“What is going on out here?” It was Alice Lockhart, Andrew’s mother, and Della was mortified. Here she was, with her ragtag familyand all their belongings, standing in front of this woman’s home with her hands all over her son. Della took an abrupt step back that hurt both her heart and her knees.
“Mother, you remember—” But Andrew was once again interrupted.
“Adelaide!” Alice nearly threw herself at Della, enveloping her in a hug so tight it brought tears to her eyes. It was actually uncomfortable, the combination of the almost-maternal affection and the devastation it brought her. Della had so missed this. Not just Alice herself, but having a mother to hug.
She was splendidly dressed, and that was no surprise. Her gown was emerald green with gold finishings. Her graying hair was upturned in a neat coiffure, and she smelled of some fragrant flower that Della couldn’t place. It was all a bit much for Della’s senses, this kindness and warmth. She simply wasn’t used to it.
“I’m so sorry to intrude,” Della said as soon as Alice let her go and she could resume breathing. “I...” She tried to explain, looking from Andrew to his mother, and she felt all of her capacity for speech drain away.
She had no idea what Andrew had been up to, or what he’d told his mother about all of this. There was no way for Della to speak to Alice about her presence here without revealing herself to be someone leading her son on a path to ruin. It seemed there was so much to apologize for that the words just wouldn’t come.
“Let’s all go inside, hm?” Alice said, grabbing Della by the arm and leading her toward the door. Everyone else followed, and they all shuffled into the charming home.
Della had never been here before. She’d never been allowed. Andrew’s home was beautiful. Modest by the standards of society, but it was teeming with character. Alice was known to have a rather eclectic aesthetic as a dressmaker, and it showed in their furnishings. Nothing matched, there were jewel tones of all varieties everywhere. A greenvelvet divan in the entryway and deep-purple curtains covering the front windows. Beneath the veneer of Alice’s oddly charming design, Della could see Andrew’s natural sense of messiness. She’d never told him that, how she adored the sense of disorder he brought to the world around him.
“Oh,” Della began, once she realized everyone was staring at her. “I’m so sorry, this is Miss Clara Fletcher, and this is Mr. Harry Stanton.” She gestured to them both. Clara was swaying back and forth on her planted feet like she just couldn’t help but move.
“Please, call me Harry. You’ve a lovely home,” Harry remarked. He was always such a gentleman.
“Come in, come in,” Alice gestured down the hall. “Please, put your things down.”
Clara and Harry looked at Della simultaneously. It was eerie sometimes, watching their innate connection play out. Della didn’t know what to say. She looked to Andrew.
“Please, go ahead.” He smiled politely and stepped aside, letting Clara and Harry pass him. They walked toward his mother, and she and Clara began a lively conversation that they could hear even as they disappeared out of sight.
“I really am sorry,” she started to say, as soon as they were alone. It had felt right, leaving Westfield Manor abruptly to see him. Now, though, it felt like she was being even more of a burden on his life.
“You apologize far too much,” Andrew remarked. It wasn’t what she’d expected him to say, and she was taken aback.
“So do you,” she told him.
“Well, what are we to do about it? Apologize?” He smiled, that full, big, open grin and she got lost in those dimples again.
Della laughed. She was heartsick and in pain and worried beyond belief, but she laughed. With him, it seemed she could always find something to laugh about.
Alice reappeared then, without Clara or Harry.
“They are lovely people,” she said. Andrew had her smile, and the laugh lines around Alice’s face proved she used it well and often. “They’re going to prepare the guest rooms for the night.”
“Oh, Alice, we don’t—” Della almost got her full sentence out this time. Almost.
“No, I’ll hear of nothing else.” Alice held up a hand. “It’ll be nice to have guests. We haven’t had a chance to use both rooms yet, and that’s why I converted Elias’s old study into another bedroom in the first place. For guests.”
“Thank you,” Della said sincerely. “I promise there is a reason we’re here, and a good one. We didn’t make the trek to London just to bother you.” It was a joke, but it was a weak one. If she couldn’t apologize, humor was the next arrow in her quiver.
Alice took two steps closer. Her face turned serious. Della recognized Andrew in that, too. It reminded her of the face he’d make when he first found her during all those hide and seek games. So serious at first, then his expression would melt into that dazzling smile.
“Is this about your family, dear?” Alice asked. She’d kept her voice low, but there was no need.
“How did you know, Mother?” Andrew asked. He’d leaned in, too, like the three of them were sharing a secret. Della supposed in some way they were. She looked between them, mother and son. She knew Andrew favored his father, but she could just feel Alice’s spirit in him.
“I wish I’d just assumed,” Alice sighed. “Because they’re awful.” She nodded. Della nodded back. “I’m sure I’d always assume if you were in any kind of trouble, it would be to do with your family. But you have been acting strangely since you returned.” She pointed to Andrew. “And something happened today. You won’t tell me what, but I know it was something.”
Della flashed a look at him, and she’d never seen him appear so guilty. Unease churned in her stomach. Perhaps she’d been too late, and she really had let Andrew walk into ruin all alone. If she had, she’dnever forgive herself.
“So it is about your family, then?” Alice asked, more gently this time. She was speaking to both of them, her gaze dancing back and forth. Della had never felt like this. Like she had someone literally at her back to help her solve a problem.
“Yes,” she admitted.
