Chapter Four
Seven Years Later
Stanbury, Yorkshire, England
The walk to her brother’s makeshift grave, high up on the moors, was a long and treacherous one.
Nevertheless, Evie made the trek at least once a week.
Alfie’s body had never been found, and so the best they could do was set up a memorial for him near the bog that took him.
He was in the ground there somewhere, and now her papa, who’d died the prior year, was buried there too.
Papa had died, Evie believed, of a broken heart, and she was certain her mama would follow him soon.
Both her parents had become ghosts of their former selves after Alfie’s death.
And she had spent the past seven years caring for them.
All hopes of love, marriage, and a family of her own had died with Alfie.
Her life, so promising before Alfie’s death, had taken a tragic turn.
Papa had let their fortune dwindle to nothing, and Mama had been forced to let most of the servants go.
Their once beautiful home was all but a ruin.
Alfie’s bedchamber had been sealed the day after he’d died, and no one had been permitted to enter.
Evie laid the freshly picked wildflowers on Papa’s and Alfie’s graves and gazed out at the vast, rugged moors. They were her only peace now.
After a few minutes’ rest, she stood and started her trek back down the moor.
She needed to get to the apothecary before it closed, or Mama would be without her laudanum, a drug she’d come to rely on for sleep since Alfie’s death.
The weather had turned colder, and a mist now covered the horizon.
Evie didn’t mind; she knew her way blind across these moors.
And she loved the isolation of it all. It was like walking amongst the clouds.
Still, she understood better than anyone the danger of the bogs. Sometimes she wondered if she took these risks on purpose. If she accidentally fell into a bog, would it be so bad? What did she have to look forward to in life?
“Stop it!” Evie told herself. Who would take care of Mama if something were to happen to you?
*
The village was busy with shoppers, loading up on flour, vegetables, and perhaps a bit of meat for the coming Sunday. Evie would do well to buy a few more potatoes and a small piece of meat to make a stew for their Sunday tea. But first, she needed to go to the apothecary.
“Good day to you, Miss Everwood,” Mrs. Reed said as she entered her establishment. “Here for your mama’s laudanum as usual?”
Evie nodded.
“How is she feeling? She wasn’t looking too well at church last Sunday.”
“Neither better nor worse,” Evie said.
“Poor dear. I kept this aside for you, special,” Mrs. Reed said as she wrapped the medicine for Evie. “It’s my last bottle. Almost ran out. So many ill folks now that the weather has turned.”
“Oh dear,” Evie said.
“Be sure to take care of yourself. You’re looking a little pale too. Been out traipsing the moors again, have you?”
Evie brushed back her hair, which she imagined was disheveled from the wind. “Yes. I went to…”
“You need to take better care, luv. Bundle up. It’s cold out. And the bogs…” Her cheeks pinked, and she cleared her throat. “I don’t imagine you can afford to become ill. Who will care for your mama then? And once she’s gone…well, you’ll want to find a husband, won’t you?”
Evie pressed her lips together. And reminded herself that Mrs. Reed meant well, but she wished folks would meddle less in others’ affairs.
“Speaking of marriage. Did you hear that the younger Mr. Hadley has returned to town with his betrothed?”
“What?” Evie said, her voice sounding faint and somewhat distant.
“Yes, come all the way from London to introduce his betrothed to his parents. In fact, he is due to stop by today to pick up a few items for the homestead.”
Evie’s legs trembled and her vision blurred. The room became a hazy mass of colors.
“Miss Everwood,” Mrs. Reed said sharply. “Are you ill?” The clerk hurried out from behind the counter and rushed to Evie’s side. “Come and sit down, dear.” She helped Evie into a chair.
Evie heard the bell above the apothecary door chime as someone entered. But she didn’t have the strength to look up and see who it was.
Then she heard Mrs. Reed say, “Mr. Hadley, thank heavens you are here. It seems Miss Everwood is not well. I think she’ll need an escort home.”
The words were like a fire beneath Evie. She shot to her feet. “Absolutely not. I’m perfectly fine, Mrs. Reed,” she said, although she was not looking at the woman. Instead, she found herself staring at Hugh.
He had not changed at all—if anything he was even more beautiful than she remembered—the same thick, dark hair and soulful dark eyes.
A rush of emotions flooded her, so overwhelming that she could not discern how she felt.
They stood, frozen in time, gazing at each other until a fresh-faced young lady stepped forward and slipped her arm into Hugh’s, breaking their spell.
She was petite, with blonde ringlets and lovely green eyes.
“Miss Everwood,” Hugh said, “please let us assist you. I have my carriage. We’d be happy to escort you home.” His voice trembled ever so slightly. Something only Evie noticed because she knew him almost as well as she knew herself.
“Thank you,” she said, desperately wanting to rush from the room but unable to tear her eyes from his. “But that’s not necessary. I should not want to inconvenience you and Miss….” She glanced again at the young woman.
“Miss Wells,” the young lady said, not waiting for Hugh to introduce her. “Soon to be Mrs. Hadley.” She flashed a possessive smile in Hugh’s direction.
Evie nodded at the woman and then turned back to Hugh. “I was merely a bit fatigued from walking up the moor, that’s all. I’ve regained my strength now.”
“It would be no incon—” Hugh began, but Evie was already heading for the door.
As she pulled it open, the little bell jingled, and she heard Miss Wells say, “Miss Everwood. Is she the—”
“She’s an old friend,” he said, cutting her off sharply. “From my childhood.”
*
Forgetting all about the meat and potatoes, Evie raced home.
She could not wait to escape the humiliation, pain, and anger of seeing Hugh and his new betrothed.
She wished him no ill, but the betrayal she felt at his abandoning her and his refusal to divulge what happened that fatal night between him and Alfie was still like a hot knife in her gut.
For years, she’d fantasized about seeing him again, hoping he’d make an appearance at Alfie’s gravestone—hoping he’d find the courage to tell her the truth.
But all her hopes had been in vain. Hugh had simply disappeared from her life.
Suddenly, here he was again, seven years later, behaving as though nothing had happened. He was happy. And why not? He had a bright future, while she and her family had been left in ruins. He’d said he loved her. He’d asked her to be his wife. Now, she’d been reduced to a childhood friend.
Evie managed to hold her tears until she arrived home and was safely ensconced in her bedroom. There she let them flow, but not for long. She did not have that luxury. Her mama would want a bit of soup and bread, which Evie would need to prepare.
Before going downstairs, she forced herself to the mirror and attempted to straighten her hair.
Her pale, thin face, splotched from crying, stared back at her.
Much of her chignon had come undone from her walk on the moor and looked a shameful mess.
The picture of Hugh’s perfectly styled and very pretty betrothed flashed in her mind.
And she felt as though she was shrinking before the world.