Love Inspired Historical March 2014 Bundle: Winning Over the Wrangler\Wolf Creek Homecoming\A Bride for the Baron\The Guardian's Promise (64 page)

She had thought she was helping Edmund, too, but he had been blunt. He did not want her help.

Not ever again, Vera!

All she had done was make everything worse.

* * *

Edmund could not sit, and he paced between where his friends sat and the window in his suite of rooms. He had asked Northbridge and Bradby to come there, because he knew these rooms were one place where he could be certain they would be undisturbed by anyone else.

So why was he finding it impossible to think of anything but the horrible conversation he'd had with Vera? He had tried to hold his frustration at his inability to make a decision when they needed to find a murderer, but it had burst out at her. He did appreciate all her help with the church, but he needed to relearn how to make decisions himself. Quick and good decisions that would lead to capturing the man who had ordered the death of Stanley Cadman. He likely would not have time to hesitate or to seek her help. He would have to make decisions himself.

And what if you never can? You told Vera you no longer want her help. What happens when you need one of her suggestions? Will your pride keep you from bringing a killer to justice?
His fears taunted him with each step he took.

Bradby shifted in his chair. “If you bid us to come here to watch you walk back and forth, I would say you have achieved your goal.”

“I need your advice,” he replied.

“About the smugglers or about women?” Northbridge smiled when Edmund stopped and stared at him. “From your expression, it is clear that you need advice on women. Or did you ask us here to tell us you plan to marry Lillian Kightly as rumor says you will?”

“Rumor? What rumor?” Edmund frowned as he looked from one of his friends to the other.

“The rumor that you were going to come to Town to get her mother and stepfather's blessing before you offered for Miss Kightly.”

Bradby chuckled. “Sometimes, the groom-to-be is the last one to know. Marrying mamas like to start talk that may make hopes a reality.”

“I don't plan to offer for Lillian.”

“If it's not Miss Kightly on your mind,” Bradby said with a wink in Northbridge's direction, “then I would guess it must be the vicar's lovely sister. You courting her will make a lot of tongues wag, but if you love her, that should mean nothing to you.”

“Will you stop prattling like two old toughs and listen?” Edmund locked his fingers together behind his back and hurried to explain what had happened in the book room less than an hour ago. It was not easy to concentrate on that when Northbridge's words careened through his head. Courting Vera? He hardly allowed himself to imagine that in his most private thoughts. He enjoyed the time they had together, save for earlier, but how could he ask her to marry when her kind heart would keep him from finding a way to get past his debilitating inability to decide even the simplest things?

His stomach clenched as he recalled his conversation with her brother yesterday. The vicar had expressed his concern about Edmund showing interest in his sister. His account of what had happened with another young lord before the vicar left his previous living had been difficult to hear. Vera's gentle heart had betrayed her, and now Edmund was adding to her pain with his unpardonable accusation that she would never understand
his
unseen wound from the war.

“She has done nothing different from what Bradby or I have done on your behalf,” Northbridge said, pulling Edmund out of the vicious circle of frustration and guilt, “and you have been grateful for our assistance since the war.”

He agreed, though he did not want to. “True, but we were comrades-in-arms. We had to depend on each other.”

“And she is your comrade in rebuilding the Sanctuary Bay church,” Bradby said. “How is that different?”

Wishing he had never broached the topic of the quarrel, he shook his head. “If I had the answer to that, I wouldn't be miserable now.”

Northbridge settled back in his chair and rested one foot on his knee. “Women have that effect on us, especially women in Sanctuary Bay. They make us see parts of ourselves that we would rather not look at, but the light of their love and faith shines too brightly for us to hide the truth from ourselves or them.”

“And, in spite of what they illuminate in our heart's darkest recesses,” Bradby said, with an ironic smile, “they love us still.”

“Until we push them away.” Edmund stood again. “I would not blame Vera if she never spoke to me again.”

“But that is not your decision, Meriweather.” Bradby clapped Edmund on the shoulder. “It is Miss Fenwick's. Your only decision is what you will do if she cares enough about you to forgive you.”

Trust Bradby with his concise logic to get to the crux of the problem. Edmund wished his friend would have such a clear answer to it, as well, but that was a decision he must make himself. If only he had some idea how.

Chapter Fourteen

V
era arranged the flowers in a clear vase on the altar cloth, taking care not to splatter any water on the fine linen. She appreciated Lady Meriweather opening the trunks in the attic and allowing them to use the embroidered altar cloth, but she worried that she would do something to damage it.

As she had damaged everything with Edmund. How could her good intentions have gone terribly wrong? She had thought she was doing the right thing, helping him make decisions, so the new church could be finished as soon as possible. Now he was furious.

She shivered. Edmund had been as irate as Lord Hedgcoe had been when he had taken Gregory's living away. She still recalled the loud voices that had come through the door while she had sat out in the hallway on a bench, trying not to meet the eyes of anyone who walked past. Even though Edmund had seemed to be more willing to listen to sense than Lord Hedgcoe ever was, he had been very, very angry when they had quarreled two nights ago. She had not seen him since then, not even at meals.

“How lovely,” Lady Meriweather said as she came into the chapel.

