Page 8 of Forget Me Not

“We can have our picnics still this summer,” he’d once promised before he and Stanley had spent that summer traveling to the homes of their schoolmates for the remainder of the summer holiday.

“We’ll keep in touch through letters.” That promise, made when he had been nearing the end of his time at Eton, hadn’t resulted in any correspondence.

“I won’t leave you,” he’d said the day Charlotte had been buried, two weeks before he’d left her to return to Cambridge.

“I’ll visit the neighborhood before the London Season.” He hadn’t.

“I’ll return from Brier Hill now and then.” He’d gone more than two years without returning to Lampton Park from the estate where he’d lived since reaching his majority, though she knew he’d made journeys to London and York and Brighton and later to Europe.

People were forever leaving her behind. Unlike most who’d gone, though, Lucas had had the option to return. He could have. But he’d chosen not to.

She slipped through a gap in the ruins of a stone wall on the east end of Farland Meadows. It had once been an outbuilding of some kind but was now only three dilapidated walls. It was secluded enough to afford her a great deal of privacy. She sat in this place often, thinking and reading and studying. It was her sanctuary.

“Why did I have to sit by the river today of all days?” She would have avoided Lucas had she remained here in her haven.

Her books on her lap, she closed her eyes and pushed away the anticipated pain that too often surfaced in her, focusing on the pounding of her heart. She breathed slowly until her pulse matched the rhythm of her lungs. When her heart quieted, so did her mind. She could think clearly.

“He caught me unawares,” she said. “I hadn’t the opportunity of preparing myself for the memories and broken dreams.” She felt calmer by the moment. “Now that I know he is here, there will be no chinks in my armor until he is gone again.”

She looked out over the trees and shrubs lining the edge of Farland Meadows, then pushed from her mind dozens of other promises he’d made and broken, countless days she’d watched for a letter from him, waited for him to visit as he’d promised. Some young ladies would have pined away, drowning in the misery of lies and abandonment. She had taken herself firmly in hand and seized a life she could be proud of.

She ran her hand over the cover of Jackson’sA Mathematical Miscellany. She’d found it in Father’s library months earlier and had been making her way through it. Her governess had refused to include in her education any arithmetic beyond the balancing of household budgets. That visionless lady had restricted Julia’s understanding of the world to the memorization of the most basic of maps. Her reading was not permitted to include anything scientific. She was allowed nothing that could not be labeled an “improving text.” Upon her governess’s departure, Julia had abandoned those restrictions with alacrity and had taken on the task of teaching herself, selecting whichever books in Father’s library caught her eye and studying them. It was an arduous process but one she relished.

She’d expanded her mind, fortified her defenses, set her feet firmly on her own defined path. And she’d done it entirely on her own. Indeed, she’d come to prefer being alone. That would not be an option today.

Father would be disappointed if she was gone too long after Lucas’s arrival. She rose reluctantly from her bench, holding fast to her mathematics book and arithmetic notebook.

A breeze blew as she walked back toward the house. The air had been colder of late. Winter would soon be upon them. She didn’t mind. Winter months were her favorite. Very little socializing was expected. No one batted an eye if she spent days on end in a chair by a fire, reading a book.

She entered the house unnoticed. Before moving to the drawing room, where she knew everyone would be gathered, she slipped into the small sewing room and tucked her books in the drawer of an end table. They would be waiting for her when she returned.

For a moment, she stood in the dim, empty room convincing herself to not simply retreat to her bedchamber and refuse to leave until Lucas did. It would be easier. But she was stronger than she used to be, certainly strong enough to keep her head held high while he was nearby.

No one noted her entrance when she reached the drawing room.

Lucas was in the midst of what appeared to be a riveting tale. “Kes stood at the base of that Mont Aiguille and said, ‘Die up there if you must. I will keep my feet on theterra firma.’”

“And did you climb without him?” Lord Lampton asked, grinning.

“Of course.” A corner of his mouth tugged foppishly. “Antoine de Ville managed to summit it in 1492. Surely an enterprising gentleman of this era could manage a bit of mountaineering on that peak as well. And, you will notice, I didn’t die.”

“Neither did I,” Mr. Barrington said.

“What you didn’t do waslive.”

Mr. Barrington shook his head. “That is always the theme with you. Live life. Have adventures. Do anything and everything. You make a person tired, you know.”

Lucas pointed at his friend. “And yet, you’ll be the first to volunteer for the next adventure, mark my words.”

The next adventure.Lucas had not changed. Always going. Always leaving. Always forgetting her.

“Julia.” Father had, it seemed, spotted her standing there. “You’ve returned. Come join us.”

“Do,” Lady Jonquil said. “Lucas is telling us the most diverting stories. This one about his time in Switzerland.”

Here was firm footing. “I’ve read about Switzerland. Some of the tallest mountains in Europe are found there.”

“I know.” Excitement shone in Lucas’s eyes. “I climbed one of them.”

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