Returning Home
Chapter six
Two days later
The vast estate was Christopher’s childhood home, the place where he had grown up with his parents as well as his elder brother Sebastian and his younger sister Nora. Now, his father and brother were gone, and he was the new earl.
Had been for six years.
It still felt wrong.
Just as it had six years ago.
Christopher did not feel like the Earl of Lockhart, and Fartherington Hall did not feel like home.
It was with a heavy heart that he alighted from the carriage, his gaze traveling upward over the majestic stone facade as he stood in the drive, unable to move.
“It looks exactly as I remember it,” he murmured to himself as his mind tried to match the sight before his eyes to the memories of years past.
Slow steps carried him up to the front door and into the great hall, his footsteps echoing through the vaulted chamber, empty and still.
A trickle of laughter drifted through Christopher’s memory, and he remembered how, to Nora’s utter delight, Sebastian had once slid down this very banister—or rather how he had tried to.
Halfway down, he had lost his hold on the smooth wood and fallen to the marble floor.
Fortunately, he had only dislocated his shoulder.
Still, his parents had been beside themselves with worry for their golden boy, their heir.
Christopher bent his head, that old yearning reawakening now that he had returned to the place of his childhood days.
Why had they never deemed him good enough?
To him, it had always seemed as though his parents viewed him as a threat to Sebastian when, in truth, Christopher had been only the second son, completely enamored with his elder brother.
Never had he wanted the earldom. He would not hesitate to give up the title this very instant if it brought his brother back from the grave.
“Christopher?”
Lifting his head, Christopher’s eyes fell not on his mother, as he had expected, but on his sister instead.
Dressed in black as was befitting a grieving widow, she stood in the arched doorway to the drawing room, her mahogany tresses tied back into a bun and her face looking awfully pale, especially in contrast to her black skirts.
“Nora,” he whispered, and his eyes swept over his sister’s beloved face as he strode toward her. “What are you doing here?”
A small smile curled up her lips. “Are you saying you don’t want me here?”
Christopher grasped her hands. “Not at all,” he assured her, his eyes still mesmerized to be looking at her again. “It’s been too long.”
Nora nodded. “It has.” Tears came to her eyes. “I missed you, big brother.” A sob tore from her throat, and a moment later, she was in his arms, her slender frame trembling as she held onto him with a strength that surprised him.
For a long time, brother and sister stood in a tight embrace, a bond still intact despite the years of separation.
Christopher could feel it. With his father and brother gone, only his sister and mother remained of his family.
Yet it was only Nora who made him feel at home.
It was not in anything she said or did, but simply in the way she looked at him.
Nora loved him. It was as simple as that. She loved him as much as he loved her. Christopher had always known of her love. Yet she was the only one of his family to show him any affections; perhaps the only member of the family who possessed any.
“Why are you here?” Christopher asked as he pulled back and looked down into her eyes. “Why are you not at home? At Leighton?”
A bit of a chiding look came to Nora’s brown eyes. “You know better than anyone that Leighton was never my home.” She sighed, and a shuddering breath left her lips. “Now that my husband is dead, I have no place there any longer.”
Christopher frowned. “Did his cousin turn you out?” he demanded, anger beginning to sizzle in his veins. “Because if—”
“No.” Nora shook her head, a sad smile playing over her features. “In fact, his cousin was kinder to me than my husband ever was.” Her lips thinned, and Christopher saw a deep sense of disillusionment in her eyes; eyes that had always sparkled with wonder and excitement.
But no longer.
“No, I simply wanted to come home.” Nora’s eyes held his, a silent plea in them; and in that moment, Christopher realized that his little sister felt even more alone in the world than he did.
Christopher smiled at her warmly. “You’ll always be welcome here, and I am happy to see you.”
“Thank you.” Nora hugged him again, then strode away to the window. Sighing, she cast a quick look at him over her shoulder before turning back to the view outside. “And you? Why are you back in England?”
Christopher stepped into the room. “Grandma Edie sent me an invitation to Harriet’s wedding.” A chuckle drifted from his lips. “I suppose I was not brave enough to defy her.”
Looking at him, Nora smiled, a smile that seemed almost genuine.
“I think the word you’re looking for is foolish.
You were not foolish enough to defy her.
” She chuckled, then sighed, a wistful look coming into her eyes.
“She still sends me the tea I like so much. It’s a unique mixture I’ve never found anywhere else.
” She grinned. “Yet she refuses to reveal the ingredients to me, as though it is not merely tea but…a…a magical potion that might prolong one’s youth.
” A soft chuckle drifted from her lips, and Christopher could not help but wonder how often his sister had reason to laugh these days.
“What about you?” Christopher asked as he came to stand beside her, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. “Why were you not there?”
Narrowed eyes met his. “I’m in mourning.”
Christopher scoffed. “Are you? We both know you never cared for Hayward.”
Nora bowed her head. “Whether I cared for him does not matter. He was my husband, and society would be outraged if I did not show the proper respect due—”
“You’re finally free of him!” Christopher exclaimed, grasping his sister’s hands. “Please, do as you wish. Be happy!”
Nora cast him a brave smile. “You speak as though I had no hand in my fate.” She sighed. “I chose him. I chose to marry him.”
