Dawn at Emberwilde (35 page)

“Good luck, son. Keep me posted on what you learn. I should be anxious to hear it.”

Colin left Emberwilde with a heavy countenance. He should feel better about the situation than he did. After all, Miss Creston was to inherit, and she would most likely return to the area. But despite his complicated relationship with the Ellisons, he did not want to see them in a predicament like the one they were about to endure.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

I
sabel had been back at Fellsworth only a couple of days when she was summoned to Mr. Langsby's office.

The request had a strange sense of familiarity. Memories of the morning when he had informed her of Aunt Margaret's request rushed her.

But today there could be no doubt that he was summoning her to announce whether he knew of a governess position.

Like that morning several months ago, she was clad in her gown of black. Her hair had been slicked back into her Fellsworth chignon. This time she was not nearly so careless about how her hair was dressed, nor did she care whether her gown was embellished with fresh blooms. She followed every rule.

She forced a smile to her lips and brightness to her expression. She lifted her hand to Mr. Langsby's door and knocked.

His voice was muffled. “Enter.”

She stepped into the office. It looked the same as ever. Crystal clear windows. Faded maps on the wall. Dusty books on the shelf. Tall, thin Mr. Langsby was seated behind his desk.

But nothing could have prepared her for the man who joined him there.

Mr. Galloway!

She drew a sharp breath at the sight of him.

The corner of his mouth curved upward as she entered. At the sight, her stomach flipped within her.

Mr. Galloway offered a bow. “Miss Creston.”

Remembering her manners, she curtsied in return.

Mr. Langsby, who did not get up from his desk, leaned forward on his elbow. “Miss Creston, I trust you are familiar with Mr. Galloway.”

“I am,” she responded, forcing her eyes toward the superintendent and hoping the men could not hear the pounding of her heart.

“Then you know that Mr. Galloway is the magistrate for Northrop. He claims to be here on legal business.”

Isabel's heart fell slightly. It was childish, but a part of her had hoped he had come for a more romantic reason. “Of course.”

Mr. Galloway stepped forward. The light slanted through the window, highlighting his dark brown hair and broad shoulders. “As I explained to Mr. Langsby, I have a message for you to be delivered in private. It has been prepared by the solicitor of your grandfather's estate. It is of a sensitive nature, to be delivered personally.”

His words sounded serious. Isabel wrung her hands as his words registered. “My grandfather's estate? You are worrying me, Mr. Galloway.”

Before Mr. Galloway could respond, Mr. Langsby stood. “You do understand, Mr. Galloway, that I am hesitant to leave one of our ladies alone in the presence of a man we do not know.”

“He is not a stranger, Mr. Langsby,” interjected Isabel. “I assure you I will be quite safe.”

Mr. Langsby studied Mr. Galloway for several seconds. “Very well. I will be right outside in the hall, but I shall leave the door open. Just a few minutes, mind you.”

Isabel had not realized she had been holding her breath until Mr. Langsby passed through the door. She turned to Mr. Galloway.

Once they were alone, a full smile brightened his face. “It is good to see you, Miss Creston.”

She could barely control her own smile. “It is good to see you as well.”

He shifted his weight. “I hope this is not too forward, but I have just learned about what happened with you and your aunt. And Mr. Bradford. And I am sorry for it.”

His voice held no malice, no judgment, and his expression was soft with sympathy.

“I suppose only time will tell if my decision was prudent.” She shrugged and forced a little smile. “But it seems I am right back where I started now.”

He stepped closer and fidgeted with his hat in his hands. “Like I said, I am sorry for it, but if I am not too bold, I must say that I think you made the right decision.”

Her breathing seemed to slow at his words, and yet her pulse seemed to race. The fact that he had an opinion about her personal life touched her. “What do you mean?”

When he hesitated, she prompted, “Please, I would like to know.”

He drew a deep breath and fixed his gaze on the plaster ceiling for several moments, as if trying to find the right words. “I do not mean to speak ill of anyone, mind you. But I have known Bradford all my life. And I will only say that he may not be exactly the man he seems to be.”

