Chapter 11 Regret
REGRET
They rode the next mile or two in complete silence, neither really knowing what to say now.
What’s done was done.
Lilly watched outside as trees and pastures flew by the window, disappearing frame by frame. She had no idea how far they had travelled since Michael’s revelation. It was almost as though she were in shock.
“When I was twelve”—Lilly finally broke the silence—“my father took our family for a holiday. We were to stay with his sister who lived in a village near the sea.
“I remember as we rolled into the village thinking it looked like a painting. The homes were surrounded by perfect whitewashed fences, and flowers were lined up neatly beside them. A garden bloomed in front of every cottage.
“In the center of the village, the stores were built very closely together, and there were wooden sidewalks so one could visit the shops without having to step in the mud. It was the prettiest village. I decided it was where I wanted to live when I grew up.”
Michael had turned on the bench. He watched her closely as she spoke.
“It was the most beautiful place in the world, I had decided.” She grimaced.
“Our first night there, we were awakened in the night. Father threw on his clothing and boots and ran out the door, my mother imploring him to be careful. Outside of the window, not very far away at all, the village was engulfed in flames.”
She fell silent for a moment, remembering.
“Father didn’t return until very early the next morning. He was covered in soot. The air smelled of smoke even though the fire had burnt itself out.
“We stayed at my aunt’s home for a few days after that, my mother and father helping his sister’s friends, comforting some who had lost their businesses or homes. Finally, my father allowed me to walk with him, back out into the streets of what had once been the village.
“There was nothing there. What had once been white and pure had become filthy charcoal and black mud. All that was left was the view by the sea.
“I remember asking my father where the people would live. They had no homes, no clothing, no businesses left to earn their living. Their very existence had burnt to the ground.”
Michael tilted his head, encouraging her to continue.
Lilly took a deep breath and said, “I feel rather the same today as I did then…Something that was once beautiful has been destroyed, and there is nothing anyone can do about it.”
She felt Michael’s eyes upon her as she looked back toward the passing scenery and wondered if he felt the same. They’d lived nearly a decade apart from one another. She had had a husband. Another man had taken the privileges Michael had thought were to be exclusively his.
And now she was a widow.
“Did the village rebuild?” he asked, “or did they begin new lives somewhere else?”
Lilly remembered watching the remains of the village grow smaller and finally disappearing when they drove away. “I don’t know. Some of both I imagine.”
“What was the name of the village?” Michael asked.
Searching her mind, she pondered aloud, “I think it was Pelican Point, or Pelican Perch, something like that. We never returned. My aunt moved to live with a dear friend farther north shortly after.”
They rode in silence again. And then he surprised her.
“I thought about torching Summers Park,” Michael volunteered. “After the fever,” he clarified. “I wanted to burn everything the disease had touched.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“It’s a magnificent structure, actually. It’s endured for hundreds of years. Who was I to destroy it?” He paused. “Too much history there. It is a beautiful place—structurally sound, very well built. No reason to demolish it because of a few bad memories.”
Bad memories.
He’d experienced tragedy and horror in that time.
Glenda startled them both by speaking up just then.
Apparently, she had been listening. “I had this dress once—most beautiful dress in the world. Pearls along the bodice, lace trim around the hemline, and I had embroidered tiny white stars throughout the entire skirt. Then that Nathan Plumery spilt wine down the front of it at the harvest celebration. Do you remember that, Lilly? Mary never could get that stain out. Had to give the thing to Mary’s sister.
Now that,” she finished grandly with a sigh, “was a tragedy.”
Ironically, Michael and Lilly both looked at each and smiled faintly. Lilly resisted the urge to lean into him and take comfort in his arms.
They traveled until it was nearly dark, and everyone was relieved when they pulled into a coaching inn for the night. Lilly wished she could find somewhere to be alone but would not, of course.
They had made very good time, however, and if tomorrow went accordingly, they should arrive in London on schedule, just before dusk. And then she could say goodbye to Michael once and for all.
