The Heiress of Winterwood - By Sarah Ladd Page 0,35
of the ride proved uneventful. Lucy slumped comfortably against her arm while Amelia thumbed through the pages of the book of Psalms, happy to have her treasured item back. But as she did, her finger caught on something. Tucked among the pages was a folded piece of parchment.
A letter! Amelia snapped the book shut. She cast a glance to her cousin and then her aunt to see if anyone had noticed. Her ears rang. Her pulse raced.
The carriage drew to a painfully slow halt in front of Winterwood. Amelia muttered something about delivering Lucy to Mrs. Dunne, and once she had done so, hurried to her bedchamber. She flung the door closed behind her and dropped to the bed. Her fingers, cold and shaking, couldn’t work fast enough as she broke the seal and devoured the words.
Dear Miss Barrett,
Forgive my indiscretion. I must speak with you privately. Please do me the honor of meeting with me at the Sterling cemetery Sunday evening at dusk.
Respectfully, Graham Sterling
Amelia’s mind reeled as she dropped the letter to her lap. No real gentleman would dare invite a woman to a private location unchaperoned. She caught her breath. Unless, that is, he had decided to accept her offer.
Anticipation swelled within her. Could this be an answer to her feeble little prayer? She swung around her room in a sudden burst of energy as every possible scenario flew through her mind. What if Captain Sterling had found another home for Lucy and wanted to tell her in person. What if he was taking Lucy with him to Plymouth? Amelia stared at the letter for so long that his strokes no longer made sense. The words were just scratches, their fine lines and marks nothing more than the drag of a quill over the rough paper.
The hours before sunset crept by at an eternity’s pace. Amelia sought amusement, but the tasks that typically would bring distraction—reading, watercolor, needlework—failed to hold her attention. Even playing with Lucy failed to calm her restlessness. While the baby napped, she had walked through Winterwood’s dormant gardens, glad for the solitude they afforded her.
Finally the sun peeked from behind parting clouds and began its descent behind the moors, and mauve streaks painted the evening sky. If she intended to meet the captain, now was the time to take her leave.
Calm. She must stay calm. She pulled a heavy burgundy cape from her wardrobe and paused at the looking glass. She smoothed her hair and pinched her cheeks, then stopped short when she noticed her father’s Bible still lying on her desk.
She couldn’t deny the irony. Last night she had lain on her bed, all hope gone. She had cried out to God, and today hope had returned.
She hesitated. It could be coincidence. Or it could be something more.
She dragged her fingertip over the Bible’s worn cover. What if God said no?
But what if he said yes?
She let the cape fall to the bed. Today’s prayer came more easily than last night’s. God, I felt your peace today. My faith lacks strength. I fear it may never be like Jane’s or Katherine’s. But I would like to try. Please help me learn to lean on you. To trust in your plan, and not my own.
Black trees lined the east meadow, separating it from the Sterling cemetery. Their gnarled limbs, like bony fingers, reached into swirling fog. Wind whistled through their bare branches, urging Amelia on. Moisture dripped down from the branches and soaked the hem of her gown. She clutched her cape and squinted into the deepening darkness, keeping close to the tree line.
Upon reaching the cemetery gate, Amelia paused to make sure no one watched her, then pushed her way through the entrance. She spotted the captain immediately, sitting on the bench next to Katherine’s grave. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, and even through the bulkiness of his greatcoat, his shoulders created a strong silhouette.
“Miss Barrett.” He jumped to his feet and swept his hat from his head.
Had shadows not hidden his features, she might not have noticed the rich timbre to his voice. Scents of sandalwood and leather surrounded him. “Captain.”
He motioned for her to sit. “Thank you for meeting me. I know these circumstances are unusual. Forgive me.”
Amelia lifted the hood from her head and let it fall back against her cape. “It could not be helped, Captain. I was most grateful to receive your message.”
She waited for him to speak, straining to hear above the whistling