“Ilovetrudging through mud!” Jilly exclaimed before she could stop herself. Her cheeks grew warm—a sign of embarrassment, she reminded herself, that she never used to feel.
Mr. Boyd formed a little smile of amusement on an otherwise-serious face. He was always thus, Jilly remembered. Which was probably why at such a young age—What was he now? Twenty-three? Twenty-four? She knew he was not much older than herself—he had secured such a responsible position.
“Well,” he said, the smile diminishing but not fading completely, “that is all in order, then. Do you ride, Mrs. Bradford?”
Jilly’s heart fell. “I do not.”
“No matter,” he said to her enormous relief. “I will do my patrol of the fencing on horseback and see to the duties farthest out on the estate while I am at it. I usually do these quite early, and I believe you would not mind a later start after your tiring journey. Shall we meet after breakfast, say ten o’clock? I will attend to the matters of farming with you. When you have had your fill, I will resume my other duties. Does this suit?”
“It’s suits very well, indeed,” said Jilly.
“I bid you a good day, then. There are still many tasks that require my attention this afternoon.” He touched his cap to her, stuck his pencil halfway under it, and shoved the notebook into his pocket before heading off to see to his other duties.
Her excuse for visiting the neighbor now carried out, Jillian felt a little stranded, a single top spinning by itself while the rest of the world went about its business. And yet, as she started walking back to Trenton Grange, where her family would draw her into its welcoming cocoon, she sensed that some healing had already begun. Tomorrow, she would have dirt on her boots, the sun at her back, and the company of a kindhearted man who thought her perfectly fine as she was.
These were the hopes she’d had once had of Lewis. And he had recently pledged his promises to her anew. After the London season, they would try again, do better.
But he had let her down before.
Mr. Boyd had not.
And so it was, as she made her way across the boundary between the two properties, that Jillian was not thinking with excitement of seeing Lewis in July but instead relished the prospect of seeing Simon Boyd on the morrow.
She saw no harm in this. Why should she not choose the happier thoughts, the ones that assured her of pleasant hours? Contentment and bliss with Lewis seemed unattainable. There was always a price to pay. He would have to show her how he would manage things differently for her faith to be restored. And he could show her nothing for some weeks yet.
No, she saw no wrong in enjoying Mr. Boyd’s company. His manner toward her was restorative after such a long period of emotional drought. It wasn’t as though she were losing her heart to him. That would have been silly. She was a married woman.
Confident of her choices, Jillian climbed over the fence. It saved a long walk around. More importantly, she craved thefreedom to clamber. It was exhilarating, shedding a layer of inhibition she had worn like an ill-fitting garment. Yes, she was definitely home again, more herself, settling back into her own truth.
What was Lewis doing now? Honestly, she was giving it very little thought. Following some societal norm, no doubt. It only mattered thatshedid not have to. For the next six weeks, she would remember what it was to spread her wings fully.
After that?
Her heart grew tight. No, no, she must not think of that now. She must fly, run, sing, laugh. Twirl barefoot among the grasses of the meadow. Get her face full of flour as she helped her mother bake bread. Hold Timmy’s sticky hand.
Perhaps, when she had grown full and round with joy, she would have the strength for what must follow. Today, however, she would only think of her family’s warm embrace and the pure delight of a home within which judgment had no place.
Before she knew it, her steps had grown lighter, bouncier, until she was skipping, her arms swinging, a tune upon her lips. She could see her brother Jack in the distance and waved to him, increasing her pace to a run, until she had the startled lad in her arms and swung him around while he squirmed and complained that he was nine and not a baby anymore.
Ah, yes, she was home at last.