“Thank you.” She tried to smile but failed.

“Come here, my dear.” Seating Vera on the first bench, the lady said, “You look forlorn. I had hoped that, by now, you and Edmund would have smoothed over your differences.”

“You know about that?”

“Nothing stays a secret in Meriweather Hall very long. Surely, you have been here long enough to know that.”

“I hoped in this situation, it would be different.”

Lady Meriweather pushed Vera's hair back behind her ear. “If you will forgive a meddling woman—”

“You have never been a meddler!”

“Apparently I am about to change, because I want you to know that I believe, in this case, you did the right thing.”

“But I could have ruined Edmund's recovery!” she cried, unable to halt the words that came from the center of her heart.

The baroness nodded, a smile barely touching the corners of her lips. “It pleases me to hear you say that.”

Vera gasped. Why would the lady be happy that Vera might have hurt Edmund's chances to put the anguish of the war behind him?

“It pleases me,” Lady Meriweather went on, “because it shows how much you care for him. Maybe that will help you understand when I say that I believe that he also was right in what he said.”

“I have come to realize that. Lady Meriweather, after others have made heartless comments in his hearing, I wanted to spare him that humiliation.”

She patted Vera's cheek as she stood. “I suspect Edmund may have come to understand that you are his ally in this.”

“Should I seek him out and apologize?”

“Apologize for what? Caring too much about both him and your brother's longing for a new church?” Lady Meriweather shook her head. “You appear to be a docile lamb, Vera, but you have a lion's heart. For you, it is a constant battle between fixing what you deem is wrong right away and pausing long enough to listen to the opinions of others who may have a different way of handling the problem.”

“You mean I am stubborn and single-minded?”

Laughing, Lady Meriweather said, “I would not go that far, but I can tell you that I know there is One who has blessed my path through life. If you heed that One, you may find your path easier.” Without waiting for an answer, she left the chapel and Vera to her own thoughts.

How many times had Vera heard Lady Meriweather speak with the same gentle compassion to her daughters? She never lectured. Instead, she spoke of her own experiences, using both her mistakes and her triumphs as examples. It had been Sophia and Cat's responsibility to learn from the stories. Lady Meriweather had offered her the same kind counsel, and Vera would be wise to consider her words.

She folded her hands in her lap and gazed at the flowers on the altar and the cherubs on the screen behind them. The chapel was a place of peace. She had sensed that the first time she had entered it.

When Edmund brought her here.

She closed her eyes and saw the hope that had been on his face when he had offered it for services. He had opened the chapel to the parish at the same time he had been opening himself to her. She had seen his unhappiness with what he saw as utter failure. Instead of accepting him as he was, she had pushed her way in and made the decisions for him. She had mistakenly believed that was the way to heal his pain, rather than accepting the truth. Healing came from the One who knew all their hearts. As Lady Meriweather said, letting God lead the way on the path He had chosen for her would ease her way.

I will try to hear Your counsel, Lord, instead of doing what I
guess
You want me to do. I will follow where You lead me.

Vera sat for a while longer in the chapel, then walked out into the hallway. She was not ready to encounter Edmund, so she went to her own room. When she reached it, she kept going to the door to her brother's room a short distance away. She and Gregory had been caught up in the aftermath of the fire, and the time they were accustomed to spending with each other had been taken up with other matters. She missed that, and she missed how they prayed together when one of them felt overburdened and lost, as she did now.

Knocking on the door, she called, “Gregory, can I come in?”

She waited for an answer, but got none.

She knocked again. When there was no response, she opened the door enough so she could peek around it. She expected to see Gregory sitting on the chair by the window where he could read as long as the sunshine poured through it.

The chair was empty.

Pushing the door open farther, she called her brother's name again. Only silence answered her.

Maybe he had gone for a walk along the shore or ridden over to check on the work on the new church. He might be anywhere in the many corridors and rooms of Meriweather Hall. She would find Ogden. The butler kept close track of everyone's comings and goings.

Vera was torn between hoping she would see Edmund and hoping she would not. No, she would not give in to anxiety. She would trust God was leading her to where she needed to be. She could not wait to talk to Gregory and share with him what Lady Meriweather had told her.

* * *

“The vicar wants to have a trio of bells in the tower,” Edmund said, pointing to the plans spread across the desk in his book room. His friends and his cousin peered down at the sketch.

Cat shifted back from the desk and sat on the window bench. “I had no idea Vera could draw so well.”

“No wonder the two of you are bosom-bows,” Bradby said. “You both have tried to hide your artistic skill.”

Edmund looked away from the smiles the new husband and wife shared because it seemed almost too intimate to be seen by anyone else. Would that closeness elude him forever? He would marry. That was his duty. Marry and give the title a legitimate heir. But would he find what his friends had with his cousins? That special knowing that one person was always on their side.

You had that with Vera,
his conscience reminded him.
You had it, and you tossed it aside because you were angry she was trying to help you. What sort of man treats a woman he cares about that way?

The door crashed open, and, as if conjured out of his thoughts, Vera burst in. Her usually neat hair was tumbling down her back. Her blue eyes were large in her distraught face.

