Page 43 of Rescuing Lord Inglewood

Holding the shell necklace up by the old cords, Esther studied him as she spoke. “That isn’t what I meant at all. I only meant that you obviously cared a great deal about the people around you, and your friends became your new family after you lost your parents. That is what this box is—a sort of contract among all of you. That you would devote yourselves to each other and the preservation of your friendships.”

For a moment he stared at her, then let his eyes drift to the shell. “And here I thought we were merely children playing a game.”

Rather than continue the subject, Esther began to wrap and tuck the pieces into the box again. “This is something special, whatever it may be, and I think we should bring it back to the house. I imagine the others will be visiting soon.”

“I expect them at eleven o’clock.” Silas lifted the box in one hand, standing before offering to assist her to do the same. His bare hand closed warmly over her gloved one. “Without their families this first time. I am afraid after today I will not be able to hold back others who wish to offer condolences.”

Condolences. “It is such an empty word,” she murmured, clasping her hands before her and keeping her attention on the long grasses. “It doesn’t seem to matter that all of us have lost someone. When we go about and visit one another, there is rarely real comfort given.”

An arm around her waist startled her into looking up, meeting Silas’s green eyes and the anguished empathy within. “If it is too much for you, if there is something else you need or want, you have but to tell me. Isaac was your brother in truth, but I loved him like a brother, too.” He spoke with steady conviction, his words wrapping about her heart as his arm had gone about her body.

“Thank you.” Esther leaned her head against his chest, heedless of the way it bent her bonnet’s brim. The physical closeness eased the ache in her heart, even as she warned herself not to grow too attached to her husband. “I do not know what I would do without you. No one else could ever understand.”

He gave one last gentle squeeze, then offered his escort back to the house. They walked without hurry and without speaking. Esther’s eyes roamed the fields and trees, and everywhere she looked she could imagine boys and girls playing, while an even smaller little girl tried to keep up behind them.

Chapter Nineteen

Eleven o’clock arrived, and as the clock in the parlor chimed, Esther heard the entryway door open. The low voices and footsteps on the marble floors marked the arrival of Isaac’s dearest friends. She rose to her feet after exchanging a glance with Silas, who stood at the windows. He offered her the barest smile before coming to stand by her side.

The weight of grief had settled upon them again when they returned from their walk, leaving them with little to say to one another. Esther had gone to her room for an hour to rest, and Silas to his study. Though they had not spent a great deal of time in each other’s company, she had no wish to wear out her welcome by being forever about her husband. He already seemed to think her a child in need of direction.

When the parlor door opened to admit a gentleman and two ladies, all of them somehow already wearing black, Esther corrected her posture and prepared to welcome them as graciously as any hostess should.

“Good morning,” Silas said first, stepping forward and offering a polite bow. “I am grateful all of you were able to come.” Perhaps it was nothing more than habit that made him forget the duty of welcoming guests always fell first to the hostess.

Esther bit her tongue and sank into a curtsy, quickly adding her own words of welcome. “Yes, thank you for visiting with us.”

“Dear Esther,” Hope said, hurrying forward with her arms outstretched. “You poor darling. I wish I could have come the very instant I received the news. But that would not have been proper.” She wrapped Esther in a friendly embrace, the momentary comfort of her kindness overwhelming Esther’s emotions.

“Thank you, Hope.” Esther pulled back, her lips forming a tremulous smile—but Hope had already looked away, and she stepped from Esther’s arms to embrace Silas.

“Oh, Silas,” she said, burying her face in the front of his coat. “Whatever are we to do without him?”

Silas gave Hope a gentle pat on the back, but before Esther could hear what words of comfort he would offer, Grace had come to stand beside her. “I am terribly sorry, Esther,” Grace said in her quiet, solemn way. “The news gave me such a shock. I cannot imagine how you are bearing up.”

Heart softening, Esther took Grace’s offered hand. “It is the most difficult thing in the world. But having Silas at home has helped. I cannot believe Isaac is gone, especially now that all of you are here together.”

“It will never be the same,” Grace agreed, her eyes shimmering with her sorrow. “Isaac was the creative one in our little group. Brave and imaginative.” She turned to offer her hand to Silas after her sister had withdrawn, at the same moment she withdrew a handkerchief. “Silas.” Then she burst into tears and suddenly Silas had an arm around her in support.

Staring at the scene most incredulously, Esther’s mind tried to make sense of the sudden flood of jealousy in her heart. Here they all stood, mourning her brother, yet Silas seemed as content to embrace his friends as he had been to comfort his wife. The hollowness of grief overtook her again, swallowing the jealousy and leaving instead a strange ache in its place.

Firming up her resolve, Esther turned to the last guest. Jacob Barnes, tall and stately in his mourning suit and black cravat. His blond eyebrows were pulled downward, his firm jaw clenched and the muscles in his neck taut. He looked worn and tired, yet he offered her a smile of camaraderie as he stepped forward with outstretched hand.

“I am sorry for this, Esther. I had hoped Isaac would come home and we would celebrate your marriage together. He loved parties.” A forced smile appeared on his face. “We attended any number of them together when we were at university.”

“Some we were even invited to attend,” Silas said from behind Esther, making her start. She looked to see the sisters on the couch, handkerchiefs dabbing at their eyes. Silas stepped nearer; one side of his mouth tipped upward. “We were not always conscientious about whether or not the hosts wanted us.”

“Isaac could get us into any room and any house he wished,” Jacob said with a firm nod. “He was liked wherever he went.”

Hope emitted a watery sort of chuckle. “Wasn’t that always his way? Even as a boy he could get us out of most scrapes.”

Silas gestured to the remaining chairs. “Please, sit. Refreshment will be up shortly.” He waved Esther into a chair while he moved another closer to the group for himself. They formed an odd sort of shape. The twins on the settee, Jacob and Silas directly across from them in chairs, and she at one side, facing no one, hovering between the men and the women.

“Esther was telling me how he tried to cast blame upon her rather than charm his way out of their misadventures,” Silas said, sitting forward in his chair. He made eye contact with her briefly, and giving her a token smile before he sobered again. “I cannot believe this happened. At the very end of the blasted French business. I keep doubting it.”

“The lists have appeared today. Mama was reading them,” Hope said, shaking her head. “Her handkerchief pressed to her mouth the whole time. It isn’t fair. Not at all.” She shot a dark look at Jacob. “I cannot find any comfort in it, no matter what Jacob says.”

All eyes turned to Jacob, including Esther’s. The prospective clergyman would, of course, wish to counsel his friends to find peace. Esther leaned forward slightly, ready to ask what Hope meant—