Chapter 29
“Is Emma coming down?” Bridget asked.
“I thought she was,” Reeves said. “I did send someone up for her.”
It was just after sunrise. There had been no breakfast served yet, and this was earlier than any of them would normally have been out of bed, so perhaps it was unfair to expect Emma to be here.
He couldn’t help it, though. He knew his daughter would regret it if she didn’t say farewell to Bridget, and he didn’t want her to miss her chance.
“Perhaps I should send another maid up to check.” He beckoned to one who was passing through the foyer.
“Please go up to Miss Emma’s room and see to it that she presents herself down here as quickly as possible. ”
The maid nodded and scurried off.
“She might not want to come down,” Bridget said. “This might be too difficult for her, and I wouldn’t fault her for it if that were the case.”
“No,” Reeves said. “I’m going to insist this time, Bridget.
You’ve never been wrong about what she needed.
I acknowledge that. But I do know my daughter, and I know she’ll have nothing but regrets if she doesn’t bid you farewell properly.
I can’t let her live with those feelings.
Not when I have the power to prevent it. ”
Bridget nodded. For once, she seemed willing to take what he had said as actual good thinking rather than arguing with him. It’s just a shame she developed that skill now, right at the very end of our time together, he thought.
“Do you have all your things?” he asked Bridget.
She nodded, holding up the bag she had brought with her in one hand and the collection of books he’d given her in the other. “Everything.”
He could see the strand of silver hanging around her neck.
She was still wearing the necklace, then.
So, she wasn’t so perturbed by the kiss that she had decided not to wear his gift.
That bolstered him somewhat, though he couldn’t help wondering if she were going to take it off once the two of them had parted ways.
He cleared his throat. “I hope you have a safe journey back,” he said. “I know I said letters weren’t a good idea, but if you want to send one to let me know you’ve arrived safely…”
“You’ll know that by the return of your carriage,” she reminded him, her voice tight. “You don’t need me to tell you.”
“Right.” He put his hands in his pockets awkwardly—there seemed to be nothing more to say.
But this felt unfinished, somehow. It was as if there were something he wanted to communicate to her, something he wanted to make sure she understood, but he couldn’t find the words for it.
All he could do was stand there and hope they’d come.
And time was fast running out.
The maid returned. She had a firm hand on Emma’s shoulder and was propelling her forward. Emma wasn’t exactly fighting. She was allowing herself to be pushed along. But she looked to Reeves as though she would rather be anywhere else.
“Emma,” he said, “Bridget is about to go back to the orphanage. Don’t you want to thank her for everything she’s done for you before she goes?”
Emma shook her head vigorously.
Bridget bent down. “I’m awfully glad you and I got the chance to know one another, Emma,” she said softly. “I’ll miss you.” She held out her arms, inviting the girl in for a hug.
But Emma dug in her heels and refused to move.
“Are you angry with me?” Bridget asked her softly.
And Emma found her voice.
“Yes,” she said, her tone loud and clear, ringing through the empty foyer. “I hate you.”
“Emma!” Reeves was shocked. “We don’t speak to people that way. And certainly not to Bridget. She’s been so good to you.”
“No,” Emma said, tears coming to her eyes. “If she were good to me, she wouldn’t leave. She would stay with us.”
“Emma, you know I have to go back to the orphanage,” Bridget said. “The children there are depending on me.”
“You like those children more than me,” Emma said. “You want to go back to them instead of staying here with me.”
“Oh, Emma…”
But Emma turned and sprinted away, apparently unwilling to say anything else.
Bridget pressed a hand to her heart. “That isn’t how I thought our final moments together would be,” she murmured. “It isn’t what I hoped for.”
“She didn’t mean those things,” Reeves said. “She’s upset that you’re leaving, that’s all. I know how much she cares about you, Bridget. How much you’ve meant to her. I hope you won’t carry what she just said away with you, because that was just anger.”
“I know,” Bridget said softly. “I’m used to children speaking out of anger.
And this wasn’t the most important moment the two of us shared, just because it was the last one.
When I think of Emma, I’ll think of the happier times, not of what happened today.
” She sighed. “I just hope that she will, too.”
“She will,” Reeves assured her.
He’d have said it anyway, just to reassure her, but he was surprised to realize that he meant it. Seeing Emma struggle to say farewell to Bridget had made him realize what an impact Bridget had left—and how little he wanted that impact to be erased.
