A Hope Remembered (20 page)

Bess faced the sink, her back to Nora. Her silence stretched over several long seconds.

“Please, Bess,” Nora pleaded. “You know the truth. I need to know it, too.”

Heaving a sigh, Bess turned slowly. Her eyes glistened with unshed moisture, but they held Nora’s. “I didn’t think it my place to say, but then again, everyone else has passed on, you see.” She gave a humorless chuckle.

Nora waited for Bess to continue, her heart drumming as fast as it had in Mr. Bagley’s shop. Her fingernails dug deeper into the leather of Phoebe’s leash.

“Eleanor Lewis Galbert was your mum, love.”

Though Bess’s words confirmed her suspicions, the simple declaration still pounded Nora like a rush of cold wind, tearing through the idyllic memories of her childhood. “My—my mother?”

Bess nodded. “Henry wasn’t really your great-uncle. He was your grandfather.” Several tears slipped down her round cheeks, but she was smiling. “I got to hold you a few hours after you were born, you know. Your hair was the same rich red as your mum’s, even then.”

Nora tried to imagine the scene—Bess holding her as a baby, while Eleanor and Henry looked on. But she couldn’t quite visualize the faces of her real mother and grandfather.

Something damp nudged her hand. Looking down, Nora mustered half a smile for Phoebe as she rubbed the puppy’s soft brown fur. “How did my…” The word
parents
didn’t roll so easily off her tongue anymore. “How did Frank and Grace Lewis come to raise me? I know from Eleanor’s diary she died shortly after…I was born.”

“You found her diary?” Bess sat down on the bench. “I searched for it after she died, but never found it. Where was it?”

“Tucked inside a cracker tin in one of the stone walls.”

Her eyes glowed with delight. “Eleanor was always clever like that.”

“What about Frank and Grace?” Nora prompted.

Bess shook her head, as if casting off old memories. “Your poor grandfather was beside himself with grief over Eleanor’s death. He’d lost his wife, his son-in-law, and his daughter. He loved you fiercely, he did, but he knew he couldn’t care for a wee babe on his own.

“So he wrote to his brother James in America, asking what could be done. James wrote back about his son Frank and his lovely daughter-in-law who couldn’t have children. Would Henry consider allowing them to rear you as their own.”

Nora blew out her breath. She felt as if she were living a scene from a dream—to find out her life had begun so differently than she’d always believed. That she was different than she’d always believed.

“I remember the day your American mum and dad came here.” Bess’s voice sounded full of the past again. “I’d thought of taking you myself, since I’d been caring for you a great deal, but Henry said ’twas better this way. When I saw that beautiful blond woman hold you and smile, I knew he was right.” She swiped at her cheeks. “Still, Henry looked mighty forlorn when they drove away with you in the wagon.”

She climbed to her feet and motioned Nora up as well. “Come here, love. I’ve something to show you.”

As though moving through a fog, Nora tied Phoebe’s leash around a chair leg and followed Bess into her parlor. The woman removed a thick volume from the bookcase. She sat on the settee and patted the empty spot beside her. Nora dropped onto it. The book wasn’t one for reading—it was a photo album.

“I borrowed this from Henry’s cottage after he died.” Bess flipped through several pages before she stopped on one. A single photo filled the page. In it a man in a suit and a woman in a white dress, holding a small bouquet of flowers, stood outside Henry’s cottage. Nora peered closer. The woman’s heart-shaped face and large eyes were identical to her own, though her nose more resembled the man’s.

Nora ran a finger over the two faces. “I read about how they met and fell in love. How Matthew would play the fiddle and Eleanor would sing.” She couldn’t yet call them Father or Mother.

Bess patted her hand. “They were very much in love, those two. Your mother was devastated when your father died, but she was strong—for you. She kept his wish to call you Nora.”

“And Frank and Grace agreed to do the same?”

“It was the one request your grandfather made of them.”

“I wonder why they never told me.”

