Gail Whitiker (24 page)

The days approaching Christmas were difficult for Hannah. For one thing, it would be her first Christmas alone. The first one she would be spending without Lady Winthrop. And at such a festive time of year, it was hard not to remember all the wonderful Christmases they had enjoyed in the past.

Hannah thought about those times now as she decorated the mantel in the parlour with freshly cut pieces of greenery, and put new candles in the silver holders. She thought about the gatherings of friends and family that
she and Lady Winthrop had enjoyed over the years. Being a widow had not stopped Lady Winthrop from entertaining. She had done so often and had earned a reputation for being a most gracious hostess, often arranging dinners for upwards of fifty or sixty people.

But it would be very quiet at Gillingdon Park this Christmas, Hannah reflected sadly. There would be no voices raised in song, no laughter filling the rooms. Children would not run up and down the corridors, and, while there would still be tasty mincemeat tarts and Mrs Broughton’s Christmas pudding, there would be no lavish entertainments or joyous celebrations during which to enjoy them. Because Lady Winthrop was gone, and Robert had not come home. Both her mother and the man she loved had deserted her.

Had she truly been so bad that she deserved such a fate?

Everyone else in the village had been glad to see Hannah home, of course. Mrs Branksmuir and her daughter, now Mrs Twickenham, had come early to pay a call, and had said how pleased they were to see Hannah back at Gillingdon even if she’d missed the wedding. Mrs Branksmuir, of course, had quickly tried to determine whether or not Hannah had formed an attachment whilst in London, and had seemed pleased when Hannah had told her she had not.

Hannah couldn’t help wondering why it was still of such importance, since Frances and Philip Twickenham were now safely wed.

Numerous other ladies from the surrounding houses had also taken the time to call, and most of them had extended invitations to Hannah for the various festivities taking place. Hannah had accepted some and declined others. She’d been free to accept them all now that she
was out of mourning, but the deception she was engaged in still weighed heavily on her conscience. And as the days drew nearer to Christmas, with still no word from Robert, she knew there was even less chance of it being revealed as anything but a hoax. Honouring Robert’s request, however, she did not tell anyone the truth, but she did spend hours with Sally talking about the past.

Not surprisingly, Sally had been deeply saddened to hear of Lady Montgomery’s reaction to the news. But then, to be fair, she’d said she could understand why. After all, if a woman couldn’t share a deep secret like that with her only sister, what did that say about the closeness of their relationship?

Hearing it put like that, Hannah could better understand Lady Montgomery’s reaction to the news, but it still didn’t make the memory of her resentment any easier to bear. She would never forget the expression on the woman’s face, or the coldness in her voice when she had spoken to her after Robert had revealed the nature of what had happened all those years ago.

Still, Hannah took pleasure in remembering Sir Roger’s kindness to her, and even greater pleasure in reading the letters that arrived regularly from Alice. She was particularly thrilled when one arrived telling her that Mr Stanford had asked her to marry him, and that she had accepted his proposal.

Naturally, Hannah had written back to offer her most sincere congratulations. She’d said how much she hoped this joyous occasion would help to alleviate some of Lady Montgomery’s distress over the other matter, and while Alice had been mildly encouraging, she hadn’t been able to say how long it might be before her mother made a full recovery.

Well, it was too much to hope that Lady Montgomery
would forgive her so soon, Hannah reflected. But she was glad for all their sakes that they would have something joyful to look forward to.

Hannah had put down Alice’s letter and sighed. Now if only she could start putting her
own
life back in order.

It was Sally who eventually provided Hannah with the name of a couple who were looking to engage the services of a governess. The couple had two daughters, aged eight and eleven, and were in need of a new governess given that the previous one had left to get married. Apparently, her hasty departure had left the family somewhat in the lurch, and they were now desperately seeking the services of a gently bred young woman who would be able to instruct their daughters in the areas of dancing and deportment, as well as in French, mathematics, and watercolours. They also lived in Dorset.

