Chapter Two #3
With a deep breath, she picked up the quill and dipped the tip in the ink pot. She’d barely written a single line before her vision blurred. At first, she tried to blink the tears back, but the tightness in her chest only worsened until they spilled freely.
“Are you alright?” Eloise paused her embroidery.
“I just want to get home.” Abigail sniffed and stared at the word she had just smudged. “I need to send this letter, to explain everything to someone. Before he forgets me.”
“Ah, a suitor, then?” A knowing smile crossed Eloise’s face.
Abigail forced a smile and wiped her eyes. “Yes. Mr. Ainsley. He was courting me when we left abruptly. I was able to send a letter from Augusta to let him know I was safe and headed to New Orleans, but that was weeks ago.”
“What makes you think he’s going to forget someone as lovely as you?”
“A whole month has passed. He must wonder.” Abigail took a deep breath. “There’s an awful lot of eligible women in Savannah.”
“So, you fear another will catch his eye?”
Heat crept up Abigail’s throat as she nodded.
“Then good riddance to him.”
Her head jerked up at the woman’s matter-of-fact words. “Of all the men who’ve courted me, he’s the most suitable.”
A graying brow arched. “Do you love him?”
Abigail blinked. “He’s kind. And handsome. Comes from a respectable family.”
Eloise crossed her arms. “But do you love him?”
Love.
Abigail had dreamed of love her whole life. And not just any love. The kind that would come in and sweep her feet from under her. Problem was, the more she yearned for it, the further away it seemed.
Mr. Ainsley was all of the things she’d listed to Ms. Moreau.
And he eagerly sought her out at events.
She sucked in a breath, tasting the memory of their last night together.
If she hadn’t left Savannah, she was certain he would have declared his intentions the next day.
Of course she loved him. Didn’t she? Still, after a month of courting, she realized how little she truly knew him.
His conversation rarely strayed beyond trivialities—weather, horses, the latest gossip of Savannah.
Never anything that bared his soul. He certainly hadn’t swept her off her feet.
She sighed. “I might be more in love with the idea of being in love than with him.”
Eloise tsked. “You’re better off waiting for a man deserving of your heart.”
Abigail swallowed, letting her gaze drift to the window. “I’ve been waiting so long, and have watched all my closest friends find their matches…I feel like perhaps my expectations have been unrealistic.”
A bird landed on a vine-covered fence outside, ruffling its feathers.
Even her best friend Samantha, who had always scoffed at the idea of love—refused to even consider it—had found someone who complemented her perfectly.
If she could find love, anyone should be able to.
The thought sent a pang through Abigail’s chest.
“Maybe it’s been my fault the whole time.” Her words tumbled free before she could stop them.
“Nonsense. You’re smart, not falling for just any man. It will make it all the more special when you do find the one.”
Abigail twisted back. “Have you ever been in love?”
The warmth faded from Eloise’s face, sadness settling in her eyes. “Once. A long time ago.”
Abigail bit her lip. She shouldn’t press when the memory clearly caused pain. Yet she had so rarely shared such candid conversation with another woman. Curiosity weighed upon her like a stone.
“What did it feel like?”
“It felt like…” The woman’s gaze dropped to the embroidery in her lap, and Abigail bit her tongue, searching for words to change the subject. Before she could, Eloise lifted her chin.
“It felt like trust so deep it carried every fear and doubt away. Every day held a little more meaning because I shared it with him. It was ordinary and extraordinary all at once.” Eloise’s eyes closed and a soft smile played at the corners of her mouth.
“Being with him made the world make sense, even when nothing else did.”
Abigail’s chest tightened, a quiet ache threading through her thoughts. She’d never felt any of that. “Maybe you’ll find love again?”
The sadness returned to Eloise’s face. “That kind of love only happens once in a lifetime. I must be content with my memories.” She rose, smoothing her skirts with a quiet finality. “I should see to supper. Lucien will be hungry when he returns.” With a faint smile, she left the room.
Abigail sat a moment longer, the weight of Eloise’s words pressing against her chest. At last, she pulled the paper closer and dipped her quill, forcing her hand to move though her thoughts wandered. Each scratch across the page came slower than the last, as if she were writing in a dream.
Her gaze drifted toward the window. Outside, the swamp stretched in tangled silence, the air heavy and damp even through the glass.
The light seemed reluctant here, slipping around the gnarled branches as if afraid to linger.
How far it all seemed from Savannah’s ordered squares and bright laughter—from everything familiar.
Her fingers tightened around the quill, and a shiver traced down her spine.
Mr. Warstein was right, no pirate in his senses would venture into this godforsaken swamp.