Nora searched her memory for some hint, some chance word from her parents that might have implied her true origins, but she couldn’t think of one. Not even on their death beds had her mother or father shared anything but their love for her. Of that, she had no doubt. Even if she hadn’t been the natural daughter of Frank and Grace Lewis, she had not been loved any less than if she had been. The realization wrapped itself around her like a comforting blanket, soothing some of her earlier shock.

“Ah, who knows,” Bess said with a lift of her plump shoulders. “They had their reasons, I’m sure. The heart is a funny thing, love.”

“And Henry? Didn’t he ever wish to contact me directly?” The letters from England had always been addressed to her father, Frank Lewis, though he’d occasionally shared portions with Nora.

“Dozens of times, I imagine. But I think he felt it best to let you live your life there. He wanted you happy most of all.”

Bess flipped to a different page. Nora recognized the photo of a little girl in a rocking chair. It had been on top of the piano at the farm in Iowa for as long as she could remember.

“That’s me.”

Bess dipped her chin. “They were kind to send it to your grandfather. They wrote every six months or so to tell him about you, though the letters stopped a few years ago.”

“They died, from the influenza.” Nora stared at herself in the photo and tried to imagine Henry doing the same.

“That leaves just you and us then.”

You and us.
A glimmer of expectancy rose inside Nora. “If Eleanor’s your cousin, then Jack and the others are my…”

“Is it second cousins or third cousins once removed?” Bess laughed. “I never can remember. But no matter—you’re family.” She closed the album and gently pushed it onto Nora’s lap. “This is yours now.”

“Are you sure? I already have her diary.”

Bess brushed a piece of dust from the album’s cover. “Then it’s only fitting you have the few photos that go with it.”

On impulse, Nora leaned forward and gave the older woman a kiss on the cheek. Bess was the closest thing to an aunt Nora had ever had. “Thank you—for the photos, but even more, for telling me the truth.”

A blush spread over Bess’s face, but a grin graced her mouth. “You are more than welcome, love.” She released a deep sigh and laughed. “It’s a relief, actually, to have you knowing the truth. Don’t know how many times I had to stop myself or one of the children from saying too much. They’ve always known about their distant cousin in America.”

“Why did you wait to tell me?”

“Because I knew when the time was right, you’d come asking yourself.” She stood and shooed Nora off the settee. “Time to pull that bread out of the oven, and feed you proper. You’re as skinny as your mum was.” With a hearty laugh, she led Nora back into the kitchen.

Once she’d eaten her fill of bread and jam, Nora bade Bess good-bye. As she and Phoebe walked past the fell and the gray-blue lake toward the cottage, she realized something looked different. The colors were sharper, and the beauty of the valley touched her soul deeper. Of course she knew the scenery hadn’t really changed, but she had.

It was Nora Lewis from Iowa who’d walked down the road this morning, but it was Nora Lewis Galbert from England who walked back now. She hadn’t come to live in a foreign place, after all; she’d come home. And here she wasn’t alone—she had family nearby.

Home and family. The words swept through her like a gentle breeze, clearing away her earlier melancholy. If this was indeed her home, then no amount of persuasion—violent or otherwise—would induce her to leave.

I felt you wanted me here, God.
Nora lifted her eyes to a patch of blue sky directly overhead.
Now I think I understand why.

C
olin?” His mother’s voice followed him down the corridor and halted his hurried steps. Lyle had agreed to go flying with him and Colin was looking forward to a good, long flight before supper. He needed an escape to the skies right now.

Releasing an impatient grunt, he turned back to the open doorway of his mother’s sitting room. “Did you need something, Mother?”

She sat at her desk, a stack of papers near her elbow. “Come in a moment, will you?”

Colin pulled off his flying cap and stepped into the room. Had he been in here since coming home? He couldn’t remember. The room hadn’t changed much since his days as a youth. The blue-flowered wallpaper and light-colored furnishings were still the same—a sharp contrast to the darker hues of the rest of the house. He felt a measure of satisfaction that the war hadn’t altered everything.

