Chapter 7
WHEN THE DOOR to the breakfast room opened the next morning, Grace expected her mother. But she rather hoped for Lord Ellison.
Yet it was neither.
“A Miss Lennox to see you, miss,” the butler, another new face as of last week, said.
Grace set down her fork. “Oh,” she replied. They had entertained a handful of neighbors since Grace’s return—kindly individuals expressing concern over her accident and joy over her return.
But never a single woman there to see only Grace.
“I will greet her in the drawing room, thank you.”
The butler dipped his head, and Grace counted to sixty before following him from the room, feeling strangely aware of each of her limbs and how very awkward they were.
Should she call for her mother to greet the guest with her?
But she was already at the door, staring at the polished wooden surface.
A young woman, near about Grace’s twenty years, came to her feet as Grace entered. She was very pretty, with a pert nose and luscious, dark hair. A hint of something tickled the back of Grace’s mind.
“Miss Lennox?” Grace asked, hovering just a step into the room.
The woman blinked twice at her, with beautiful blue eyes framed by long lashes. Had Grace envied this woman before she’d lost her memory? It would certainly be hard to shine next to such a beauty.
“You truly do not recall me?” Miss Lennox asked.
“I am sorry, no.”
The woman pushed out a breath. Then, in a rush of skirts, she crossed the room and enfolded Grace in a hug. It was tight and not entirely comfortable. Yet, again, memory brushed her mind. Something in the sensation of this woman’s bony arms around her shoulders was familiar.
“I am sorry,” Miss Lennox said, pulling back, brushing away tears. “I am so sorry, you are probably entirely flummoxed, and me being a weeping rag. Oh, dear, you look terrified. Sit, sit, please.”
Bemused, Grace sat. Miss Lennox, however, remained standing and pushed her head into the corridor, asking a passing maid for some tea.
Grace’s brows rose. Had they been close enough for her to act so comfortably here? She appeared more at home than Grace felt.
“I have missed you, Grace,” the woman said on a sigh as she sank into the settee beside her. She grasped Grace’s hand, holding it tightly between both of her own. “And to hear of your accident fairly crushed me. We did not leave on the best of terms… Did you know?”
Haltingly, Grace shook her head.
Miss Lennox removed one hand to wipe a stray tear. “It was all my fault. I hope you will forgive me—I hope we can be friends again.”
Grace’s head spun and something in the exchange felt, well, rather performative, but the woman was outwardly all that was sincere, and being that it was impossible to hold a grudge, she nodded. “Yes, I would like that.”
Miss Lennox squealed and gathered Grace into another surprisingly strong hug before throwing herself onto the sofa and sighing heavily. “You have missed a great deal, you know. And I am determined to catch you up on the lot of it.”
Much more slowly, Grace relaxed. A smile began tugging at the corners of her lips.
Never mind that she still did not know the relationship she’d shared with Miss Lennox…
There was something strangely exhilarating in the knowledge that someone wished to spend time with her.
Outside of Lord Ellison, no one had cared to sit with her.
Catch her up, so to speak, on the life she had missed.
Miss Lennox folded her hands upon her lap as if about to begin the most important of sermons. “Notley’s finally has bonnets up to snuff, after years of us begging Mr. Notley to follow the fashions more closely. I am certain my encouragement helped in that endeavor.”
That was a relief, as Grace had purchased a bonnet there just the day before.
“Oh heavens, it is good to see you. We spent many a day just like this, do you know? Or I suppose you do not.” Her eyes widened in wonderment, and she shook her head a little. “I cannot believe you do not remember me even a little. We have been the best of friends for years now.”
But before Grace could defend herself and her memory, Miss Lennox continued.
“And Sarah Little is married! Can you believe it? I do believe even her mother had given her up for spinsterhood, but a widower from Sheepdrove came to an assembly half a year past and then he kept coming back. For her, we all know now. And Caroline Brooks! She finally married Silas Darby. And to think, I cannot even keep a beau.” She stopped there, her hands stilling on her skirts as her eyes peeked up on Grace.
Every comment seemed to end with something about Miss Lennox herself, but that just seemed to be the woman’s way.
Possibly how she connected with others? “Speaking of… Have you—”
The drawing room door opened. “Lord Ellison to see you, Miss.”
