Clean Inspirational Romance: Escape to Paradise (Inspirational Happy Sweet First Love Second Chance Romance) (Contemporary New Adult Love Inspired Holiday Short Stories) (30 page)

“That’s what Mr. Honeyfield was drinking with dinner yesterday,” she commented. “How did you get that?”

I told her what Mrs. Gardener had told me. “Oh, how sad,” she replied. She looked up into the sky. “Mr. Honeyfield always has a very sad look in his eyes, wouldn’t you agree?”

I considered her words. There certainly always seemed to be a reservation in his character towards us, but I always assumed it was simply a separation between master and butler. “Perhaps. I suppose I never knew him before he lost his wife.”

“He was always so happy before she passed,” she said, looking at me. “Always laughing and always playing with the children.” She looked down at the blanket beneath us. “I think the children sometimes are too painful of a reminder of their mother.”

We sat in silence for some time. I pulled out some food and we shared some easy conversation while we enjoyed the simple meal and a wonderful, dry wine. The moon continued its languid arc across the sky, the clouds passing in front of it the only suggestion that time was passing.

“Can I share something with you?” she asked me.

I leaned back on my hands and looked over at her.

“Anything at all,” I replied.

She beamed. “I have never been this happy in my entire life.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Truly?”

She nodded her head. “Never have I enjoyed life more than I do right now. I am excited to wake up in the mornings, I enjoy my job so much more, and I find that very little upsets me anymore. And it is all because you are in my life now.”

Pride swelled in my chest. “I completely understand how you feel. That is exactly how I feel as well.”

She swirled the little bit of wine that was left in her glass, examining it closely. “There’s something else I should tell you. Something I haven’t told you yet, but I think it is time that I can.”

I sat back up straight, a flash of fear coursing through my body. “What do you mean?”

She remained silent, and took a deep breath. “I–”

But her words were cut off, because as soon as she started to speak, we heard footsteps behind us, and a voice cut through the darkness.

“Mr. Clarke, Miss Bannerman!”

We both turned, and I got to my feet as quickly as I could. Mrs. Gardener appeared from behind the hedges. I relaxed slightly, realizing how compromising this could have looked to anyone else stumbling upon us outside alone in the night.

“Mr. Honeyfield and the children have returned. I believe that Miss Marina is all worked up about something, very upset. You should both be there to greet them inside.”

Abigail and I glanced at each other, and then looked at the basket and the food and the blanket. I felt paralyzed suddenly, fear making my knees ache.

“Don’t worry about the food, I’ll take care of it. But you two are needed front and center.”

“But –” I began, feeling guilty and trapped and childish.

“Get going, now!” she said, more forcefully. I helped Abigail to her feet, and we made our way quickly out of the gardens and back into the house.

I allowed her to take the quicker way through the house to the foyer, while I took a different way around to avoid the appearance of walking in together. I opened the doors just in time as Mr. Honeyfield and the children approached them.

As Mrs. Gardener had said, Miss Marina, tears streaming down her face, clutched her father’s hand.

“Welcome home, Mr. Honeyfield,” I said, and I gestured them into the house. As soon as Marina saw Abigail standing beside the stairwell, her eyes grew wide, and she ran the distance to her.

Abigail bent down and held the girl, whispering reassurances to her.

The other two children came inside after Mr. Honeyfield, and I closed the door once they passed the threshold.

Mr. Honeyfield put his hands on his hips, exhaustion evident on his face. “Apparently, a certain Mrs. Radcliffe told Miss Marina that her dress was unbecoming and her flowers were tasteless.”

“I beg your pardon?” Ms. Henrietta said, her hand over her heart.

He sighed, and Miss Marina sniffled.

“Mrs. Radcliffe has consistently been rude, believing her stature within society to protect her enough and relieve her the courtesy of being civil. She has insulted me, my wife, and even my home before, but she has never stooped so low as to insult one of my children.” He stood straight in the foyer, as if he were a soldier to be given orders. He closed his eyes and seemed to brace himself.

“I reminded her, as kindly as I could, that she had no authority to speak to my children in such a manner, and that if she had any trouble with any of them, to always bring the issue to me.” He looked at me and sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly. “Remind me in the morning to send a formal apology to her husband. Even if she was wrong, I must be sure to not disrupt the harmony between their family and our own. I dread to think what that woman would be capable of in her bitterness.”

I swallowed hard. I pitied Mr. Honeyfield, but only with part of me. The other part of me berated myself for my own stupidity of my actions that evening. How scandalous could it have been made to be, even if all we had done was enjoy a meal and some conversation together? Her reputation would be smeared, and it was all due to my negligence. I should have paid more attention to the time, but I had never thought that they would return as soon as they had.

Still, that was no excuse, I told myself, as I watched Abigail soothe poor little Marina. She scooped her up in her arms, and I heard say, almost distantly, that she was going to take her up to bed.

The other children followed her upstairs, and I watched them go.

“What a night,” Mr. Honeyfield said. I grounded myself by clearing my throat.

“I’m sorry, sir. Is Miss Marina going to be alright?”

Hands on his hips, he looked up the stairs after them. “I believe so. The first time that a young girl gets told off by an adult aside from a parent is always hard. However, Mrs. Radcliffe was too far out of line, and I fear that her words might scar the poor girl for the rest of her life. Forget ever attending a ball with her with that family in attendance.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I assume all is well around here tonight?”

I nodded my head, blinking. “Yes, sir. Not a thing out of order.”

“Good,” he replied, and smiled as he nodded his head. “Thank you, for taking care of my family, Mr. Clarke.”