He perched on the edge of one of the white chairs drawn up near the cold fireplace. “What are you working on there?”

“Invitations for the party to celebrate Elmthwaite’s three-hundredth anniversary.”

Colin recalled his father mentioning something about the party at breakfast that morning, but his mind had been on other things. He was still reeling from the news Nora had shared with him yesterday about her being Eleanor Galbert’s daughter and about someone destroying a part of her stone walls.

His jaw tightened at the thought of further sabotage against Nora. He wished he could figure out who was behind it. A few choice words and a well-placed fist or two ought to settle the matter. The damage to her property wasn’t the only reason, though, for the annoyance roiling through him. Colin didn’t like the idea of Nora spending the entire day with Jack, repairing her wall, even if the young man was now her distant cousin.

“Colin? Did you hear me?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes, you were talking of the party.”

His mother shook her head, her dark eyes sparkling with hidden amusement. “I asked if Lyle will still be here, to attend.”

“I believe so.”

“Wonderful. I’ve very much enjoyed his visit.”

Colin leaned back in the chair and lifted one foot onto his knee. “I don’t know that Father has.”

“Don’t worry about your father. His attention is elsewhere right now.” Lady Ashby reached for what he assumed was another invitation. “How is the stable renovation going?”

“Quite well.” A deep sense of fulfillment rose inside him at what he and the other men had accomplished in a few short days. Lyle had even volunteered to help. The work was hot and tiring, but Colin enjoyed every minute of it. His father, on the other hand, had objected to his son assisting the local hired help, but he hadn’t forbidden Colin from continuing. Colin hoped in time to change Sir Edward’s opinion about the benefits of laboring alongside the villagers.

“You like the work.” She didn’t phrase it as a question.

Colin fingered his leather cap. “I’d like to find something else to do when we’re finished. Maybe I can fly Father’s hotel guests around or something. I need to do more here than simply sit at a desk. I want to help people, feel useful.” He lifted his gaze to his mother’s. “What about you? Don’t you miss what you did during the war?”

Lady Ashby shifted to face him, a sad sort of smile on her lovely face. “Very much. I met so many interesting people working in that canteen—soldiers like you and Christian, other wives and mothers. There were always people to talk to.” She lowered her eyes toward the floor. “Those two or three days were the best part of my week.”

“Then why not insist Father let you do something else?”

Her chin lifted. “My place is here, with the two of you, and I willingly accept that. Though I will be forever grateful for the experience of seeing the world beyond Elmthwaite and Larksbeck.” Her probing glance made Colin suspect she wasn’t talking solely of herself. Was it time he also accepted his place here, while being grateful for the things he’d learned and experienced away from the estate?

“Lady Sophia and her parents will be coming to stay a week in conjunction with the party.” She bent over the stack of invitations again.

Colin didn’t bother stifling a groan. “Father must be overjoyed.”

“He wants you happy, Colin.” Like Nora, his mother’s perceptiveness was uncanny.

“I rather think being yoked to a silly, rich heiress is the antithesis of happiness.”

A frown creased her brow, but she remained silent. Colin released a breath through his nose as shame replaced his irritation.

“Forgive me, Mother. I shall hope to find an heiress as genuine as you.” Though he doubted it would happen. The only woman he’d met who possessed the same type of unpretentiousness as his mother was Nora, and his father certainly wouldn’t classify inheriting a sheep farm as equal to being wealthy.

“He loves you,” she said, her pen still, her gaze distant. “Losing Christian nearly killed him, but not for the reasons you may think. The death of a child changes you.” She lifted her eyes to Colin’s, the pain there evident. “He’s determined to save this place because I think he believes it’s the only thing of permanence in this world. Elmthwaite Hall is his lifeblood. I knew that when I married him.”

“So duty must always come before love?” Colin countered in a gentle tone.

