Chapter 9
Elijah breathed a sigh of relief when he stepped through the double doors and found he stood on a terrace overlooking Lord Cummings’ gardens.
The fresh air, room to move, and solitude were immediately soothing.
He’d never lived in a crowded household, never understood the reality of living with siblings or relatives except for his grandfather.
Any memory of a time when his mother was present eluded him, if there were any memories to be had.
As a child, the only sounds within his home were those he made. Grandfather encouraged him to explore their estate: hike around the pond, fish in the stream that fed the pond, climb the fruit trees—but these were all activities made more enjoyable with company.
Eli had only his grandfather as a companion. They’d spent years seeking out adventure, traveling the continent and abroad, collecting anything of interest. In short, his upbringing had been pleasurable. Love, laughter, and learning all in abundance for Eli.
That did not stop him from suspecting something was lacking—a void remained.
And he’d foolishly thought bringing his mother home to England could fill it. He’d created an image of a damsel in distress, awaiting her knight to rescue her. The harsh reality was…his mother was exactly where she wanted to be—far from her only son and her birth country.
Laughter invaded his reprieve as he slowly walked around a corner of the terrace, revealing a group of guests playing battledore and shuttlecock on an expanse of freshly trimmed lawn.
A light breeze whipped the women’s skirts about their ankles and pushed the men’s hair into their faces.
The storm from the previous day had passed, leaving only blue, cloudless skies.
But the wind remained, a reminder of the fickle nature of England’s weather patterns.
It was good to see that it had cleared before Lord Cartwright’s wedding, for certainly rain showers on one’s wedding day could not be a favorable omen.
It had rained the night before his ship ported in Baltimore—his grandfather gone only several days and he out to find his mother.
Eli should have anticipated his failure.
How he wished he had remained aboard the Cameron de Gazelle, awaiting its journey to Canada and then its return to Liverpool without knowing the fate of Alice Watson.
However, he’d been alone. Depressingly alone. Not many spoke to him after his grandfather’s passing, either because they attempted to give him space and time to grieve, or they did not know what to say to a young man who’d lost his only known relative.
Eli hadn’t wanted to continue life alone. The desire to find his mother, bring her back to England, and create the family he’d lacked was the only thing that had driven him from the ship that day—on his fool’s errand.
Mounting his white steed, in the form of a hack, Eli had located his mother.
The problem had been that he’d hoped to rescue her. He hadn’t known she was the dragon he’d been sent to slay. She’d balked at the mention of leaving America—finally sending Eli scurrying back to Liverpool, alone.
Odd that the return voyage and his time in England since had seemed all the more vacant simply because his hopes for his future—one with his mother—were dashed for good.
She had no interest in coming home, no interest in knowing her son, and certainly, no motherly devotion to Eli’s happiness or understanding of his sorrow and loss.
The woman had single-handedly crushed him. It was much preferable to believe her letters had stopped arriving because she was in jeopardy and silently begged him to come for her. Not that she’d turned herself into a common harlot.
Anger—red-hot—settled within him once more at the thought. His mother, Alice, had everything she could dream of in England…a country home, unlimited funds, and a son who loved her despite all she’d done. However, for whatever reason, an existence dependent on a man was preferable to her.
Eli leaned against the railing, attempting to focus on the people in the distance—what game they played now, who was winning, and what they all found so enjoyable.
He’d discovered scarce moments of happiness since his grandfather’s passing—and even fewer flashes of peace.
Naively, he’d thought to find some sense of tranquility away from the place he’d called home his entire life, putting miles and hours of travel between him and every item that reminded him of the late marquis.
The elderly man’s presence only followed him. If his grandfather were here, he’d be with the gathering on the lawn, laughing and enjoying the company of so many guests. He’d insist Eli join in, as well.
That had never been Elijah’s way of things.
He’d accompanied his grandfather during years of travel, but always stood in the background, watching the many people who sought out the marquis, hanging on his every word—awaiting any compliment sent their way by the old man.
And he’d been generous with his good tidings, well-wishes, and praise.
His grandfather had never failed to notice a woman’s different hairstyle, or a man’s extravagantly tied cravat knot.
“Lord Ridgefeld!” a man called to him from across the lawn, waving him over. “Join us.”
Eli was in no mood to dive into merriment—nor did he seek to bring the other guests down with his dour temperament. Instead, he acted as if he hadn’t heard the man call him. Lord Haversham, Eli thought he remembered the man’s name.
