A Hope Remembered (13 page)

An insistent yelp jerked Nora from sleep. She shot up in bed, her heart beating fast. What was wrong? Another yap followed by a scratch oriented her in the semidarkness.

“What is it, Phoebe?” Nora swung her legs over the side of the bed and patted on bare feet to the door, where Phoebe sat. “Do you need to go out?”

The dog barked. With a sigh, Nora opened the door and followed Phoebe down the stairs to the kitchen. She’d forgotten how much work a puppy—even a house-trained one—could be. Still she was more than grateful for the companionship.

She pulled her sweater from its peg and opened the door a few inches before turning to collect Phoebe’s leash. In those few seconds, the dog wriggled through the opening and out into the night before Nora could stop her.

“Phoebe!” Nora raced into the shadowed yard. The cold, damp air swirled around her bare ankles and calves and made her shiver. Her pulse pounded fast and hard in her ears at the thought of losing the puppy after only half a day with her. “Phoebe? Where are you?”

Nora searched the flowers near the cottage, repeating her call for the dog, but it was as if Phoebe had vanished. The only noises were the milling about of the ewes and their lambs in the field. Worry and regret twisted Nora’s stomach as she moved farther away from the house to hunt for the lost dog.

Several long, agonizing minutes passed before Nora heard the faint noise of Phoebe’s whining. Relief coursed through her at the sound. The dog had to be close. Nora walked to the stone fence bordering the field and paused to listen. Phoebe’s whines sounded louder.

Nora peered over the fence, but she couldn’t see anything among the dark shadows. Dropping to her knees in the wet grass, she ran her hand along the rough stones near the bottom of the fence. She advanced slowly down the fence line until her fingers brushed soft fur.

“Phoebe, you naughty dog,” she scolded.

Using her hands more than her sight, Nora determined the puppy had tried to climb through a hole in the fence, but the opening on the opposite end wasn’t large enough to accommodate even her small body. The hole would need to be patched in the morning, to keep mischievous puppies out and little lambs in.

Nora felt around the hole a second time, trying to determine the best way to extract her puppy from the fence. Beneath Phoebe’s feet her fingers brushed something smooth and metallic, rather than rough stone. What was the dog standing on?

“All right, girl, I’m going to help you out of there,” Nora crooned as she gently pushed Phoebe into a lying position. With one hand on the dog’s back and the other near Phoebe’s rump, she carefully removed the puppy from the fence. Free at last, Phoebe scrambled up from Nora’s lap to lick her chin. Nora chuckled and embraced the squirming pup.

“Let’s not do that again, please.” She wrapped a firm hand around the dog to keep her in place, then she reached into the hole for the metal object. After several twists, Nora pulled out a box. “I wonder what’s inside,” she murmured as she carried both the puppy and the box into the house.

Nora set the box on the table and secured the door before releasing Phoebe to the floor. “I hope you did your business before you got stuck because you aren’t going back outside tonight.”

The dog circled once, then flopped down beneath the table and shut her eyes, clearly exhausted by her little adventure.

A yawn escaped Nora’s mouth as she hung up her sweater, but she wasn’t sure she’d be able to fall asleep yet. Adrenaline over possibly losing the dog had fully awakened her.

After lighting a lamp, Nora sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and examined the metal box. “Should we see what we’ve got here, Phoebe?”

Nora wiped the dirt from the lid with the side of her hand, revealing gold lettering and a picture of some sort. The box had likely been a cracker or biscuit tin at some point. So why would someone stow it away in the fence?

A mixture of curiosity and nerves had her holding her breath as she pushed the lid open an inch or two. Nothing jumped out and no foul smell tainted the air. Nora released her breath and opened the tin all the way. Dried flowers and pieces of lace and material sat atop a green leather-bound book.

She brushed aside the bits of material and crumbling petals to lift out the book. As she ran her fingers over the soft leather, her heart raced with sudden hope. Had she finally found something that belonged to Eleanor? The hairs on the back of her neck rose and Nora shivered. She’d searched the whole cottage for a diary of some sort, but she hadn’t found anything of real interest beyond some old clothes and toys in the attic. Would she be disappointed once more?

“Only one way to find out.”

She opened the cover and her breath snagged in her throat. Written on the cover page in faded but neat penmanship were the words:
This diary is the sole property of Eleanor Lewis.
The name
Galbert
was written on the line below.

