Page 43 of The Burning Passion of a Fiery Lady
Amy nodded. “I am sure they will both enjoy the dinner.” She walked to Susannah’s wardrobe, opening it, staring at the gowns hanging within it. “What should I put out for you to wear today, and for dinner tonight?”
Susannah gazed thoughtfully at her housekeeper.
“I want you to take out the primrose muslin for today,” she said slowly. She took a deep breath. “And for this evening … I want to wear the blue silk gown. The one with the embroidery along the bodice.”
Amy stared at her, dumbfounded, her hand hovering on the wardrobe door. “You want to … start wearing your previous clothes? You want me to put away your mourning gowns?”
Susannah smiled. “Yes, Amy. That is exactly what I am saying.” She took another deep breath. “I think the time has come, at long last, to put the past behind me.”
A broad smile broke out over the housekeeper’s face. “Oh, my dear! I am so thrilled!” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “This decision has nothing to do with a certain handsome master of horses, does it?”
Susannah laughed breathlessly. “It may have! Why cannot I look pretty again?” She hesitated. “Oh, Amy, I feel like a dizzy young girl again. I feel like everything is starting over, and life is before me, ready to grasp with both hands …”
Amy’s eyes filled with tears. “Youarea young girl again. A beautiful girl who can do anything that she wishes with her life.” She paused, her lower lip wobbling with emotion. “That girl has always been inside you, Susannah. She has been waiting for this moment to blossom once more to life.”
Susannah’s eyes filled with tears, too. It felt cathartic; almost as if her whole life was being cleansed. She knew that it was Jasper’s love that had done this. It had somehow healed her from deep within. Healed the pain of her past so that now she was ready and eager to start anew. To start a whole new life … with him.
She didn’t know yet what that life would look like. She didn’t know whether they would stay together at The Willows or start over, somewhere else. The details didn’t matter to her yet; they could work that out in time. All that she was focusing on now was enjoying the first, fresh bloom of that love.
A second chance. A second chance, at life, and love, for both of them.
She wanted to be beautiful for him. She wanted to dress up, in her loveliest clothes, and see his eyes widen in admiration. She wanted to feel courted and dizzy with love. She wanted to feel like that young girl, who was still there inside her, ready and eager to emerge.
The widow and wife of Gilbert Drake was gone. Forever.
“Do not put the mourning clothes into trunks, Amy.” Her voice was firm. “I do not want them in the house at all anymore …”
“What do you want me to do with them?” The housekeeper’s voice was threaded with curiosity.
Susannah’s eyes were steely. “I want you to pack them up. I want you to take them somewhere on the property … and burn them.”
***
Leonard Green hovered behind the tall oak tree at the side of the property, gazing up at the house. His eyes zeroed in on the window on the top floor, to the east of the large house. He knew that she was in there; he could almost sense it.
As if on cue, he spotted her. She had drifted over to the window, gazing out at the grounds below, as was her habit. He had watched her, many times, doing this. Usually, she had a sad, wistful expression on her face as if she were searching the grounds for clues or answers to what had gone wrong with her life.
His heart had always ached for her, watching her in those moments. He had wanted to rush into the house, tear up the staircase, burst into her bedchamber and take her in his arms. To tell her that she would never be sad again, once they were together. That she only had to wait a little while longer, before the ultimate happiness could finally be theirs.
But, of course, he had resisted the impulse. He had a plan. A long term plan, to finally make her his, and he could not afford careless mistakes. He could not afford to spook her or rush her before she was ready.
His mouth tightened, watching her now. Her hand was on the lace curtain, and she pulled it back, staring down into the grounds. The sad, wistful expression she always wore was gone.
She was smiling. Her eyes were almost dazed and dreamy.
Deep anger flooded through his veins, and he clenched his fists. She wasn’t wearing her habitual plain lavender hued gowns of semi-mourning. Today she was wearing a bright yellow dress, skilfully cut and styled. He hadn’t seen her wear that particular dress in a very long time.
He hit the trunk of the tree with one fist, grazing his knuckles. He knew why. He knew why she had suddenly decided to put on this gown and discard her mourning clothes.
The horse master.
At the mere thought of the man, his anger boiled over once more, causing him to punch the tree trunk again.
The new horse master, who had arrived at The Willows only days ago, along with the new black colt she had purchased. He had watched the man and his apprentice arrive but hadn’t taken much notice. They were only servants, after all, hired hands who were here to do a job, and then move on.
But she had started to spend a lot of time with them, in the stables, even helping them train the horses. He had watched her laughing softly with the horse master and seen the way the man gazed at her hungrily. Something was happening between them; even at a distance, he could almost see it, thickening in the air around them.
His lip curled. The man had played hero last night, rescuing the horses, setting off after them into the hills like Sir Galahad. He had watched at a safe distance, after he had picked the lock to the main stable gate, and opened the individual gates, encouraging the horses to flee. He had laughed wildly, watching them running into the grounds, and then into the hills beyond.
