A Hope Remembered (19 page)

Colin chuckled. “My services are free for the day.”

Jack muttered something inaudible, but Mr. Sodry grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Right-o, then. Since there’ll be four of us, Mr. Ashby and I will take this side, and Cripe, you and Jack, can start at the other end.”

“Shall we race then?” Mr. Cripe asked, his brows lifted in amused challenge.

“What say you, Mr. Ashby?” Mr. Sodry turned to look at him. “Up for a little competition?”

Making sure to keep his eyes trained on Jack, Colin nodded. “A pint of ale to the winners? My treat.”

“Done.” Mr. Sodry hoisted one of the tool boxes and motioned for Colin to follow him. “The one with the most stalls demolished by lunch is the winner,” he threw over his shoulder.

Colin hurried after the man. He’d brought along his flight gloves, which he removed from his pocket and put on. Mr. Sodry slapped a hammer into his palm and directed him to tackle the part of the stall that butted against the back wall of the stables.

The building soon filled with the sound of metal striking wood. Most of the boards had weathered, which meant a few strikes with the hammer or a good firm jerk with the hand released them from the places they’d stood for at least a hundred years. Colin tossed the soft boards into a pile, noting Mr. Sodry was working as quickly as himself.

They worked in silence, which suited Colin. As he hacked and ripped at the old stalls, he recalled the many times he and Christian had played hide-and-seek in here as children. Those had been happy times. He’d idolized Christian, and in turn, his older brother had looked out for him. They’d both known from early on that Christian would be baronet and a good one at that—he had the seriousness and aptitude to run the estate.

“What about you, Colin? What would you do if you could be baronet?” Christian had asked him one day when they were children.

“I’d buy a pony for every child in the village!”

Christian laughed, reminding Colin too much of their father.

“Aren’t you supposed to help others as baronet?” he argued hotly. “Father’s always going on about your responsibility to other people.”

His brother instantly sobered at the reminder. “You’re right.” He reached over and mussed Colin’s hair—something he knew Colin hated. “I think you would make a good baronet, little brother.”

Colin paused to stare at the hammer in his hand. He’d forgotten about that conversation, until now. Did Christian still think he’d make a good baronet? As his eight-year-old self had emphatically stated, being baronet was more than running the estate; it was about helping others. Was there more he could do in his position to better the lives of those around him? Perhaps even those who lived beyond Larksbeck, such as ex-soldiers like him and Lyle. It was new train of thought, a way of looking at the inevitable passing of the title of baronet to him in a more positive light.

“Hurry, lad.” Mr. Sodry pushed his cap up. “I think we’re in the lead.”

Colin glanced at Jack and Mr. Cripe. Sure enough, they appeared to have only demolished two stalls to his and Mr. Sodry’s three. A feeling of gratification broke over Colin.

Who’s the champion now?
he thought with a grin as he wrestled the next set of boards.

One thing was certain. He wouldn’t wile away his time at a desk when he was baronet. He much preferred being out among the villagers, like this, working alongside them.

When they’d finished taking out the present stall, he and Mr. Sodry started in on the next. Sweat ran down Colin’s neck and forehead, soaking his collar and the back of his shirt. Good thing he’d worn old clothes. Gibson would skin him alive if he’d attempted to work in one of his regular suits.

He stopped only once, long enough to take a swig of the water Mr. Sodry had brought in a stone jug. The liquid tasted delicious. Colin wiped the moisture from his lips and thought of Nora. Had he missed their typical time to go for a walk? Hopefully she’d understand. He sensed she liked and admired his willingness to try his hand at farm tasks.

Mr. Green arrived sometime later, and although clearly stunned to find Colin among the workers, he praised both teams for their efforts and volunteered to be the one to call the competition at noon. Tiring of his own thoughts, Colin asked Mr. Sodry about his farm and family. To his surprise, he learned the man had lost two sons to the war. Mr. Sodry had also been sheep farming for more than twenty-five years and claimed to have married the prettiest girl in all of the Lake District. He, in turn, asked Colin about his biplane, and even expressed a desire to ride in it.

Colin agreed to take him someday soon. It was high time he shared the heady experience of flight with others, though he was secretly glad Nora had been his first passenger.

Mr. Green removed a watch from his shirt pocket. “Fifteen minutes, gentlemen.”

“Let’s make it a strong win,” Mr. Sodry said to Colin as they started in on the next stall.

He nodded and attacked the rotting boards with renewed energy. The stall was no match for him and Mr. Sodry. By the time Mr. Green counted down the seconds to twelve o’clock, Colin tossed the last of the boards into the giant pile on their side of the stables.

“Mr. Sodry and Mr. Ashby win,” Mr. Green declared. He gave both men a congratulatory handshake.

