Chapter 21

After a rather breathless—and entirely too short—round of lovemaking, Beau and Maddy managed to put themselves together in time for supper, arriving at the Chandler’s door at the appointed time.

The Chandler homestead was built in the common fashion of many farmhouses in the area, with whitewashed boards and window sashes accented in green. Unlike The Grove, this was very obviously a working farm; the nearby barn was full of animals, and below, fields full of potatoes and grain glistened in the gentle summer evening light. Under the windows, there were boxes full of violets, pansies, and a host of other plants that Beau could not name but gave the house a welcoming glow. Nearby, the twinkling of a homemade set of chimes adding their gentle music to the birdsong and leaves that made up Mother Nature’s symphony. Through the nearby window, which was open, notes of savoury herbs and roasting chicken wafted through the air, rousing his appetite.

Beau put his hand to the door and after a moment’s hesitation, gave it a gentle tap. It had been ages since he’d been this nervous. An old fear clawed at him, and despite Madeline’s assurances that they would not have invited him here if he was not wanted, it lurked under the surface. The endless demand to prove his worth had not stopped with Frank’s death. Indeed, it had crystallized it to a fine point. Now he was standing at the door of a family he didn’t know until two days ago, and part of him wondered if he would pass their test.

They stood expectantly for what seemed like a long time. He missed the sensation of Madeline’s arm resting on his. She’d taken it as they walked over, listening to him as he wrestled with his nerves about meeting a family and navigating a relationship that was new to all of them. But as they approached, she’d released him, a cruel reminder of this unusual dance of identity they found themselves in and for the sake of propriety.

No one is going to make you marry me.

He’d had to content himself with the hint of her scent and the weight of her skirts brushing against his leg. But my, how hungry he was becoming for her. One taste was normally all he required of a woman before the fascination waned. As he tortured himself with the implications of his insatiable need for her, the door opened.

Daniel Chandler stood in the threshold. His brother. Beau had no idea what Hollis had said to them, but all the confidence he’d found in his dealings with Nelson Taylor deserted him.

“Good evening,” Beau said, then held his breath, waiting for the awkwardness. Instead, Daniel’s face broke into a wide smile as he held out his arms, welcoming Beau with an embrace.

It was the strangest sensation, this warm welcome. Beau had rarely been so warmly embraced after his mother passed away, particularly by a man. Frank was never one for outward signs of affection, at least where Beau was concerned. He wondered if it was his imagination, this distinct sense of a bond between them. But it felt real.

They released their embrace. Annie stood alongside her husband, waving them inside.

“Pjila'si,” she said in the tongue of her foremothers. “Come in,” she repeated in English. “Make yourself at home.”

She winked at Beau, and he realized that in some way, he was home. He was excited and nervous all at once as he crossed the threshold. He wanted to reach out to Madeline. Her presence wasn’t just intoxicating. It was comforting.

“These are for you,” Madeline said, offering a bouquet of flowers and greens she’d picked earlier. Like Madeline herself, the arrangement was bold, full of unexpected pairings of colour and shapes. “I’m a horrible baker, but I do know something about plants.”

“More than a few things I’d say,” Annie said, then gestured toward the front parlour. “Beau, why don’t you sit with Hollis and Teddy, and get to know your family. Maddy, perhaps you can come with me and pick out a vase for these.”

Madeline looked to Beau, asking him the silent question—will you be fine without me? Even now, it seemed, she was on guard for him. He nodded in return. She followed Annie, disappearing toward the kitchen. It was ridiculous that he felt her absence when she was only a few dozen feet away.

He followed Daniel into the cozy parlour where Teddy and Hollis stood. Anticipation crackled in the air, and Beau found an expected hitch in his breath as he was hit with an overwhelming sense of longing. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, until Hollis held his out.

“I know that you weren’t expecting any of this,” Hollis said, “and you don’t owe me anything. But if you are welcome to it, perhaps we can shake hands?”

Beau held out his hand, and this time, knowing this man was his father, found it wasn’t enough. He moved in closer, motioning for an embrace. A hug from his father.

What started as a tentative embrace turned into something more. Comfort and longing mixed with each other—sensations he’d sought in the bottom of a whisky glass, or in late night negotiations chasing a business deal, or the satisfaction watching the bottom line of the company grow to earn even the most passing acknowledgment from Frank. But those memories were hollow. Right now, it felt as if Beau had spent a life time in a windowless room with only an oil lamp for light, and had just stepped out into the daylight for the first time.

