He tapped the roof with his cane. “Wait here,” he told the driver. “I will be back in twenty minutes. You will be rewarded handsomely for your patience.” And he stepped down onto the edge of a meadow.
As Lewis paced through the wild grasses, he realized he was not, in fact, suitably dressed for what he had in mind. And yet—he thought with the thrill of newfound freedom—he also didn’t care.
Small birds took flight on tiny wings as his movements disturbed their hidden activities. Some took to the trees ahead and flitted from branch to branch as he approached the shady sentinels. Others swung low in their glide path and came to reston the woody stalks of spent flowers. Between the trees and the dry, sunburnt hollows—in the zone where shadow and sunlight alternated as the day progressed—Lewis found a long stretch of wildflowers.
He threw a quick glance back at the hackney driver. The man had leaned back with his hat over his face. There wasn’t another soul on the road.
Without further hesitation, Lewis sank into the lush growth of fresh grass and fragrant blooms, rolling onto his back, his arms tucking behind his head like a pillow. Above him, the bright blue of the sky seemingly stretched on forever.
It was the closest he had felt to Jillian in ages, even though she was currently two hundred miles away. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine her beside him. No nagging voices drummed in his head. No nameless echoes of expectation. Only the remembered softness of his beloved’s skin, the sun upon their faces, laughter bubbling up from within.
Lewis could sense a gaping wound begin to close. He took a tentative sniff. Pollen tickled his nose, but no coal dust filtered into his lungs. He breathed more deeply. In. Out. A steady flux of good, pure air and a heady mix of scents.
He felt himself being knit back together. Ermenbrough was surely doing much the same for Jilly. He reached out to her with his heart, a love letter of sorts. He imagined her now, stopping suddenly with whatever occupied her, a shudder of pleasure rippling through her limbs and torso as the tendrils of his thoughts wrapped gently about her. His body was a beacon, pulsing a signal of passion, of joy, of longing toward the one with whom he would be reunited in this moment.
He heard footfalls.
For a second, he believed it to be Jillian, brought here by the sheer will of his yearning for her.
The sound stopped.
“It’s been almost half an hour,” said a voice that was not Jillian’s. “I’ll be needing to get back. I have regulars who’ll be looking out for me.”
Lewis shielded his eyes. The hackney driver loomed over him.
He sighed. Back to reality. But the break had done wonders for his spirit. It had given him perspective, reminded him what really mattered. No more would he create distance with the one person who nourished his soul, or seek meaning with a host of people who only cared about the role they expected him to play and how it suited them.
Of course, he would still need to attend today’s parliamentary session. He still had commitments for the season. But he had promised Jillian fields. And chickens. And, by gum, she was going to get them!
