“He had to tend to some business,” Bea explained, as if reading her mind. “He told me to sit here and stay here until you woke up. I was more than happy to do so. I rarely get to sit in the nice chairs.”
Amelia frowned. “Was he here all night?”
“He was, My Lady. He left just after dawn,” Bea replied.
Technically, Lionel had not broken his promise, yet it still felt like he had bent the parameters somewhat. He must have known that she would be expecting to see him there in the morning: the first face she might actually want to see, although Bea was not unwelcome.
“Did he mention whether or not he would join me for breakfast?” Amelia asked, her head foggy with sleep and frustration. There was still a faint, dull ache in her skull, but it was not nearly as bad as it had been last night.
Bea tilted her head to one side. “I believe he said he would. Lady Rebecca and the Dowager will likely be there too. They’ve been so worried about you, My Lady. We all have.” She gestured back at the drawing room door. “Mrs. Bishop has been praying for you while baking her buns and bread through the night, and I don’t think a one of us got much sleep.”
That, at least, was a reason to smile. “I am sorry for worrying you all,” Amelia said shyly. “I doubt that Mrs. Scanlon will allow me within fifty miles of a horse, ever again, and I cannot blame her.”
Bea chuckled. “You’re made of stern stuff, My Lady, and I’m mightily glad that you’re in one piece. I don’t know what any of us would have done without you.” She paused. “You’ve brought a feeling to this manor that I can’t quite explain. It’s like… hope, I suppose.”
“You are just saying that because I am in this sickbed,” Amelia insisted, forever uncomfortable with compliments. She had never received enough to know how to contend with them.
Bea shook her head. “I’m not, My Lady. I wasn’t here when the former Lord and Lady were living, but Mrs. Scanlon was—she says things were different then, that there was so much love and hope in the house that, sometimes, it was overwhelming. Then, after the Lord and Lady were gone, it got all sad. And the less said about that uncle of His Lordship’s, the better. Mrs. Scanlon isn’t quick to anger, but I think she wanted to wring his neck by the time His Lordship came back.”
“And… you think that love and hope could happen here again?” Amelia asked haltingly, holding her own hand, daydreaming of being carried out into the snow, watching Lionel catch a snowflake on his tongue.
Bea cast her mistress a pointed look. “You should’ve seen the way His Lordship flew back to get to you! He didn’t hesitate. If he hadn’t had his horse, I’d wager he would have run faster than any man living to be at your side. If that’s not an act of love and hope, I need new eyes.”
Letting the encouraging words sink in, Amelia’s heart began to lighten, her own hopes beginning to rise up once more.
She thought of Isolde and Edmund, a couple so hopelessly, enviably in love with one another that it was almost too much. In the same situation, Edmund would have moved heaven and Earth to reach Isolde, and he would not have left her side untilhe was certain she was all right. Lionel was behaving in much the same way.
I dare not believe it, in case I am wrong, but… I do not think this love is as unrequited as I suspected.Lionel’s actions, if not his words, told her everything she needed to know.
“I hope you are right,” she said to Bea, as she gingerly sat up. “If it is not too much trouble, I think I should like to bathe before breakfast.”
The lady’s maid jumped to her feet. “Of course, My Lady. After all, you’ve still got a lot of lawn on you.”
Glancing down at her torn dress and scraped arm, Amelia had no choice but to laugh. “Why, indeed I do.”
Bathed and refreshed and feeling altogether more normal, Amelia descended the stairs with a new spring in her step. Lionel would be waiting for her, and perhaps she would be able to convince him to take a turn about the gardens with her before he tended to any more business.
He would not deny me after all I have been through,she told herself, smiling with delight. Thingsweregoing to be different from now on; she could feel it in the air, like snowflakes falling.
At the door to the breakfast room, she took a moment to smooth down the front of her dress before confidently stepping inside.
“Amelia!” Rebecca cried, leaping up from her chair and running to greet her sister-in-law.
Amelia hugged the girl warmly, while her worried eyes surveyed the breakfast table. “I am sorry to be so late to breakfast.”
“Not at all, Amelia,” Rebecca urged, pulling back. “Goodness, if I were in your position, I would stay in my bed for a week. I am surprised, and rather impressed, that you are up and about. Are you feeling well? How is your head? Mercy, that is a mean-looking bruise.”
Amelia mustered a brave smile. “You should see the lawn.”
Rebecca laughed and pulled Amelia toward one of the places that had been set at the table. There were four in total, and three were now occupied. A good sign, or so Amelia hoped. Yes, Lionel was not yetatthe breakfast table, but he would come if there was a place for him.
“I must look like an old crone,” Caroline chimed in, pouring a cup of tea for Amelia, fussing over her. “I did not sleep a wink last night, fretting about you. You cannot give us the perfect Lady Westyork and then take her away due to a riding mishap.”
Rebecca nodded. “You should have told me that you wished to learn how to ride. I would have been glad to teach you and, inreturn, you could have taught me how to be an elegant lady of society.”
“Heavens, I am afraid I cannot teach things I know nothing about,” Amelia quipped, her attention split between the two women and the door.
“Nonsense,” Rebecca insisted. “You areexactlythe sort of lady that I hope to be, and when you are ready, Ishallteach you to ride. And I shall keep bothering you about your end of the bargain until you relent and teach me all of your enchanting ways.”
