Read A Hope Remembered Online

Authors: Stacy Henrie

Tags: #Fiction, #Christian, #Romance, #Historical, #Sagas, #General

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BOOK: A Hope Remembered
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He smiled back. It was a rather nice smile, one that brought a twinge of warmth to her heart. “Very well.” He let himself out the door. “Come on, Perseus.”

The dog remained inside the house with Nora, his tail disrupting the dust on the floor as he wagged it back and forth.

“Go on, Perseus,” Nora urged. She gave his rump a gentle shove with her shoe, but the dog refused to move.

Colin turned back and eyed the stubborn canine. “I have an idea, Miss Lewis. If you won’t accept my offer of a clean room at Elmthwaite Hall, will you at least allow the dog to stay with you? After all, no true sheep heiress is without her dog.”

The spark of warmth he’d incited within her grew, bringing the sting of grateful tears to Nora’s eyes. She couldn’t think of anything better in this strange, new place than the companionship of a loyal dog to see her through her first night. “You don’t mind?”

“Quite the opposite.” His hands slipped into his pockets again. “I would feel better knowing I hadn’t abandoned you, alone, to the rodents.”

Nora knelt beside the dog and rubbed his yellow fur. “Would you like to stay, Perseus?” The dog’s tail swished faster as he attempted to lick Nora’s face. He was as excited to stay as she was to have him. “All right then…” She rose to her feet. “I accept. Perseus may stay.”

“I shall sleep better because of it.” He gave her another mock bow, the kindness and interest she’d seen earlier still evident in his dark eyes. “Good night, Miss Lewis.”

“Good night, Mr. Ashby.”

She watched him amble down the lane before she shut the door.
What a puzzling man.
He held himself with all the bearing of one born to privilege, and yet his easygoing manner and genuine thoughtfulness didn’t quite match the world she imagined he lived in. Had he always been that way? Or had the war deepened those contrasts? Nora found she very much hoped she had the chance to find out.

As she gazed about the cottage, she felt new energy seep back into her veins. Was it the relief of having completed her journey or the dog at her side or her time with Colin?

Whatever the reason, she didn’t think she could sleep just yet. Instead she walked to the gramophone and removed the sheet from it. A cloud of dust filled the air, making herself and Perseus sneeze. Nora laughed as she tossed the sheet aside. “Let’s have ourselves a little music, shall we?”

*  *  *

Colin changed into his flight clothes, while Gibson stood nearby, frowning. It was the one allowance Colin had insisted on after coming home. Gibson could help him dress for the day, for dinner, for parties. But when it came to his flying uniform, Colin would dress himself. He checked his appearance in the mirror, hoping with any luck, he’d be halfway across the Lake District before his father awoke.

He’d returned to a quiet house last night. His parents and their guests had retired, while Colin had been helping Nora. Still, he knew his father wouldn’t let his behavior at dinner go unchecked. For that reason, Colin had risen especially early and planned to spend the greater part of the day in his aeroplane. Away from Sir Edward…and Lady Sophia.

“Will you pass me my cap and gloves, Gibson?”

His valet handed him the needed articles and left the room. Colin sat on the edge of his bed to pull on his cap and gloves. Maybe he’d fly south today—over the Lewis cottage.

How had Nora fared last night? He was grateful she’d at least accepted his offer to let Perseus stay. She certainly exhibited the same naïve bravery he’d witnessed in the American soldiers he’d met during the war. Then again, she wasn’t a pampered heiress with servants to cater to her every whim like Lady Sophia.

Colin had taken one look at the cottage and declared the thing a disaster in his mind. The rickety stairs, cracked window, and dusty furnishings didn’t discourage Nora, though. If anything, she seemed eager for the work.

He remembered feeling that way during his time in France, where he’d learned to fly, to work, to be disciplined. Now he felt mostly useless. Flying was the one thing that brought him satisfaction and purpose. When he soared over the world, he was free—free of his father’s expectations and his brother’s continued shadow. Up in the air, he could be himself.

His flying skills hadn’t proven completely impractical at home either. He’d been instrumental in locating several groups of tourists who’d become lost on the fells, but those times were few and far between. Perhaps he ought to take up some other interest or work.

Like how to repair a cracked window
, he thought with a smile. Wouldn’t that infuriate his father?

