surprised Evelyn. It fit with the many tales of debauchery at Eastchurch. Someone at court always delighted in telling her of the latest gambling debt or bawdy gathering.
When Maude had finished putting up her hair, Evelyn’s head was spinning.
She had a solitary breakfast in the east dining room, staring out over the landscape as she dined. Benton was in attendance, stalwart butler that he was, and informed Evelyn that Nathan had gone into the village, but planned to return in time for the evening meal.
So he’d left her here, alone in this house of memories. He had no more regard for her feelings now than he did then.
“I need a secretary or a writing desk, Benton. I should like to post some letters.”
“Yes, mu’um, his lordship so instructed me.”
“And I should like a horse saddled.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Evelyn finished breakfast. With her shawl gathered tightly around her, she left the dining room. She walked carefully through the east wing, her gaze on the carpet runner in the hallway, refusing to look right or left. This was dangerous territory—there was the parlor, where she’d kept some of her son’s favorite toys, and during afternoon tea, she would sit on the floor and play with him. There was the salon, where he’d gotten underfoot of one of the footmen and had sent the poor man tumbling to his bum. The family study, where he’d gotten into Papa’s ink and marked the wall. It had taken two days and a bit of lye to get the ink off his fingers, but the marks, as far as she knew, remained on the wall.
That was enough. She couldn’t allow herself to feel. She’d spent the last three years pushing down all those feelings just so she could bear the pain. If she began to feel again, she’d feel the ache again…don’t feel, she chanted in her head as she walked along. Don’t feel.
When Evelyn eventually reached her suite of rooms, her heart was palpitating. But she had survived it.
She changed into an old riding habit that she found in one of two trunks that had been brought up from storage. It was tight, but it would do. She made her way out onto the drive where a horse was indeed waiting for her. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for riding.
She used to love to ride the grounds. The estate was so large she would find a new trail every day. She struck out across the parkland, to where the river carved through valleys and the tenants farmed. It was late autumn, and the fields were mostly fallow, but she rode past tenants who were baling hay, others turning the dull brown top-soil over into the black, damp earth that would support new crops come the spring.
She admired the countryside, filled her lungs with the clean air. She gave her horse her head, letting her run freely up and down the sloping terrain. But she was careless—she didn’t recognize some of the markers she’d once known as well as the back of her hand, and found herself on a crest overlooking the neighboring estate.
Evelyn reined the horse to a halt on the rise and looked down at the mansion where the DuPauls lived. She felt a prick of deep hurt that she’d thought was long gone. Alexandra DuPaul had been her friend, but when Robbie died, Evelyn could not find space in a heart overflowing with grief and rage for friends or family. It had been her great surprise, then, to ride up on this crest one morning and find her husband walking arm in arm with Alexandra, their heads bent together, so lost in one another that they barely noticed her on the path ahead.
Alexandra had tried to pretend they were merely walking and had invited Evelyn to join them. But Evelyn had seen the look in Nathan’s eyes and knew she was intruding. She’d seen them together many times after that, always huddled together like lovers…
Part of her wanted to ride down there and announce that she had returned. But another part of her was too cowardly—she turned her horse around and headed back to the abbey.
Unfortunately, at the abbey,
When Maude had finished putting up her hair, Evelyn’s head was spinning.
She had a solitary breakfast in the east dining room, staring out over the landscape as she dined. Benton was in attendance, stalwart butler that he was, and informed Evelyn that Nathan had gone into the village, but planned to return in time for the evening meal.
So he’d left her here, alone in this house of memories. He had no more regard for her feelings now than he did then.
“I need a secretary or a writing desk, Benton. I should like to post some letters.”
“Yes, mu’um, his lordship so instructed me.”
“And I should like a horse saddled.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Evelyn finished breakfast. With her shawl gathered tightly around her, she left the dining room. She walked carefully through the east wing, her gaze on the carpet runner in the hallway, refusing to look right or left. This was dangerous territory—there was the parlor, where she’d kept some of her son’s favorite toys, and during afternoon tea, she would sit on the floor and play with him. There was the salon, where he’d gotten underfoot of one of the footmen and had sent the poor man tumbling to his bum. The family study, where he’d gotten into Papa’s ink and marked the wall. It had taken two days and a bit of lye to get the ink off his fingers, but the marks, as far as she knew, remained on the wall.
That was enough. She couldn’t allow herself to feel. She’d spent the last three years pushing down all those feelings just so she could bear the pain. If she began to feel again, she’d feel the ache again…don’t feel, she chanted in her head as she walked along. Don’t feel.
When Evelyn eventually reached her suite of rooms, her heart was palpitating. But she had survived it.
She changed into an old riding habit that she found in one of two trunks that had been brought up from storage. It was tight, but it would do. She made her way out onto the drive where a horse was indeed waiting for her. The air was crisp and cool, perfect for riding.
She used to love to ride the grounds. The estate was so large she would find a new trail every day. She struck out across the parkland, to where the river carved through valleys and the tenants farmed. It was late autumn, and the fields were mostly fallow, but she rode past tenants who were baling hay, others turning the dull brown top-soil over into the black, damp earth that would support new crops come the spring.
She admired the countryside, filled her lungs with the clean air. She gave her horse her head, letting her run freely up and down the sloping terrain. But she was careless—she didn’t recognize some of the markers she’d once known as well as the back of her hand, and found herself on a crest overlooking the neighboring estate.
Evelyn reined the horse to a halt on the rise and looked down at the mansion where the DuPauls lived. She felt a prick of deep hurt that she’d thought was long gone. Alexandra DuPaul had been her friend, but when Robbie died, Evelyn could not find space in a heart overflowing with grief and rage for friends or family. It had been her great surprise, then, to ride up on this crest one morning and find her husband walking arm in arm with Alexandra, their heads bent together, so lost in one another that they barely noticed her on the path ahead.
Alexandra had tried to pretend they were merely walking and had invited Evelyn to join them. But Evelyn had seen the look in Nathan’s eyes and knew she was intruding. She’d seen them together many times after that, always huddled together like lovers…
Part of her wanted to ride down there and announce that she had returned. But another part of her was too cowardly—she turned her horse around and headed back to the abbey.
Unfortunately, at the abbey,
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