It was time he moved out of view to avoid another call to participate.
He retraced his path back along the terrace, and past the doors he’d exited through.
Green lawn no longer filled the area beyond the terrace, but a maze of flowers and shrubs with paths of white pebbles zigzagging from one rose bush to a tall hedge to a bench nestled between two bushes with blue blossoms.
Every plant was trimmed precisely in anticipation of Lord Cartwright and Miss Judith’s wedding on the morrow. Not a single blossom dared wilt, not a leaf dared fall—the care of the garden was unlike any he’d seen before.
A crew of gardeners must have worked all morning to remove any damage done by the storm.
Every blossom pointed heavenward, soaking up the rays from the sun as if not a drop of rain had fallen the previous day.
The wind, so evident and harsh on the other side of the house, did not disrupt a single leaf in the garden.
The vision before him was serene. It pained Eli to think of the disturbance to the beautiful flowers and well-maintained shrubs that were to come.
A morning surrounded by such exquisiteness, to sit among the plants, to inhale their scent, as Lord Cartwright entered into the bonds of marriage.
It was a breathtaking place, but he understood the seclusion needed for the flowers to thrive, just as his peace had been irrevocably broken since his arrival at Hollybrooke, so would the gathered guests shatter the harmony of Cummings’ garden.
Certainly, his way of thinking could not be correct. Happiness and joy begat happiness and joy. Would the flowers not bloom brightly, and the shrubs not stand taller when infused with the good cheer of the wedding party?
Maybe it was possible only Eli flourished surrounded by stillness, silence, and solitude.
He balanced his weight on the railing and crossed his arms.
Breathing in deeply, Eli closed his eyes.
The calm enveloped him, soothed his melancholy mood, and forced him to focus on the even beat of his heart.
The same organ that hadn’t long ago beat with an intensity he’d never felt.
It had been the sight of Miss Samantha coming toward him in the hall that changed things.
He’d been angry, felt betrayed, and for the first time, knowing he was alone at Cummings’ house party hadn’t been to his liking.
Then, his rage had subsided, and something altogether new overtook him.
Her quick wit, sly smirk, and lifted chin—Miss Samantha appeared before his closed eyes.
Her auburn hair trailing down her back as she’d fled the hall in pursuit of her brother.
But her hair had been pinned atop her head that morning—it was another intimate moment he remembered.
He’d wanted to call her name, ask her to remain with him, not to leave him alone.
Miss Samantha could in no way understand his sense of loneliness—her house, no doubt, always teeming with her siblings and activity.
She was at ease in a crowd, welcoming the sight of guests and relishing their attentions.
Or at least, that’s what he imagined of her.
Her lighthearted disposition left no doubt she was outgoing when surrounded by society, so at odds with Elijah’s personality.
A part of him mourned the person he could have been if his father hadn’t died and his mother hadn’t abandoned him. His grandfather loved him—made sure he was educated, well-traveled, and the perfect gentleman; however, that did not mean some deeper part of him didn’t realize something was missing.
He allowed stillness to take over once more, banishing thoughts of his mother, his grandfather, and a certain enchanting, fiery-haired maiden.
With the banishment of those thoughts, the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees alongside the manor receded, and the laughter from the guests quieted.
The serenity found in complete silence, accompanied by the dark allowed delicate sobs to drift down to him.
Heart-wrenching, soul-consuming, fate-shattering weeping invaded his sense of seclusion.
If it were not for the rise and fall of the female cries, Eli would imagine it was his own inner turmoil finally coming to the surface, demanding to be recognized and dealt with.
Eli moved toward the sound, coming from farther down the terrace, back toward the doors he’d exited. Stepping down and onto the lawn, he gazed upward as the sobs carried on the breeze.
The sadness of her cries had Eli rubbing his chest where a deep ache had taken root—a combination of the sound from above and his own bottomless grief.
An intense need filled him, compelling him back into the house and toward the sobbing. If he were able to soothe the woman’s hurt, would that also assuage his own?
Elijah was uncertain where the absurdity of that logic had sprung from, but he needed it to be true. Once inside the manor, the cries disappeared, blocked by walls of thick timber and a solid floor; however, he knew the general direction of the room facing the back of the grand home.
Hurrying up the stairs, Elijah was thankful he didn’t encounter anyone as he took the steps three at a time. Once he’d reached the top landing, he took off in a sprint, his boot steps loud even with the thick rug below him.