“Oh, Phoebe. You, wonderful, wonderful dog.” She knelt beside the puppy and stroked her silky fur. “All is forgiven.”

Nora stood and collected the lamp and book. “Come on, Phoebe. Let’s go back up to bed.”

The dog followed her out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Nora set the lamp on the bedside table in her room and helped Phoebe onto the foot of the bed. The puppy nestled into the quilt and closed her eyes again. Nora climbed into bed, but she knew sleep was even further off than before. She had to read a little of the diary first.

Settling back against her pillow, she opened the book. A thrill of anticipation shot through her as she read the first two sentences of the first entry:
My name is Eleanor Lewis. I’m sixteen years old today and I’m in love.

W
histling to himself, Colin entered the dining room. Sunlight shone through the lace curtains at the full-length windows, adding to his already good mood. He served himself breakfast from the buffet, then took a seat beside his father at the table.

“Morning, Father.” He arranged his napkin on his lap. “How’s the state of the world today?”

Sir Edward glanced up from his newspaper and grunted in greeting. Clearly not everyone shared Colin’s enthusiasm for the day—at least not at this hour.

Colin started in on his breakfast. He managed a few bites before Martin walked into the room and announced, “Letter for you, Master Colin.”

The butler held out a silver platter with a single envelope lying on it. Colin took the letter and eyed the name written there. It was from his closest friend and fellow pilot during the war, Andrew Lyle.

When was the last time he’d heard from Lyle? At least three or four months ago. Colin read over the letter as he ate. Lyle spoke of London and the heat, and of the many ex-soldiers without jobs. Familiar guilt wrestled with the breakfast in Colin’s stomach, marring some of his earlier good humor. He wished there was something he could do to help these men whom he’d shared the horrors of war alongside. Jobs were few at the moment, but he’d also heard a good number of the returning soldiers were too damaged in mind or body to secure employment.

Near the end of the letter, Lyle asked if he might come up for a visit.
I find myself in need of a change of scenery
, he’d written.
I can come at your earliest convenience.

Colin folded the letter and slipped it back into its envelope. He rather liked the idea of having his war chum come to stay for a time. Only one thing about the letter struck him as odd—Lyle hadn’t mentioned bringing his wife along.

“A pilot friend of mine, Andrew Lyle, would like to come for a visit. When shall I tell him to come?”

Sir Edward dropped a corner of the paper. “Where does he live?”

“London.”

“Who is his father?”

Colin’s jaw tightened at the question. In light of all England had suffered over the last six years, allowing only house guests of proper birth or origin at Elmthwaite felt not only antiquated but offensive. “No one you know, Father. He’s the son of a humble solicitor. And one himself, I might add.”

His father lowered the paper and frowned. “Then how can he afford to leave his clients by traipsing all over the country?”

Breakfast no longer seemed appetizing in the wake of his anger. Colin pushed his plate aside. When would his father ever choose to see beyond his own life? “He was injured in the war. The same war that took your son.” The words hit home as Colin knew they would, causing his father’s face to harden. “He’s in need of a change of pace, which is what we can give him.”

“And how long will he be gracing us with his presence?” Sir Edward shot back in an icy tone.

“I don’t know.” Colin wadded up his napkin and tossed it on the table. “But I’d think you’d show some compassion for those who sacrificed more than their time to preserve your way of life here.”

His father’s blue eyes narrowed. “My way of life? Is that all this is to you?”

“What if it is?” Colin countered. “There are soldiers begging on London street corners for money because they don’t have hands or legs or arms to do anything else. There are those whose minds have been so shattered they struggle to simply exist. And yet here we sit…” A lump of emotion lodged in his throat, forcing Colin to pause. “Here
I
sit with all my faculties intact and money to spare, at least for now.”

It was the closest he’d ever come to admitting the guilt he harbored over having survived, when Christian hadn’t. The guilt he often felt that he could still walk and see and fly, when others couldn’t.

His admission hung in the air like glass over the dining room, fragile and liable to shatter at the first dismissive comment from his father. Sir Edward wouldn’t meet his eye. Instead he stared vacantly at something across the room, Colin and the newspaper all but forgotten.

Colin recalled the moment he’d first seen his father after coming home. The man who’d greeted him that day was a much older, more haggard version of the one who’d wished him well when he and Christian had left for France. Was it their money troubles that had caused the change, or Christian’s death?

