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Jude pondered the question. He gazed out over the rolling hillsides, covered in a thick blanket of snow. A world covered in white, surrounded by bare trees, devoid of their leaves. It was eerily beautiful, and his heart clenched again that he would never see this countryside again.
He could just see the woodlands beyond. The place where they had walked together, making the snowman and snow angels. He grinned as he recalled their snowball fight. It seemed so long ago now, even though it really wasn’t. But he had been a different person then. He hadn’t known he loved her, although he had been smitten with her from the very first moment he laid eyes upon her, colliding with him as she ran out of the house towards the carriage.
Would he change any of it, even knowing how it had ended?
His heart shifted again. He had such high hopes when he had first arrived here, a vision of a new life. He had been determined to work hard and rise within the ranks of servants tending Bosworth Manor. He had been just as determined to leave his past behind, his identity as an orphan, always searching for the family he had never known. But none of it had worked out.
He was returning to Shrewsbury with his tail between his legs, banished from Bosworth, warned to never come here again. He must pick up the thread of his old life again, as if this had never happened. He had no wages in his pocket nor reference to start anew. But he knew that he never wanted to be in service to a noble house again, anyway. That life was behind him forever.
He would find work somewhere. He could do a multitude of jobs. He had a lot of experience. That didn’t worry him at all. It was the thought of leaving her forever which stung his heart, thinking of living without ever seeing her beautiful face again, or hearing her sweet voice. That he had never made love to her and experienced the unknown joy of becoming one flesh with her, which he was certain would have been the most joyous experience of his life.
That hurt, in a way that nothing else could. They could do anything to him, banish him from Bosworth, the county, from England, and he knew he would still survive. But was it truly living if it was without her?
His heart shifted again. He knew the answer to Lenny’s question.
“It was all worth it,” he drawled, still gazing out over the countryside. “For such joy only comes once in a lifetime. And they can never take my memories away.”
Lenny was silent for a moment. Then he sighed again.
“Aye, lad,” he said in a gentle voice. “I suppose love is always worth it, no matter what price we pay for it. No matter what.” He paused, gazing at Jude. “You will be missed at the manor, Jude. Not just by the lady. You are a fine man. It has been an honour to know you.”
“And you,” said Jude, feeling touched by the man’s words. “Look me up if you are ever in Shrewsbury, Lenny. We can have an ale or two if you are inclined.”
The man grinned. “That sounds grand. I will do that.”
They lapsed into silence again. Jude kept gazing out at the countryside. As they rounded a hill, he saw the church steeple of Charingworth in the distance. His heart clenched once more than he was assailed by memories.
He thought of all the wonderful times he spent with her. A myriad of memories, all tumbling over each other, one after the other, vividly colourful.
No, he would never regret their love. Not in a hundred years.
Chapter 35
Evelina picked at her food, pushing it around her plate. It had only been a day since Jude had left Bosworth Manor, but she already felt the loss of him. It was so intense that she almost couldn’t bear it, and yet, she knew she must. She must cope with this pain for the rest of her life. All she could see was the vision of Jude leaving Bosworth on a cart, blowing her a farewell kiss, as she had stood at a window, tears streaming down her face.
It didn’t help that Richard had insisted on inviting the Beaumont family to dinner again, telling her she must attend, that it was her duty. He told her he and Papa had spoken to Sir Henry and his son about her ‘incident,’ as her brother called it. They were willing to forget all about it and go ahead with the betrothal. There had been no mention of the threatened examination to prove her maidenhood.
Evelina glanced at her betrothed, seated across from her. Mr. Beaumont didn’t look pleased. And he was refilling his wineglass at a rapid rate. His face was florid from the wine and his eyes glassy. His father, Sir Henry, was following suit and was already halfway in his cups.
Lady Beaumont was quiet, glancing uneasily from her husband to her eldest son, looking worried. Clearly, it mightn’t have been such an easy decision to keep on with this betrothal, given the circumstances.
Evelina’s jaw tightened. She didn’t care. She would not acknowledge it nor apologise for it. If they thought they were going to get a penitent fallen woman who would do their bidding on command, they could all think again. She stabbed at a piece of asparagus viciously, shredding the vegetable. Conversation stopped and started before halting entirely.
Jude, she thought, in despair.Where are you? Are you missing me as much as I am missing you?
Her eyes filled with useless tears. She had cried so much over the past day, on and off. A fog of despair had settled over her and she no longer cared if theysenther to a convent to spend the rest of her days wearing a habit. Perhaps it would be preferable to being married to Mr. Beaumont, or to anyone, for that matter. For how was she going to endure being touched by another man after the bliss of being touched by Jude?
“So,” said Sir Henry abruptly, putting down his wineglass. He turned to the duke. “I take it the culprit was shipped off the property quick, smart?”
“Henry,” warned his wife, two spots of red appearing on her cheeks. “Please, this is not the time to talk about it.”
Sir Henry belched slightly, ignoring his wife. Evelina felt heat spread across her face. She kept gazing at the gentleman. He reallywasin his cups, a fact which was clearly emboldening him to bring up the delicate subject of his son’s fiancée’s illicit dalliance with a servant. It was clear that it was the last thing anyone wanted to talk about.
Her father cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “Yes, Sir Henry. We dealt with the matter swiftly. That man is no longer in service at Bosworth Manor.”
Sir Henry nodded. “A good thing,” he said, reaching for the carafe of wine in the centre of the table and refilling his glass. He slopped a little onto the table. “For the virtue of all the women at Bosworth. He was a good-looking chap, wasn’t he? He has a strong look of his father. Practically the spitting image.” He took a long sip of wine.
There was an uncomfortable silence as everyone tried to make sense of what he had just said. The duke looked bewildered. Richard looked mystified as well. Evelina gaped at Sir Henry, unable to understand what the gentleman was saying at all. How did Sir Henry even know what Jude looked like, and why was he talking about his father when Jude didn’t even have one?