Miss Lennox looked up sharply as Grace stood. Her friend came to a stand beside her, fingers twisting in front of her gown.
Friend. How odd. She felt that the woman desired it, but she could not feel any underlying anything to tie herself to her.
Lord Ellison arrived in the doorway, his dark hair appearing windswept and his hat in his hands, a wide grin was on his face. “I have come to— Oh, I apologize, I did not know you were entertaining.”
“How do you do, Lord Ellison?” Miss Lennox demurred.
Lord Ellison stared at the young woman, then cleared his throat. “Well, and yourself?”
“Very well. I have just been catching up with my friend. She has been dearly missed.” Her slim, cold fingers wrapped around Grace’s arm.
His responding smile was tight, and there was an undercurrent of something in his eyes as he watched Miss Lennox. If Grace did not know any better, she would assume these two did not like one another.
And, in fact, she did not know any better.
Lord Ellison’s eyes shifted to Grace, and his expression softened. “I can return this afternoon for our appointment.” Something in her midsection twisted at the thought of him leaving.
Grace swung her gaze to Miss Lennox, and in that moment, memory returned.
Only a snippet. But she distinctly recalled a conversation with the young woman, where they’d been laughing in this very room about some escapade or another.
She could not recall the details, but she remembered they were having lemon tarts with tea, and Grace had worn a dress with a horribly itchy neckline.
Her eyes widened at the illumination of that moment, and she tried desperately to grasp for more, but none came. It was simply another spot of light in her sky of darkness.
Suddenly, Lord Ellison was at her side, his hand on her elbow. “Are you well?” he asked in an undertone. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
She shook her head. “Not a ghost. A memory. I’ve just had a recollection. With Miss Lennox.” She spun, and her new friend—old friend, she supposed—appeared horrified. Truly, that was the only word for it. Her eyes were wide and her mouth parted, but fear shone in that visage.
“What did you recall?” Lord Ellison asked, and a mixture of excitement and something else colored his tone.
Grace stared at the spot of the couch where the memory Grace had sat. “We were having lemon tarts… in this room, and you were laughing,” she pointed at Miss Lennox, “and my dress was itchy and… Annabelle. It is your name, yes?”
Blinking slowly, the woman nodded. “Yes.” Then she affixed a smile on her face. “This is wonderful, Grace!”
Grace nodded, her mouth pulling wide as she turned to Lord Ellison. “I can hardly believe it! It must be a good omen for the future, yes?”
“Yes, certainly. I will leave you two for now, so that you might draw upon more memories.” There was a hint of sadness behind his smile. Something in the way it did not reach his eyes.
“Oh, I dearly wish I could,” Miss Lennox said, backing away. “But I have an appointment, somewhere I must be soon.”
Grace’s spirits fell, but she did her best not to show her disappointment. “Yes, of course, I would not wish to monopolize your morning. I will see you to the door.”
Miss Lennox—Annabelle—gave her another tight hug in the hall and promised to return soon, then walked down the steps to her waiting carriage. Grace watched her go, a strange loosening in her chest accompanying disappointment that further memories would not be brought by the young woman’s presence.
Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to find Lord Ellison standing there in his tan breeches and green jacket.
The man truly had impressive presence, taking up so much of her vision as he was.
Her hopes of recalling more memories had been rather dashed at Miss Lennox’s leaving; but they lifted again at the sight of Lord Ellison.
“I can still return later,” he said, his voice a quiet rumble, and his eyes steady on hers. “Or tomorrow, if you prefer.”
She shook her head. “No, I am happy to see you.”
His mouth lifted in a partial smile. “Then what shall we do? Another attempt at silhouette cutting? Embroidery?”
Her lips twisted in amusement. “If I choose embroidery, will you do it with me?”
“Oh, certainly. But only if you promise to wear whatever creation I come up with.”
She grimaced. “If that is the case, perhaps we should peruse some fashion plates?”
“Delightful,” he said drily. “I have been meaning to improve my wardrobe.”
She made a show of looking over his impeccably tailored coat. “There is certainly room for improvement.”
“Is that so?” He held back his coat and stuck out one boot.
She allowed her eyes to trail down him, pushing back warmth that desired an appearance in her cheeks. “Yes.” She gave a decisive nod. “And as I told you yesterday, you ought to take fashion advice from a woman with a faulty memory.”
