Chapter 17
“We shall then have time to talk more intimately than this setting allows.”
James’s overheard words rang in Amy’s mind as she climbed into the carriage last, and it forced her to face a cold reality.
Although it was a difficult thing to admit, even to herself, she had been hoping for the impossible.
She had been looking out for James as though he were still available.
As though she still had a chance at being a part of his life and heart.
But he wished to be intimate with Miss Prexley.
Well, that was no wonder! The woman was to become his wife.
She forced these painful emotions into submission, hiding them behind a placid face, as her father rapped on the window to signal Ambrose. The carriage moved forward and began to turn, and he leaned back against the squabs with a sigh.
“It is time to be out of this damp. My joints are none too comfortable after sitting in it for so long, even with the snake vertebrae coiled about my neck.” He rubbed both knees with his hands. “The gold chair in the parlor and a hot cup of tea will suit me admirably.”
“I am sorry to hear it.” Amy’s worry over her father’s discomfort brought her attention back in full force. “When we reach the hotel, I will have Mrs. Mercy see to making you comfortable.” Then she could go to her room and be alone for a while.
“I do not believe Hughes is capable of curing me,” her father stated again. “His prescription to drink the waters does not have any effect at all. It will be best to shorten our stay here, I think. With a little preparation, we might leave in three weeks. Perhaps even in as little as a fortnight.”
“Oh.” Amy’s breath froze. Although her father had complained of the inefficiency of his treatment, she had not considered the idea that he might wish to leave early. “Is it not too soon to give up, Papa? It has not been a month.”
Her spirits plunged at the idea of leaving, but why?
A brief moment’s reflection gave her the answer.
As hard as it was to admit, she knew it was because she was not ready to say adieu to James so soon—not even when she knew that staying would only cause her pain.
They had not seen each other for six years, and she needed time to accustom herself to the fact of meeting and losing him again.
Besides, the charming city of Spa had grown on her.
It was the smallest of cities in their planned tour, and it was a comfortable place to be, with pleasant routines and friends she enjoyed meeting.
It was the first time she had discovered that she could indeed thrive in a place outside of England.
She must also consider the challenges of continuing their Continental tour without her father having improved in any way.
They had put a lot of faith in the curative powers of Spa to ease the rest of their tour.
Mr. Bridwell gave her question some thought, and she added to her persuasion. “More time must surely be needed to experience the benefits of the thermal waters.”
“We shall see, but the damp in this country is not helping my cause.” A gleam came into his eyes. “If we were to go directly to Spain . . .”
“We cannot miss Paris!” Hannah exclaimed, turning to him in alarm. This had been the one portion of the journey she anticipated with real interest.
“Spain was not part of our plans,” Amy reminded him at the same time. “We have made no preparations there. Nor have we made any arrangements to arrive in Paris early. We cannot rush our departure.”
Mr. Bridwell did not appear to be listening. He felt around him on both sides of the seat, then looked at the floor of the carriage before banging on the wooden frame of the window.
“Stop the carriage.” He opened the window to peer up the road, then swung his regard to Amy.
“I have forgotten my cane. It is the wooden one I purchased here with the carved head of a cat. I do not wish to lose it, for it releases the mineral exhalations of the springs when I draw near the source. We must go back.”
Amy did not want him to delay his return to their rooms and shook her head. “No, Papa. Let me go and retrieve it for you. Ambrose will not be able to turn the carriage here.”
Hannah made a move to slide next to Amy. “Let me go with you. I am not sure you should be walking these hills alone.”
“The woods are as safe as in Kent. I felt completely at ease when I walked the path with the princess. Besides, you must be on hand to assist Papa when you return home. Ambrose will have to bring the carriage to the stables.”
Hannah frowned, but she could not refute the logic.
“Very well, my dear,” Mr. Bridwell said reluctantly. “We will continue on.”
Hannah did not look convinced, but Amy was determined.
The solitary path through the trees would save her from having to explain her somber visage to anyone.
