She’d spent her first few days at home organizing the mess her father had created in his feverishly addled state. Then it was on to harvesting the herbs from outside and preparing them for use in the winter. Thanks to a generous gift of several volumes of books on plants from her new cousin, she had much to do before the autumn came.
Those plans would have to wait, though. More than three weeks had passed, restless weeks filled with fearful anticipation, as Beatrix prepared to meet Lady Miriam.
“Would it have something to do with your outing tomorrow?” he asked kindly, still favoring his good leg a little as he got up and came to sit near Beatrix.
“Perhaps that’s it,” she answered without meeting his eye. “I’m terribly nervous about meeting my mother. What if she finds me a horrible disappointment?”
“How could she? You’re brilliant and kind and beautiful. She will adore you as much as I do,” Aaron said, smiling in a loving way.
“You have to say that, you’re my father,” Beatrix answered, rolling her eyes slightly.
“And she’s your mother, she has to think those things as well!” he teased. Then he turned very serious and added, “But promise that you will not be hurt if you don’t find her to be overly warm and happy to see you. You must remember that she never once had the joy of holding you in her arms. Before she awoke from the pain of childbirth, I had… I had taken you. She was told only that you’d died, and for her to find out now that you’ve been here all these years, it might be hard to see you as a daughter. Give her room to breathe and let her see you first as a wonderful person whom she would like to know better.”
“That’s very wise, Father.” Beatrix wiped her hands on her apron and sat down at the table across from him. “But what of you? What will become of you now?”
Prince Aaron shrugged. “Nothing, I suppose. My life has not changed, not really. It’s you I am concerned about.”
“Why would you worry for my sake? Truly, other than the chance to meet some relatives, nothing has changed for me either,” Beatrix answered, watching her father’s face in confusion. “I have no intention of departing my only home and leaving you or the others to fend for themselves.”
“Daughter… you know what I meant.” He waited for her to understand his meaning, but she only looked away. “We all heard Lord Bellton, child. We were surprised, but not hard of hearing!”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Beatrix answered. “I have to see to the beehives. I’m sure they’re in a state of mess now.”
“It’s just as well, I have some business to see to. I’ll return home by supper time!” he called after her.
Beatrix headed outdoors and followed a somewhat overgrown path to the edge of the property. Beyond the cottage, a small brook ran through the culvert. Nearby, weeping willows overhung the water’s edge, running the edges of their boughs along with the gentle current. In the shade of the willows, several bee boxes waited in rows.
She set about tending to the weeds that encroached on the boxes, pulling them as ferociously as if they were choking out their vegetable plots. The yellow and black creatures flitted around her undisturbed, almost grateful in their dance as she cleared the way for more fragrant flowers to grow.
“What does he think he’s playing at?” Beatrix fumed silently as she ripped the offending plants from the ground. “I know what he’s after, and if I wanted to converse about it, I should think my father would be the last person I might choose!”
She had to admit there was a small part of her mind that sought to keep her distance from her father. After all, he was not actually the man she’d thought him to be all these years. While she still loved him dearly and forgave him for his part in her childhood, he was no longer entitled to know everything about her.
Though he had certainly tried. The first day they were home, Prince Aaron had been cautious, as one might treat a wild animal that had suddenly found its way inside. He’d waited for her to cry out, to scold him, to tell him she wished to never see him again, but that had not come.
My poor father must have thought I’d only returned to our cottage to fetch my things!Her harsh mood softened a bit as she remembered his fearful reaction.
Then, in the days that followed, he began to question her about her time away. Where had they taken her, and why? Had they been kind to her? Had the man—whose sock to the jaw was still well-deserved and insufficient punishment in Prince Aaron’s estimation—harmed her in any way?
Try though she might to explain, Beatrix never fully understood it herself. But since returning home, she’d been plagued by a new worry: that of Callum’s parting words.
“That man’s moods shift as often as the weather in summer!” she thought angrily, remembering the haughty way he’d dismissed her at his home, only to turn fairly adoring when he saw her again in Chelmsford. “Perhaps it is some sort of illness in the brain that makes him flit from one to the other!”
At Callum’s parting words, Beatrix had turned and walked away. She had already had her heart gravely wounded by the Marquess, and she’d had no intention of doing so again. She’d stared after him as he was carried out for only a moment, then followed her father silently from the meeting house.
Only after the long journey home did she realize she still wore the satchel. She’d thought to return it to him when its purpose was no longer imminent, and had been so perplexed that she’d not thought of it again. The idea had plagued her briefly, but she soothed her mind with the memory of her new cousin, Peter Grain. Surely he could return it to Callum on her behalf when she visited with her mother, then she would never have to think of him again.
Chapter 30
“What’s all this?” Beatrix asked as her father came home that evening, his arms laden with parcels. Cooke followed in behind him as heavily burdened with packages, smiling as always.
“Only some things I thought you might have need of,” Prince Aaron explained, suddenly shy. “You cannot go off and meet yer mother looking like you were raised by… well, a criminal.”
“Father, don’t be ridiculous!” Beatrix protested, her heart sinking at the size and number of the packages. “One person cannot possibly need all of this! Besides, my belongings are perfectly fine and if she does not agree, well then she can just go—”
“And that’s another thing,” Prince Aaron said, cutting her off with a grin. “You cannot carry yerself the way you’ve done all these years. She’ll expect you to have certain manners about you.”
“Again, Father, if she does not accept me as I am, then I have no use for her,” Beatrix explained slowly. “I mean that sincerely. Nothing about me has changed. I am your daughter, through whatever means the fates decided. Yes, I am curious to meet her, but not at the expense of losing you… or losing myself, for that matter.”