Cat jumped to her feet, but Edmund reached Vera before his cousin did. Putting his hand on her quaking arm, he asked, “What is it? What is wrong?”

“Gregory is missing.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

“Missing?” asked Northbridge as he came to stand next to Cat.

She nodded, but her gaze focused on Edmund. “I don't know where he is. I have looked everywhere.”

“Come and sit,” Cat said, putting her hands out to Vera.

Backing away as she kneaded her fingers together, Vera cried, “We have to find him before something happens to him like it did to Stanley.”

Edmund's jaw clenched so hard he could hear his teeth gnash. Vera was not easily frightened. She had been ready to set a trap for the smugglers, even though it might have been foolhardy.

He reached for the bell on a shelf by the door, but Ogden appeared before he could ring it.

The butler did not look at anyone but Vera as he said, “We can't find him, Miss Fenwick. I have sent a lad riding at top speed for the village in case he went there.”

“But Gregory would never leave without telling me where he was going,” she said, her voice threatening to break on each word. “We have always let each other know where we were in case of an emergency. If he had been called to the village, he would have left a note for me.”

Edmund clasped her hands between his before she wrung them so hard that she hurt herself. “Vera, if that is the case, then I'm sure he is somewhere in the house or nearby.” He looked past her to Northbridge and Bradby. “Let us look for him.”

“I have already looked for him everywhere I can think of,” she said. “The last time he was seen was when he was in the garden several hours ago. One of the maids saw him out there, but when she looked later, he was gone.”

“Maybe he walked down to the shore,” Bradby suggested.

“I asked Ogden to send Foggin there.”

The butler's face was taut. “Foggin reported back to me that he didn't find any footprints or any other sign that anyone had been there since the last high tide.”

Northbridge said, “Maybe he went to the church—”

“He did not take a horse or cart.” Her voice was growing higher with dismay. “I checked with Griffin in the stable, and, as I told you, if he had left of his own free will, he would have left a message for me.”

“Maybe—”

Vera interrupted Bradby. “Maybe the smugglers took him.”

Silence gripped the book room. Every face became as pale as Vera's.

Edmund looked at Northbridge. The habit had been ingrained during their years of fighting, side by side. Once, Edmund had made suggestions and waited for his commanding officer to decide.

Like Vera had done for him, he realized with a pinch of remorse.

Northbridge did not hesitate. “We will mount an organized and thorough search of the house and the grounds and the shore below the headland before we make any assumptions about where he might be or why. It is possible that he is in a place that has already been searched.”

While the others rushed out of the room, Ogden calling for the footmen and maids to report to the entry hall, Edmund kept Vera from following by taking her hands again. He half expected her to yank them away. She did not, and he knew she was heartsick with fear for her brother.

“Do you think something terrible has happened to him?” Her voice shook.

He forced a smile. “Other than he has lost track of time wherever he is, no. He was in the gardens, Vera. Not even the smugglers are bold or foolish enough to come here in the sunlight. They could not slip in and out without being seen.”

“I wish I could be as sure as you are.”

“You will be when Northbridge and I bring him back, quite chagrined that he has upset his sister.” He brushed her hair from her ashen face. “And then maybe you will let me apologize to you.”

“Not now, Edmund.”

Her soft answer would not have hurt more if a cannon ball had been driven into his gut. It was what he deserved after he had spewed his frustration on her. He clamped his lips shut, not wanting to chance hurting her further when she was fraught with fear for her brother.

Even though there was much he longed to say, he only nodded as he left her standing in the book room. He caught up with the others in the entry hall and thanked Lady Meriweather who offered to sit with Vera while the house and grounds were searched.

“Find him,” Cat said, blinking back tears. “He is all Vera has left.”

The words pummeled Edmund anew. Once, Vera might have counted him among the most important people in her life. Now...

“Let's go,” Bradby said, tugging on his sleeve. “We can't waste a second.” His face was as set and determined as Northbridge's. “Ogden, we need to search each room. When it has been searched, the door must be locked so nobody can go in.”

It was a good plan, but by the time they finished searching the house, the stable, the outbuildings and even the cottages on the estate, there was no sign of Mr. Fenwick. Nobody spoke again of the smugglers, but Edmund had seen the many glances toward the sea. He wanted to kick himself for putting false hope in Vera's heart.

Lord, help me find the right words to hold her up and help her know that she and the vicar are both within Your care.

“Meriweather,” Northbridge said as they walked through the front gate again, “I think we need more help. You already have the villagers going through the village and along the beach. We need others who can help us look in the wood. It may be that the smugglers are involved, and they have used the wood before to conceal their dirty work.”

“That makes sense, but there are a few more places that I want to check along the shore.”

“Do you want me to go with you?” Northbridge asked. “I thought I could ride for Sir Nigel's estate while Bradby went to Ashland's. Both of them should send help.”

“Go ahead. Let me check those places on the other side of the cliffs along the headland.”

“How long do you think it will take?” Bradby asked.

“An hour. Two at the most.”

“Good. Make sure you are back within two hours. Not a minute longer. And take care, Meriweather! Your family doesn't need another baron to die without an heir.”