Colin pushed out a sigh, anxious to leave the room. He was more likely to succeed at teaching Perseus how to speak than to come to any understanding with his father over the war and the ways it had changed the world.

“I have to go to London next week to select our new automobiles,” Sir Edward said, breaking the taunt silence. “Your friend may ride the train back with me on Thursday next.” Colin recognized the attempt at a truce, albeit a tenuous one.

“Thank you…sir. I’ll let him know.”

He stood, eager to get a reply off to Lyle, before he went to see Nora and her puppy. The memory of Nora’s delighted expression when he’d presented her with the little dog yesterday restored some of his good mood. As well as the recollection of her calling him a champion.

Good thing that table was between us
, Colin thought as he pushed in his chair. Otherwise he might have given in to the overwhelming desire to kiss her soundly after her heartfelt speech regarding his good qualities.

“One thing more, Colin.” Sir Edward folded the paper and placed it on the table. “I have men contracted to start reconstruction on the old stables when I return from London. I’ve also narrowed down the hotel design to two possibilities. Either one should be lavish enough to attract interest, even here in Larksbeck.”

Colin wrapped his fingers around the back of his chair, bracing himself for what he knew was coming.

“How are you handling your part of the plan?” Sir Edward pinned him with a probing gaze.

“I’m getting to know her,” he answered simply.

He wouldn’t share how much he’d come to appreciate Nora’s friendship over the last six weeks. Or how much he thought about her during the day, or how he preferred her company to anyone else’s. If he admitted those things out loud, he feared he wouldn’t be able to go through with what was required of him.

“And?” Sir Edward prompted.

“What, Father?” Colin pasted an innocent expression on his face.

Sir Edward pounded the table with his fist, making the dishes rattle. So much for their truce. “I’m not ignorant of the amount of time you’ve been spending with that no-name orphan. And now all you can say for yourself is that you’ve gotten to know her?” He pointed a finger at Colin. “Everything is riding on your persuasion tactics. You know this.”

“Don’t forget the part about my marrying Lady Sophia,” Colin couldn’t help adding, his voice coated with sarcasm.

Sir Edward scowled. “This isn’t a game, Colin.”

No, it wasn’t. Colin knew that better than his father. He was the one playing with fire by befriending Nora with the intent to pull the rug out from under her when he convinced her to leave her farm…to leave him.

“I cannot build this hotel and bring tourists here without that property,” Sir Edward continued, but he no longer sounded angry. His voice denoted only weariness. “Even a well-placed marriage will only add a few more years to Elmthwaite’s survival if we don’t build the hotel.” His gaze found Colin’s. “Are you with me or not? I need to know, before I go to London.”

Releasing his viselike hold on the chair, Colin straightened. He wouldn’t go against his brother’s request or his father’s plans, even if he wished he could. “Go ahead with your trip and converting the stables. I will get the property. You have my word.”

It was the second time he’d given his promise to a member of his family. The words felt no less weighty today as they had when he’d said them to Christian before his death.

A rare half smile lifted the corner of Sir Edward’s mouth. “Very good. When can I expect to begin building the hotel?”

“I don’t think she’ll accept your offer to buy the farm until after the shearing and the selling of the male lambs next month. Once she sees the work involved and the moderate income, she might be more easily persuaded to give it up.” Remorse, scalding and thick, roiled through Colin at talking about Nora and her future with such detachment, but if he didn’t, he would fail.

Sir Edward steepled his hands and tapped them against his chin. “You have a point. We should still move forward, as you suggested, on the rest of the plan. Come the end of August, though, I expect your part to be tidily wrapped up.” His eyebrows rose in challenge.

“End of August,” Colin echoed with more conviction than he felt.

At least he had the promise of another six weeks with Nora, before she left. And leave she would. Once she learned about his treachery, she wasn’t likely to stay anywhere near Larksbeck.

He tried to picture his life the way it had been before Nora, but it was like trying to recall his life before the war. Both events had made deep impressions on him. The thought of continuing on here, without her, filled him with tangible pain. So he shied from it, telling himself he had time enough to settle into the idea once she was gone.

Sir Edward rose to his feet. “I’m counting on you, Colin.” With that he left the dining room.

