Once Beloved by Amara Royce Page B

she saw all the small indications of age and decline.
    â€œIs that the Farington house? What happened to them?” The fine white exterior so vivid in her memory was now stained with spattered mud, overgrown with weeds that had taken root in cracks along the base of the house. A few of the windowpanes had been knocked out.
    â€œAfter their eldest son died in India, they moved to Manchester.”
    â€œJack is dead?” He had been just a boy when she’d left, probably no older than Tommy. He’d grown up and joined the military and was already gone. A chill ran through her, and she said a brief, silent prayer for her own Bartholomew’s safety. She shook her head in disbelief and barely managed to catch the rest of Daniel’s explanation.
    â€œ. . . so the Faringtons followed their remaining sons to Manchester in hopes of starting fresh.”
    Starting fresh. The way he said it sounded hollow, false, almost as if he were trying to soften the news. They passed more houses and shops that appeared abandoned and neglected. The fields beyond the village, in contrast, looked as though time stood still. Aside from some new structures and fences, the familiar hills and dales brought her surprisingly great solace. Lazily grazing sheep dotted the landscape, and a warm breeze gusted through the tall grass in the distance, making it undulate in waves. Keen, sweet nostalgia swept through her in a rush at the picturesque sight. How often had she stood, watching herds graze, watching the land breathe? How often had she run through those fields as a child? The warmth of memory drained abruptly. The Lanfield and Thorton properties were to have become one, just as their families had intended her and Gordy to be. She had to find a way to make amends.
    Mr. Lanfield slowed the cart as it turned off the main road and followed a track that lodged her heart in her throat. She focused on the path behind them, fearing what changes time had wrought in this place she once called home. As the cart pulled to a stop, the luggage shifted in the back.
    Vanessa had already hopped down from the cart. “Auntie, surely you don’t mean to unpack here in the lane. This looks like such a charming old place. I cannot wait to go exploring.”
    â€œJust you wait, my girl. It shall be a whole new world for you. We’re not in London anymore.” As she turned to her niece abruptly, a zing of panic caught her by surprise. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the house now that they were stopped before it. From a distance, it had been exactly the home she remembered. She swallowed a sudden bitterness in her mouth. Of course her home wouldn’t be the same. But what changes had time wrought? “It is too soon to talk of exploring when we’ve only just arrived. Your great-grandmother may need a great deal of care. We must first see what we can do to ease the burdens of the household. Once we know what’s what, then we’ll start making plans.”
    That was the suitably responsible course of action. It just happened to align quite nicely with the leaden ball of dread coalescing in her belly. Feeling suddenly heated and suffocating, she undid her bonnet and took a deep, fortifying breath. Then she looked up.
    Blinking quickly against the telltale stinging of her eyes, she climbed down from the cart and stood before the great house. Her mind raced to take in everything at once: the sturdy brick, the hedges that her father would never have allowed to grow so random and riotous, the broken fencing around the barn. Her eyelids stung as all these concrete reminders spoke of one truth: her father was well and truly gone. Mother too. Long ago, she’d resigned herself to never seeing them again, and she’d mourned their deaths when the news came to her. But the Thorton house’s state of decay and neglect made the loss real. Without her parents here to care for it, all they had worked to build and nurture