He knew what he was promising. He would have to commit to speaking to his daughter about Bridget, to keeping the memory of her alive. He wouldn’t be able to let her fade away from their lives, the way he had intended to.
But maybe that was right.
It would be hard to miss Bridget. Hard on both of them. But they’d never be able to forget her. She had meant so much to both of them, and it was best to keep those memories alive, even if doing so was painful.
He swallowed. “The carriage is waiting outside,” he said. “You probably want to get on the road before the sun gets too high. You need to make it back to the orphanage by nightfall.”
Bridget nodded. “All right,” she said. She hesitated a moment longer. “I want to say… well, I want to thank you, Reeves.”
“You don’t have anything to thank me for,” he said. “You’re the one who helped us, not the other way around.”
“I know,” she said. “But you did more for me than you might realize. Getting to be here, to be a part of your family for the time it lasted… this meant something to me.” She bit her lip.
“I never had a proper family. The closest thing I had was the orphanage. And I know that isn’t what you and me are to one another, of course, and I don’t mean to imply that it’s anything more than what it is.
But I did feel like I was part of something while I was here. I’m grateful for that.”
“You were part of something,” Reeves said gruffly.
He was both grateful to her for finding the words to express all that and uncomfortable with the fact that she had.
It was difficult to process, difficult to balance.
He wanted to tell her that she had meant the world to his family in the time she’d been with them.
He wanted to tell her that the mark she had left on them would always remain.
He wanted her to go, so he could get away from these feelings.
The most important thing in his life was, and would always be, Emma.
He couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in affection for this woman, no matter how special she had turned out to be to him.
He had to let her go. And she had made it clear that leaving was what she wanted, which only made it that much more important that it happen quickly.
Emma was already far too attached to her, as this morning’s farewell had clearly shown.
So yes, she had been a part of something. She had been a part of this family for the time she’d been here.
But now that time was at an end, and they were doing themselves no favors by romanticizing what had happened.
“Let me help you carry your things out,” he suggested to her, holding out a hand for her bag.”
But Bridget shook her head. “I can manage on my own,” she told him. “It’s what I’ve always done.”
When they had arrived here, she had allowed him to help her with her things, but now she was pulling back from him.
He nodded, forcing himself to accept it. “I hope you have a safe journey,” he said. “Thank you again… for all you did for my daughter.”
For all you did for me, he did not add.
He couldn’t possibly have quantified the difference she had made in his life. He couldn’t have described, even if he had wanted to, what it meant to know that he was capable of caring for someone else. To know that someone other than Emma could grow to matter to him.
I love her.
The words came into his mind unbidden, and he pushed them away.
He had no idea whether that was true. He had never been in love.
And even if it were true, it was something that would do no good whatsoever to admit.
He would only hurt himself—hurt both of them—by worrying about love.
They were going to separate, and that was that.
She turned and walked out the door toward the carriage.
Reeves followed on instinct, as though tied to her by an invisible string and towed forward. He could have remained in the house. There were footmen out there to help her, and she had turned down his offer of assistance.
But letting her walk away felt like something was being tugged out of the pit of his stomach.
In a moment, she was going to get in that carriage and ride off, and then he wouldn’t be able to follow, but he found himself prolonging the inevitable.
He stood in the winter cold by the side of the carriage, trying his best not to let on that the air was chilling him as he watched her hand her things to the footman.
Her bags were loaded into the carriage, and then there was nothing left but for her to climb in herself.
The desire that swept through him in that moment had the force of a hurricane.
He wanted to grab her and pull her back, to wrap his arms around her.
He wanted to kiss her again. He wanted to convince her to stay, to tell her they were both being foolish to let this happen.
It didn’t make sense for them to walk away from one another when what existed between the two of them was so good.
He hadn’t felt anything like it before in his life. Not even with Rosalie.
He had believed he never would.
And now she was going to leave, and he was never going to see her again.
It’s not for the best at all. I’m letting something wonderful slip through my fingers—I’m such a fool.
But he couldn’t find the words to stop her. She wanted to go. He’d already tried to convince her to stay, and it hadn’t worked, so that was the end of that.
“Be happy, Reeves,” she said quietly.
He reached out and took her hand on impulse, and for just a moment, their eyes met.
He was sure they were thinking the same thing. The words didn’t need to be spoken. Possibly she’d stay of her own accord.
But she turned and climbed into the carriage, and then the door was shut, and Reeves knew he had had his last look at the woman who had changed his life forever.
All he could do was stand and watch as she rode away.