Gillian took hold of his hand. That had become such a natural and easy gesture between them. “I hope the less you think of your uncle, the less you believe the horrible things he said to you.”
“I’m beginning to,” he said. “It is difficult to unlearn those things.”
She nodded. “When we let others’ unkind words become our own words, they gain power they should never have.”
“Wise words, my dear.” He swung their arms between them as they walked back out of the drawing room once more. “As much as I would love to show you the house, even in its rather depressing state, it is the grounds I cannot wait for you to see. I’m hopeful the potential there will be as clear as the potential in the house apparently is to you.”
“Nature is full of potential. I think that is one of the things I love most about it.”
She studied him as they walked about. He pointed out various trees and told her of his memories of climbing them or sitting beneath them and reading or daydreaming. He told her how much the hedgerows had grown between his visits from America. He offered a wonderful description of the gardens as they had once been.
She watched him, wanting to know if he could bear to leave this behind. What she saw was love. A love of this home and these grounds. But she also saw clearly in his eyes a love forher.
“I know you’re staying at the dower house, with access to the shockingly beautiful grounds of Lampton Park. I hope you know you’re welcome here too. You can come wander these grounds anytime you’d like. We haven’t access to the Trent, like Lampton Park and Farland Meadows do, though I know they would not object in the least to you spending time near the river.”
Both of those estates belonged to Jonquil brothers. “They are a rather wonderful family, aren’t they? Generous with more than just their land and homes.”
He smiled fondly. “I will miss them when I’m at Thimbleby.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said quietly.
He slipped his hand from hers and, instead, set his arm around her, tucking her up close to him as they continued to walk. “I know what it is that worries you, my dear, but I don’t know how to reassure you. I will miss this house, and I will miss the neighbors I have here. I will miss seeing the Jonquil family regularly and Mater and my sister.”
“If you keep listing things you will miss, you will only convince me further,” she warned him, trying to strike a teasing tone but not quite managing it.
“But being in Yorkshire,” he continued, “means I will not have to missyoufor as long as I had feared I would. And being there further means that sooner than we could have ever hoped for, I’ll not have to miss you ever again. That is a trade I am willing to make. In fact, I’m finding myself rather anxious to make it.”
They passed through a wrought-iron gate in a low stone wall. Beyond sat the remains of what had likely once been a very beautiful formal garden. It was now overgrown in some places, with nothing but long-dead shrubs in others. Despite the presence of weeds, the gravel paths could still be made out, winding and looping through the garden. A stone bench at one end sat solid and unyielding.
“Even when you’re able to accommodate tenants and bring in funds, there’ll not be any extra money. There’ll be no journeys, no jaunting to London or back to Nottinghamshire. It could be a very long time before you see any of them again. And Mater doesn’t travel much. Her last journey she made with you, and you will be unavailable. You’ve been without your mother foryears now. I worry so much about the pain it will cause you to be away from Mater for years.”
“There is one significant difference between them,” Scott said. “Mater will write to me. And I love correspondence.”
“It will not be the same.”
“No, it won’t. We’ve known for some time now that our road to happiness was not going to be an easy one. We wouldn’t simply decide we wanted a future together and then just claim it with no difficulties or struggles. But perhaps, having fought for it, we’ll appreciate that much more the life we eventually have.”
“I don’t ever want you to resent me.” If ever she needed proof that Scott gave her courage, that with him, she felt safe, this moment would serve as irrefutable evidence. To admit so easily and so readily to how vulnerable she felt could not have happened with anyone else.
“I have that same worry,” he said. “Building a life with me means you will be cut off from your father. I don’t ever want you to resent that either.”
“Someday, this house and this land will be all it once was and ought to be despite the many obstacles to overcome.” She stood there with his arm about her, looking over the overgrown grounds and the house beyond with so many windows boarded over. “If this house can hold fast, believing all will work out in the end, then we can do that too. Living at Thimbleby may not be exactly what you would want. Losing my father is not precisely what I want either. But we will have so many things that felt out of reach only a few weeks ago.”
“We will find a means of sorting it out. Somehow.”
She laughed lightly. “We use that word often, Scott. I would suggest you change the name of this home from Sarvol House toSomehowHouse, but that is quite a mouthful.”
He grinned, and it did her heart a world of good. Life was heavy, yes. There were many uncertainties ahead for them. But they would be together.
Chapter Thirty-three
Lampton Park was a lovelyplace. Gillian had thought as much when she’d joined the Jonquils there for a family supper on her first night in the area. Being in the nursery midmorning was even more delightful.
Little Kendrick, who bore the title of Lord Jonquil, and his twin sister, Lady Julia, called this nursery home. They would be two years old in only a couple more months. Layton’s children, Caroline and Henry, who lived at the neighboring estate, were eight and three years old, respectively. All four were gathered in the nursery to spend the morning with their grandmother.
Mater was clearly in heaven. And Gillian had been permitted to take part.
While the younger children fully monopolized their grandmother, Caroline stood beside Gillian. “You are one of my aunt Artemis’s friends, aren’t you?”