question that burst from her lips. “The letter – did you give it to him?”
“I did as you asked, my lady.” The old man met her gaze, and his expression was one of sadness. “He didn’t read it in my presence. He went on to London. I don’t know what his business will be there, but he could give me no confirmation of his return.” He tapped his hand against the doorframe. “He’ll come back to see me, I know he will. He’s a good son. But perhaps London is the better place for him now that he’s risen in the world.”
Margaret’s heart, already stretched and sore from her own heartbreak, went out to the old man. “He will come back for you,” she said, sadly unwilling to say the same thing about herself. “He will want to see you, and even if he settles in London he will be back here regularly. He cares for you very much, Mr Bateson. He always has, and he always will.”
The old man reached out and took her hand, patting it gently. Margaret was startled – he’d never been so forward before – but he executed the action as though a simple familial kindness had existed between them all their days.
“You’re a good lass,” he said tenderly. “I sometimes wish…” he trailed off, seeming to think better of saying what was on his heart, and Margaret was grateful to him. She had not the courage or fortitude to think about delayed wishes now. The future seemed uncertain and, without Nigel, bleak.
That evening passed in a blur, and the next morning she awoke with renewed courage and a desire to face the world with her chin up, whatever might come. She had Poppy to care for now, and though her heart was heavy she knew she had to put on a brave face for the little girl. She came downstairs dressed in a navy-blue day gown, her hair pinned atop her head as a proper lady ought to look, and was ready with a proper smile to greet Poppy when the child came down for breakfast.
Her father joined them at the table and, though still unused to talking, seemed not to mind Poppy’s easy chatter while he read the morning paper.
“Aunt Margaret,” Poppy asked, quite properly, when the meal was done. “Will you go out into the garden with me after breakfast? I’m to gather all the little white flowers for my hair. Carrie says she will weave a crown for me later today.”
Margaret smiled. “Of course I will come with you.” She looked up at the footman who came in with the morning mail. “Is there anything for me?” she asked hopefully.
The footman shuffled through the pages before him and then shook his head. “No, my lady. Just business matters for Lord Somerville.”
Margaret caught her father’s glance from across the table and lowered her head, unable to acknowledge his pitying looks. She knew she ought not to have expected anything so soon – if Nigel had left without even deigning to read her letter, then surely he would take time to respond. He would have questions, perhaps, regarding her father’s change of heart. Perhaps he would have concerns. Perhaps he would not want to reconsider at all. Her heart felt heavy.
She followed Poppy out into the garden at last and trailed the little girl’s random movements about, listening to the gasps of delight and squeals of anticipation at each flower bed, trying to behave as though she was as happy and lighthearted.
“Aunt Maggie, are you sad today?” Poppy asked at one point, stopping at her feet with a pile of daisies dropping from her arms on all sides.
Margaret forced a smile. “A little thoughtful, but nothing you need worry about.”
“Mama used to get sad,” Poppy said quietly, her little face wise beyond her years. “And then she got sick.”
“I’m not sad like that,” Margaret said, thinking of all Molly Smith had been forced to suffer in solitude, how very devastated and heartbroken she must have been. “And I’m not at all sick. I’m not going anywhere, Poppy. You may run about the garden as many times as you like, and I will be just here where you left me when you return.”
The child seemed convinced for the time-being and rushed along her way, pausing and laughing as she went. Margaret’s attention was fully caught on her, and it was Poppy who first alerted her to the visitor riding up the lane towards them.