Jack and Mr. Cripe wandered over, their faces looking every bit as red and dirty as Colin’s felt. “Good work, young man.” Mr. Cripe shook Colin’s hand. Jack merely dipped his head in acknowledgment, without meeting Colin’s gaze.

No matter. Despite being sticky with sweat, his clothes covered in dirt and loose bits of hay, Colin felt prouder of his work than he did besting Jack. “What do you say to pints for all of us?”

Someone stepped into the barn behind him. The men immediately removed their hats. “Miss Lewis,” Mr. Sodry said with a nod.

Still euphoric from what he’d accomplished, Colin turned, lifted Nora off her feet, and swung her around. “I missed you,” he murmured before setting her down. Her cheeks flushed with what he guessed must be embarrassment, but her eyes glowed with momentary pleasure. Conscious they were being watched, by his father’s land agent no less, Colin led her from the stable and around the building.

“What were you doing in there?” she asked when he stopped.

Colin pressed his forehead to hers. “Sweating mostly, but we’re tearing down the stalls to make room…” He paused, not sure how much of his father’s plan to share. “My father wants to use the building for something else.” He eased back and rubbed her cheek with his knuckles. “I lost track of time, but we can still go on our walk, once I take these fellows to the pub and—”

“Someone destroyed my garden yesterday, Colin.” Nora lowered her gaze to the ground.

Concern rippled through him. “You sure it was deliberate?”

She nodded. “I found a boot print and a good portion of the plants had been torn up, not washed away from the rain or mud.”

Colin tightened his jaw, anger following quickly on the heels of his unease. Whoever wanted Nora gone wasn’t finished with the threats.

“I don’t know what to do.” Nora lifted her eyes to his. “I’ve already taken to locking the doors, but I can’t prevent things from happening outside the cottage.”

“This has to stop.” Colin pounded a fist against the stone wall of the stable. The shot of pain to his hand barely registered in his mind. “I promised these men a drink. But while I’m at the pub, I’ll ask around. See if anyone has noticed or heard anything suspicious.”

“All right.” She folded her arms as if cold.

He drew her against him, certain she wouldn’t mind his dirty clothes, and wrapped his arms around her. “We’ll figure this out, Nora.”

“They can’t scare me away,” she murmured. “I’m here in Larksbeck to stay.”

Resting his chin on her hair, he hoped with all his heart her statement would prove true. Time was running out to find a solution that satisfied both his father and his own heart—but he was praying he’d find one.

C
an’t sleep either, girl?”

Nora twisted onto her side and stroked Phoebe’s fur. The puppy had been restless, starting the night on the bed, then moving to the floor, and finally returning to the bed.

Rolling onto her back, Nora stared up through the darkness at the ceiling. How could one day be so different from another? Yesterday, she’d felt alive, accepted, happy. Tonight she felt wary and tired. Colin’s inquiries at the pub hadn’t turned up any information. She wished he’d been able to talk to Jack, but he’d refused to go with the others. Nora would have to remember to ask him later if he’d heard anything suspicious.

She draped her arm across her forehead and shut her eyes, willing sleep to come. It wasn’t that she felt unsafe. The doors were locked, and neither act of violence had been life-threatening in any way. But Nora couldn’t rid herself of the unsettling feeling of being watched and disliked. Which made sleep nearly impossible.

With a sigh, she sat up. Phoebe lifted her head in question. “I’m going to read,” Nora explained.

She lit the lamp beside her bed and picked up Eleanor’s diary. Removing the ribbon that marked her place, Nora scooted back beneath the covers. She would never have suspected a journal to be so riveting, but she found herself caught up in the details of Eleanor’s life.

After E married, the young woman had remained some time without a beau, though she did mention exchanging letters with Matthew Galbert, the farmer and fiddler. Apparently the young man had some sort of illness that often confined him to bed, so he greatly appreciated Eleanor’s letters. When they did see each other at village functions, he often accompanied her singing on his fiddle. The people of Larksbeck loved the musical duo and would request their performance for holidays.

While Nora knew the two would eventually marry, since Eleanor’s last name had changed from Lewis to Galbert, she still found the story of their courtship interesting. Especially knowing E had been Eleanor’s first love.

After locating the last entry she’d read before bed, Nora began reading again. Eleanor wrote of a growing affection for Matthew—from friendship to something more. Nora could relate. She was beginning to feel the same way toward Colin.

She couldn’t help smiling as she read about Matthew finally asking for Eleanor’s hand in marriage and her acceptance. But Eleanor’s next words made her pause.

Nora read the words through twice, her finger skimming the worn handwriting. She’d loved Tom with all her heart and had yearned for a future together, before that dream had been broken. Did that mean she could never love another man as strongly? Eleanor certainly didn’t think so.