To Hannah, it seemed the ideal situation. Dorset was far enough away that she need have no fear of encountering anyone she knew, and since the couple were desperate to employ someone as quickly as possible, there might not be any need to go into detail about her background, other than to say that her situation had changed upon her mother’s death. That would not raise any eyebrows. It was not unheard of for a woman’s living conditions to change drastically upon a brother’s inheritance of an estate.

With that in mind, Hannah sat down before she had time to change her mind and wrote out a letter of application. The position offered both room and wage, and would commence two days after Christmas. As Hannah folded and sealed the letter, she couldn’t help but reflect that working as a governess in Dorset was a far cry from the way she had expected her life to turn out, but she
would make the best of it regardless. At least being a governess was an honourable occupation. And Hannah felt sure she would be able to derive some pleasure from it, as long as her youthful charges were not horridly spoiled little girls.

From Robert, she heard nothing.

More than once, Hannah found herself lost in daydreams about him, wondering where he was and what he was doing. Had he found out anything about her mother and father? Or had the trail turned up one dead end after another, forcing him to admit that they truly had no future together? Was he back with Lord and Lady Thorpe even now, celebrating the Christmas holidays with them, and with their lovely daughter?

Certainly
that
did not make for pleasant speculation. But, once again, Hannah reminded herself that marriage to Robert had always been an impossible dream. As impossible as touching one of those bright, shining stars up there in the sky. For indeed, they were no more accessible to her than he was. But that did not stop her from remembering how wonderful his arms had felt around her.

Oh, how she wished he might kiss her again, the way he had that one time in London. She had never experienced anything like that before, and she knew in her heart that no other man would ever be able to stir such emotions in her—which was why it was wise that she leave here as soon as possible. Once she was safely employed as a governess with two young charges to keep her busy, she would be able to forget all about these lovely, whimsical dreams. But she would never forget Robert. Not if she lived to be a hundred.

Sitting for a moment on the window ledge, Hannah glanced up to the sky where thousands of stars twinkled
and flashed. When one particularly bright star caught her eye, she closed her eyes and made a wish.

‘Keep him safe,’ she whispered to that shining light. ‘Keep him safe, and make him happy, even if it means him finding his happiness without me.’

Hannah opened her eyes and breathed a sigh. Yes, that was what she wished for him. Peace, happiness, and love, even if it meant seeing him find it with another woman. For loving him as she did, how could she wish him anything else?

The twenty-fifth of December dawned clear and cold. A light dusting of snow had turned the countryside white, and transformed the grounds around Gillingdon Park into a mystical, fairy tale like place. For once, however, Hannah took no pleasure in its beauty. Christmas Day had come and there had been no word from Robert. She had to accept facts. He wasn’t coming home.

Not wishing to spend the day alone, Hannah had accepted an invitation to attend a house party at the Branksmuirs’. She knew it would be difficult watching everyone else laugh and enjoy the day, but she was practical enough to know that it would be better than spending the day alone. After all, even poor company was better than none, and, given that this was her last day in Sussex, she knew it was best that she not spend it here. The letter from her future employers had arrived earlier in the week, accepting her application for the position of governess and confirming that her employment would commence two days after Christmas. Tomorrow she would set off.

There was no reason to stay any longer.

Because it was Christmas, Hannah dressed more elaborately than she might otherwise have done. Her mourn
ing period was now at an end, and she took great pleasure in wearing colours again. Her gown of pale pink crape over pink satin, ornamented with silver ribands and pearl beading, was one of her favourites. Its short lacy sleeves necessitated the accompaniment of an elegantly embroidered shawl, while pink silk slippers and white kid gloves completed the ensemble.

Sarah had arranged Hannah’s hair in a loose cluster of ringlets, and wound an entwined band of pink and white velvet through her hair. Her jewellery was simple. Pearl earrings and necklace, both gifts to her from Lady Winthrop on the occasion of her sixteenth birthday.

Satisfied with her appearance, Hannah slowly made her way downstairs. She had sent word to have the carriage brought round, and now only awaited the arrival of Mr Mudd with her cape before setting off. But as she stood in the great hall dressed in all her finery, she couldn’t help but compare what she was doing now with what she would be doing at this same time tomorrow.

