Page 30 of Forget Me Not

Chapter Eleven

The journey to Cumberland hadtaken nearly a week. It likely could have been accomplished faster, but Lucas had insisted they stop frequently for a bite to eat or a short reprieve from the confines of the carriage. He’d regularly inquired after her comfort but had also allowed her silence in which to read or doze or simply lose herself in her own thoughts. And each night of their journey he had, after knocking at her door, stepped in long enough to tell her when they would be resuming their travels the next morning before wishing her a good night’s sleep and slipping out again. He hadn’t said as much, but she suspected he knew she was upended and, during their first awkward week together, was granting her time and space in which to find her feet once more.

It was an unlooked-for but welcome kindness. His thoughtfulness allowed her to be more in control of her emotions and less likely to fall to pieces at any moment.

As the carriage rolled down the drive leading to her new home, she felt almost calm. Her mind was enough at ease to enjoy the beauty of the small but lovely estate. A well-scythed lawn stretched out beside the drive. A neatly trimmed hedgerow lined the other side. A few tall trees, their leaves edged in the colors of early autumn, broke the hedge now and then.

The house was small compared to the homes they’d grown up in, but it was picturesque. The stone exterior put one a bit in mind of a castle of old, with bay towers adorning the corners, softening the lines of the house.

“It’s a lovely old place, isn’t it?” Lucas spoke wistfully, his expression fond as he eyed the home that had been his for eight years.

“When was it built?” She hadn’t been able to determine that simply by looking.

“In my great-grandfather’s day,” he said.

So, perhaps one hundred years earlier. “I would have guessed the house was older than that.”

“I think that is one of the things I like most about Brier Hill,” he said. “Its secrets are not easily discovered.”

“The estate has a great many, does it?”

He nodded, his mouth turned up in a mischievous smile.

The carriage stopped. In no time at all, the door was opened and Julia was handed down. Lucas quickly followed. The staff, as was customary when the master of the house returned, lined up outside the front door.

“Welcome home, Lord Jonquil.” The older woman offering the greeting was likely the housekeeper.

He dipped his head. “Good to be home, Mrs. Parks. Julia, this is Mrs. Parks, housekeeper here at Brier Hill. Mrs. Parks, this is Lady Jonquil.”

The woman dipped a very appropriate curtsy, but she also eyed Julia sidelong as they slipped past. She was being assessed, there was no mistaking that. She set her shoulders and kept her chin high, all while maintaining an ever-so-slightly pleased expression: it was the mien she remembered her mother assuming when being looked at askance.

Julia followed Lucas through the entry hall, a small vestibule filled with light from the tall windows on either side of the front door. They passed doors to the left and right. Just beyond an archway sat a wooden staircase, the banister carved with flowers and polished to a shine. Looking about, she could see that the doorframes were carved in the same motif. It was, for lack of a better word, adorable. The space was small, yes, but light and airy. If the rest of the house followed the same pattern, she would be quite pleased indeed.

Mrs. Parks slipped past them and onto the first step of the staircase. “If you will follow me, my lady, I will show you to your room so you can rest from your journey.”

She grew ever more enamored of the wooden stairs as she climbed them. The carving continued all the way up to the top, where the banister swirled into a gathering of intricate wooden flowers. Beautiful.

“There are five bedchambers,” Mrs. Parks said. “The master’s and mistress’s are here.”

She led Julia through a nearby door. Beyond was a small antechamber with doors on opposite walls. A round table in the center simply ached for a vase of flowers. Did Brier Hill have a hothouse? The weather was cold enough already that flowers would likely be difficult to procure otherwise.

Mrs. Parks motioned to the door to the right. “This one is yours, Lady Jonquil.”

Lady Jonquil.She didn’t particularly care for that title, but she could hardly insist on being called Miss Cummings.

Julia tentatively approached the door, knowing that beyond lay the room that would be hers for quite possibly decades. What would it be like? Would it be cramped or drafty? Sparsely furnished or weighed down with gaudy and suffocating decorations?

She took a hesitant step inside. The walls were a stark white. No rugs adorned the dark wood floor. The drapes in the window were heavy. But the furniture was a good scale for the room, not overwhelming but not miniscule. All the necessary bits and pieces were there. The fireplace was a good size. The room would be warm in the winter.

Julia slipped over to one of the windows. The prospect was lovely: tall trees, a view of a small, formal garden, mountains in the distance. It was not her beloved Trent, but it would be a fine vista to wake up to.

“There’s room enough in the household budget for making some changes in here if you want,” Lucas said, standing in the doorway. Mrs. Parks had left while Julia was making her inspection. “Will you be miserable in here?”

His cautious tone pulled her gaze back to him once more. He looked worried.

“I will, I suspect, find any chamber other than the one I am accustomed to a bit uncomfortable at first,” she said. “But I would be fussy indeed if I couldn’t be content in this room.”

Her curiosity pulled her to a door she’d not yet opened. Fully expecting a dressing room, she was entirely surprised to find, instead, something of a sitting room or tiny study. She didn’t know how precisely to identify it.

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