Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amelie strolled through the meadow, feeling the late-September sun on her face, and allowed herself a little smile. Four weeks ago she had been at her lowest ebb, uncertain what she was going to do with her life or how she would survive. It was incredible how much could change in a few weeks.
Much of it was due to the kindness of relative strangers.
Although a little surprised to see her at her door, Miss Flint had been true to her word, sweeping Amelie up with kindness and convincing Lady Elizabeth that they should help her.
That help had manifested in many ways, from arranging a meeting with the Turner family, who were looking for a music instructor for their five children, to arranging transport to it so she could make her way to Berkhall to meet with the Turners to see if she would be a good fit for the job.
The money she was earning as a music instructor was enough to allow her to rent a tiny cottage on the edge of the village.
It was a little dilapidated, with rickety furniture, but they were already starting to make it their own.
The people of Berkhall had been welcoming and over the last couple of weeks she had felt herself relaxing, finally convinced that no one was going to find out about her recent scandalous past.
Whilst she worked, the children stayed at home, looked after by her elderly neighbour who was kind, considerate and a bit lonely.
It was a good arrangement, with Amelie paying a little every day, but nowhere near as much as she had needed to pay Mrs Creedy.
There had even been talk of them attending lessons at the local school, run by the vicar’s wife.
If anyone saw her walking through Berkhall now, they would think she was happy.
And she was, to a degree. She was content with her work and ecstatic that her brother and sisters could all stay with her rather than with a stranger.
She liked the sleepy pace of the village and thought she could quite happily settle there.
Despite her contentment, recent events weighed heavily on her.
Not an hour that passed in which she did not think of Will.
She missed him terribly. Even though they had only spent several weeks together, they had been wonderful weeks, a time she could not help but wish would come again, even knowing now how it had ended.
Her heart was still broken. It still pained her to think of Will, sitting alone in his big townhouse, but his loneliness was of his own making.
Amelie rounded the corner and the cottage came into view.
Marie, Harriet and Charles would be waiting for her.
She had promised to show Marie how to cook one of their mother’s favourite dishes tonight.
She was eager her siblings did not miss out on the gifts her mother had given her just because they were younger.
She was halfway up the path to the front door when she heard movement in the road behind her and she looked over her shoulder, thinking it would be one of her new neighbours. The villagers in Berkhall were friendly and always stopped to say hello.
Amelie felt time slow down as she turned to see Will standing there, the reins of his horse in his hand. He looked haggard, exhausted, and her first instinct was to go to him and take him into her arms. Then she remembered his coldness when they had last parted and she stayed just where she was.
‘What are you doing here, Your Grace?’ she asked, her voice low. She did not want to draw any attention to them; did not want her neighbours to become curious and come outside to see what was happening.
‘I’ve been searching for you,’ he said, taking a step closer. ‘For weeks, ever since you left Grantchester.’
‘You do not need to concern yourself with my welfare any longer. As you can see, I am well.’
‘Miss Flint tells me you have secured a position as a music teacher.’
‘I have.’ Amelie kept her answers short.
Inside she felt torn. She wanted him to stay and go in equal measure.
It felt awfully painful to see him again, to remember the happiness they had shared, even if only for a short time.
She was just about to tell him to leave when Charles came running from the back garden, stopping when he saw Will.
The little boy’s eyes widened, no doubt remembering the magical day they had strolled through Hyde Park and eaten ices.
That had been the start of better times for the children, and Amelie knew they saw Will as a saviour.
He had whisked them away from Mrs Creedy, arranging their stay with the kindly Mrs Hampton.
That was the moment which had precipitated change.
Charles slowed for a moment and then changed his mind, his little legs picking up speed, and he hurled himself through the gate and at Will’s legs.
‘I asked Amelie when you would come to visit us. I knew you would come. You need to see my soldiers. I have a new lieutenant.’
‘A new lieutenant,’ Will said, swinging Charles up into his arms. ‘Is he keeping order in the ranks?’
‘You had better come through. You can tie your horse to the fence.’ Amelie reached forward and took Charles from Will’s arms so he could secure his horse. Her brother wriggled from her grip, protesting until she put him down and then he ran back and slipped his hand into Will’s.
Marie and Harriet were sitting on a blanket on the grass in the garden. Marie was reading and Harriet was playing with her doll.
‘They’ve been angels today, Miss Dubois,’ Mrs Reedman said, standing to greet her. ‘And we have started on a little arithmetic for little Miss Marie. Her mind is far too sharp to be sitting idle.’
‘You are too good to us, Mrs Reedman,’ Amelie said, watching as her elderly neighbour gathered her things and bade farewell to the children.
Marie and Harriet were pleased to see Will, but it was Charles who was most ecstatic. He insisted on showing Will every one of his soldiers, lining them up for inspection. Only once Will had commented on each could Amelie persuade her little brother to play with his sisters.
‘You look well, Amelie. I am pleased.’
She had begun to feel like her normal self again these past few days.
The heartbreak was still there, still raw and visceral, but she had regained a little of her vitality, her joy for life.
She refused to wallow in her sadness. She had been in much worse positions that this—she would appreciate what she had rather than dwell on what she did not.
‘What are you doing here?’ She repeated the question she had asked him a few minutes earlier.
She had thought she would never see him again.
There was no need for their paths ever to have crossed again.
As far as she was concerned, he would live his life as he always had, socialising, attending parliament in London and spending time visiting his country estates.
They were worlds she would never have need to enter.
Amelie hoped never to live in London again, not after she had seen the terrible conditions in the slums, and she knew where his country estates were situated and would do her utmost to keep well clear.
‘I needed to see you, Amelie. I needed to apologise. Since we were last together, I have been unable to sleep, unable to eat. I have been plagued by memories of the terrible way I treated you. I had to find you.’
She pressed her lips together. He had treated her horribly. Every time she went to sleep at night, the words he’d spoken with such coldness reverberated around her head, ruining the memories of the happy times they’d had together.
‘A lot was said and a lot was done. There is no point dwelling on it.’
She could not bring herself to look at him. Amelie was surprised by his appearance in Berkhall. She didn’t know why he was here. Their break had been traumatic, but at least it had given them both the opportunity of a fresh start.
They were sitting side by side on a wooden bench, looking out over the little garden. Both their voices were hushed, conscious as they were of the children playing nearby. Amelie did not want them to hear how Will had judged her, considered her for his duchess but found her wanting.
He turned to her so their knees were almost touching.
‘I am sorry, Amelie. I behaved terribly. I am sorry for what I said and I am sorry for how I acted.’
Amelie inhaled deeply and then nodded. Perhaps his turning up here and the apology was a good thing. It might take away the power of the words; it might help her to stop dwelling on what he had said. Now she would be able to move on with her life without the past pulling her back.
‘Thank you for the apology,’ she said. ‘You’re right, it does matter.’
‘It does, Amelie, not least because none of it was true. I was caught up in this awful idea that things had to be done in a certain way to have any true value. I was so obsessed by my idea of my duty that I disregarded what was truly important. You would make a wonderful duchess. The traits that have always been important shine through in you. You are generous and kind, always thinking of others before yourself. You also know the importance of right and wrong and will not stand by whilst an injustice is committed. These things are important, not how much money you have or whether your family have been embroiled in scandal.’
Amelie sighed. ‘I suppose both are important. I do understand that a duchess is more than just your wife. You are not choosing someone solely for you, you are choosing the best advocate for the people who rely on you, and the best person to raise the next duke.’