Her face paled at the implication of his words, but she kept her head erect. “Before we married, I saw the way he prized this estate and knew he would extend that same care and respect to me. And he has, Colin. We’ve been happy together.” She fixed him with a compassionate look. “I want the same for you, whomever you choose to marry.”

Colin rose to his feet. How did she manage to make him feel both chastised and comforted at the same time? He crossed to her chair to kiss her cheek. “You are the real treasure, Mother. To both of us.”

She smiled and rested her hand against his jaw. “As are you, my boy.”

He started for the door but paused on the threshold. “May I invite someone to the party?”

“Certainly. Who?”

“Miss Nora Lewis. She’s Henry Lewis’s granddaughter.”

“Ah, yes. The one you’ve been spending so much time with.”

Colin lifted his eyebrows in silent challenge. Lady Ashby chuckled. “I don’t occupy all my time indoors, Colin. I have noticed a couple who like to walk around the lake nearly every day.”

A boyish grin tugged at his mouth. “Nora may come then? I can deliver her invitation myself.”

Her merriment faded. “You’re welcome to invite her, but do you think that’s wise?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

A flicker of something passed over her face, but Colin couldn’t read the emotion. “No reason. I’m more than happy to have her join us. I’ve been hoping for a chance to meet her for some time now.” She addressed an invitation and stood to hand it to him.

“Thank you, Mother,” he said, pocketing the invite. “I’m looking forward to introducing the two of you.”

He left her room and headed downstairs, a whistle on his lips. Lyle would be wondering what had taken him so long. But he wasn’t sorry his mother had detained him. The idea of his father’s party was no longer abhorrent—Nora would be there with him.

Nora slid the invitation across the table to Bess and took another sip from her teacup. She’d never cared much for tea back in Iowa, but living here, it had become as much a part of her day as it clearly was for the rest of the villagers. Perhaps it was her English background.

Bess lifted the invite and read it through. “You’re to go to the party at Elmthwaite tonight, are you? My Mary has talked of nothing else all week. Don’t know how the Ashbys’ cook does it, what with the sugar ration still on, but Mary says the woman’s got all manner of sweet dishes prepared.”

“There’s only one problem.” Nora clinked her cup onto its saucer.

“You don’t want to go?”

“No, that isn’t it.”

At least not entirely, although the idea of being in that grand house with all those wealthy, sophisticated people turned her stomach into a hive of nerves every time she thought about it.

She was very much looking forward to seeing Colin, though. They’d only been able to snatch small stretches of time together over the past two weeks, while Nora had been busy walling and selling off the male lambs with Jack’s help. Jack had even repaired her window. Thankfully there’d been no more acts of vandalism to her property.

“The problem is I’m not sure what to wear,” Nora admitted. “I don’t own anything fancy.”

“Did you have something in mind, love?”

“Let me get it.” Nora stood and went upstairs to collect the dress she’d worn to Livy’s wedding. She loved the soft lavender color and the silk material, but was it elegant enough for an estate’s three-hundredth anniversary party?

She returned to the kitchen and held the dress up for Bess’s inspection. The older woman studied the garment, her fingers testing the cloth.

“I hate to say it, but I don’t think it’ll do.”

“It won’t?” Nora sank into her chair. What was she going to do? None of her church dresses were extravagant enough. Perhaps she could procure a ride to the larger town of Keswick, but she might not find anything suitable there either.

“It’s a pretty color and the silk is nice, but according to my Mary, it’s the wrong style.” Bess sipped her tea before continuing. “The society women coming to the party will likely be wearing the new drop-waist dresses.”

“What do I do then, Bess?” Nora fiddled with one of the small pearl buttons on the bodice, desperation causing a lump in her throat. She didn’t care what the other women thought of her, but if she planned to enter Colin’s world tonight, she wanted to do so without embarrassing him or appearing the country bumpkin.

Bess gave her a thoughtful look over her teacup. “Are there any of your mum’s things still up in the attic?”

“Yes, a whole trunk full. But those clothes will be more outdated than this one.”