The next few entries were about Eleanor and Matthew’s wedding plans and the day itself. After a short trip to Scotland, the pair moved in with Eleanor’s father. The dates at the top of the pages grew farther apart as Eleanor settled into her new life. She mentioned moments of great happiness as well as moments of great struggle over Matthew’s health. Two years into their marriage, Eleanor became pregnant and several entries expressed her delight at the prospect of being a mother.

Then Matthew lost his fight against the illness that had plagued him most of his life. Tears dripped off Nora’s chin onto the page as she read Eleanor’s entry of the event, written a month after Matthew’s death.

The book tumbled from Nora’s hands to her lap. She stared at it as if it might rear up and bite her. Her heart thudded hard against her ribs. She’d heard Eleanor and Matthew had a daughter who’d gone to live with relatives as a baby after Eleanor died. But surely she would have heard if she had a distant cousin with her exact same name.

Goose pimples broke out along her arms and she shivered. If there was no other Nora in the family, could that mean…? All the references she’d heard since coming to Larksbeck about her likeness to Eleanor repeated through her mind.

“No,” she told herself firmly, shaking her head and folding her arms tightly against her nightgown. The idea was preposterous. Her parents had been Frank and Grace Lewis.

She shoved the book onto the bedside table and blew out the lamp. No more reading tonight. It was merely a coincidence she and Eleanor’s daughter shared the same name. Perhaps the relatives had changed the girl’s name to something else—that would explain why there wasn’t another Nora in the family.

Things all around were bound to look better and more sensible in the morning. Nora settled on her side next to Phoebe and shut her eyes, but sleep was still long in coming.

On hands and knees the following morning, Nora wiped up the rainwater that had once again leaked through the broken window onto the floor of the dining room. It had been almost a week since she’d found the rock and note. If she didn’t fix the window soon, she feared the floor beneath it would start warping.

“We’re off to the village this morning, Phoebe,” she announced as she went to fetch the puppy from where she’d tied her outside earlier. Phoebe jumped and barked in anticipation as if she understood the outing in store.

Nora untied the dog and allowed her gaze to sweep for a moment over her field. Something wasn’t right. She studied the line of her stone walls until she located the problem. Something—or more likely, someone—had toppled several feet of the wall she and Jack had painstakingly fixed three weeks ago.

The garden two days ago and now this. Nora squeezed her eyes shut against a rising headache. At least she could fix this. The garden was another story. She wasn’t sure how much she could expect to reap even if she replanted.

A feeling of despair threatened to overwhelm her. Who wanted her gone so badly? And why? Her only wish was to carve out a life for herself here. Was that so offensive to the other farmers?

She opened her eyes and blew out a long sigh. It was time to start repairing the damage that had been done. Time to show whoever wanted her gone that she wasn’t leaving.

With Phoebe’s leash in hand, she collected the basket Mr. Bagley had kindly given her and locked the doors. The puppy dashed as far down the lane as the rope would allow, coaxing a smile from Nora. How grateful she was for the energetic puppy. She felt less isolated with Phoebe around for company.

Of course, Colin had come to mean as much to her as Phoebe.
More so
, her heart argued. Watching him interact with the other farmers yesterday and basking in the comfort of his strong arms, she’d realized how much she’d come to rely on and cherish his presence in her life. The anticipation of seeing his playful smile, or teasing and talking with him, or feeling the touch of his hand on her face buoyed up her spirits. He had become the sun to her recently cloudy days.

Her thoughts returned to what she’d read in Eleanor’s diary the night before—how Eleanor felt no regret at loving someone else before she loved Matthew. Did Nora have the courage to do the same? She’d locked her heart after Tom’s death, but Colin had successfully breached the barricade. Wouldn’t he be pleased to know that? A hint of a smile pulled at her lips.

The gesture soon faded to a frown, though, as other questions crowded her thoughts. If they were to marry, would Colin be willing to give up his grand house to come live on her sheep farm? Or would she be required to fit into his high-society life instead?

With no ready answers, Nora pushed the troubling queries to the back of her mind and sucked in a deep breath of clean, dew-drenched air. She would salvage the day, regardless of what had transpired with her stone wall.

She and Phoebe traversed the bridge, and Nora waved to several of the women in the village who were busy working outdoors today. They cheerfully returned her greeting, prompting a mixture of happiness and confusion inside her. If most of the families enjoyed having her here, who didn’t?

She reached Mr. Bagley’s shop, but embarrassment kept her from heading straight inside. After all, she’d already ordered one windowpane from him. Would he think her careless when she announced she needed another?

There was no reason to feel ashamed, she reminded herself. She wasn’t the one who’d broken the window either time. After tying Phoebe out front, she opened the door and marched into the shop.