I smiled in response, perhaps a bit forcefully. I didn’t feel as if I deserved his praise. “It is my pleasure, sir.”

I attended to him very carefully the rest of the evening, bringing him a hot cup of tea and some brandy, as well as making sure his window was open to the beautiful night air, allowing it to cool his room and hopefully help clear his mind. He thanked me, and asked me to bring him a particular book from the library.

“I fear I won’t sleep a wink tonight,” he said, sitting himself at the edge of his bed. “Far too much of the night has passed already, and too many thoughts are clouding my mind.”

I gave him the book he had asked for, and asked him what else I could do. As the night had progressed, I noticed Mr. Honeyfield’s distress more and more evidently. He was doing a remarkable job keeping himself calm, for I knew if anything had happened to me or any of my children that had happened to him that night, I would be far angrier and far more vocal about it. I admired his strength of character.

“There’s nothing, Mr. Clarke. You should get some rest too. I will have need of much help come the morning.”

And so I bid him goodnight, and made my way from his room. I hesitated outside, wondering if Abigail was still with the children. I made my way down the hall, and when I didn’t hear her soft voice through the doors, I assumed they all had fallen asleep. So I walked through the dark, silent house without meeting anyone else, until I reached her door.

I knocked softly on the wood, and awaited a reply. Several moments passed before I attempted it again.

“Mr. Clarke?”

I turned, alarmed, and saw Abigail standing in the hallway, a candle in one hand, a cup of steaming tea in another.

“There you are,” I answered.

“I apologize for startling you,” she said smiling.

“Think nothing of it,” I said.

She crossed over to me, and said in a hushed tone, “I had a wonderful evening, even if it was so short.”

I smiled in spite of myself, the night’s worries and fears fizzling out like a fire under water. “I did as well. We should have been more careful,” I replied.

She looked down. “Perhaps we should be.”

“About what you wanted to tell me,” I said. “I am most curious to hear what you were about to say tonight.”

Sheepishly, she hung her head. “Well now, Mr. Clarke. Now is no longer the right time. It is no small matter I wish to tell you, and now, with so little time, I dare not say anymore.”

I cleared my throat and looked down as well, suppressing my curiosity and frustration. “If you say so,” I answered.

She touched my arm. “I will tell you. And please do not worry over it. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

Relief drew my hopes once more, and I smiled again. “Well I am ready to hear it whenever you are ready to tell me.”

She glanced out the window. “My, it is late. I should be getting to bed.” She walked to her door.

“I love you, Benjamin,” she said to me, barely audibly in the shadowy, quiet hall.

I smiled at her. “I love you, Abigail.”

And with that, she withdrew into her room, her door closing with the faintest of sounds. I let out a long sigh.

She had not told me.

How long could we carry on like this? I wasn’t sure, and I didn’t know how we would. It all seemed very difficult indeed. Were we to keep hiding our love in the dark forever, such as we did this evening? Would we whisper words of affirmation to one another in the late hours only, and not in the bright of the day, out in the open for all to see and know? Were we destined to keep our lives together secret from the whole world, never allowing it to grow and develop and blossom into anything more than a discordant moment to moment love?

The thought pained me, but I knew I would rather have her love and her know of mine than to not know it. If that was in secret, then so be it. I would protect her, and if that meant that I had to love her in the darkness until my dying day, then I would do it.

*****

Miss Bannerman

“And his eyes, Miss Bannerman. Oh, his eyes were as bright as jewels!” Miss Judith twirled around her room, clutching her dress from the night before as if it held all of the memories she shared with me.

I smiled as I spread her new bedding out onto her bed as she retold her evening to me. It was evident that she had a very different night than her sister had. A nice young man from a respectable family had been introduced to her, and she had instantly decided that he was the most handsome man she had ever seen.

“And then, you will never believe it, he asked me to dance again!” She collapsed onto her newly made bed, her arms spread wide, and exhaled blissfully, a wide smile on her delicate face. She rolled over onto her stomach and looked up at me.

“Miss Bannerman, why haven’t you been married yet?”

Her words caused me to drop the cloth in my hands to the floor, and I instantly dropped down to pick it up.

“Oh, well,” I began, and turned my back to her, pretending to adjust some of the clean clothes I had brought to her room on her dressing table.  “That’s quite a hard question to answer. You see –”

And then I saw her standing beside me, her eyes still wide, but there was an understanding there now. “You’re in love right now, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be so silly,” I said, and moved passed her. I couldn’t bear to let her read it so plainly on my face. “I was to be married once before, but…”

I turned around to face her. So it seemed the first person I would tell here would not be Benjamin, but Miss Judith. Her face seemed quite sad now, and she watched me very closely. I sighed and looked down.

“What happened, Miss Bannerman?”

Perhaps it would be good for this young lady to understand that love isn’t always as easy as it appears to be. Perhaps it would be wise for me to share some knowledge about being a woman with her that her own father would never be able to, and her mother no longer could. I felt I might be stepping out of my bounds sharing my story with her, but I also felt as if it might be helpful to her. I hoped it would never prove useful to her.

“I was a young girl, only fourteen years of age. My parents were farmers, wonderful hard workers, and they often traded with the people in the nearby village. I would go with my father on the weekends to sell our produce, and that was where I met him.”

Miss Judith hung onto every word I spoke. I took her hands and lead her to the bench in front of her bed, and I sat down beside her.

“It was a beautiful, innocent, young love. Our parents knew immediately that we had grown fond of each other, and they discussed a marriage. He and I didn’t think much of it, but our parents believed it to be a suitable match.”