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Father said in order for Livvy to make friends, she needed to change, but she’d always despised the thought. Instead, what if all it took was for her to be a friend? After all, that had worked with August.
Her eyes found their way back to him, where he still gardened unaware of her presence. Each time they’d spoken, he’d been the one to approach her. Could she find the courage to be the one to approach him instead?
Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. Mother couldn’t have a second chance at life, but Livvy could. She could be brave. She could live with no more regrets. She could be herself, accept who she was, just like Mother taught. But she didn’t have to be who Mother was.
She just needed to be who she was.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
“I am excessively diverted.”
Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen
Livvy left the graveyard and rounded the corner to the outside where August still pulled at weeds, kneeling down in the sodden grass, his fingers covered in mud.
Her footsteps alerted him of her presence, and he raised his gaze to meet hers. Pleasant surprise lit his eyes. “Mornin’, Livvy.”
“Good mornin’,” she returned. She still wasn’t used to the warmth that filled her soul as he spoke her name.
He stood, facing her as he rubbed his hands together to be rid of the mud accumulating on his fingers. “What brings ye out this mornin’?”
His smile seemed more strained than it had last evening. No doubt that was due to the cold.
“Just visitin’ me mother’s grave,” she replied. Before he could express any condolences he did not need to express, she motioned to his bare hands still rubbing together. “Do ye not wear gloves to garden?” Father always did.
He peered down at his hands. “I do. But I enjoy the feel o’ the earth in me ’ands too much to wear ’em often.”
Of course he did. Because August was just the sort of man to enjoy something so lovely.
He kept his eyes averted, still staring at his hands. Was he truly concerned with the state of them, or was he avoiding her gaze on purpose?
Or was his hesitance caused by something else entirely—that he felt anxious about keeping up his appearance as Miss Pengelly’s intended?
Livvy glanced around them. There was no one in sight, thanks again to the rain. Still, she wouldn’t linger long, if only for August and his friends’ sakes. She merely wished to speak with him, to discover if he’d felt the same way about last night that she did.
She shifted her attention to the primroses lining the graveyard wall, their white petals holding the very color of the sunshine in the center of their blossoms. The dark brown dirt surrounding the flowers had only recently been cleared free of weeds and spare leaves, as was evident by its almost fluffy texture.
“Be this your task today?” she asked, motioning to the flowers.
“One of ’em, yes.”
“I didn’t know ye worked at the graveyard.”
His gaze dropped. “I volunteered to today.”
Silence fell between them again, strained and rigid. But, why?
“Be ye findin’ joy back on the Mount and workin’ ’ere?” she tried again.
“More than anythin’.”
“E’en more ’an Bath and Coniston?”
“Far, far more. I’ve dreamt o’ workin’ ’ere me whole life, so it be everythin’ I’ve e’er wanted.”
Livvy nodded. She truly wished to know the answers to all these questions, but first and foremost, they were simply a way to divert her from her intended course.
If only she had the courage to just ask him.
