Please take my word that this is for the best; it will preserve my sanity and the integrity of your carriage’s interior. Besides, the fresh air will do me some good.” With a polite inclination of her head, Mina gathered her skirts and stepped from the road into the grass dotted with the white starry blooms of wild garlic, each of her steps releasing their spicy aroma. Mina filled her lungs to bursting with every breath, reveling in the freedom offered by the familiar landscape, and the solitude unfettered by the judgement of others.

She loved everything about the place she’d called home before her arranged marriage, which was why she’d wanted nothing more than to return there after her life had taken a very sudden and unexpected turn yet again.

Everything she’d had in her marriage had reverted to her husband’s younger brother upon his death. Her lifestyle of comfortable gentility, her tidy home with three servants in their employ, the security of having one’s husband provide a steady income where she lacked for nothing, all of it was gone within a fortnight of Robert’s burial in the local churchyard. She hadn’t been left entirely destitute; a sum just south of one thousand pounds had been left to her, much to the chagrin of her husband’s family. While she was grateful, she was also pragmatic about finances. The money would not allow her to live independently forever—not with the same comforts and not without another source of income to replenish it. Instead, she opted to sell the items she no longer had a use for or did not wish to cart across the countryside and headed back to her father.

Back to Ravenshire Manor.

Of course, she’d immediately sent word to her father of Robert’s accident and death, of the funeral arrangements, but she received no response. When the silence continued after two missives were mailed off to Ravenshire Manor, Mina made the decision to not wait for permission to return to the place which felt most like home in her heart and made off on her own after bidding quick farewells to those she’d come to know in the village.

Lungs beginning to burn, Mina crested a rise and, finally, Mina found her first unfettered glimpse of the manor house in years. Her heart thudded in her chest, but a sensation of glowing peace covered her body like a warm blanket.

“Home,” Mina whispered, the word drifting on the light breeze to dance across the rippling fields of tall grass lining the rutted path to Ravenshire Manor. It seemed the drive hadn’t been maintained even this close to the residence, which she thought quite odd. That was basic grounds maintenance; what lord wanted to be jostled about to the point of sickness on the way to his country estate?

Frowning, Mina gathered her black skirts once more and resumed her trek. She would ask her father about the road when she saw him.

“Papa?” Mina called as she let herself into the steward’s residence at the back of the manor house. Though she’d torn through the halls and played in the rooms as a girl, Mina could not quite bring herself to knock on the servant’s entrance of the grand house and see all the familiar faces just yet; she wasn’t prepared to face all those memories. Instead, she’d traversed the side of the building to come around the back. The gardens were rather bare for this time of year. At the very least, some spring florals should have been blooming. Some of the more elaborate topiaries were a bit unkempt, others were slightly lopsided, as if someone had tried to perform the task, but was without the proper skills or experience. Though not overrun, weeds dotted the pathway in stark relief against the pale crushed gravel; it was as if someone just could not keep up with the task.