“Thank you, Mr. Stanley,” Bennett said.
“Do not thank me just yet,” Mr. Stanley acknowledged. “This is your father’s decision, not mine. I can only make suggestions.”
“I understand,” Bennett said before excusing himself from the office.
Once they were alone in the dimly lit corridor, Miles asked, “Do you feel better?”
“No, but that is only because I don’t know what I can do to help these families,” Bennett replied, a troubled look in his eyes. “The thought that they are struggling does not sit well with me. But I intend to speak to my father about this at once.”
“You are right to do so,” Miles remarked.
Bennett bobbed his head, a determined look in his eyes. “But for now, we should head back to the manor. It is almost time for your nap. I wouldn’t want you to miss it,” he said playfully.
Miles could tell that his friend was trying to lighten the mood, but it wasn’t working. Bennett was troubled by what had been discussed with Mr. Stanley.
Chapter Seven
Edwina sat on the chair in her bedchamber, gazing out at the gardens. The recent brush with death still lingered in her mind and it sent shivers down her spine. She could feel her heart thudding against her chest at the mere thought of it. If not for Lord Hilgrove, she might have met her end. What a morbid and petrifying realization.
There was so much of life that she still wanted to accomplish. Marriage, children, growing old with a true love- these were all dreams she held close to her heart. But perhaps there was even more she could do, like taking up a new hobby. Almost losing everything gave her a newfound appreciation for every moment and opportunity that life had to offer. This second chance was not something to be squandered or taken for granted.
A soft knock sounded at the door before it was gently pushed open, revealing her lady’s maid. “I thought you were resting,” she said.
“I couldn’t sleep,” Edwina admitted. “Every time I close my eyes, I see the horse barreling down upon me and I panic.”
Martha’s eyes held compassion. “That is to be expected, but those feelings should fade with time.”
Edwina could only hope that was true. “Everything seems to take time, does it not?”
“Anything worth having does,” Martha replied with a smile.
Reaching up, Edwina tightened the blanket around her shoulders. “This brush of death has me thinking.”
Martha came to sit across from her. “About what?”
“I want to be happy.”
“You will be, in due time,” Martha encouraged. “You are still grieving the loss of your father and there is no shame in that.”
Edwina glanced down at her mourning clothes, feeling suffocated by their weight on her heart. After a moment of contemplation, she made a decision. “I want to go into half-mourning and stop wearing all black.”
Martha’s brow shot up. “Are you sure, my lady?”
“I am,” Edwina responded confidently. “It is time that I accept the fact that my father is gone and I need to make something of myself.”
“It has only been four months…” Martha trailed off.
Edwina put her hand up to stop her words. “Yes, and my father would have wanted me to move on, without him.”
Martha’s expression softened. “That he would have.”
A spark of hope ignited within Edwina, a glimmer of a second chance at happiness. It was time for her to start living again.
Rising, Martha walked over to the wardrobe and pulled out a maroon gown. “I daresay that your aunt will be happy that you are finally wearing these gowns.”
A flash of movement in the gardens caught Edwina’s eye, drawing her attention towards the window. Her eyes fixated on her cousin and Lord Hilgrove making their way towardsthe archery targets, each holding a bow in their hands. A sudden desire to join them overtook her.
Martha came to stand next to her, the gown draped over her hand. “What are we looking at?”