A little wave of relief swept over her. He was not going to scold her for turning down the proposal. Her words rushed from her lips. “I value your opinion, Mr. Galloway. Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“You are well?” The concern in his voice warmed her.

“I am, thank you.”

“You look very—”

“Different?” she offered with a laugh, not giving him time to
finish his sentence. With a nervous pat she smoothed down her hair, certain that she was no longer beautiful. Gone were the gowns of muslin and silk. Gone were the lovely feminine colors. Gone were the intricate curls of her hair and the expert styling. She wore no jewelry. No embellishments.

He hesitated, as if a bit surprised by her interjection, then abruptly extended a letter. “Here is the promised news. From Heddeston Park.”

She took the missive from him and frowned as she slid her finger beneath the wax seal, popping it free from the paper. She opened the letter and began to read. “What is this?”

Without giving her the opportunity to finish reading the letter's contents, he responded, “Heddeston Park was left to you. In its entirety.”

She lowered the letter and met his gaze. “Why, that cannot be. Constance said it was left to a distant cousin.”

He shrugged. “Well, she was misinformed. It belongs to you now. You need only claim it before your twenty-first birthday. You see, there was no entailment with the estate, and so your grandfather was free to leave it in whatever manner he chose. His will was written so that the estate passes to his oldest child, and thereafter, to his oldest child's oldest child. And that is you. If you have a child, your child will inherit, and so on, thus keeping Heddeston in your direct family line.”

“But that cannot be!” she repeated, shocked. Disbelief shook her voice. She attempted to read the letter, but her hands began to tremble with the surprise. “I thought my grandfather was furious with my mother for marrying my father.”

Despite her nervousness, Mr. Galloway remained calm. “He must have changed his mind at some point and reconsidered his opinions of your mother, for it was all left to her. As you know, your grandparents and the Ellisons lost contact with your father after
your mother died. When your grandfather died, they resumed the search for you, but by then your father had died and you were quite hard to trace.”

“But my aunt was able to locate me eventually.” Isabel lowered the letter. “Was she aware of this inheritance?”

Mr. Galloway shrugged. She sensed hesitation in his voice. “That I cannot say.”

Isabel struggled to put the pieces together in her mind. “But if she knew, surely she would have said so.”

Mr. Galloway fidgeted with the hem of his waistcoat and cleared his throat before speaking. “From what I understand, if you fail to claim your inheritance by your twenty-first birthday, the property will pass to her.”

The truth was becoming clear. “So she intentionally kept this from me so she could inherit.”

“Far be it from me to pry, but I assume you are aware that Emberwilde is facing financial troubles. I believe your aunt saw the opportunity, and, well . . .”

Isabel caught his full meaning.

Suddenly, the past several months made sense. Everything fell into line. Emberwilde was in financial trouble—the sort of trouble fixed by the sum of money of an inheritance. Her aunt was frightened of being without money—it was evident in her every lavish expense. And Mr. Bradford was a pawn—a way for the Ellisons to simultaneously keep tabs on her and be rid of her.

As comprehension intensified, so did her anger. She had been bested by those acting as family.

“I believe Miss Ellison did not know,” Mr. Galloway offered, as if reading her mind.

Isabel sank down into a chair. The room felt hot. She looked up to Mr. Galloway. His lips pressed together in sympathetic understanding.

“And how is the estate being cared for now? Aunt Margaret said it was in ruins.”

“Not at all. It's in excellent condition. Your grandfather established a trust to see to the care of the estate for five years.”

Mr. Galloway approached her, the first time he had moved since he had been here. He sat in the chair beside hers and rested his hat on his knee. He carried with him a scent of the outdoors and horses, of a long ride. And yet, the realization that he had accompanied the letter instead of allowing the solicitor to send it warmed her.

“This is a great deal to take in, but I thought it best that you hear it from someone you know.”

“Yes.” She nodded, surprised by the tears blurring her vision. “I am grateful to you for delivering the message personally.”

