Chapter 38
Edward couldn’t bear to say goodbye to Calliope. To watch her pack her things and prepare to leave Whitefawn with the man who would become her husband. The man who was ready to take her back to the life she loved.
The life Edward could never give her.
Which was why he’d spent the morning out of doors, checking on the irrigation systems and speaking with his farmers about the next year’s crop rotations in a defiant hope that the property would still be theirs come spring.
Once that was done, he’d grabbed his fishing pole and headed to the lake in a desperate attempt not to think about the fact that Calliope was preparing to leave Whitefawn forever, but all he managed to do was remind himself of the sheer jubilation he’d felt here in this exact same spot only two days ago, when everything felt as though it was clicking into place and Calliope would be his forever.
He wondered absently, as his line bobbed in the water, if he would have still pursued her, had he known that this would be the outcome. Had he known that saying goodbye to her would be the most difficult, heart-crushing thing he would ever have to do.
In some respects, he felt like a complete fool for hoping and praying and believing in something that would never be.
In others, he was thankful for all Calliope had given him in their short time together.
She had brought him out of himself, reminding him of who he was created to be and giving him hope that life could be shining and beautiful again.
So yes, for the great gift she had given him, and for the memories they had created together—memories that would have to last him a lifetime, as they would be all he would ever have of the girl who’d stolen his heart and refused to give it back—he would go through it all again.
He would experience the warmth of her smile, the amusement of their banter, the feeling of her in his arms and of her lips pressed against his, and he would cherish them all the more knowing they were fleeting, these moments when heaven touched earth and made everything brighter for it.
But say goodbye to her? Knowing he would never see her again?
That was not something he could do.
And so he stood at the edge of the lake, waiting.
Waiting for the fish.
Waiting for the end.
Waiting to see what he would become, with only the memory of Calliope to see him through whatever came next.
“I don’t understand,” Mrs. Hart remarked, flabbergasted as she watched Calliope help Sara pack her trunks. “You and the earl seemed to be getting along so well. What changed?”
“He didn’t propose,” Calliope told her, even though it was only half-true. The earl had proposed—several times over—but he had taken it back. The possibility of their marriage was no longer on the table, just as Calliope had wanted.
So why did she feel so awful?
“Did he ask us to leave?” her mother asked.
“Of course not,” Calliope replied, feeling so fidgety she dropped her perfume bottle onto the carpet. The stopper came loose, spilling its contents onto the fabric.
“I’ll get something to clean it up,” Sara offered, moving quickly away.
Mrs. Hart waited until the echoes of Sara’s footfalls in the hall had receded before continuing, “If the earl did not ask us to leave, then why have you ordered our trunks packed without consulting me?”
Calliope rose from the carpet, empty bottle in hand. “Tommy proposed.”
Her mother’s jaw dropped. “And you’ve accepted him?”
“Not yet.”
“Well,” Mrs. Hart huffed. “Thank God for that.”
“Why?” Calliope asked. “Why thank God for that? Tommy’s a good man. He would make me happy.”
Mrs. Hart shook her head. “He’s not what we’re looking for.”
Calliope continued packing. “Not what you’re looking for, you mean.”
Her mother watched her for a moment, unspeaking, then strode forward and placed her hands on Calliope’s, stopping her.
“So things with the earl haven’t worked out,” she began, sounding sympathetic.
“But we must keep trying. We cannot give up. There are plenty of marriageable bachelors here in England who would be over the moon to marry you. And perhaps, with time, the earl will realize what he has in you and propose then.”
Calliope closed her eyes. “Mother—”
“Are you telling me you would not accept the earl if he asked for your hand?”
Calliope swallowed. “I’m going back to New York with Tommy. It’s over.”
She expected her mother to explode, to rail against her, to remind her that she was part of an illustrious family and there were responsibilities and expectations that came with such a blessing.
But instead, in a rare moment of motherly tenderness, all of those pretensions seemed to fade away, and suddenly her mother was looking into her eyes and seeing her.
Really seeing her.
“My darling,” she whispered. “What has happened to you? Has the earl hurt you in some way?”
“No,” Calliope cut her off, tears springing to her eyes. “But I have hurt him.”
She waited to see what her mother would say, but it seemed she required no more explanation. Swallowing her own feelings, her mother removed a telegram from her pocket.
“This arrived for you in the morning post.” She turned and began to walk away, then stopped, glancing over her shoulder.
“Despite how it may seem, I really do only want your happiness. I was so sure nothing could guarantee it better than finding a husband here, but if you really want to marry Tommy . . .” She sighed. “I will not stop you.”
Calliope met her gaze. “Thank you.”
Her mother nodded. “I will see to it my trunks are packed within the hour.”
Calliope waited until her mother’s frame had disappeared through the door, then sat on the edge of the bed and pulled the telegram from its envelope.
Calliope—
Received your letter. Snuck away from Dupré to write back. We know time is limited with your return scheduled for week’s end.
Mina still objects to any of us marrying but believes you could do worse than Lord Hayward. Rose finds it utterly romantic and says you must accept him at once.
As for me, all I can say is this: Follow your heart. You write that you’ve never dreamed of this life and can’t imagine leaving your work and your friends behind, but a dream that has been allowed to change is not the same thing as a dream deferred.
Go where your heart leads you and all will be well.
All Our Love,
Daphne, Rose, and Mina
Wiping the tears from her eyes, Calliope moved her gaze back to the top of the message, intending to read it again, but Sara swept into the room and began cleaning up the mess before she could.
Sliding the telegram between her folded gowns, Calliope closed the trunk and lent a hand, her friends’ words echoing in the back of her mind.