it’s nothing she’s done. It’s you.”
Dr. Gray felt as if he’d received a blow to the stomach. No one had ever guessed any of his secrets, or at least that’s what he had always believed. The thought that he had been transparent to anyone, even an old school chum like Andrew, terrified him.
“It’s okay, Ben. It’s only because I’ve seen you this head over heels before.”
Dr. Gray stared at Andrew, denial on the edge of his tongue, yet he also strangely wanted to hear more.
“And anyway,” Andrew added, “I don’t think she knows, not really. Not yet.”
“There’s nothing to know, because nothing would ever happen.”
“The one doesn’t necessarily preclude the other. And besides, why are you so sure of that? It’s not inconceivable—I mean, Adam Berwick’s only two years younger than us, and I’ve been told he’s sniffing around her often enough.”
Now Dr. Gray’s head was starting to hurt. “How on earth did we end up talking about this? Yes, she’s a very attractive young woman—a very attractive young widow. And I feel strangely responsible for her. I think that must be mixed up with the baby and the horror of all that, bearing witness and so utterly failing them both.”
“You didn’t fail, Ben,” Andrew reproached him gently. “You can’t save everyone, for all your efforts. You’re still the best doctor around here and you know it.”
“Apparently Howard Westlake is even better—or at least that’s what Adeline seems to think, seeing as he’s her new doctor.”
“Ah, some good old professional jealousy to boot. Oh, well, if you’re sure that’s all it is.”
“No less sure than you are about Frances.”
“Well, Ben,” Andrew said ruefully, “then I feel for us both.”
Chapter Twenty
Chawton, Hampshire
January 17, 1946
The irony had not escaped Frances Knight that, being no longer entitled to dispose of any of the estate, she would finally learn its true and impressive value. Only a few days after the reading of the will, Evie had—in a fit of anger at Mr. Knight for so wretchedly reducing his one child’s circumstances—finally confessed to Frances what exactly she had been doing in the library for the past two years.
They were walking through the lime grove together and had stopped next to the old shepherd’s hut that had long ago been used to supply shooting parties on the estate. Frances sat down on the bottom steps to the red-painted hut, which balanced on four large wheels like a Gypsy caravan, and looked up at Evie’s youthful, shining face. Frances had always admired the girl’s spirit, so unlike her own. As the words came tumbling out of Evie, Frances appreciated yet again the obvious energy and discipline that she brought to all her pursuits.
“And there I was thinking you just liked to dust the library. A lot.”
“Miss Knight, how can you stay so calm at a time like this?” Evie waved her arms about them. “How can you face the prospect of leaving here?”
Frances smiled sadly. “It’s not really a home, though, Evie, wouldn’t you say? Not like you and your brothers have. Not like most people.”
“Still, it’s so unfair—to make your situation so much harder than it needs to be, when he had the means not to.”
“I know it looks that way—maybe it even is. But we each of us have our own reasons for doing things—and no one owes anyone anything. I got to make my own choices, too, even if it doesn’t always look that way.”
Evie wasn’t so sure they were still talking about the inheritance but thought it best not to press any further. She knew Miss Frances well enough to know that if she wanted to say something, she would—and otherwise no amount of effort would pry it out of her. In this the two women were more similar than they knew.
“Anyway, I have a bit of a surprise for you—although I wish it were under happier circumstances. Do you remember my American visitors right after New Year’s, who wanted to buy the little cottage? Well, the woman is lovely and due back for another visit today, this time alone. I didn’t have the heart to put it off, given how far she has come. But I’m afraid I now need to tell her, too, about the entire estate being in escrow, and my loss of rights over its disposition.”
Evie was only half listening because through the trees she was watching a woman walk gingerly on extremely high heels up the front gravel drive.
“It’s so strange,” Evie muttered under her breath. “She