“Dear me.” She straightened up, noticing that her home had received a fresh coat of paint.
That wasn’t all. As she leaned out the window on the way up the small hill, she noted that countless repairs had been made. The steps were straightened, a stronger post stood by the door, and the shutters had been replaced. Everything looked so fresh and new and darling that none of it looked familiar once her carriage came to a stop.
“Goodness gracious,” she breathed, stumbling out of the carriage before she could be assisted.
Three knocks brought someone to the door. It had been locked, and she didn’t have the key in hand. A young man in livery greeted her there.
He blinked several times before bowing. “Your Grace, welcome.”
“Do you know who I am?” she asked warily.
“Your painting is over the fireplace in the dining room,” he said. “Shall I see if Lady Wetherby is available for you?”
A beautiful fresh home, a strange young servant, and now she didn’t even know if she could talk to her aunt.
Verity’s stomach twisted. Everything felt so unusual and strange. She had expected to come back into the warm familiarity of comfort and instead found everything so different. Unsettled, she couldn’t think of another word to say.
It turned out to be very fortunate that Eugenia was crossing the hall at that very time.
“My word, Daniel, don’t leave the door open. Wait a minute. Verity, dear, whatever are you doing here? Come in, come in. If you let that bird in here one more time…”
“Aunt Eugenia!”
Relief surged through Verity. She rushed across the hall and pulled her aunt into an embrace.
They’d never done this before. Her aunt wasn’t one for displays of affection. But at that moment, Verity didn’t mind. She wasn’t going to let go until she was ready.
“Oh, I’ve missed you.”
“Darling, you write too often for me to miss you much. But look at you. Let go of me and let me look at you, dear. It’s awful manners to call without prior notice, you know,” her aunt made certain to add.
A sheepish chuckle escaped Verity. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been myself of late. But I missed you dearly.”
“Yes, you said so. Daniel, fetch tea, would you? Or have someone fetch it. I want a fresh pot of that peppermint,” Eugenia called, before tugging her into the nearest room. “At least you look healthy.”
“As do you. And the house!” Verity collapsed in a chair to stare at her. “What happened? And Daniel?”
Her aunt merely raised her eyebrow. “I understand that you did your best keeping the books here. A very good job, dear. But ofcourse, the funds you and the Duke provide would go twice as far as what I could possibly do here.”
Verity opened her mouth and then closed it, trying to remember. She’d indeed been sending part of her pin money. Still, it wouldn’t have been enough to hire more help and make those repairs to the manor. Tristan must have been sending more.
Could he? If he did, why wouldn’t he have told her?
“What on earth is going on inside your head?” Eugenia pursed her lips. She gave Verity a look before beckoning over a young maid whom Verity didn’t recognize. “Darling, really. Whatever your problem may be, I don’t think it’s serious enough to warrant lines in your forehead.”
A short laugh escaped Verity before she could contain it. Her aunt always had something to say. She could put anything into perspective.
While Verity decided she wasn’t ready to explain everything to her aunt, she accepted her tea and hoped that coming here was the right thing to do.
After all, it’s home, isn’t it?
The two of them talked through the afternoon, though Verity still did not express the real reason for her return. Eugenia seemed to understand and asked a few questions about the events in London, before retiring early for the evening.
A room was prepared for Verity—the same one she’d lived in for several years, though this too somehow felt worlds different—and she slipped into bed. All her hopes for resting easy now were dashed as she tossed and turned through the night and into the morning.
When she woke up, all she could hear were Helena’s final words to her.“Are you certain you’re not only running away?”
I’m not running away. I’m not. I’m simply running in a new direction.
