Amethyst (15 page)

"Like if I wrote a letter to Mama?"

On the wall beside her, Amy traced a finger around the oval gilt that framed a painting of a woman. Colin's grandmother, perhaps. Or great-grandmother. Her clothes looked like they belonged in the previous century. "You surely could write a letter to your mama. It might make you feel better." Neither she nor Mary had pictures to remember their ancestors by.

When she turned to her, the child's eyes were wistful. "I cannot write."

"Would you like me to write your letter for you?"

She nodded, looking hopeful. "All right."

Amy walked back to the dressing table and, sitting down, set a blank piece of paper on the marble surface. "What would you like to say?"

Mary stepped close and stared at the sheet of foolscap. A delicate breath sighed out through her parted lips.

"Dear Mama, I love you, Mama. I miss you, Mama."

Slowly Amy dipped her quill and wrote, her throat closing painfully as the words scrolled onto the page. She swallowed hard. "Anything else?"

"That's all I can think of," the little girl said gravely.

"It's a perfect letter." Amy kissed the top of her curly head. "Would you like to sign your name?"

She nodded quickly, and Amy lifted her onto her lap and handed her the quill. With a look of utter disbelief on her face, Mary thrust it joyfully into the ink, splattering the page, then scribbled something that Amy took for a signature. For good measure, she added a very crooked heart and a couple of stick figures that Amy thought might be Mary holding her mother's hand. She was afraid to ask if she were right or not.

"Here, sweetheart, you can fold it."

Mary did, and if the edges didn't line up, well, it certainly didn't matter. "Will Mama get it in heaven?" she asked.

"If you give it a kiss, she'll get it right away."

The little girl puckered her lips and kissed the letter gently, leaving a tiny wet mark. Amy imagined it was exactly the way she'd kissed her mother. She hugged the girl tight, and when Mary turned in her arms and pressed her lips to her cheek, her heart melted.

"Did Mama get my letter?"

She touched the sweet damp spot on her face, blinking back tears. "Surely she did."

"Even though it's still here?"

"Even though. There is special mail delivery to heaven."

The girl nodded. Children were so trusting. "Will Mama write me back?"

"In your dreams, sweetheart," Amy promised, needing to believe it. "When you go to sleep tonight, your mama will visit your dreams and remind you how much she loves you."

"I'VE NEVER BEEN
in a fancy carriage." Mary bounced on the leather seat. "It goes slow. Why didn't we ride a horse?"

"Your friend Amy doesn't like horses," Jason said. "We would have had to leave her at home."

"No, I want Amy." Mary jumped up and onto Amy's lap. Amy held her close while she peered across at Jason. "Did you really find me a mama?"

He angled sideways to stretch his legs in the cabin. "I surely did, Miss Mary."

"When will I meet her?"

"In a few minutes, as soon as we get to the village."

Mary's thumb went into her mouth, then slid back out. "Why does she want a little girl?"

"She lost her husband last year, and she needs someone to love."

Amy knew Clarice also needed the money Jason would provide for Mary's care. It was the perfect solution all around.

"If her husband is lost," Mary said, "why does she not just look for him?"

Amy stifled a laugh. "He died, sweetheart. In a mill accident."

"Oh." The girl's legs swung back and forth, kicking Amy's shins until she lowered a hand to stop them. "Why do big people say that someone is lost? Why can't they just say he is dead?"

Jason reached out to tweak a curl. "My, you are full of questions, aren't you?"

"Will I have any brothers or sisters?"

"I'm afraid not. Mr. and Mrs. Bradford never had children of their own." Jason's hand went up to smooth his mustache, then he smiled. "That's why she wants a little girl so badly."

"Will she love me?"

"How could she not?" Jason chucked her under the chin. "And you will love her too, Mary, I promise."

"A Chase promise is not given lightly," Mary quoted solemnly.

His jaw went slack in surprise. "What did you say?"

"That means you always keep your promises. Amy told me."

"Oh." Jason and Amy shared a smile over the child's head. "Well, she's right, you know."

"Amy is always right." Mary craned her neck to see out the open carriage window. "Is that the village? Ooh, pretty."

Amy's gaze went to follow hers. "Much prettier than London, isn't it? And cleaner."

"It smells nice, too. Every house has flowers."

Mary watched, rapt, as they passed several more houses and rolled to a stop before a small white cottage with a thatched roof. The coachman hadn't finished opening the door and lowering the steps before Clarice Bradford rushed out to meet them, holding a new rag doll.

Mary bounded down the steps and right into her outstretched arms.

For a long moment they clung together. Then they pulled back to give each other a considered look. Clarice reached trembling fingers to caress Mary's bright curls.

She looked to Jason, who had followed Amy from the carriage into the cottage's tidy front yard. "Oh, she's beautiful, my lord."

Mary's head tilted up, then slowly went down as she took in the glossy brown plaited bun that sat atop Clarice's head, the gray eyes set in her pretty face, her simple tan dress, and the plain black shoes that peeked from beneath her skirts. "You're beautiful too, Mama."

