It had come time to tell Lady Eaden goodbye.
Gwendolyn cleared her throat. “Lady Eaden?”
Sarah lifted her face from the book, tilted her head to the side when she caught sight of Gwendolyn. “Miss Smith. Lovely to see you. How is the search coming along? Henry says the book is missing.” She chuckled.
Gwendolyn nodded and lowered into a chair across from Sarah. The fire crackled merrily in the grate. “It is. But Jackson is interviewing the manor staff this morning, so we may discover some clue to its location today. I must join him soon so we can begin.”
Lady Eaden closed her book and dropped it to her lap. “I’m sure the servants will have some knowledge that proves useful. They always do.”
“I don’t know if Lord Eaden has told you, but I plan to leave his employ. After our work here is done.”
Lady Eaden smiled, a small thing. “He has. I hope you do not mind. We do not withhold information from one another.”
“As it should be.” Those who loved shared themselves, trusted. Gwendolyn could not betray that trust and openness with her bruised-apple past. “I merely wanted to speak with you before I left to apologize. I should have done so before now.”
Lady Eaden tried to bend a growing grin downward. “I suppose you mean for our initial interactions? When I married Henry.”
Gwendolyn nodded. “I was not nice.”
“You were a dragon protecting your lair.”
Gwendolyn winced. “Lord Eaden is not a lair. Nor any sort of gem to be hoarded away.”
Lady Eaden laughed. “Though the manisa treasure. And your attacks were merely words, disapproving glances—disapproval in general. They did no harm, and I understand why you wanted to rip me to shreds. I appreciate your protective instincts. You did not know me. Neither did Henry. Our marriage was impulsive and could have gone very wrong. Especially for you. A beautiful young woman traveling with him. Had I been a different woman and thought you a threat to my relationship with him, you may have found yourself put out.”
“I feared that, yes.”
“And I assume you have nowhere to go.”
Gwendolyn forced air through her lungs. “Lord Eaden means to help me with that. I wish to focus on my painting.”
“Ah.” Lady Eaden ran her finger around the outline of the book. “And I hope you know you will always have a home with us.”
“That, Lady Eaden is why I am most sorry for my treatment of you. You were never the woman I feared you would be. I think you’ve been trying to befriend me the last few years, when I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”
“Only now seeing that are you?” A soft, soft smile. “I’m glad you see my extended hand now, but I wish it was not as you’re leaving us. I always saw a bit of myself in you. We have both, I think, known the desperation of survival. Has Jackson or Henry told you my husband was a soldier? He enlisted as a single man after we’d married, after I was with child. I think he wanted to escape me. And escape me he did. In death on the battlefield.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“It’s no worry. I picked myself up and found my way. As have you.”
Gwendolyn met the older woman’s gaze. “As have I. Thank you for sharing your story with me.”
Lady Eaden nodded, slipped her finger between the pages of her book. “I’m happy to do so.”
Gwendolyn stood. “I will not keep you from your reading any longer.”
“It is no matter. I am happy to finally speak with you like this.”
Like friends. Like a daughter. The kind of talks she’d never had with her own mother.
“If you need anything, Miss Smith,” Lady Eaden said, “you know how to find me.”
Gwendolyn stood. “In some cozy place with book in hand.”
“Precisely. We will miss you. Will you not reconsider?”
“I can’t.” She wanted to give this woman more. She licked her lips and found the words. “Sometimes our own comfort and happiness must be sacrificed for the comfort and happiness of those we love.”
