to her most often in the night hours, when she would lie awake and find herself forced to accept that her mother had grown from this tragic period. She had changed in ways that were utterly lost on her daughter.
Two weeks to the day after her meeting with Abigail, Erica’s mother called her into the upstairs parlor. “Might I have a word?”
“Of course, Mama.”
“Don’t hover, child. Come sit down beside me.” She indicated a sealed envelope resting upon the corner table. “I have prepared a letter to your great aunt. At least we have thought of her as part of the Harrow family since she was raised by my grandparents as their own. You, of course, recall my speaking of her in the past. It is Anne Crowley’s son who became the adopted heir to the lost Harrow estates and titles.”
“I remember you telling about this when I was younger.” But, in truth, Erica’s mind was held by what the letter represented. If her mother was writing distant relatives about the journey, it meant that she was most definitely going.
“Anne’s husband was a lawyer turned vicar. They lived in Nova Scotia for a time, but her husband was called back to take over a church in Manchester. That is a city north of London. I wish I could be more pleased with this family connection in England and what it might mean for you. But recently I learned that her husband is in the last stages of a serious illness and is not expected to survive. Anne is apparently quite devastated.” Mildred sighed. “But I suppose it can’t hurt to write of your journey.”
“No, Mama.” Erica felt a hidden knot of tension begin to unravel. She was going to London.
Mildred studied her daughter. “You once asked me not to address you any longer as a child. Do you recall that?”
“Vividly.”
She took her daughter’s hand and spent a long moment inspecting it. “You will accept an old woman’s advice?”
“You are not old, Mother.”
“I will take that as an affirmative. Listen carefully, my dear. Do not make the same mistake as your father.”
Erica jerked her hand free. “Father was the finest businessman I have ever known. This matter with the London bankers was—”
“I am not referring to his business. I am speaking of how he was affected by the setback.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You say you are going to London to speak with lawyers and seek to obtain what is rightfully ours. I fear that is not all that drives your mission.”
Erica did not respond.
“I am concerned that you are also going for revenge. You must set this aside, my dear. It will eat away at you from within. Heed my words. It will consume you.”
“Mama—”
“Oh, I am well aware how you and Reggie view the time I spend with the church community. It fills an old woman’s hours. And that is true, as far as it goes. But it has also kept me from falling into the same trap that caused your father such anguish during his final months. Do you recall the anger and the sleepless nights and his overwhelming urge to wreak vengeance upon those who had wronged him?”
Mildred continued to face her daughter, but her eyes stared back through time, and what they saw aged her features by decades. “He became a man possessed by the furies. He saw none of life’s goodness. Revenge was all he could see, all he wanted, all he had room for in his life. He was blinded. He was turned into a man unhappy within his own soul, one who could never be satisfied. Even if he had received what he had wanted, he would have remained unquenched.”
Mildred blinked slowly, drawing Erica back into focus. “You are your father’s daughter. Go to London if you feel you must. But do not seek vengeance. Instead, seek what was good in your father. Seek what is good in yourself. Go with lofty purpose, and pray God will guide your every step. As shall I, my dear young lady. As shall I.”
Chapter 10
Three and a half months passed before Abigail Cutter delivered the longed-for invitation
Two weeks to the day after her meeting with Abigail, Erica’s mother called her into the upstairs parlor. “Might I have a word?”
“Of course, Mama.”
“Don’t hover, child. Come sit down beside me.” She indicated a sealed envelope resting upon the corner table. “I have prepared a letter to your great aunt. At least we have thought of her as part of the Harrow family since she was raised by my grandparents as their own. You, of course, recall my speaking of her in the past. It is Anne Crowley’s son who became the adopted heir to the lost Harrow estates and titles.”
“I remember you telling about this when I was younger.” But, in truth, Erica’s mind was held by what the letter represented. If her mother was writing distant relatives about the journey, it meant that she was most definitely going.
“Anne’s husband was a lawyer turned vicar. They lived in Nova Scotia for a time, but her husband was called back to take over a church in Manchester. That is a city north of London. I wish I could be more pleased with this family connection in England and what it might mean for you. But recently I learned that her husband is in the last stages of a serious illness and is not expected to survive. Anne is apparently quite devastated.” Mildred sighed. “But I suppose it can’t hurt to write of your journey.”
“No, Mama.” Erica felt a hidden knot of tension begin to unravel. She was going to London.
Mildred studied her daughter. “You once asked me not to address you any longer as a child. Do you recall that?”
“Vividly.”
She took her daughter’s hand and spent a long moment inspecting it. “You will accept an old woman’s advice?”
“You are not old, Mother.”
“I will take that as an affirmative. Listen carefully, my dear. Do not make the same mistake as your father.”
Erica jerked her hand free. “Father was the finest businessman I have ever known. This matter with the London bankers was—”
“I am not referring to his business. I am speaking of how he was affected by the setback.”
“I-I don’t understand.”
“You say you are going to London to speak with lawyers and seek to obtain what is rightfully ours. I fear that is not all that drives your mission.”
Erica did not respond.
“I am concerned that you are also going for revenge. You must set this aside, my dear. It will eat away at you from within. Heed my words. It will consume you.”
“Mama—”
“Oh, I am well aware how you and Reggie view the time I spend with the church community. It fills an old woman’s hours. And that is true, as far as it goes. But it has also kept me from falling into the same trap that caused your father such anguish during his final months. Do you recall the anger and the sleepless nights and his overwhelming urge to wreak vengeance upon those who had wronged him?”
Mildred continued to face her daughter, but her eyes stared back through time, and what they saw aged her features by decades. “He became a man possessed by the furies. He saw none of life’s goodness. Revenge was all he could see, all he wanted, all he had room for in his life. He was blinded. He was turned into a man unhappy within his own soul, one who could never be satisfied. Even if he had received what he had wanted, he would have remained unquenched.”
Mildred blinked slowly, drawing Erica back into focus. “You are your father’s daughter. Go to London if you feel you must. But do not seek vengeance. Instead, seek what was good in your father. Seek what is good in yourself. Go with lofty purpose, and pray God will guide your every step. As shall I, my dear young lady. As shall I.”
Chapter 10
Three and a half months passed before Abigail Cutter delivered the longed-for invitation
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