His last words repeated through Colin’s head as he went to stand at one of the windows. The earlier sunlight was fast being blotted out by gray clouds. A noise at the servants’ door drew his attention and he turned. One of the maids—Bess’s daughter, if he remembered right—stuck her head around the door. Her cheeks flamed red when their eyes met.

“You can come in.” Colin waved her inside. With downcast gaze, she entered the dining room, a tray brandished in front of her like a sword.

“Sorry, sir,” she said in clipped tones. “I thought everyone had gone.”

“It’s fine. You can collect the dishes.”

“I tried to come get ’em earlier”—she punctuated her words with a great deal of clatter as she placed plates and platters onto her tray—“but you and Sir Edward were talking, see…” She shot him a penetrating look over her shoulder.

Had she overheard them talking about Nora? Colin frowned as he quickly reviewed the conversation in his head. He hadn’t mentioned Nora by name, so the maid wasn’t likely to know whom they’d been discussing.

“I apologize for delaying you,” he said with a smile and as much charm as he could muster at the moment.

She blushed again, but she didn’t say anything else. Instead she shook her head and continued with her task.

Colin exited the room and went to find Perseus outside. Despite the cloud cover, he and Nora might be able to squeeze in a walk before it rained. The thought cheered him, though he couldn’t quite shake the uneasiness in his gut that the maid understood far more than he suspected.

Nora sat back on her heels and surveyed the garden. How could so many weeds have sprung up, seemingly overnight? She’d been out here every day the last few weeks, plucking up the bothersome plants, and yet new ones seemed to shoot up hourly among the herbs and vegetables.

“It’s all this rain,” she murmured. “Makes the weeds and everything else grow faster than a wildfire back home.”

Phoebe barked in response and strained at the rope Nora had attached from the dog’s collar to the gate post.

“I know you want to explore…” Nora bent and plucked another weed from the soil. “But after last night, I need to keep you tied up, like Colin said.”

“What did I say?”

At the sound of Colin’s voice, a tremor of anticipation shot through Nora’s stomach. He’d come earlier than usual for their walk. Did that mean he wished to spend more time with her? She jerked at the weed between her fingers, ripping it out from its roots before tossing it away. If only she could eradicate her attraction to this man as easily.

“Morning.” Nora climbed to her feet, brushing dirt from her hands. Perseus ambled over to sniff Phoebe, then trotted off. The puppy ran after the bigger dog as far as her rope would allow before she began barking in protest at being left behind.

With a chuckle, Nora walked over to console her dog. Colin joined her and bent down to pet the struggling puppy. “You were right about her needing to be tied up.”

“Me? Right?” He shot her a mischievous smile.

It was a dangerous smile, one that always made her pulse sputter, as it did now. She focused her attention on the dog pawing at her knee. “She needed to go out in the middle of the night. But before I could get the rope on her, she charged outside.” Nora let Phoebe lick her hand. “Isn’t that right, girl?”

“Do you still wish to keep her? She isn’t too much trouble?”

“No.” She ruffled Phoebe’s soft ears. “She might be an imp, but I think she’s a perfectly wonderful imp.”

“You and me both, Phoebe,” Colin said, leaning back against the stone fence.

Nora chose to ignore his joke. Especially since he had that roguish look in his eyes. “You’ll never guess what happened, though. She got herself stuck in the stone fence, and when I got her out, I found a box. With Eleanor’s diary inside it.”

“It’s been out here this whole time? Bravo, Nora.” Phoebe barked, making Colin laugh. “My congratulations to you, too, Phoebe.”

Nora returned to the garden. “It’s been quite a fascinating read.” She set about tearing up weeds again. After a minute, Colin walked over.

“Are you going to tell me what it says?”

She squinted up at him. As usual he’d dressed in an immaculate suit and polished shoes. A rascally idea formed in her mind. “Are you as handy with weeding as you are with fixing my washing machine?”

“Much worse, I’m afraid.”

“Too bad.” She shrugged. “I’d be willing to tell you what I read, in exchange for some help weeding.”

“You’re serious?”

His incredulous tone nearly undid her feigned composure. “Yes.”

Nora continued to work, until the silence proved too much. She peeked over her shoulder to see Colin had removed his jacket and was now rolling up his sleeves.

He scowled when he caught her watching him. “All right, you win. Which ones are the weeds?”