The gray eyes filled with grateful tears. Clarice was an attractive woman, but in that moment she truly did look beautiful.

"Did you make this doll for me?"

"Just for you. I sat up all night working on it." Too excited to sleep, Amy guessed. Yesterday, when she and Jason had approached Clarice about taking Mary for a daughter, the woman had been overwrought with gratitude.

"Thank you, Mama. She's beautiful, too. I'll name her Amy." Mary clutched the doll close as she watched the coachman and outrider carry Kendra's trunk into Clarice's cottage. Her blue eyes widened. "Do I get to keep all those clothes?"

Jason smiled. "With Lady Kendra's compliments."

"And…" Moving closer, Amy pulled something from her pocket. "Lord Cainewood gave me permission to leave this with you, as a memento of our time together. I hope it will help you remember me."

The engraved silver comb sparkled in the sunshine as Mary took it, staring at it as though it were one of King Charles's crown jewels. "Oh, my lady—I mean, Amy! I will 'member you always."

Amy knelt on the grass, and tears came to her eyes as Mary's little arms wound around her neck. She hugged her back fiercely.

When Amy rose, Jason ruffled Mary's curls. "Will you be needing anything else?"

"No." Mary glanced up at him, then over to her new mother. She scurried to Clarice's side and reached up to take her hand. "I'm home now."

When, Amy wondered, would
she
be home?

KENDRA DASHED INTO
the library and leaned against the large globe, breathless. "Amy," she panted. "It's Colin." She paused for more air. "He's here. What are we going to do?"

Amy felt as though she'd been punched in the stomach. "God in heaven," she whispered. "He's come to take me away, hasn't he?"

She looked up to the carved wood ceiling, her eyes tracing the intricate design while her mind wrestled with denial. "There's nothing we
can
do," she said finally, her gaze dropping to Kendra. "I'm lucky he stayed away this long—"

"You fit in here. I don't want you to leave."

Kendra's words warmed Amy's heart. She rose from the chair and gave Kendra a brief, sisterly hug. "Thank you for saying that; you'll never know how much it means to me." She sniffed back tears. "I've enjoyed every minute of my two months here, but this isn't my place. I have another life."

Kendra's brow furrowed in concern. "A life in Paris?"

"It's not so bad as all that," Amy said, remembering Colin telling her so outside the inn, after the fire. A long time ago, it seemed, but now she believed it. "As much as I love it here, my fingers ache to wield a knife on wax, to cast and polish and engrave."

Her hands clenched, then relaxed as her gaze dropped to the red-carpeted floor and ran along the wide decorative golden stripes, down the length of the long, narrow library to the fireplace. Kendra remained silent while Amy gazed into the distant flames, struggling with her feelings of being uprooted once again.

But she knew it was the only way. Robert must have received her letter and accepted her decision by now…and if not, well, he'd never find her in France. She'd work at Aunt Elizabeth's shop while she prepared to open her own.

She'd vowed that Goldsmith & Sons wouldn't die with her, and she meant to honor that vow.

Her trunk was gathering dust in the corner of her borrowed bedchamber, her inheritance locked inside. More than enough jewelry to stock a small shop, plus gold to pay for tools and equipment—gold that would be faithfully replaced as soon as she was able. She'd never deplete the Goldsmith fortune. Like the generations before her, she bore an obligation.

Kendra heaved a heavy sigh. "If you leave, I'll miss you."

Her doleful tone snapped Amy out of her trance, and she shot Kendra a conspiratorial grin. "I'll hide in here till Colin leaves. Up on the balconies—no one ever looks at the books there except me. You can sneak up food and tell him I've gone to Paris."

Kendra's laugh echoed through the two-story library. "I vow and swear, for a minute there I thought you were serious." She relaxed and leaned back against the brass mesh set into the bookshelf doors, then looked at Amy sharply. "You
are
fooling, aren't you?"

"Marry come up, Kendra!" Amy offered her a small, wistful smile. "Have you ever heard of anything more ludicrous?"

"I'll find out what Colin wants."

She reached to touch Kendra's arm. "We both know what Colin wants."

"
Colin
doesn't know what Colin wants," Kendra stated wryly. "I'll just see what kind of ideas I can plant in his head." And with that cryptic statement, she left the room.

Amy plopped back onto the chair. The history books in front of her had seemed fascinating a few minutes ago, but now they'd lost their appeal. She pushed them aside and laid her head on the exquisite mosaic table, the tiles cool beneath her cheek. She would miss this family, but she knew her life was destined along another path.

You cannot have everything
, she heard her father say.

She sighed and rose to go ready herself for supper. If she hurried, perhaps she'd have time to take a walk around the grounds and think things through. But deep in her heart, she knew there was really nothing to think about.

This was it. Her time was up. Colin wanted her gone, and this time he would see it done.

She had no excuses left.

JASON HAD PLENTY
of excuses.