When he returned from flying, he’d have to stop by the Lewis place, merely to collect Christian’s dog, of course. His father would never condone a relationship with Nora Lewis. Not that she was interested in one. Colin had sensed as much when she spoke of her departed fiancé.

“Nothing wrong with looking out for one’s neighbor, though,” he murmured to himself as he stood and collected his goggles. He seemed to recall a sermon about that from his youth. Surely it would be ungentlemanly of him not to help.

He grinned as he remembered Nora’s jest outside the Greens’ home. Colin wasn’t sure which had amused him more—her teasing or her stunned expression afterward. She might be quiet, but he suspected Nora of being quite witty. He looked forward to proving the theory correct.

A jaunty tune from the war filled his mind. He whistled it as he left his room and descended the stairs. Colin was looking forward to the day. Until he spied Martin standing at attention below. He’d hoped to rouse only the chauffeur to help him start the biplane, then slip away before encountering any of the other servants who might inform his father that Colin was about.

“Good morning, Master Colin,” the butler said in a smug voice. “Your father wishes to see you in the library.”

Colin forced back a groan. He hadn’t outwitted his father after all. “Sorry, Martin. But as you can see, I’m off. I’ll speak with Father when I return.”

“You will do no such thing.” Sir Edward appeared in the library doorway. “I need to speak with you. Now.”

Though his teeth ground together, Colin nevertheless feigned an attitude of ease as he moved into the library. Martin shut the door behind them. Colin took a seat on one of several settees arranged around the large room and rested his arm along the back. “How may I help you, Father?”

“I see you’re off to fly that contraption again.” Sir Edward gave an indignant sniff as he crossed to one of the windows and stared outward.

“Shall I remind you that you purchased the aeroplane?”

Sir Edward frowned. “Only because your mother insisted. She thought it would pull you from your black temper. Instead, I fear, it’s only heightened your insolence.”

Colin forced himself to maintain his relaxed demeanor, but his fingers betrayed him, gripping the goggles so tightly his knuckles must be white inside his gloves. “Forgive me, Father. Even my grief offends you. Perhaps Christian would have been less morose. Once again, it is a pity he died instead of me.”

“How dare you?” Sir Edward blustered, turning from the window. “You mock his death.”

Colin climbed to his feet—he wouldn’t subject himself to his father’s pointed barbs a minute longer. His voice came out calm, despite the anger churning in his gut. “It is precisely the opposite, sir. I wish he had not died because I will never be him, and it is obvious this family would have been better off if his life had been spared instead of mine.” He started for the door, but his father’s next words halted his retreat.

“There is more at stake here than your pride and freedom, Colin,” his father bit out before his tone changed from bitterness to despair. “If you do not pull yourself together and do what you must, we will lose even more than we already have.”

Colin turned back, surprise puncturing his frustration. “What are you talking about?”

Sir Edward ran a hand over his face, then sank onto the nearest couch. “I wanted to keep it from you. To allow you to live carefree, as your mother advised.”

Nerves tightened Colin’s stomach, reminding him of those first few minutes when he’d ascend the skies to square off with the Germans. “What do you mean?”

“The fact of the matter is we are living on the edge of a cliff.” His father glanced around the library as if seeing it for the first time. “One that is crumbling under our feet as we speak.” He leaned back against the cushions with a sigh. “My overseas investments did not weather the war. We are living on your mother’s money at present, but that, too, will eventually run out.”

Colin returned to his seat, his mind roiling with the news. He hadn’t suspected financial troubles in the least. If anything, the way his parents had thrown parties and dinners recently, he’d imagined there was plenty of capital to be spent.

“What will happen to Elmthwaite Hall?” He had to know, though he feared the answer.

Sir Edward waved his hand in an arc that took in the bookcases and comfortable furnishings. “We may be forced to sell it, along with that aeroplane of yours, I might add.”

“Sell Elmthwaite?” The air left Colin’s lungs in a painful whoosh. His family had lived in this valley since the seventeenth century. He might feel confined here, but he knew no other home. He and Christian had been born and raised here, beside the mountains and the lake.

Still, the possibility of selling their ancestral home might not have pained him as much three years ago, before he’d made his promise to Christian. A promise exacted from Colin on the day Christian had been killed.

