She knew what she had to do. Raw grief overwhelmed her.
Someone knocked on her door. Arabella jumped up, her heart beating wildly. Maybe it was Philip…She blew her nose and wiped her cheeks before opening the door with shaking hands.
“Mail,” Peggy grumbled. She held several letters in her hand and held out a missive.
“For me?” Arabella took it, surprised. Who knew she was living here? It was addressed to Miss Weston.
“The rest’s for Mr Merivale. Invitations flooding in like there is no tomorrow.”
Arabella nodded. Of course. Now they had a glimpse of the earl, they’d all want to invite the future Duke of Morley. That was how things went.
She turned her letter in her hands and opened it.
It was from Morley. His spidery handwriting was difficult to decipher.
He wanted to know whether she could finally arrange a meeting between the children and himself. In secret. For now, he wanted Philip to have no knowledge of this.
Arabella scowled. This crafty old man. After she’d learned about Philip’s side of the story, she couldn’t, with good conscience, go ahead with their agreement. She decided to ignore the letter.
Fergus left that afternoon.They stood outside the cottage and watched him load his cart. Arabella was sorry to see the old man go.
He’d looked at her with those crafty eyes of his and bid her farewell.
“God speed, Miss. Take good care of my brood.”
She nodded.
Philip stood, both hands in his pocket, watching as his children took a tearful farewell of their great-grandfather.
“I’ll be back again before Christmas.” Fergus promised. Then he flicked his whip, and the cart started rolling.
She felt bereft when he disappeared behind the curve. She shivered in the cold, blustery wind. The children scampered off. Without so much as looking at her, Philip turned to leave.
Wrapping her arms about herself, she said, “I would like to speak with you, Mr Merivale.”
He winced, then nodded. “Of course, Miss Weston.” The entire morning he’d avoided her, and even now he did not meet her eyes. She swallowed the despair in her throat.
“I was thinking it may be time for me to move on as well.” She clenched her fingernails into her palms.
His eyes flew to her face. “No.”
“It would be for the best. A governess and her employer can’t — shouldn’t —” Tears blinded her eyes as she choked up. “And your children. Your w–wife. You loved her very much. It’s become awkward, wouldn’t you agree?”
He looked down at his feet, with his hands in his pocket. “Joy is not my child.”
Arabella looked at him, bewildered. “I don’t understand.”
“She — Jenny.” Philip looked at his boot as if there was something fascinating in the dust. “I was on the continent when she got pregnant. Basic mathematics.”
Arabella’s lips formed into a soundless O.
“Jenny wanted to marry the earl, not the blacksmith. She thought she could work me round, and sooner or later we’d be living in the grand mansion. She wanted to be a duchess. I wanted to dig my hands in ash and soot and trod in my grandfather’s footsteps. And invent.” From his feet, he looked up at the sky with a frown. “I thought I was so in love with her. But from the very first day it was a mismatch. But then Katy came and then Robin, and I didn’t do so badly in the city. I could afford to buy her the lace and ribbons she wanted, the bonnets — and all those things.” He shuffled again. “But we never stopped fighting. It got so bad. I enlisted.” He looked straight into her face. “What Granda said was true. I fairly ran away from my family to war. Just to get away from her. Katy and Robin, they were so little. I deserted them.”
“You did what you thought was best,” Arabella whispered.
“He was some lord or other.” Philip barked a short laugh. “Joy’s father. A popinjay. She must have met him through Morley. She lived here at Thornton with the children while I was on the continent, even though she knew I was against it. Robin doesn’t remember, Katy, barely. The irony is that after Jenny got pregnant by him, he enlisted, too. He didn’t last a week.”
“He fell?”