“You did not know him,” Christopher insisted. “You did not know the man he truly was.”
Nora shrugged. “Perhaps not. But the choice was mine, nonetheless. I have no one to blame but myself for my regrets.”
“Be that as it may,” Christopher countered, hating that look of defeat in her eyes, as though her life were over, as though she had one foot in the grave already. “But please do not add more regrets to those you already have. This is your chance to start over. Please, take it.”
A frown creased her forehead. “What would you have me do?” she asked, confusion marking her voice, as though she had not wasted a single thought on what to do with her future.
Christopher heaved an exhausted sigh. “Come with me to Whickerton Grove,” he pleaded, and felt her hands tense within his own. “Please! Grandma Edie insists I visit. Come with me!”
Staring up at him, Nora slowly shook her head. “But I cannot. I’m still in mourning. I—”
“That is out of the question!” came their mother’s harsh voice from the door, her familiar tone of disapproval like an ice-cold shudder snaking down Christopher’s spine.
Reluctantly, he turned to greet her. His hands, however, remained wrapped around his sister’s. “Hello, Mother.”
Her eyes narrowed as her gaze briefly swept over him before settling on Nora. “You cannot attend any events while you’re in mourning!”
Nora shook her head. “I know. I was just telling Chris—”
“I forbid it!”
“I—”
“Why would you even suggest such a thing?” Their mother’s eyes narrowed further as she fixed them on Christopher.
With her graying hair in a tight chignon—not unlike the one Nora wore, a fact, which Christopher found worrisome—and her chin raised in her usual haughty way, Elizabeth Hurst, Dowager Countess of Lockhart, was the epitome of a stiff, overbearing matron…
a far cry from the devoted mother Lady Whickerton had always been.
Clearing his throat, Christopher met his mother’s gaze, his own chin rising a fraction. “How wonderful to see you. How have you been?”
Her lips twisted into a snarl as she regarded him with displeasure. “Are you only here to cause trouble?”
Christopher sighed. For some reason, his parents had always accused him of causing trouble.
Had he been such an awful child to put them on their guard in such a profound way?
“I am here to see my sister,” Christopher said pointedly, intentionally omitting his mother from his reason for returning to England.
Indeed, the only reason for his presence here—aside from a meeting with his steward—was Nora.
Only Nora.
“Then do so,” his mother replied with a huff, “but, please, refrain from any action that will harm the reputation of your father’s title. Do you hear?” She shook her head. “You’ve already caused enough trouble. I forbid you from dragging your sister into it as well.”
Christopher felt the urge to throw his mother’s words back into her face; yet she was not wrong.
He had acted foolishly and without thought for the earldom.
It would seem she was determined not to let him forget that.
“I did not suggest Nora attend a ball or similar event,” Christopher sought to clarify.
“I merely think that seeing old friends will do her good.” He looked down into Nora’s pale face.
“She does not look well, and I am concerned.”
His mother scoffed. “She looks precisely as a young widow ought to look during her year of mourning.” Stepping forward, she once again fixed him with a pointed stare. “Do not lead her astray. Any wrongdoing on her part will severely harm her chances on the marriage mart once her year of mourn—”
“I will not marry again, Mother,” came Nora’s voice, stronger than Christopher would have expected.
Their mother blinked, then turned questioning eyes to her daughter. “Pardon? Why ever would you say that?”
Christopher watched as Nora pushed back her shoulders and met their mother’s hard gaze. “Whether you like to hear it or not, Mother, no one would want me.”
Their mother flinched, dark suspicions tensing her features. “Why? What have you done?”
Nora swallowed. “I failed to give my husband an heir.” A muscle in her jaw twitched, and Christopher saw tears collecting in the corner of her eye.
Yet it was not sadness or regret that swung in her voice as she spoke again, but…
triumph? Satisfaction? “I was married five years, and yet I did not conceive once.” She swallowed.
“I’m barren, and everyone knows or at least suspects it.
” She shook her head, a defiant tilt to her head.
“No one will want me, and…I am fine with that.” And with that, she turned on her heel and walked out of the drawing room, her footsteps echoing on the marble floor.
Christopher was about to rush after her when his mother hissed, “That is your doing?”
Spinning back around, Christopher stared at her. “What? You blame me for this as well?” A dark chuckle left his lips as he shook his head, utter disbelief filling his heart. “I suppose I’m responsible for everything that went wrong in your life, am I not?”
His mother’s lips thinned, and, for a brief moment, Christopher feared she might actually agree with him. Instead, she turned away and marched out of the room without another word.
Indeed, a most wonderful welcome!
Hanging his head, Christopher felt the overwhelming desire to leave…and never return. No, this place did not feel like home. Home was where…he was welcomed with open arms and joyous smiles. Home was…Whickerton Grove.
His heart paused for a moment or two as his thoughts drifted back to Juliet and how she had lain in his arms only two days prior. He had almost kissed her.
Almost.
A smile tickled the corners of his mouth at the memory of her moss-green eyes widening when he had whispered, Later.
Indeed, it was time he left…and headed home…to Whickerton Grove.
Thank you, Grandma Edie!