Promise me that you won’t ever turn your back on Elmthwaite.

The strong resolve of Christian’s voice filled Colin’s mind as if his brother had once again spoken the words. Colin couldn’t fail to keep the one thing Christian had prized more than anything else in the world, second only to their family.

“What about selling Brideshall in Scotland?” he pressed, anxious for some other answer to their troubles.

Nearly every summer that Colin could remember the family had traveled to their house in the Western Highlands of Scotland for holiday. The estate, Brideshall, sat on an island in the middle of the loch. While Colin hated to give up a place full of many other fond memories, it was far better than selling Elmthwaite Hall.

“I’m already preparing to sell Brideshall, which means we won’t be going there this year. But I’m afraid the proceeds won’t sustain us for long. Selling Elmthwaite would still have to follow.” Sir Edward bent forward, his hands on his knees. “Unless…”

Colin lifted his head. There was a way out of this madness? “Unless?” he echoed.

“If you marry well, you can help save Elmthwaite for us and future generations.”

Colin’s jaw tightened at the thought of taking a wife for her money and not because of any real affection. “That’s the answer? I marry someone like Lady Sophia and we’re fine?”

Sir Edward snorted and sat back. “No, it’s more than just marrying well. We need someone like the Earl of Weatherly to fund a project of mine that would give us a new source of revenue. Something the war hasn’t touched. Fortunately for us, you have at least another week to redeem yourself with Lady Sophia and her father.”

“What’s this project of yours?”

A smile graced Sir Edward’s face, softening his expression and revealing his enthusiasm. Colin had forgotten what his father looked like when he smiled. “I want to build a hotel by the lake, make Larksbeck more appealing to wealthy visitors.”

Not a bad idea
, Colin mused. “How would these visitors get here?”

“By automobile, of course. I plan to purchase three or four new autos and another chauffeur or two to maintain them. We’ll bring the tourists straight from the railway to the hotel.” His blue eyes flashed with eagerness. “The old stables can be converted to house the new automobiles.”

Colin gave a thoughtful nod; his father had clearly given his plans much consideration. “What sort of hotel are you thinking of building? We can certainly afford some modest structure on our own, can’t we?”

“Well yes,” Sir Edward replied with obvious impatience. “But I want something large and extravagant. A hotel unlike any other in the Lake District. Which means we need serious investors, such as your future father-in-law, to help pay for the land and construction.

Ignoring the implications of such a reference, Colin felt the first stirrings of hope. He wouldn’t have to break his word to Christian after all. “Where would you build this hotel?”

“On Henry Lewis’s land. Next to Elmthwaite, his farm has the best view of the lake and is close enough to the village to be appealing.”

His father’s answer hit him like a fist to the stomach. An image of Nora rose inside his mind—the way her red hair had shone in the light of the lamp last night, the way his hand had fit snugly around her waist.

Sir Edward lifted his shoe to rest it on his knee. “I’ve been meaning to get that land back for years. And now that the old man has passed on…”

“That may not work, Father.” Colin’s hope began to shrivel beneath sudden doubt.

“Why not?”

“The place is already taken.”

Sir Edward glared at him as if Colin were the one stopping his plans. “By young Jack Tuttle?”

“No.” Colin didn’t want to say more. But he couldn’t remain silent, for Nora’s sake. “A great-niece of Lewis’s, from America, has inherited it.”

“How do you know? Is she here?”

Colin worded his reply carefully. “She came to the house last night to collect the key. She’d already met with Henry’s solicitor, who must have contacted her in the States and informed her of Lewis’s death.” He purposely left off mention of his part in helping Nora and going to the cottage.

“Martin said nothing of this.” Sir Edward rubbed a hand over his chin, his brow knit with frustration.

“We didn’t wish to disturb you.”

“As if you hadn’t already,” his father muttered. He sat silent for a long moment, deep in thought, before he lowered his hand to the couch’s armrest. “Is this woman alone?”

Wariness churned inside Colin at the calculating tone. “She is. Why?”

“Excellent.” Sir Edward tapped his fingers against the fabric. “Then she may still wish to sell the place. Running a sheep farm, alone, could prove a difficult task, especially for a woman.”

BOOK: A Hope Remembered
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