She did not believe the hills were dangerous, and her desire to be alone was strong.
No, the quiet solace of nature would soothe her, which was what she needed right now.
Each time she saw James in Miss Prexley’s company, it drove the truth home that he was not hers to love.
It was time she focused on grieving the loss of James all over again.
She stepped out of the carriage and caught the groom’s eye.
“Drive on without me. My father forgot something on the hill, and I will take the walking trail down.” Before shutting the door to the carriage, she leaned in.
“Do not worry about me. Just go to our rooms where you will be more comfortable.”
“Thank you.” Her father leaned over and set his hand on hers in an unusual gesture of affection.
As she closed the carriage door, her father began a new thread of conversation with Hannah. “I saw you talking to Mr. MacFirbis. Has he grown on you as a prospective husband? I can speak to him if you would like.”
“Papa!”
Amy heard Hannah’s cry of dismay as the carriage rolled away, and it brought a joyless smile to her face. Poor Hannah. Amy knew what it was like to be the recipient of their father’s matchmaking.
The roof of Annette and Lubin’s cottage was visible in the distance, with smoke from their chimney curling upward, and she walked toward it.
The fresh air caressed her skin, and to hear nothing but silence, apart from the slight breeze moving the vegetation and the crunch of her feet on the ground, restored her equanimity to a degree.
Above her, the sky was gray and filled with clouds that could not be relied upon to hold.
She trained her eyes upward and followed the path of an eagle with a white-tipped tail as it soared, the world open before it.
The bird of prey looked small, but she guessed its size would surprise her if she were to see it up close.
Nature was one thing that provided tranquility no matter where one found oneself.
It was far from certain she would enjoy the cities of Paris or Rome, which must both be as populous as London.
The wooden cane still leaned on the flat boulder where her father had been sitting.
She picked it up, then wasted no time in crossing the plateau toward the trail to rejoin the town at the bottom of the hill.
At first, she carried the cane as she walked, but then she began to use it, appreciating the feel of the smooth wood carvings underneath her palm.
The trail for foot passengers was narrow, and the sides of her broad skirt brushed the grass on each side as she crossed the plain, admiring the wildflowers that grew there as she went.
Soon, she entered the quiet of the woods and continued under its shade, where roots grew across the ground, making the path uneven.
Going down was more difficult than the climb up had been.
It required less exertion, but she had to force her legs to tense with every step so she would not slide on patches of mud.
She was focused on this venture and almost missed the flash of color on her periphery.
It was the accompanying movement that caught her eye.
She stopped suddenly with a shallow gasp, her heart accelerating until it beat in staccato.
Oh heavens. Perhaps she had been unafraid earlier because she had been in the company of others.
What if the woods were not like Charing but full of men in hiding who meant her harm?
She had been naive to think she was invincible.
What could she do now? If she screamed, no one was in earshot to come and help.
And despite being young and healthy, she would not be able to resist anyone who came up against her.
The man’s form moved her way, his torso and face hidden by the trees.
Amy pressed her lips together in grim determination as she pictured the ensuing fight.
She did have this cane and would use it if the stranger attempted to harm her.
Tightening her grip around its thickest part, she lifted it in readiness.
It was in this tense position of defense that she saw James step around the tree and look up, his eyes widening in amazement.
“Miss Bridwell! Wh-why are you here—and alone? Did you not leave with your father?”
She lowered the cane slowly, recovering some of her breath as her surprise left her. She inhaled before answering him. “I did leave with him, but he forgot his cane.” She showed the item in question. “I came to retrieve it for him.”
“But why did your groom not turn the carriage back? You should not be walking these woods without an escort.” He appeared to be genuinely upset, and this caused a spark of anger to flare up in Amy.
How dare he comment on her movements when he was clearly in love with another woman and was to marry her?
“You need not worry about me, Mr. Fletcher. You have Miss Prexley to see to. I am perfectly capable of walking on my own without an escort. After all, I have done so my whole life.”