Mr. Bagley looked up from his newspaper and smiled. “Good morning, Miss Lewis.” He folded his paper and set it on the long counter. “Splendid job on your solo last Sunday.” He leaned his elbows on the counter as he added, “Though I did wonder if nerves had gotten the better of you for a moment.”

“For a moment,” Nora admitted, “but then my courage returned.”

“How about Mr. Ashby?” Mr. Bagley frowned. “Is he returning to our choir? Can’t say I’d blame him if he didn’t. Not after missing our performance this week.”

“I promise you he had a very good excuse for not being there. His friend, Andrew Lyle, the one visiting him, was feeling poorly.”

The grocer straightened, sympathy emanating from his gray-blue eyes. “Aye, then. I suppose that’s a good enough reason to miss services. Now what can I do for you today?”

“I need just a few things.” Nora collected some goods from around the shop and brought them to the counter. “I’d also like to order another windowpane.”

Mr. Bagley arched his eyebrows. “Another? What are you doing to your windows, Miss Lewis?”

Nora forced herself to join in his good-natured laughter. “Nothing out of the ordinary, I assure you. I’m afraid an errant rock made its way through one of the panes last week.”

“How did that happen?” he asked with a puzzled frown.

Not wishing to divulge more than she had to, Nora settled for sharing the simple truth. “I don’t know. It might have been an innocent prank.” Though the note, her ruined garden, and the toppled stone wall this morning all suggested otherwise.

Mr. Bagley’s frown deepened to a scowl. “Prank or not, such a thing isn’t right. I’d like to take a belt to whoever did it. And I’d be willing to bet the lad’s parents would feel the same.”

Nora doubted it was a child who wanted her gone. “Is there anyone who might be…” She paused for the right words. “Might be upset by my coming here and taking over Henry’s place?”

“Certainly not.” Mr. Bagley shook his head, a smile breaking through his grim expression. “We were right pleased to hear you might be coming. To have Eleanor’s daughter home again—it was great news for all of us.”

Nora’s heart seemed to stop, then began beating again, twice as fast. The floor felt suddenly uneven beneath her feet. She gripped the counter to keep from swaying. Mr. Bagley’s words echoed the ones she’d tried to drown out last night as she lay awake, long after putting the diary aside.

She couldn’t be Eleanor’s daughter—she’d never even been to England before now. At her age, she certainly knew who her parents were and who they weren’t.

Unbidden wisps of memory drifted into her mind, things Nora had wondered about over the years, questions to which her parents had only vague answers. Why they’d never had more children. Why she didn’t look like either of them. Why her mother couldn’t recall details of Nora’s birth or those first few months of her life.

“Miss Lewis? Nora?” Mr. Bagley’s voice sounded far away. “Are you all right? You look rather pale.”

Nora shut her eyes a moment, to clear the confusion swirling through her head. When she opened her eyes again, she pasted on a smile. “I’m fine.”

“I’ll order your windowpane today,” Mr. Bagley said after she’d paid for her purchases and put them into her basket. “And we’ll see you Saturday at choir rehearsal.”

She managed a nod before escaping the shop. Phoebe pawed at her boots as Nora untied the dog’s leash. She couldn’t go back to the cottage now. Not with Mr. Bagley’s announcement about her being Eleanor’s daughter still ringing in her ears. She had to know if it was true, and there was only one person who could confirm or refute it.

Bess.

Whatever the woman’s reasons were for keeping silent, or mostly silent, about Eleanor the last two months, Nora determined she would wrestle the truth from Bess today. She would not leave the Tuttle cottage until she had the answers she needed.

Nora gently pulled Phoebe into step beside her and hurried up the road, away from Larksbeck. At her quickened pace, she reached the Tuttles’ cottage in minutes. She proceeded to the back door, where she stopped to catch her breath, praying she’d catch Bess alone. After giving the door a good knock, she gathered Phoebe into her arms, along with her basket, and waited for Bess to answer.

The door opened a minute later, and Bess appeared in the doorway, a dish cloth in her hands. “Nora. Come in, come in.”

Nora stepped into the warm kitchen. No one else appeared to be about. The smell of baking bread filled her nose. “Smells delicious.”

“It’ll be done in about ten minutes and you can have a slice.” Bess moved to the sink, lifted a dish, and dried it. “Already been to the village, have you?” She nodded at the basket Nora set on one of the benches drawn up to the table.

“Yes.” She took a seat and let Phoebe down onto the floor, though she kept hold of the puppy’s leash.

Bess put the dish away, but she paused in her return to the sink to ask, “Are you all right, love? You look like you could use a nice cup of tea.”

“Yes…I mean, no.” Nora cleared her throat. Best to just come out with it. “I want to know who Eleanor is.” That wasn’t right either. “What I mean is I want to know who Eleanor is, to me.”