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Chapter 27
Standing at a tall, bright window in the upstairs gallery, Mabel traced the impressions of Mac’s footprints in the gravel as he carried his saddlebag out of the house and mounted his powerful horse. She followed the steady canter of Orion as it carried Mac away from her, waiting for him to glance back. The back of his head, concealed by a hat, brought a fresh wave of regret and longing.
The moment her father told Mac to go, to see to the things he needed to see to, Mabel’s heart constricted, and it had yet to return to a steady, regular rhythm.
A moment’s thought had forced her to consider approaching Mac before he left, to wait upon the stairs for him to come down and send him away with her good wishes. But she swallowed the impulse. It had not served her well that time in the vale, and she would prefer not to compound the loss and betrayal she felt from the first time he had left Devon—the first time he had left her.
Giulia found her in the gallery and came to stand beside her, giving her the space Mabel needed and the support she longed for. Silently, Giulia sustained Mabel as she processed the events of the day.
“I need to find Gram,” she said at last. She’d promised her grandmother she would spend the evening with her, and while it was still later afternoon, Mabel was certain she could not stomach the rest of their party at present. With Gram, she would not need to put on a false face.
“She is in her parlor.”
Mabel turned from the window, the empty road a stark reminder of the man who had just ridden away through it. “She never sits in there.”
Giulia’s eyebrows raised. “I made the same observation. Perhaps she has grown weary of your cousin’s guests.”
“We might only hope that is not the case. It is very likely that some of those guests will soon become permanent fixtures here.”
“And you?” Giulia asked, reaching for Mabel’s hand. “What do you plan to do?”
The heavy, unasked question hung in the air between them, so clear and thick that Mabel wished to strike it away, to shout that she did not wish to make any decision about her future at present like Pippa might do in these circumstances.
But she was not a child. She had no excuse for such behavior. A problem faced her, and it would solve nothing to pretend it did not exist.
“I must tell my father how I feel.”
Giulia squeezed her fingers. Mabel felt so large and uncouth when her small friend wrapped her hand around hers—so directly opposite from how Mac had made her feel earlier that day on the beach. Slipping her hand free, Mabel brushed her thumb over the tender area the crab had pinched, no sign or marking to show of the creature’s misuse.
But the mark of Mac’s affection would forever remain in her heart.
“Will he take it well, do you think?”
Mabel shrugged, fixated on her hand. “I am unsure. But he loves me, and I owe him my honesty. I have done nothing I am ashamed of, and I do not begrudge the choice I am making.”
“If he does not take it well, you will always have a home at Halstead,” Giulia said with a small grin. “I should love to have you, Pippa, and Gram as my permanent guests after the wedding.”
Mabel chuckled and wrapped her arms around her slender waist. It was a sign of Giulia’s observational abilities that she recognized Mabel, her sister, and her grandmother as a group deal. There was no taking Mabel without accepting the others.
Mabel did not begrudge that. She believed she would be unhappy without them.
“When will you speak to your father?”
“Now,” Mabel said, determined. “Or I might lose my nerve. He appeared to be in an affable mood when we arrived home from the seaside. Do you know where Pippa went?”
Giulia nodded. “She’s with Hope in the schoolroom.”
Good. The last thing Mabel needed was Pippa’s excitable interruptions during this important conversation. She made her way downstairs and drew in fortifying breaths her entire way to the study door. Mac was gone. He had not looked back, and he did not seek her out to bid a farewell. Regardless of what he’d said at the seaside, he would have, had he truly cared.
Mabel needed to put him behind her, to focus on herself and her future.
Knocking on the solid oak door, Mabel waited until Papa bid her enter and obeyed. She pushed against the heavy door and paused, her breath catching to find Mr. Wright seated in the chair opposite Papa.
“Forgive me. I can return later.” She began to back out of the room when her father lifted a staying hand.
“No. Please, come in.”
She could not have this conversation with Mr. Wright present. This felt all too familiar, and it raised the tide of anxiety in her chest.
