she said, “I don’t know if anyone is interested in McGale & McGale now. We’ve likely lost our investors—knowing what they know, they might shun us. The repairs won’t happen and that will be the end of the soap making. We’ll lose . . .” She could hardly form the words. “We’ll lose each other. I’m so sorry. I failed us all.”
“Oh, love, no.” Cynthia pressed a kiss to Jess’s forehead. “You did nothing of the sort. It was a mad gamble, and a price has been paid, but you tried, and that’s enough.”
“But it isn’t,” Jess said. She looked at her siblings, and the low-ceilinged kitchen, where, for nearly all of her life, she had taken her meals and laughed with her family and cried when loss had come for them all.
Who was there for Noel? Hopefully, his old school friends would offer him solace. They might even curse her, but it wasn’t anything she didn’t deserve. She couldn’t ignore the terrible hurt she’d caused him, and she didn’t want to ignore it, because she could never forgive herself for damaging a man that deserved so much better than he’d been given.
“It isn’t enough,” she choked out. “I’ve let everyone down, and I’ve let myself down, too.”
“Jess,” Fred said, taking her face between his palms and locking his gaze with hers. “You did your best. We don’t forgive you because there’s nothing to forgive.”
She stared into her brother’s eyes. In them, she saw tiny mirrors of herself, but they weren’t as small as how she felt on the inside.
Chapter 27
Days managed to crawl by. Jess existed from minute to minute, marking time with each aching throb of her heart. Yet she did not shrivel up and blow away. She moved forward. Slowly, to be sure, but forward.
She’d avoided reading the newspapers. The Money Market column held no interest, and there would be accounts of the Duke of Rotherby’s amusing coup. Even reading Noel’s name would blind her with fresh pain.
The knock at the door came midmorning of the third day after her return home. Fred was out, tending to the many chores that a farm always required, but Cynthia joined Jess as she opened the door.
“Good morning, McGales.” George Griffith, the postal carrier, waved a letter. “All the way from London.”
Jess’s stomach clenched. It could be Noel—damning her, no doubt.
George handed Jess the mail before heading off to continue his deliveries.
She didn’t recognize the penmanship, but that could mean a secretary had actually written the letter—if Noel felt that he couldn’t be bothered to write it himself.
The paper shook in her hands. A minute went by, and then another. Was she strong enough today to read Noel’s condemnation?
“Going to open it?” Cynthia asked.
“It might be from Noel.” Her voice sounded lifeless.
Cynthia cupped her hand over Jess’s shoulder. “Might make it easier if I read it first, so you know if it’s bad or good.”
“I should do this on my own.”
Her sister gently turned Jess around to face her. “There’s the crux of it, big sister.”
“How do you mean?”
Cynthia’s lips pressed into a line, as if she debated speaking. Finally, she said, “It’s always been you, on your own. You’ve taken all of it on your shoulders—the farm, McGale & McGale—and leave me and Fred pottering about. It’s like . . . it’s like you don’t trust us.”
The words hit Jess like a slap. “I trust you.”
“Not so certain of that.” Cynthia’s gaze dropped to the floor. “When Ma and Da died, you took her words to heart. You ran everything—the harvest of the honey, the buying of materials, paying our workers. Fred and me became just more workers, not your partners.”
Jess opened her mouth to contradict her sister, but what Cynthia said was true. She’d run around like a whirlwind, overseeing the entire operation, never letting her siblings shoulder the responsibility of keeping McGale & McGale afloat.
“The fire made it worse,” Cynthia went on quietly. “Even though Fred and me took outside work but stayed home, you left to become Lady Catherton’s companion. It was like you thought you needed to do more, go further. Then when you were going to move to the Continent, it was up to you alone to save the business. But, Jess, we’ve been here.” She lifted her eyes to Jess, and in them, there was love and acceptance and frustration. “Me and Fred, we’re here. But you’ve got to trust us, love. Let us help you.”