I swallowed and clasped my hands. “Of course not. But they know what you’re about, Henry. They know you’re working against the governor. If they have enough evidence, they will convict you, and you’ll hang. Mayhap that’s why the governor has sent for you.”
“I cannot stop now.”
“But how much help can you be to the Patriots when the governor knows of your activities?” I felt desperate to stop him, for him to see reason. “Is there nothing else you can do to help the cause?”
“I thought you understood.”
“I know you long for independence and that you’re willing to sacrifice whatever it will take. But be reasonable, Henry. Whatever activities you’re involved in have been compromised.”
“And how does Lieutenant Addison know these things? Was he fishing for information? Did you confirm his suspicions?”
“Nay. I said nothing about you.” I returned to the chair next to Henry. “I do not think Lieutenant Addison means you harm. I truly believe he was warning me, for both our sakes. He also told me that we should let Louis go. I suspect Louis is the one working against us, not the lieutenant.”
Henry stared into the fire for several moments before turning his attention back to me. “I will consider what you’ve told me, but I cannot promise I will heed the advice of Governor Dunmore’s spy. He is a British officer. His job is to suppress us into submission. I do not believe he means to spare either of us from harm or trouble.”
“But you will consider what I’ve said?” I couldn’t hide the distress from my voice. “You’ll consider changing tactics, at least?”
“I will.” He nodded, and his countenance softened. “But I did not come here to speak about these things.” He took my hands into his again. “There are much more pleasant things to discuss.”
I bit the inside of my mouth as I looked down at our hands. For so long, I had known Henry was not within my reach—and for one short month, I had held on to the hope that he was finally mine. I had soared on the wings of a dream, but then I had crashed to the earth. My love for Henry would never die, but the reality of being his wife was something I had started to mourn.
The back door opened, and Mama’s feet could be heard on the hardwood floors. Henry let go of my hands, and we turnedat her entrance, saving me from any difficult conversation. For now.
There was no way to ignore the truth. Henry was lost to me, and I needed to start the process of letting go. For his sake and mine, but especially for the child that would change my destiny forever.
22
WHITBY, NORTH YORKSHIRE, ENGLAND
JANUARY 24, 1915
The following morning, I sat in the warm conservatory of Cumberland Hall, surrounded by the lush greenery of the plants and trees I had been tending for the past six months. Overhead, the great glass ceiling arched toward the sky. Grey clouds covered the expanse, and droplets of rain ran in rivulets down the windows. I occupied a chair with a view of the moors and a glimpse of the sea. I wore a shawl around my shoulders and watched the waves roll across the massive body of water, disappearing from view before they crashed against the cliffs beyond the manor house.
A cup of tea had gone cold in my hand, and the wrought-iron seat beneath me had grown uncomfortable. But this room had become a sanctuary to me since the library was no longer a place of refuge. I had not returned there since the night Reggie had come home, and I did not think I could visit it again.
“Lady Cumberland?” Mr. Wentworth appeared at the entrance to the conservatory with a letter on a silver tray. “The post has arrived.”
I felt groggy as I reached for the letter. The sedative Dr. Aiken had given me was still running through my body. My stomach was unsettled, and I was unable to eat anything, but I had not wanted to lie abed all day. So Edith had helped me dress, saying very little to me, and I had come into the conservatory. She’d brought me the cup of tea, but even that had not been appetizing.
“Thank you,” I said to Mr. Wentworth, taking the letter opener off the tray to slit the envelope. It was from Reggie.
I set the letter opener back on the tray, and Mr. Wentworth straightened, his left hand behind his back. “If I may,” he said tentatively, concern in his tone, “how are you feeling, your ladyship?”
A quick glance in the mirror that morning had told me all I needed to know about my appearance. My face was pale, and my gaze was dull. There were dark smudges beneath my eyes and deep lines around my mouth. No doubt he thought I was quite ill indeed. “I am not well,” I admitted, allowing him to see a glimmer of my true feelings. “Things have not gone at all how I hoped.”
He nodded. “I understand perfectly.”
Did he? I had never asked Mr. Wentworth about his life before coming to Cumberland Hall. Had he always aspired to be a butler? Or had his life not gone as planned, either?
“If that will be all?” he asked.
I nodded, and he took his leave.
The letter from Reggie sat like a rock upon my lap. I had no wish to open it. No desire to hear from him, especially now that I knew about the baby. He hadn’t written since he left Cumberland Hall, and I knew nothing about where he had been sent. Perhaps he was still in London. Or maybe he was on the battlefield already. It didn’t matter. I never wished to see him again.
But I could not ignore the letter. From time to time he sentinstructions for the staff to deal with certain aspects of Cumberland Hall’s upkeep. He had dealt with several issues during his Christmas holiday, and still others needed to be addressed. I opened the letter for no other reason than my concern for the home I occupied.
January 10, 1915
