by the young groom’s dogged insistance that he accompany her. She had even tried to order him to remain behind, but with an apology he refused. Her maid’s estimation of him climbed considerably and both were surprisingly voluble in their instance. They wore down her resistance finally by a blunt admission on Thomas’s part of reluctance to being available to answer questions when her absence was discovered and the reminder that there was no one now at Larchside who would see to her horse. He promised to be discreet and not trouble her with his company and so rode silently behind, leaving Elizabeth to her own thoughts.
In truth, her thoughts were as murky as the day; the weather, she mused, was much like it had been the first time she’d journeyed to the manor. She’d come last time bottled up with anger and fear for what was to be. Today she traveled with anger and fear for what was not. How ironic for her to come full circle and the property, once considered a prison, now represented a haven.
Her headache found relief in the cold morning air, and with that relief and the long miles to travel came an opportunity for objectivity. A nagging little belief that perhaps she’d been too hasty in her anger wormed its way into her thoughts. Justin freely admitted his guilt in the past. His explanation, though not terribly flattering, did ring true.
And he had not strived to wrap up his actions in clean linen, to make them flattering to her ears. In all, he talked as though his guilty actions were a distinct part of the past and that at some time he had suffered an attitude change. Of course, suffered might be precisely the correct word, and he regretted any softness he might have begun to exhibit and thus felt no compunction in setting her up once again for the entertainment of society. Still, though he displayed some of the blind arrogance of the privileged, when his errors were presented to him, he did not retreat into stubborn denial as so many were wont to do.
Regardless, there remained the matter of the last wager. If he had regretted his previous behavior, would he have engaged in such a heartless bit of foolery? Her spirits sank again for she could not believe the sincerity of his remorse if he continued to treat her like a stage character and an object for sport.
The worst of it all was she could not tear her love felt for him from her heart. Nonetheless, she would not again allow him to get close enough to harm her. If she were lucky, he might divorce her or at least allow her to live her life alone. She sighed audibly and her mare’s ears twitched at the sound. She smiled and leaned forward to pat her neck. “We’ll be home soon, and though you won’t be quartered in the best stable, it will be dry and provide a full measure of oats.”
The animal’s ears flicked again in response to the sound of her voice as they turned down the lane before Larchside.
Elizabeth viewed the manor with satisfaction as she slipped from her horse’s back and handed Thomas the reins. The morning sun was burning off the gray fog while a light autumn wind chased clouds away revealing a warm, welcoming building instead of the foreboding edifice she had faced on her wedding day. She smiled, albeit sadly, and vowed she would make her own form of happiness here.
“After you’ve seen to the horses, please slip over to the Humphries’ and ask Mrs. Geddy if she would be so good as to return to her duties. I’m famished and I’m sure you must be as well, though not, I warrant, hungry enough to stomach Mrs. Atheridge’s fare!”
Thomas chuckled. “Nay, my lady. Don’t worrit, if I know Mrs. Geddy, she’ll nip o’er immediately and cluck and fuss ’cause she weren’t here before you.”
“Yes, that’s most likely true. Now the question is if I can rouse the Atheridges to let me in.”
But even as she spoke the front door to Larchside flew open and Mary Geddy, wrapped up voluminously in cloak and shawls, ran down the steps.
“Oh, milady, milady! It’s reet glad I am to see you. The most dreadful thing has occurred, and I think he done it deliberately and I’m mortal scared,” wailed Mrs. Geddy, grabbing Elizabeth’s hands and wringing them between her own.
“What is it, Mary? Who did what?”
“Mr. Tunning,