Abandoned to the Prodigal - Mary Lancaster Page 0,23

my good wishes.”

Kitty sat beside her in the window. “You are very good, Juliet. This must be so hard for you.”

She shrugged. “I expect it will get harder.” When Dan leaves Myerly, for one thing.

“Cheer up. Papa might yet manage some miracle with the Alfords. I know he wrote to Jeremy today.”

“I could not marry Jeremy now.”

“But if there had been some mistake…”

“The mistake was mine for believing in him,” Juliet declared. “He knew exactly what he was doing, and it cost him no more than a moment’s inconvenience, not even the twenty pounds he was prepared to give me to make me go away.”

All the same, she sat on the stairs to hear the chatter and merry laughter drifting out of the dining room and felt her exclusion like an unjust punishment.

*

The next morning, she rose with the dawn, washed, dressed, and slipped downstairs. She did have to step over the maid scrubbing the hall floor, but that didn’t matter. She was allowed to walk the grounds.

She found Daniel in almost the same place as yesterday. This time, he leaned his shoulder against a broad oak, his hat pushed to the back of his head as he raised his face to the rising sun. Gun, attached to his slightly bedraggled velvet leash, sat on his foot, gazing at her as she emerged from the trees, before jumping up in great excitement and tugging his master toward her.

“Good morning!” she said, laughing and bending to make a fuss of the dog before he jumped on her. “How delighted I am to see you, Mr. Gun.” She straightened, glancing up at Daniel, while the dog slobbered over her hand. “No carving today?”

“Oh, I finished it.” He fished inside his disreputable coat pocket and gave her something. The figure fitted inside her closed hand. It was, unmistakably, a dog with lots of hair.

“It’s Gun,” she exclaimed.

“I thought you could look at it when you miss him. It’s much more peaceful than the real thing.”

“You mean it’s for me?” She was touched. He did not even mention her inevitable loneliness, just a casual reference to missing the dog, which anyone might take as humorous.

“If you’d like it. If not, just give it to someone else.”

“Of course, I would not give it to anyone else. I love it. Thank you.”

He seemed almost embarrassed by her thanks, for his eyes dropped to the path before he set off with unnecessary speed. She caught up, and they half-walked, half-ran among the trees with Gun between them.

She took him to the river, which was regarded as the boundary of the home grounds. It was also the boundary between Hornby and Myerly. There, Dan took a napkin-wrapped parcel from his pocket before removing his coat and throwing it on the ground for her to sit.

“Breakfast,” Dan said, sprawling opposite her and opening the napkin to reveal bread, cheese, and two slices of ham. Gun gazed at it soulfully.

“I perceive you have made friends with your grandfather’s cook.”

“It seemed worth the risk. My aunts and cousin rise early so they can nab all the food before me. To be fair, my grandfather does not keep what you might regard as a generous table.”

“What do they do with themselves all day? What do you do?”

“My aunts doze and complain, respectively. My cousin reads worthy tomes and writes letters. I’ve been wandering around the estate with Gun, just looking. It’s pretty country. I didn’t recognize that when I was here before.”

“My father always said that Myerly was good land,” she recalled. “But that—” She broke off apologetically and reached for a piece of cheese.

“That my grandfather was neglecting it?” he suggested.

“Is he?”

“Probably. Or ruining it. I’m no farmer, but his tenants don’t look very prosperous. That isn’t right.”

“No,” she agreed. Then, frowning, she asked, “What will happen to the land when Lord Myerly dies? He only has daughters, does he not?”

“Yes, but he can will it where he likes. By some historical oddity, it is not Myerly but an estate in the south that is entailed with the title. Some distant cousin will get that. My aunts want Myerly and the rest for their sons.”

“Does your mother not want it for you?”

“Probably, but she’s a realist. He is more likely not to give it to me if she asks him to.”

“Is he really so unforgiving? Even now?”

Dan shrugged. Swallowing the last of his bread, he picked up a stone, smoothed his thumb over it, and threw it at the river where