A less than enthusiastic quartet climbed wearily into the travelling coach early the following morning. The previous night they’d taken their meals upstairs and then gone right to bed.
Which had been fine with Lilly.
She’d spent too much time in his company already. His fine eyes, his strong presence, and his charismatic laughter served only to mock her now. Mock her cowardice. Mock her stupidity.
Mock her life.
As they pulled onto the road, Lilly drew out a book and donned her spectacles. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the revelations of yesterday. If she did that, she’d be swallowed up by bouts of self-pity in no time. She had already done enough of that in her life.
After reading several pages, however, and not comprehending any of it, Lilly surrendered to her traitorous mind.
What was Michael thinking today? Did he have any leftover feelings for her?
She had believed when she’d given him her body, it had been something sacred. Did he remember it that way as well?
He hadn’t married in all this time. Surely not for lack of opportunity.
At one-and-twenty Michael had been heart-stoppingly handsome.
Now, at thirty, he was devastatingly attractive and a duke to boot.
His features were still just as striking, but his face now was somewhat chiseled, the line of his jaw more defined, his beard coarse.
He was sinewy, hardened by work or exercise.
And his eyes, those beautiful eyes of his, held wisdom and more than a little cynicism.
Her dear Michael was now every inch the aristocrat.
Surely, he’d had mistresses? Likely, many of them since he’d remained unmarried. Or maybe one special lady…? This thought hurt more than contemplating the former.
Stop it, Lilly! She chastised herself for even contemplating such unproductive thoughts. She would never know. By now, he’d experienced a lifetime of living in which she’d never been a part. She had no place in his future either.
“Do you think, Your Grace”—yes, that’s what she must call him; he was no longer her Michael—“the highwaymen who attacked you were politically motivated?” Her question came out of the blue.
She must think about something else. The mystery of the hijacking suited perfectly.
“They very nearly succeeded in delaying your arrival in London and got away with all of those documents. That could have been their purpose, all along.”
“A little drastic, don’t you think?” He raised one skeptical eyebrow.
“More drastic measures have been taken for less, I’m sure. One never knows. Were the documents really so very important?”
Michael had considered this possibility.
“I’d arranged to present them to other members.
I’ve gathered compelling evidence that could possibly sway a few to change their votes.
Those few votes could make all the difference in the world.
If I cannot show them our evidence, though, our arguments are considerably less convincing.
And without those votes, the amendment will fail. ”
“Can you think of any political enemies who oppose you strongly enough to take such action?”
Michael could almost laugh at that. “It could be anyone on either side of the issue. As a duke, I am required to live by the laws. And as we’ve discussed, the Corn Laws bring hardship to the poor.
But as a member of Parliament, one who opposes the laws, I’ve already angered many who believe they are the answer to all of England’s economic woes. ”
“But has anyone in particular threatened you? Has any person given you misgivings as of late?”
Michael had a few such gentlemen in mind. Normally, he would never speak of such things with a lady, but this was Lilly, and she obviously had some awareness of political issues. His mind taunted him with the notion that she’d discussed intellectual matters with her husband.
She was no longer the na?ve and innocent girl he’d once known.
And now she wanted to help him. Good Lord! She was attempting to deduce who had held up his carriage.
“The Earl of Hawthorne has sent me several letters imploring me to reconsider my position. At first, they were cordial, but his later missives have carried some venom.” He’d suspected Hawthorne the moment he’d stepped out of the carriage at gunpoint.
“Have they included any threats?” she asked.
“Not that I remember.”
“Where does the earl reside when he is not in London?”
“His home, Maple Hall, is just south of Reading.”
Lilly raised both her brows upon hearing this. They were to pass through Reading within a matter of hours. “Wouldn’t you like to peek into his coach house to see if, by chance, your carriage is housed there? Perhaps you could recover your papers!”
“Would Hawthorne be idiotic enough to keep evidence of the crime on his own property? Would he implicate himself so blatantly?” Michael was skeptical. It was too easy.
“You tell me. I do not know the man. Would he?”