He nodded, forehead wrinkled in mock solemnity. “That seems logical. I should hate to be advised by someone who actually recalled last Season’s prevailing tastes.”
She laughed. Lord Ellison might not help her recollect her past, but he certainly helped her to feel its loss less acutely.
“Or I believe singing was on your list?”
She shook her head. “Not a chance.” She’d fairly balked when Mama told her she used to love to sing and was quite accomplished at it. What if she could not hold a tune now? What if she had never been any good, and it was simply a mother’s bias that made her say that?
He actually looked regretful but took it in stride. “I believe that leaves reading. Or embroidery is still an option.” He waggled his brows, and she stifled another laugh.
“Reading sounds far safer.”
He chuckled as she led the way to the library.
She’d been in here since her accident, and had yet to have any new recollections, but still, she paused in the doorway, hopeful a flash would come as it had in the drawing room.
Lord Ellison looked down at her with a question in his eyes as he stood at her shoulder, but she shook her head. She recalled nothing new.
“What do you know of Miss Lennox?” she asked, crossing to the shelves.
“Not a great deal, actually. You were friends, I believe.”
Grace nodded slowly, finger trailing down a leather spine. “You did not seem on good terms.” She glanced over at him where he stood behind a plush armchair, hands on the back.
“Yes,” he said, but then paused before speaking again, his voice introspective. “I admit to regret where she is concerned. I did not treat her well, and I ought to apologize for it.”
Her brow lifted, and curiosity surged, but she said nothing.
“I would tell you more,” he said, crossing to the window, fingers tapping his leg. “But I fear it is not my place.”
She nodded, turning to face him as he retraced steps back to her. His eyes were steady on hers, but he swallowed as he waited for her response.
“We all have regrets in life, I imagine.”
His responding nod was slow. “Some more than others.”
“Even still.”
The corner of his mouth lifted, and somehow, she found herself fighting a smile in return. Just at the sight of his.
“What are your favorite texts to read?” she asked instead.
“I believe I should be asking you that.”
She pinched her lips in thought. “I have picked up several books since my return.”
“And did you enjoy them?”
Her nod was slow. “Yes.”
“But?”
She scrunched her nose. “I really did enjoy them. I simply cannot imagine that…” She pulled out a book, staring at the cover before glancing up at him. “Might I be frank with you, Lord Ellison?”
His brows lifted. “Certainly.”
“I think my list makes me sound like a bore.” She whispered the confession, as if the books would hear and report back to her mother.
His expression was inscrutable, so she continued.
“None of it appeals to me in any grand sense. Yes, a quiet night with a book sounds nice, but I feel a draw to be with people even more so, and to experience life more fully than my list conveys. Our carriage ride was enjoyable, but the part I truly relished was our run from the cows. The excitement and adventure in that brief time was the most fun I’ve had since my accident.
And embroidery? Honestly? Even if I had any talent for it, which I may not, I cannot imagine wishing to sit for such an extended amount of time.
” It all came out in a rush, and she felt somehow guilty for saying it, as if she were saying her mother must not know her since she’d provided the list. Or as if she were being untrue to her past self?
Had more than her memory gone with the accident? Had she lost a part of herself as well?
Lord Ellison did not speak for several long moments, his hands tight on the back of the chair. “Well, Miss Whitmore, perhaps our plan needs to change.”
“To what?”
“To discovering what it is you do enjoy.”
“But that will not gain me back my memory.”
Lord Ellison nodded. “No, it might not, but I cannot imagine that trying to fit into some mold you do not feel is accurate will help either. Even if it was my idea originally.” He looked sheepish at the admission.
“I appreciate your trying to help, but maybe what I really need is to move on. Give up.” She hated how morose that sounded, but it was likely true.
“No,” he said, circling the chair and walking to her. “Never that. Do not give up on your mind just yet. It will come back. It must.”
She did her best to stifle the surge of emotion that was rising, but it was incredibly difficult. After several deep breaths, she felt she could speak without a break to her voice. “Regardless, I think you are right. I should like to do something fun. Lively.”
A grin spread across his face, decidedly crooked. And it made him all the more handsome. “Leave it to me. I will come collect you tomorrow for an adventure.”