“Goodbye, both!” Waving a hand, Annie set off toward the gate. “I might be late for luncheon. No apologies. This weather isglorious!”
“The weather can change quickly, so don’t go too far!” Hattie’s appeal followed her out onto the road, but Annie ignored it.
A short while later, with Ruffy leading the way, Annie clambered over the stone stile and took the now-familiar path that skirted a patch of woodland. As usual, she was met by the raucous clatter of a resident flock of crows from their nearby tree-top roosts. And, as usual, she paused for a few moments beside the small brook that ran partway alongside the path, the clear water gurgling and splashing over rocks as it disappeared into the woods. It was a soothing sound, Annie thought, as was the rustle of leaves stirred by the soft, summer breeze. She gave silent thanks for the latter, since the black of her mourning dress captured the heat mercilessly and held onto it. For now, fortunately, the sun was not long above the horizon and the air was yet cool.
Annie looked ahead to her destination, though the crest of the ridge was only partially visible at this point. Once she turned away from the woods, she knew she’d be able to see all of it. Without thinking, she almost looked back at Ferndale, but stopped herself, resolved to keep looking forward till she reached her destination. How silly, she thought, with a rueful smile. What difference would it make whether she looked back now or later? No difference at all, really, but she found some satisfaction in creating and achieving these simple resolutions for herself. They were a test of will, stemming from a desire to control even a small part of her life, while facing a future that still seemed chaotic and unpredictable.
The path circled around, eventually taking Annie to where it split, with a narrow offshoot leading upward. “Well, here we go, Ruffy. Are you ready?” She looked down, saw no sign of the dog, and huffed. “All right. Fine. I’ll do it by myself.”
Lifting her skirts with one hand and grasping the parasol in theother, she began the climb, which zigzagged ever upward. Fortunately, the slope was not too extreme, and the path felt dry and firm underfoot. Knee-high grass, their soft feathery tips rippling like waves, blanketed much of the hillside. Here and there, patches of heather hinted at their imminent display of color. Mostly, though, Annie kept her eyes on her path, placing her booted feet with care. She sucked in a breath when a bee buzzed close to her ear. At least, she hoped it was a bee, and not some other stinging insect she hadn’t encountered before. The countryside, it seemed, was home to an endless variety of multi-legged insects, winged and otherwise, some of them alarmingly large.
By the time the path began to level out, the climb had taken its toll. Perspiration dripped into Annie’s eyes, her legs ached, and her galloping heart felt like it was about to break out of her chest. She paused, dropped her handful of skirts, pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve, and mopped her brow. Then, sucking in a determined breath, she took the few final steps onto the broad crest of the hill. The distant horizon seemed to rise up and greet her. Her subsequent gasp expressed what words, at that moment, could not.
Never could she have imagined such a view. Enchanted, she moved to where a massive slab of flat rock jutted out from the hillside; a natural balcony with a dizzying drop, reserved solely for those brave enough to use it. Annie felt no fear, only fascination. She stepped onto the ancient ledge, filled her lungs with fresh, cool air, and swept her gaze over the breathtaking scenery. The world, it seemed, lay at her feet. Or perhaps, she fancied, she was gazing upon a fragment of Heaven that had fallen to Earth in times past.
Moorland and forest merged into emerald-green meadows dotted with white sheep. A sunlit river, like molten silver, snaked its way across the land. But of all the things visible, the one that drew and held Annie’s attention was the house. Even without the sparkle of sunlight on its splendid array of windows, she would have noticed it immediately.
It occupied a spot at the center of the vista, as if its architect had once stood in Annie’s place and purposely chosen the precise location. Only the upper part of the house was visible, the lower part hidden behind the undulations of the landscape and barricades of trees. Judging by the gables and chimneys, however, the house was obviously the centerpiece of a substantial estate. Annie wondered who lived there. A duke, perhaps. Or maybe a wealthy industrialist. Was it home to a solitary owner, or to a large family? The latter part of the question brought Julian Northcott to mind for the second time that day, for she recalled he’d spoken with fondness about his five siblings. Distracted by things new and unfamiliar, she thought of him less and less these days, though the memory of her encounter with him remained fully intact. She suspected it always would.
“Three sisters and two brothers,” she murmured, and shifted her gaze to the far horizon, unsure of where, exactly, Yorkshire was. “You must be out there, somewhere. Do you ever think of me, I wonder?” She dared to believe he did, and then pondered the fickleness of life. The only predictable thing about it was its ruthless unpredictability.
A soft gust of wind brought Annie back to the moment, and her focus shifted once more to the great house. The question about what lay beyond the hill had been answered, but other questions now lifted their heads, demanding answers. And that’s when Annie, at last, looked back to where those answers lay.
Ferndale Grange.
*
“It’s called MyddletonHouse.” Janet, spectacles balanced on the end of her nose, frowned as she attempted to thread a sewing needle. “And it is home to the Earl of Hutton.”
“The Earl of Hutton,” Annie repeated, settling onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. “I guessed it would be an aristocrat. Haveyou met him?”
Janet regarded Annie over the rim of her spectacles. “Not personally, no. Lady Hutton, yes. Many times, in fact.”
“His wife? The countess?”
“Yes. Ouch!” Frowning, Janet stuck a fingertip in her mouth. “Time to get new spectacles, I think.”
“Here, Janet, give it to me.” Hattie held out a hand. “I’ll thread it for you.”
“Why?” Annie asked.
“Because my eyesight is still perfect,” Hattie replied.
Annie shook her head. “No, I mean, how come you’ve met the countess, Janet?”
Janet handed the bobbin and needle to Hattie. “Because, on occasion, I’m asked to help with the flower arrangements at Myddleton, and Lady Hutton sometimes insists on being involved. She loves her garden and her flowers.”
Annie pondered the response. She’d never met a member of the aristocracy before. “Is she nice?”
“She is utterly delightful. A fine lady with a kind heart. Thank you, Hattie.” Janet took the threaded needle back. “The entire family is delightful, actually. Though, the dowager countess can be rather overbearing at times, I understand. Mind you, I’ve only met her once, but it left an impression. She must be in her nineties by now.”
“So, you’ve actually been inside the house.”
Janet picked up the apron that had been sitting on the table. “Many a time,” she replied, frowning as she inspected the part in need of repair.
“What is it like?”
“Well, I’m not familiar with theentirehouse, of course, but what I have seen is as splendid as you might expect. Especially the long gallery.”
