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She glanced over her shoulder only once.
In the fading light she could barely see him, silhouetted on the deck, but she knew he was there. Hating her. Swearing his revenge. He was worse than Appleby when it came to letting her go.
I’ll find you.
Antoinette shivered and her heart beat harder. She reminded herself that he would have no way of finding her; he didn’t know where she was going. Certainly not to London, as he imagined, but Surrey. She longed for her home, for Cecilia and Miss Bridewell, and all that was dear and familiar. Once she reached them, she would explain what had happened and send Cecilia somewhere safe, away from Appleby’s greedy, clutching hands, and then she would travel on to London, alone, and destroy him.
A grim feeling of anticipation helped her to keep going although her knees were wobbly and her arms ached from rowing. Soon it would be over. She could put all this behind her, treat it as if it were a nightmare.
As if to unsettle her, she heard the soft whisper of his voice in her head, saying, Darling. Tears stung her eyes, but when one of the fishermen asked her if she was unwell, she told him it was just the salty wind making her cry.
Chapter 26
The rain on the journey home was relentless, but as Antoinette came up the drive toward the house, the rain stopped and the clouds parted and the sun shone. She’d had enough money for the train fare and then a public coach to the end of her drive, but after that she had walked, carrying her carpetbag.
Dupre House rose before her, perfect within its garden setting, the rows of windows glinting in the sun, the elegant facade reminding her that this house was built by a king for his favorite mistress and given to her as a gift.
A gift she threw away for love.
Antoinette’s ancestress, the wicked mistress, had captivated King Charles II and given him two children, before she ran off and married another man, abandoning the king, her home, and her children. Charles was naturally upset, and although he allowed the Dupre family to retain the house, there were no titles or other gifts, and he never forgave his errant lady.
Antoinette had always considered her ancestress to have been lacking in foresight. After all, she could have had everything, and instead she ended by vanishing into obscurity. But now, tired and shattered, gazing up at her home, Antoinette found herself with new insight into her wanton ancestress’s behavior. It was as if she could understand perfectly well why she might give up material benefit for elusive love, although the abandoning of the children was something else again.
The maid who opened the door was wide-eyed at the sight of her bedraggled mistress and let out a little scream. Antoinette dropped her carpetbag with a relieved sigh.
“It’s all right, Hettie. I have been sailing. Can you have a bath drawn for me, and a warm brick placed in my bed? I do believe I am going to sleep for a week.”
“M-Miss Dupre, we’ve been so worried,” the girl stammered.
“Thank you, Hettie, but I’m home now and everything will be all right.”
Just then she spotted a familiar figure descending the main staircase. “Bridie?”
Miss Bridewell looked up at the sound of her pet name, and gave a shocked cry. “Miss Antoinette?” Her expression spoke volumes as she came hurrying to meet her. “You’re wet and…and…”
“Yes. I was just explaining to Hettie, I’ve been sailing. Come upstairs with me, Bridie, and I’ll tell you everything.” She stopped, glanced sideways at the governess. “Well, nearly everything.”
“We’re so glad you’re home,” Miss Bridewell declared, giving her a bone-cracking hug.
Antoinette laughed, her face as bright as the beams of sunlight outside. “Where is Cecilia?” she asked, drawing away and looking about, expecting to see her sister appear and come running toward her like the child she still was in many ways.
Instantly Miss Bridewell’s face fell and her lips trembled. “You do not know! Then you haven’t seen her? Oh, Miss Antoinette, I tried to stop her. I tried my very best. I knew you would not like it if she went, but you know how she is. So headstrong. Once she’d decided to go I could not stop her. I’m afraid she only listens to you and you were not here…”
“She’s gone to London.” Antoinette answered her own question in an oddly calm voice, while inside her emotions were as turbulent as the sea.
Miss Bridewell nodded, watching her and not trusting herself to speak.
Cecilia had always been difficult, but Antoinette knew if she had been there, Cecilia would have listened to her. Well, she was here now. Antoinette drew on her strength, shaking off her tiredness and the terrible fear, and putting aside the thought of a long, warm bath and a dreamless sleep.
“Come upstairs, Bridie, and tell me exactly what has happened.”
As they ascended the stairs to the upper floors, she couldn’t help but look about her at the house. So many windows and bright, light colors made this place very different from dark and gloomy Wexmoor Manor.
“It is good to be home,” she said, with such intense feeling that Miss Bridewell gave her an uneasy stare. Antoinette smiled to reassure her. “I forgot, Bridie, you don’t know what has happened since you waved me good-bye. I have a great deal to tell you.”
Although, she reminded herself, not everything could be shared with her middle-aged spinster governess; some things were just too shocking for her delicate ears.
Once they were comfortable in Antoinette’s sitting room, she insisted that first Miss Bridewell tell her story.
