Little did they know they had become the most precious things in his life, a last link to that mother he had lost much too early. With effort he kept his face devoid of emotion as he turned back to them.
They looked like two avenging angels, glaring at him with ferocious fire, as if they would be more than happy to smite him on the spot.
He took a deep breath and said, with as much firmness as he was able to muster, “Or I shall cut this ill-conceivedholidayshort and return you to London. Immediately.”
“We shan’t ever return to London,” Nelly cried, her face turning red as a strawberry. “We like it here. We want to live here.”
“You cannot live here,” he gritted. “Your place is in London. Near me.”
“Why?” Eliza demanded. “You don’t care about us anyway.”
And with that they turned back to their fort, acting as if he were not even there.
Heart aching, he could only watch them as they busied themselves adjusting fabric, strengthening the supports. Only this time they worked in silence, the heart gone out of their game. Because of him.
Without another word he strode from the room. Why could he never do right by them? He had tried so damned hard, making certain they had a roof over their heads, seeing they were fed and clothed and cared for. Yet he never failed to muck things up. They would never understand that he had no choice but to keep his distance from them. For in doing so, in making certain they never came to care for him as he did for them, he was doing the only thing he could to keep them from feeling the same devastating bone-deep shame that ate away at his own soul.
Chapter 4
The next day saw Bronwyn, seated in a miserable mass across from her maid in her parents’ fashionable barouche, pulling into the sweeping front drive of Caulnedy Manor for her promised visit with the Hargrove girls, the glass jar of beetles secure in her lap. This trip, however, was not only a social call. No, the arthropods had been discovered the night before, and Bronwyn had been ordered to return thedisgusting beasts, as her mother so eloquently put it, back where they came from.
She supposed she should be grateful her father hadn’t smashed the insects on the spot. Only Bronwyn’s incredible effort had managed to save these tansy beetles to live another day. Though, she thought bleakly, gazing down at the glistening green creatures, any further research she might do on the insects was now well and truly over.
The house, tucked as it was near the Elven Pools at the center of the Isle, isolated by a densely wooded area, was not located on any main roads and therefore went forgotten by most of the residents of Synne. Even Bronwyn, who was used to tromping over hills and valleys in search of her beloved insects, and lately spending as much time as she could eke out in the meadow near the Elven Pools, had never had cause to catch view of the house. As she looked up at the dark brick facade, however, she wondered how anything so beautiful could be so completely hidden from the world.
Bronwyn had always been of a scientific mind. Facts and figures had always been the basis for everything in her life. Even when she was a child, instead of delighting in fairy tales and magical realms and make-believe, she had gravitated toward books on flora and fauna and explanations of the natural world.
Now, however, as the driver helped her down, she felt as if she had been transported to some enchanted glen. Though Caulnedy was a sprawling building, two stories tall, with peaked gables and a veritable forest of chimneys that reached for the sky, it had an air of intimacy that drew one in. It had sat empty for years, yet it had obviously been well cared for. The mullioned windows gleamed in the dappled sunlight, the front steps were swept clean, the hedges neatly trimmed, and flowers bloomed in a riot of colors. Who, she wondered, could own such a place and not reside here year-round? It was a veritable paradise.
Before she could reach the front door to ring the bell, it was thrown wide, and the Misses Eliza and Nelly Hargrove tumbled out, rushing toward her with squeals of glee.
“You have come!” Miss Nelly exclaimed, rushing forward, throwing her arms about Bronwyn’s middle.
Bronwyn, wholly unused to being embraced, didn’t quite know what to do. In the end she settled on patting the young girl’s shoulder awkwardly.
“Nelly, you’ll scare her off,” the elder girl reprimanded, quickly ruining the effect by taking hold of Bronwyn’s hand and squeezing it. “We really are happy you’ve come. We feared you would not.”
“But you must come in,” Miss Nelly said, releasing Bronwyn’s waist and grinning up at her. “We can have tea and sandwiches and sit and talk like real ladies.”
“No we can’t, you ninny,” her sister scolded. “We haven’t a cook.”
“I assure you,” Bronwyn hurried to say, not certain what the protocol was for this sort of thing but desperate to mend whatever damage she seemed to have done by coming here when they were so obviously understaffed, “I don’t need anything of the sort.”
“There, you see?” Miss Eliza said. “Miss Pickering has no need of something so formal.” Suddenly the girl spied the jar in Bronwyn’s arms. “Oh! You have brought the beetles back. Aren’t they the sweetest, tiniest things? Have you come to return them to the meadow?”
A lump formed in Bronwyn’s throat at that, and she cradled the jar tighter. “I have,” she answered quietly. “I’ll just run them out quickly and then we may have our visit.”
“Oh, but we would love to join you,” Miss Nelly said, pushing a rogue light brown curl out of her face as she peered up at Bronwyn. “Let us go out to the meadow instead of heading inside. We can spend your entire visit there, and you can tell us all about the insects we find.”
“That’s a splendid idea,” Miss Eliza chimed in. “We were never allowed to do anything of the sort in London.”
“Do say we can all go, Miss Pickering.”
She should refuse. Her parents had pointedly forbidden her from spending more than a few minutes in the meadow, and only to specifically return the beetles. She cast a covert glance at her maid, who stood stiff and unapproving near the carriage. There was also the matter of that woman’s loyalty to the elder Pickerings. No doubt it was she who had alerted Bronwyn’s parents to the presence of insects in their house.
But as she looked into the eager faces of the Hargrove girls, she felt her own excitement grow. How could she possibly refuse their request? She was a guest here, after all. And wasn’t it the proper thing to do to heed her hosts’ wishes on this matter?
Well, she truly didn’t know about what was proper or not. Nor did she care. All she knew was she couldn’t pass up this chance to visit the meadow and indulge in one final bit of research.