I ached for Mama. “I could not hope for better companions to share my evenings with than you, Sir Walter Scott, and Lord Byron.”
“Yes, well. So long as Lord Byron is confined to the pages of a book, I have no objections.”
Even if Lord Byron had not been exiled from London, the notorious beau was no threat to me. “I only enjoy his beautiful words, Papa.”
“Very good. But you must admit,” Papa continued, “that you would enjoy having another lady in the house during the morning hours when I’m attending to the needs of the church.”
As a clergyman, Papa spent his mornings studying the gospels and preparing sermons. I joined him at the small chapel down the road where he preached when appropriate, but not often. Papa did not relish leaving me to myself, but it could not be helped.
I shook my head. “The Morning Postis a most diverting breakfast companion.” I’d picked up the habit of reading the newspaper when Mama had taken to her sickbed. However unladylike the habit, I was loath to give it up now. Knowing what was happening in the world gave me some sense of my place within it.
Papa shifted in his seat. “And what of your afternoons?”
“My charity work with the poor occupies much of my time.”
“You know I am proud of the service you have done for the church—you’ve helped so many—but you cannot spend all your days giving charity. Surely you wish for a friend to accompany you to places like the milliner or the modiste?”
“After the experience I had there with Georgiana this summer, I am not inclined to go anywhere with anyone—save my favorite authors Miss Radcliffe and Miss Edgeworth.” Just as the newspaper helped me understand the world, books helped me understand myself.
“I fear I have raised something of a bluestocking in you.” Papa sighed. “I do believe your mother would have my head for not establishing you more properly in Society.”
Since Mama’s passing two years earlier, trivial diversions like balls and operas and luncheons had become something of a chore. The one time I’d allowed Henry and Georgiana to drag me to a ball this Season, I’d danced only one set, and Georgiana had not hidden her displeasure. Little did that matter now though; those pastimes were meant for securing a husband, and I’d already met my match in Ollie. And a good thing too, as I did not have any other suitors. What a dreadful state it would be indeed to end up as spinster, entirely dependent on Father and one day on my brother.
But thankfully, I had Ollie.
He’d written to me regularly after my last visit to Summerhaven, and his letters—coming first from Summerhaven and then from Eton—had brought me comfort while Mama was sick. He’d become too involved with his studies to write me while he was studying at Cambridge, but I did not fault him. In fact, I was glad he’d taken his education so seriously. It showed his steadiness and strength of character.
And even though his letters had ceased, my faith in him had never wavered. We had only been twelve years old when we’d huddled together under the old oak tree and Ollie vowed to marry me, but from the moment he sealed his vow with a kiss upon my hand and then my cheek, I’d always known he’d one day return to keep his promise. It had been eight years since that summer, and I was twenty now, but our hearts were forever bound.
I could already envision our life together. We would marry on a midsummer’s day in Papa’s chapel, then we would travel north to Winterset Grange—the small estate Ollie would inherit from his mother—and once there, we would establish our home. Ollie’s allowance, which he would retain from his father’s estate, would provide us a blessed life, and we would use those blessings to care for our tenants. And in time, we would have children, then, God willing, grandchildren. Our life together would be simple and happy.
But as much as I wanted that life to begin right away, I couldn’t bring myself to leave Papa alone.
“If you truly desire to stay home,” Papa said, interrupting my thoughts, “then I will respect your decision. But I wonder, how you will explain your refusal to visit to Mr. Oliver Jennings?”
I sucked in a surprised breath and heat crept up my neck.
“You didn’t think I knew about him, did you?”
I shook my head.
Papa relaxed further into his armchair. “I remember one particular summer you and Mama arrived home from the country one full day later than I had expected. I’d been so worried that when you walked through our front door, I cried with relief. Your mama could not stop smiling though. She explained that when she told you it was time to return home—”
“I convinced Ollie to hide in the garden with me so I would not have to leave.” I remembered the day well. Ollie and I had been chasing each other in the garden, dashing down the hedgerows and darting around flowerbeds. His blond curls had bounced and shone in the sunlight. I could almost hear his laughter now.
“She could scarcely stop talking about your little games with the young master. She told me about how she spent her last day there, sitting in the library window seat with Lady Winfield, watching you and Oliver play in the garden and planning your future nuptials.”
“Truly?” I asked.
Papa nodded. “I believe seeing you happily settled with Oliver Jennings was her last wish.”
My heart swelled like a rain cloud ready to burst. Perhaps this revelation shouldn’t have surprised me; I’d taken little care to disguise my tender feelings for Ollie, so of course Mama had known of my affection, but I had no idea she’d wanted the same dreams for me as I did.
“After all we have lost, I thought I had done right in holding you close. But I see now that it was selfish of me to deprive you of so much.” Papa removed his spectacles and laid them on the side table. “Mama would’ve wanted you to go to Summerhaven, Hannah.”
I twisted the emerald mourning ring Papa had fashioned for me from Mama’s wedding band around my finger. The thought of visiting the country without her was more painful than a summer without sun. But Papa was right; Mama knew best. Shewouldhave wanted me to go. To keep making memories. To be happy. And Ollie most decidedly made me happy.
With a deep breath, I nodded. “Then I will write to Lady Winfield and accept her invitation.”
