Page 48 of With Love in Sight
“Lady Emily,” Imogen exclaimed. “Are you well?”
She reached out a hand, but the girl recoiled. Her pale eyes, so like Caleb’s, swiveled to him, regarding him with a strange sorrow.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she muttered through stiff lips. She glanced briefly behind her. Caleb tensed as he followed her gaze, the same grief that had been etched on Lady Emily’s face flashing across his own.
“I am so sorry for having bumped into you,” the other girl managed. Not waiting for an answer, bobbing a quick curtsy, she pushed past them. Imogen watched her go in confusion until she disappeared from view into the house’s interior.
Caleb’s hand was on her arm in a moment and he was pulling her along without a word, through the hedge and along the gravel path toward the avenue of oaks.
Imogen looked up at him in surprise. Shouldn’t there be some concern for his sister?
“We should go after her,” she said. She tried to tug free of him, but his fingers only tightened.
“She is fine,” he murmured. “Our presence would only cause her more distress.”
Imogen stopped abruptly. “But surely we should find out what is wrong—”
“I know what is wrong,” he broke in. As Imogen stared up at him in bewilderment, his face transformed, losing the tightness that had momentarily overtaken it. “Trust me, Imogen. This is nothing we can help with. If we go after her she will only grow more anxious. She needs time alone.”
Now that was something Imogen could understand. Her own need for peace and quiet, away from even those she loved, caused her to be particularly sensitive to such needs in others. Finally, she gave him a quick nod, and he smiled, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, and continued on.
But Imogen was not easy. She longed to ask him what was going on here, what lay between him and his family to cause such tension. She had a sense, however, that he would close himself off completely if she questioned him in a direct manner.
They walked in silence for a time. The oaks on either side of them stood like silent sentries, their immense size showing them to be a century or more in age. The leaves above their heads rustled as if in a whisper as a slight breeze passed through the branches. Typically, she would have reveled in the quiet beauty. But there was a disquiet in her now. She racked her brain, and yet she could think of no way to scale the immense wall Caleb seemed to have put up about himself.
Finally, they reached the river. It gurgled merrily beneath a gracefully arched stone bridge. Willow trees dotted the grassy bank on either side, their long, trailing branches dancing in the breeze, brushing the water like the graceful fingers of a dancer. Caleb and Imogen walked to the bridge, stopping when they reached the middle. Taking the chance to release his arm and distance herself from him, she went to the stone railing, placing her palms flat on the sun-warmed surface and leaning over to watch the water rush by. Caleb came and stood near her, his lean hip resting casually against the railing.
“If I recall from previous conversations of ours,” she ventured, “you have three siblings. Where is the third?”
“Andrew is between Emily and Daphne in age. He has just finished at University, like your brother Nathanial, and is staying with friends.”
His voice was casual, disinterested. She took that as a good sign and plunged on. “Daphne is lovely, very vivacious. She reminds me of Mariah in many ways. Is your brother more like her, or is he quiet like Lady Emily?”
She held her breath to test his reaction. There was a slight pause, barely noticeable, before he answered. “He is definitely more like Daphne. I expect I’ll be getting a request for a commission soon from him. I cannot see him in the clergy, leading a flock with his upright behavior.” There was a hint of wistfulness in his voice.
“Lady Emily seems very different in personality from the rest of your family.”
She glanced up at him as she spoke. Was that pain she saw in his eyes? He turned his head to look out over the water, however, hiding the emotion from her view.
“No,” he finally said, quietly, “she’s quite different from us all.”
“However did she get such a scar? It must have been exceedingly painful for her.”
His jaw worked for a moment. “You recall me telling you of my brother, Jonathan? The one who died young?” His voice was so low she had to strain to hear him.
“Yes.”
He took a slow, deep breath. “She got that scar in the same accident that killed him. There was an outcropping of rocks, close to the fishing pond. They were at the top when it gave way. They were twelve at the time.”
“Oh, how horrible for her,” she exclaimed. “It must have been a violent fall indeed to have caused such an injury.” She frowned. “I had no idea Lady Emily and Jonathan were twins.”
“Yes. They were very close, did everything together. She was forever trailing about after him…” His voice faltered.
Imogen could think of nothing to say. She watched the play of emotions over his face. It was obvious he still felt deeply about it. And Emily too must relive it daily whenever she looked in the mirror.
Perhaps this was the reason for the tension and estrangement between them all? Though surely not. How could the accidental death of a twelve-year-old boy cause this horrible distance between family members a decade after it happened?
“Perhaps,” she attempted, “you would show me his portrait some time.”
