“You will come again soon, won’t you?” Frederica pleaded.
“You do know that sooner or later, news of my visit to you will reach your father,” Honora said with raised eyebrows. “Staff talk, even when they do not mean to. One odd word at a market overheard by someone in the household of your father, and the news will reach his ears in an instant.”
“I am prepared for his wrath on the matter,” Frederica nodded. “He hardly looks at me with any degree of pride as it is. I’d rather have you close, Honora, and brave his displeasure.”
Honora smiled gently. She reached forward and patted Frederica softly on the cheek.
“Then I shall be back very soon indeed. You never know, I may grow used to this old carriage on these bumpy roads up from Cornwall. Take care.”
“And you.” Frederica struggled to say goodbye, but she eventually stepped back, allowing a footman to close the carriage door. Instructions were delivered to the driver, and the carriage was quickly pulled forward.
Honora leaned out of the window, waving goodbye wildly, and prompting Frederica to laugh as she waved back. The carriage soon disappeared through the gate beyond the driveway, and Frederica lowered her hand though she didn’t return inside right away.
That feeling was there again that eyes were upon her. She stared, watching a glimmer of that shadow.
It’s there. I’m certain it is.
It was as though someone stood behind the tall gate post, peering around the red brick to watch her then the clouds moved in front of the sun again, and the figure was gone.
“Maybe I am going mad,” Frederica muttered, turning her back on the gate and walking back toward the house. She had barely reached the front stoop when a sound brought her to a halt.
A horse galloped through the open gate, racing down the driveway. One of the footmen hastened forward, helping the rider to grab the reins and keep the horse under control, so he did not go wild.
“Lady Padleigh?” the man atop the horse called to her.
“Yes?”
“I have a letter for you. It’s from Lord and Lady Campbell.” The messenger jumped down from his horse and reached into the pocket of his waistcoat, pulling out a small folded letter which he handed to her.
“Thank you.” She paid him for his trouble and returned into the house, hastening back to the parlor where she found Lucy and Mrs. Long holding up some of the different fabric swatches she had obtained in Covent Garden.
“What do you think, My Lady?” Lucy asked excitedly, trying to hold up a particularly large sample that was in danger of smothering her.
“I like it very much,” Frederica said, laughing with Mrs. Long as the housekeeper practically wrestled the fabric off Lucy to keep her safe from dropping it.
“A letter, My Lady?” Mrs. Long asked.
“Yes, from my parents.” Frederica sat down, staring at the letter but not quite opening it for a minute.
She could sense Mrs. Long and Lucy both looking at her, waiting for her to open it. A nervousness lodged deep within her stomach was what made Frederica hesitate, like a giant moth trapped in her gut that would not settle from fluttering his quivering wings.
“Tea, My Lady?” Mrs. Long offered, clearly wanting to be helpful.
“Or something stronger?” Lucy’s suggestion earned a harsh glare from Mrs. Long though Frederica felt the tension dissipate with it.
“Maybe,” Frederica said smiling. She opened the letter, tearing through the red seal that bore the emblem of her father and flattening the letter so she could read it, and she read the first line.
My dearest Frederica,
At once, she knew the letter was from her mother, not her father. It made some more of the tension slacken from her stomach.
It has been too long since we have seen one another. I know that things were not easy when we last parted from one another, but I am keen to make amends. Please, come to see us. Come for dinner this Friday evening.
I long to speak with you, to find out if you are enjoying your new life. Forgive a mother her curiosity, but someday you will see how a mother’s love can eat her up inside — how she can go mad with wondering if she has no answers to her curiosity.
Please, come. I long to know you are happy.
Your loving mother, Margaret.
