She could not afford to become hysterical.
But please, God, don’t let him die.Don’t let him die. Don’t let him die.And then she wondered if God would even listen to her prayer. Because she wasn’t praying for the man who she had promised to marry. She was praying for a man she could never have.
Chapter 15
Disillusioned
Olivia rarely went to her parents’home, and when she did, she never sought her father out. Breathless from walking and running intermittently across her father’s land, water dripping down her face and hair from the rain, she entered the front door without knocking, startling Mr. Carson, her father’s long retained butler with her sudden presence.
“My father,” she said on a gasp. “I need to speak with his lordship immediately. There’s been an accident.” Unless, of course, he’d already been informed. But if Mr. Carson’s curious expression was anything to go by, she surmised news hadn’t reached them yet.
“His lordship is in the drawing room, with her ladyship.” Without waiting for him to delay her or chastise her for the water and mud she’d dragged inside, Olivia dashed up the stairs and down the corridor. They’d be sitting in her mother’s favorite room. The curtains would be drawn to close out the unfavorable weather and several candles would be lit.
Memories of when she’d lived here, of when she’d been a normal member of their family, slammed into her. She ignored them and braced herself to face her father.
He’d blame her, of course. Olivia needed to divert his attention away from his superstitions and direct them to the matters at hand.
Without waiting to be invited inside, she pushed open the door. At her father’s startled but disapproving stare, she lifted her chin defiantly.
“Louella?” Her mother’s eyes widened in terror. “Has something happened to Louella and Stanton in London?” Her mother, at least, had the good sense to realize Olivia would not have come unless something was dreadfully wrong.
Olivia took a calming breath. “No, Mother. Louella is fine.” And then she turned to her father and stared at him steadily. He shifted his eyes away from her. “It’s the mine, Father. It’s collapsed. The duke will need your help. Lord Kingsley will need your help. It is your land, Father. They will have need of you.”
Silence weighed heavy in the room but for the clock on the mantel above the hearth, which ticked loudly.
“Several men were inside. They will have need of you.” Her father was not a young man but neither was he infirm.
Instead of turning to address Olivia, he turned to her mother. “The roads are likely impassable.”
“The mine is on your property.” Olivia stood firmly. “If you do not go, you will be deemed a coward for however much remains of your life.” If she knew her father at all, she knew that he cared what others thought of him. Hopefully, that would outweigh his fear of the mine’s curse.
“You mustn’t allow us to be dishonored, Hallowell.” And her mother cared even more. “Carson can order your mount prepared. Go slowly and I can’t imagine you’ll have any difficulty. The workers will need a steadying voice and you can provide that.”
“Crawford has likely already gone up,” her father grumbled.
“In which case then, you may very well turn back and come right home. But Olivia is correct in what she says. If you don’t go, you shall appear as though you are avoiding it because you fear the curse.”
At that word, her father finally glanced in her direction. His cold stare sent a tremor through her. “Get back to the dower house and don’t show your face anywhere. Do you understand?” If she’d ever doubted her father’s hatred for her, he solidified her belief at that moment.
Olivia would not hide herself today. She would assist Eliza with Mr. Smith’s children. She would cook an apple pie because her betrothed would likely be ravenous when he returned to his home.
It didn’t matter that Gabriel had liked her apple pie.
To appease her father’s superstitions, she nodded. He’d not cared enough to keep tabs on her for years; he was not likely to begin paying attention to her whereabouts now.
“Very well.” He rose from his seat reluctantly and Olivia’s mother rang the bell.
“Stay with me for a while, Olivia. The house is too quiet now that Louella has married. You can read to me.” At Olivia’s father’s disapproving glance, her mother waved him away. “She’ll not be seen by anyone if she remains here. Now, go. Before people start wagging their tongues already.”
Olivia froze in place. Her mother acted as though her father was off to fetch her bonnet rather than oversee a rescue effort involving several men’s lives. Olivia could not afford to sit about and do nothing while Eliza did all the work at the Smiths’.
“I will do as Father says.” Olivia began backing out of the room.
“I would like you to stay awhile, Olivia.” A tenderness in her mother’s voice paused her. “Please.” Without waiting for Olivia’s answer, her mother pulled the bell pull again and an unfamiliar manservant appeared immediately.
“Foster, Have Mrs. Mimms draw a bath for Miss Redfield in Louella’s chamber. And bring out some dry clothes for her to wear afterward. And stoke the fire in here. I don’t want her catching a chill.”
Olivia crept slowly into the room and then stood near the warmth of the hearth, across from her mother, mindful of the state of her gown. As it was, she knew she’d made muddy footprints in the corridor and on the rug even.
