AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“If she was so afraid of her brother, why did she return?” Brigitte demanded.
“She was alone and with child. She had nowhere else to turn. So she sought refuge at Farrington, where she gave birth to Noelle on Christmas Day. Again, according to the servants, the weeks that followed were torturous. Torturous and violent.”
“Liza died abroad, Grandfather, not at Farrington.”
“Yes, I know. But what caused her to flee again? What if it truly was fear? What if the earl does have a temper as dangerous as the servants claim? What if that temper did, in fact, provoke Liza’s flight and, ultimately, her death?”
“I don’t believe that. Lord Farrington would never hurt Liza. Didn’t you see the pain on his face just now when he looked at Noelle? That wasn’t guilt, Grandfather, that was anguish—anguish that makes it unbearable for him to have her near. Why? Because she’s the image of her mother. He’s never gotten over losing Liza.”
“Even if that’s so, Noelle is the one now being hurt.”
“I agree. Noelle sees only her uncle’s rejection, not the pain beneath it. She’s far too young to understand. But I do understand. I want to help. Please, Grandfather, let me do this. I know in my heart it’s the right thing. And, at the same time, I’ll be offering our parish the funds it needs to survive. Not only now, but always.”
The vicar smoothed Brigitte’s hair from her brow. “Child, even if I disregard my qualms about Lord Farrington, I’m still not at ease. You have no idea what it means to be a wife. I’ve never prepared you …”
“I know what’s entailed,” Brigitte interrupted softly. “However, your worry is most likely unfounded. Lord Farrington gave us no indication that he wants anything more than a governess—someone to share his name, not his bed.”
“Still, you’re a beautiful young woman. And the earl is a man.” Curran frowned. “I should have anticipated this day and better planned for it. But somehow the years dashed by without my notice. One moment you were a shy little girl. The next, you’re a woman grown, eighteen and ready to begin your own life.” He shook his head in wonder. “Did I fail to see the signs? Have there been gentlemen who’ve shown interest?”
“No,” Brigitte returned adamantly. “At least none whose interest I’ve returned.”
“Because of Lord Farrington?”
Utter candor shone in her eyes. “Yes.”
The vicar fell silent, wondering why all his supposed wisdom wasn’t sufficient to provide him with the insight he needed right now. Torn between reason and affection, he sought a higher voice, beseeching Him for advice.
In the end, he wasn’t sure which was more compelling, God’s will or the appeal on Brigitte’s fa
ce.
“All right, child,” he relented. “I’ll marry you to Lord Farrington. I only pray I’m doing the right thing—for you and for Noelle.”
“You are.” Brigitte gave him a fierce hug. “Thank you, Grandfather. I’ll hurry and finish packing. I have only three students left to visit. Then I’ll be ready.”
“I’ll await your arrival in the church.” A hint of a smile appeared. “That is, if it’s still standing. The earl and Noëlle have been there for hours. By now the entire structure may be reduced to a pile of debris.”
Brigitte grinned. “Then we’ll rebuild it.”
“Structures are far easier to rebuild than lives.”
“True. But the results are not nearly as rewarding.” Gently, Brigitte kissed her grandfather’s cheek. “Don’t worry,” she whispered. “I shan’t be going to Farrington alone. I’ll take with me your most precious gifts: love, determination, and an abundance of faith. Armed with those tools, how can I fail?”
four
TWO HOURS LATER, BRIGITTE’S CONFIDENCE WAS SUBJECTED TO its first test.
Before her loomed the tangible evidence of her onerous challenge: Farrington Manor.
Slipping off her coat, she took a long look about her new home. The entry hall was barren, devoid of furnishings or objects, other than one upset chair that sprawled across the wooden floor and a small traveling bag—Noelle’s, she assumed. The light was minimal, the ceiling high, the walls bare.
Walls it would be up to her to fill.
She drew a fortifying breath, reminding herself that no task was insurmountable. Farrington was hollow, not cold. Its heart was asleep, its soul encased in darkness.
But how to awaken it?
“You and Noelle may do as you choose,” Eric pronounced, tossing his coat in a nearby cloakroom. “As you can see, the manor is quite large. The grounds surrounding it are extensive. Most of my time is spent in my quarters. Therefore, there’s little worry that we’ll cross paths.” He bent, gripping the handle of Brigitte’s one and only bag. “I’ll place this in your room.” With that, he headed toward the staircase.