He gave a little chuckle. “You look so very sad. This is a wonderful thing, Miss Creston. In fact, I think congratulations are in order. Heddeston Park is a desirable home with a healthy income in its own right. You and Lizzie will be set for a very, very long time.”

She offered a smile. She was torn between the thrill of excitement and the sting of her family's betrayal.

“I've no doubt this will take some time to sink in. It is a great deal of news. Good news, I might add.”

She appreciated his effort to lighten the moment. “Yes, you are right.”

His voice lowered, as if taking her into confidence. “It is not my place to say, but as your friend, I might offer a bit of advice, if you should like to hear it.”

She found herself hungry for safe counsel from someone who genuinely cared for her. How rare it was to find, she realized, in the world outside of Fellsworth. She nodded.

“I do not pretend to know what you yourself must do. But there is no need to rush anything, Miss Creston. Be cautious.”

She nodded.

“You have a few options that I would like to share with you. The solicitor will continue to see to the day-to-day management of the estate. You may go and live at the estate immediately, or you may choose to stay in your current circumstance. There is no need for you to rush a decision. And I can recommend the steward, Driscoll. He served your grandfather faithfully and is a fine man. From here I will travel on to London, but with your permission I will stop back at Fellsworth in two days' time. If you decide you would like to travel to the estate then, I would be happy to escort you and your sister. If that is agreeable.”

Unable to find her voice, she nodded her agreement. She sensed he was preparing to depart. Her heart sank within her at the thought.

He stood and straightened his cravat, a playful grin on his lips. “I will be on my way. I do not wish to worry your superintendent.”

Isabel stood and refolded the letter that had announced her change of fortune. She wanted to plead with him to stay. She had so many more questions, so many more things she wanted to hear him say. But all she could utter was, “Thank you, Mr. Galloway.”

He turned to face her. “Oh, and I wasn't going to say
different
.”

“Hmm?”

“Earlier, when I commented on your appearance.”

She ran a hand down the front of her dress. “I . . . I . . .”

“I meant you look beautiful.”

He locked eyes with her. Her arms suddenly felt heavy, her legs unable to support her. She was both frozen and impossibly light at the same time.

But before she could respond, Lizzie burst into the room.

“Mr. Galloway!” she cried, running to him with childlike vigor and jumping at him.

Isabel marveled at the sight. Never had she seen her sister so affectionate toward anyone.

Mr. Galloway laughed and swept her up in his arms. The sight of unrestrained happiness tugged at something deep inside of her, the secret part of her that longed for a genuine home.

“Have you missed me?” Lizzie demanded, placing her arm around his shoulder.

“I have,” he responded, amusement brightening his eyes. “Very much.”

“Good.” She settled and turned to face him more fully. “Do ponies have memories?”

“I can honestly say that I do not know.” He smiled at the question. “I am sure they do. Why do you ask?”

“Because I have been thinking about Caesar. I miss him ever so much. Do you think he misses me?”

“Oh, I've no doubt he does. Who else would be riding him?”

“That is what worries me,” she said, shaking her head, her lips forming a pretty pout. “Nobody else is small enough. Nobody except for me. What if he is lonely or sad?”

“Mr. Carter is with him. Do you think Caesar does not enjoy his company?”

“I suppose so, but Mr. Carter does not always give him the sugar that he likes. He thinks he knows which is Caesar's favorite, but he doesn't.”

Mr. Galloway shifted Lizzie in his arms. “If it will make you feel better, I shall take some sugar to Caesar on my next visit to Emberwilde. How's that?”

Lizzie furrowed her brow, as if contemplating the offer. “When will you go next?”

“Well, from here I must go to London, but I should be back in Northrop within the week.”

“I suppose that will have to do,” she said. “I do not know if I will ever go back to Emberwilde. Isabel says she does not know if we will ever go there again.”

Mr. Galloway looked up at Isabel before responding. “Well, I've no doubt that your sister knows what is best for you.”