Climbing to her feet, Bess shooed Nora from her chair. “Never mind that, love. You go collect what’s up there and we’ll get to work.”

Nora obeyed, though she wasn’t sure what sort of plan Bess was concocting. At the moment, her dear cousin was her only hope. In the attic, she removed all the dresses and garments that had once been Eleanor’s. She brought everything back downstairs to the parlor, where Bess waited with the lavender dress. Nora spread the clothes out on the settee and stepped back to let Bess peruse the pile.

“This might work, and this,” Bess muttered to herself as she considered each item. Those she wanted she piled into Nora’s arms, including a fur-lined cloak. “I think that’s everything. So we’re off then.”

“Off to where?” Nora asked with a laugh.

Bess opened the front door and waved her through. Phoebe raced outside ahead of them. “Do you have a sewing machine?”

Nora shook her head.

“Then it’s to my house, love.”

After tying up Phoebe in the Tuttles’ front yard, Nora followed Bess into the cottage, her arms still overlaid with clothes. The older woman directed Nora to use her room to change into the silk dress. All of Bess’s girls, except for Mary, were home and they trooped into the parlor as Nora came out. Bess gave Nora a shrewd looking over, placing straight pins here and there as she did so.

“What are you doing?” Ellie asked from her seat on the settee. She held a doll in the crook of her arm.

“Getting ready for the Elmthwaite party tonight,” Nora answered. “I think your mother is going to transform my dress.”

Ellie’s eyes widened. “Like Cinderella?”

Nora chuckled. “I hope so.”

“Go change back, and we’ll get started,” Bess directed.

By the time Nora returned to the parlor, Bess had the twins hard at work, cutting and unstitching pieces of Eleanor’s old garments. Nora handed over her lavender dress, and soon, Bess had the sewing machine humming.

“How are you going to do your hair?” Margaret—or Martha—asked her. Nora still couldn’t tell them apart.

Nora sat beside Ellie on the settee, feeling a bit useless. She could wield a needle well enough, but not to create something as fancy as an evening gown. “I’m not sure.”

Both twins studied her. “Why not wear it long with a headband in your hair?” one of them suggested.

The other nodded and looked around at the cluttered parlor. She scrambled to her feet to pick up a piece of lavender silk Bess had cut away from the dress. “We could turn this into a pretty headband.” She approached Nora and carefully placed the material at the top of her forehead and tied it around her hair. “What do you think, Martha?”

“It’s perfect,” Martha said, clapping her hands. “I’ll get a mirror so you can see, Cousin Nora.”

The girl returned with a hand mirror, which she held in front of Nora. Nora eyed her reflection in the mirror. She did like how the band swept the hair back from her face but left most of it to hang long over her shoulders and back. “I think that works nicely.”

Martha beamed. “We’ll have Mum sew the edges.”

With Bess hard at work, Nora volunteered to make lunch. Ellie helped her, keeping up a constant chatter. Jack and his brothers tromped in as Nora was setting the food on the table.

“Didn’t expect you here,” Jack said, removing his cap and shooting a surprised grin at Nora.

“Mum’s making her dress for the royal ball. Isn’t that right, Cousin Nora?”

Smiling, Nora ran a hand over Ellie’s copper-colored hair. “Something like that.”

“You mean the party at Elmthwaite?” Jack’s expression turned sour. “You’re going?”

“I’ve been invited, yes.”

Jack plunked down into a chair and grabbed one of the plates of food. “Sounds like a waste of an evening to me.”

Nora ignored his sullen remark as she called the twins and Bess to lunch. Though Bess declined, the rest of the family sat down at the table. Nora slipped onto the bench next to Ellie. After the blessing on the food, the twins struck up a conversation about what Mary had told them regarding the party and their speculations on what the other ladies might be wearing. Ellie listened, her eyes wide with fascination.

When they’d all finished, the boys spilled out the door, except for Jack. The twins went back into the parlor to help their mother, leaving Ellie to assist Nora with the dishes.