His words to her at dinner that evening rushed back to her—how displeased he’d been when she admitted she would have treated him with more respect had she known who he was. He’d been disgusted that she would differentiate her behavior based simply on one’s status. She was ashamed now that she had done so without thought—that she had believed what she’d been taught without question.
“Alice? Did you hear me? What’s wrong?” Opening her eyes and turning toward her father, she saw him attempting to rise from his chair.
“Father, I’m fine, no need to trouble your leg. I was distracted by what Priscilla included in her letter.” Not exactly an outright lie as Ethan’s letter had been inside with Priscilla’s.
Father grunted before resettling into his chair. “Never mind your cousin, what invitations came today? I heard the Earl of Landover is now in town, he would be an excellent match. Accept any offers where he may be in attendance. You are aware of with whom he is connected?”
“Yes, Father.” Alice sighed. The earl in question was a recent widower in his fourth decade. She couldn’t help but think of how Priscilla described her first marriage to the elderly duke; however, she would say whatever necessary to appease her father at this precise moment so she could return to Ethan’s letter.
Picking it back up, she noticed he had attempted to draw a picture of the garden in first bloom on the back of the page. Though certainly not a proficient artist, the thought behind the gesture touched her deeply, and she felt a tear trickle down her cheek. Turning it over, she was eager to read his message.
My dear Alice,
Please forgive my forwardness in presuming a letter from me would be welcome when we did not discuss such communication before your departure. I hope that your father is returning to good health, as Priscilla has indicated, and that you are resettling into your home. I hope that you and Knightly are well, and your feline companion reminds you of your time with us. I believe bringing him to you may have been one of the best ideas I’ve had.
I am writing because I wanted to let you know about your garden and how much beauty it is providing the estate. You were correct that such an undertaking would improve morale, and I am ashamed I did not recognize it before. All of Matthias’ starts are taking root and thriving, providing a colorful blanket over the beds bordering the lawn. The transplanted roses are doing well—I’ve included one here so that you might enjoy its scent, even if its beauty will have faded before it reaches you.
The expanded kitchen garden has been a blessing to all those who live near the estate. While still too early for summer produce, spring treats such as sweet peas, asparagus, and tender lettuces are growing in abundance. The estate cook has been blessing us with the fresh greens at dinner, and many on staff have taken some home to share with their families. This is only possible due to your thoughtfulness.
And the wood anemone grows strong beneath the oaks, the star blooms standing out like brilliant lights, making everything around them more cheerful.
Your absence is felt keenly. David believes I’ve reverted to being more of a tyrant now that you are not here to keep me in check, to staunch my need for absolute organization and control. And the place is dimmer without your smile and bright copper curls reflecting the spring light back at us. I wish you could be here to experience it all yourself.
Your humble servant,
Ethan
Alice was stunned as she read the simple but beautiful words. Her fingertips caressed the page, tracing the lines of ink that had come from his hand. Turning the page over she looked again at his illustration and noticed the detail he had given the wood anemone, the star blooms distinct among his other lines.
Alice was so caught up in imagining herself back in the garden with Ethan that she hadn’t noticed her father approaching.
“What is this?” he asked as he limped forward and snatched the letter from her hand. “This isn’t your cousin’s writing.”
“Father, please give that back,” she pleaded as his eyes scanned the letter. He was crumpling it in his grip, and she had to restrain herself from yanking the precious item from him.
“Who is this man, and why is he writing to you? The presumption to use your Christian name!” He looked at Alice, eyes boring into hers, but she didn’t know how to explain. “Answer me! Who is so bold as to write you?”
“Father, please calm down and let me explain.” She was concerned by his red face and heavy breathing. “Eth—Mr.Beaumont is the marquess’ cousin. He manages the estate for West.”
At that information, he let out a harumph. “Well why is he writing to you? He’s correct that it’s presumptuous. What is this garden he’s rambling about? And is he the one responsible for that blasted cat?” Flinging his arm out towards where Knightly lay cleaning himself in a patch of sun, she flinched as the letter fluttered from further abuse.
“Mr. Beaumont became my friend while I was at Hampton House,” Alice began slowly, her mind racing. Did she dare to express her feelings? Tell her father that she had grown fond of Ethan and what a good man he was? Was this her chance to see if he’d ever consider Ethan a possible match?
“We worked together on refurbishing Priscilla’s garden while I was there. You know how I’ve always loved flowers. He wrote because I left before I was able to see the garden in full bloom—he’s simply sharing the results of my project.”
Her father looked at the drawing and curled his lip. “This is what you were doing there?” He tightened his fist on the page, causing the paper to twist, crumpling even more. Alice winced and barely stopped herself from crying out. “What was your cousin thinking—having you work alongside common men? No wonder you didn’t have any satisfactory answers when I inquired what you had learned. I questioned your vagueness, and you avoided me.” His eyes held nothing but accusation as his chest rose and fell rapidly in irritation. Alice was becoming worried.
“Father, please sit, I don’t want you to become overwrought. Nothing untoward happened while I was away, I promise you.” He resisted as she tried to direct him to the chair, eventually relenting and half collapsing onto the cushion, panting.
“I’m fine, stop your fussing.” He shoved her hands away as she sought to feel his pulse like the doctor had demonstrated. “Tell me why this man thought it appropriate to write you.”
His face was red, and Alice was growing increasingly concerned as his breathing continued to be labored. “I told you, Father, he became my friend while we worked together. He’s a respectable man from a good family, and as he is West’s family, he’s like family to us as well. There is nothing inappropriate.” She glanced down, unable to look him in the eye as most her thoughts concerning Ethan of late had been decidedlyinappropriate.
Gasping between words, he pitched out, “You’re not being . . . truthful . . . with me, Alice . . . I . . . can tell.” Alice knelt on the floor beside him and grabbed his hand—her worst nightmare coming true before her very eyes. She had caused her father undue stress and it was sending him into an episode. She called out for assistance while he looked at her, chest heaving and sweat dripping down his temple.
“Tell me!” If he’d had enough breath left in him, it would have been a bellow.
Tears streaming down Alice’s face, she feared he’d go into a fit of apoplexy unless she divulged the truth. Providing half answers was only increasing his distress. “I’m sorry, Papa,” she said, reverting to the name she hadn’t used since before the accident. “I didn’t mean to, but I fell in love with him.”