How strange to think that she would be setting off again, but with an entirely different destination in mind. Today she went out as the Honourable Hannah Winthrop, daughter of a viscountess and a welcome guest in the home of any of her neighbours. Tomorrow she would set off as plain Hannah Winthrop, a governess at a fine house in Dorset. She was starting a new life; far from Gillingdon Park and from the wonderful memories it held. Far away from Robert, and the sweet promise of a life as his wife…

The sound of a carriage approaching roused Hannah from her thoughts, and with its arrival came a return to sensibility. No, she mustn’t think about that any more. Her life as a fine lady was over. She would make her way in the world as so many less fortunate women had
done. She would work hard and eke out what happiness she could. She would not allow herself to dwell on what was, or what might have been, for along that path lay only heartache and despair.

She glanced towards the stairs. Where was Mr Mudd with her cape?

It was the sound of carriage bells that drew her attention towards the front door, and their festive tinkling that caused her to smile. Obviously Briggs had fastened bells to the horses’ harnesses in celebration of the day, and in spite of her sadness, she applauded his thoughtfulness. But moments later, when the sound of bells was joined by that of masculine laughter, Hannah’s smile disappeared.

Was that Robert’s voice she’d heard?

Tempted to fling open the door, she stopped when Mr Mudd made his belated entrance. ‘Merry Christmas, Miss Winthrop,’ he said, his face flushed as he hurried towards her.

Sure that her own colour was higher than it should have been, Hannah struggled for composure. ‘Merry Christmas, Mr Mudd, but what is all the commotion? Have we company?’

‘I don’t know, miss. Young Ned rushed in to tell us that a very impressive coach and four was coming up the drive.’

Hardly daring to breathe, Hannah watched as the butler opened the door—and then, moments later, pressed her hands to her mouth. Robert had climbed out of the coach and was bounding up the stairs towards her.

He’d come home. Her darling Robert had come home!

‘Hannah!’ he cried, sweeping her into an embrace. ‘Merry Christmas, my dear. Merry Christmas!’

Hannah was conscious of Mr Mudd standing by, but
for once his presence was of no concern. She was conscious only of Robert, of his arms closing around her, drawing her close. ‘Merry Christmas, dearest,’ she whispered, her cheeks colouring under the intensity of his gaze.

Suddenly, a movement by the carriage alerted her to the fact that her brother was not alone. Another gentleman had emerged from the elegant equipage and was walking up the steps towards them. A man considerably older than Robert but whose beautifully tailored clothes left her in no doubt as to his status as a gentleman. But how unusual that Robert would bring a stranger to Gillingdon Park on Christmas Day, Hannah reflected. Stranger still, that he had not written to tell her of it.

‘Robert…brother,’ she said for the benefit of Mr Mudd and the other gentleman. ‘How wonderful to have you home. And in time for Christmas. I had begun to despair of seeing you today.’

He drew back and smiled down at her. ‘I wasn’t sure of our arrival myself, hence my lack of correspondence. But as we drew nearer and I knew we should be here in time, I did not wish to waste any time by stopping.’ He continued to gaze at her, the look in his eyes saying everything his words couldn’t. ‘You look…so beautiful.’

Hannah blushed deeply, the caress in his voice making her tremble. She had almost forgotten that it was the first time he’d seen her in anything but mourning attire.

By now, the other gentleman had made his way into the hall and Mr Mudd had taken his hat and cloak. Hannah’s cheeks were glowing as she turned to look at him, hoping he had not detected the affection in Robert’s greeting. She was relieved to see no hint of derision lurking in his incredibly blue eyes. ‘Robert, will you do me the honour of introducing your guest?’

When Robert said nothing, she glanced at him in surprise. ‘Robert?’ To her amazement, he actually seemed at a loss for words.

‘Forgive me, Hannah, but this is…one of the most important introductions I shall ever have the pleasure of making.’ Robert glanced at the gentleman by his side, and slowly drew him forward. ‘My dear, may I present the Earl of Kilkerran. My lord, this is Miss Hannah Winthrop.’