And, like looking at the sun, it brought tears to his eyes.

He squeezed them shut, trying not to make an ass of himself when his heart was suddenly so full he thought he might burst.

“It’s all right, my boy,” he heard Hollis whisper in his ear. “God didn’t go through the trouble of giving men tears if they weren’t meant to fall from time to time.”

Something inside him broke apart at that gentleness. And for a moment or two, he held on and let those tears fall.

At last they broke the embrace with a gentle pat on the back, and soon the tears turned to laughter. Save for Teddy, who was treated to a bottle of root beer, whisky was poured and toasts were made.

“I guess you got a little more than just a stone house and a berry patch,” Daniel said as he took a seat on a chair. “Of course, I got a little more than just a headache from some rich stranger who was planning to sell my best sheep pasture without taking a look at the place.”

Beau took a sip of his whisky.

“You must have been thrilled to hear I was coming,” he said. “Trust me, I wasn’t thrilled to be here.” Until someone shot Frank da Silva and framed Beau for the crime.

A sliver of grief ran through Beau, and he shifted in his seat at the memory of the man who raised him as his own.

“Teddy,” Daniel said, “Why don’t you go see if your mum needs any help in the kitchen?”

Teddy, who had the sense of being dismissed, gave his father a pleading look to stay.

“I know,” his father said, answering his unvoiced question, “but we have some private things to talk about.”

“Is it about the letter?” the boy asked. “I know about that.”

Daniel and Hollis exchanged a look before returning his attention to Teddy.

“Why don’t you finish putting up the paper streamers in the dining room?” he said, clearly unwilling to discuss what was a sensitive topic in front of company. “That would be a big help. Just don’t let Miss Murray see.”

The second suggestion, which piqued Beau’s interest, seemed to sit better with Teddy, who stopped in front of Beau on his way out of the room.

“Can I call you uncle, then?”

The boy’s directness and the request took Beau a little aback. Not because of his question, but because of the word “uncle”. Jessica and Neil did not have children, and the title was a novel one to Beau.

“I suppose you can,” he said, sounding out the phrase several times to himself, trying it on like a new suit. And like one tailored for him, it fit perfectly. “Uncle Beau has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Teddy nodded, gave him a wide, toothy grin, then proceeded on his mission in the dining room.

“Are the streamers for Madeline’s birthday?” Beau asked.

“They are,” Hollis said. “Annie made her a cake. But it’s meant to be a surprise.”

Beau smiled to himself. First, at the Chandlers’ thoughtfulness, especially Annie’s. He’d been thinking of Madeline’s birthday from almost the moment she’d mentioned it to him. What present would be good enough for a woman like Madeline Murray? She didn’t seem to care for jewels. He’d bought far more expensive trinkets for women he didn’t care for, mostly because it was so easy to go to a jeweller and ask for something flashy. It was easy, it was expensive, but in the end, it was meaningless.

Of course, the book he’d boughten her was not an everyday gift, but he would buy her an entire library of precious volumes if he could. Maybe when this was over—when Dominic Ashe finally solved this case and he could go back to Saint John and get things to rights there—he would take Madeline to Boston or New York or even London, to the best book shops, and let her have her pick.

Something twisted. When this was over, Madeline Murray was going back to Everwell. Unless he could induce her to go to London, or Boston, or anywhere beyond her beloved rose gardens.

And the only way to do that was to marry her.

Beau smiled, thinking back to their encounter in her rose garden back in Everwell. He’d landed on his back, nearly breathless. Of course, he’d been rendered breathless from almost the moment he’d met her.

“Can we talk about Taylor’s letter?” Beau asked, idly swirling the amber liquid in his glass. “Was it about an offer from George’s College?”

Daniel exchanged a look with Hollis, then nodded.

“What you do with your property is your business. We didn’t want you influenced by us.”

“He came ’round to see me yesterday,” Beau said. “I told him I wasn’t selling.”

“Won’t that fella turn you in?” Hollis said, his brow furrowed with concern.

“We came to an agreement,” he said. Men like Taylor could be bought, and Beau could afford it. If Dominic solved the case, he could walk away and never worry about this ever again. “I’m not worried about him.”

“You seem confident,” Daniel said.

“Too confident,” Hollis repeated. “You must get that from your mother. There wasn’t much that scared her.”

A shadow passed over Hollis’ face, and Beau wanted to ask more about it, but this was not the time.

“I’ve handled men like him before more times than I can count,” he said. “I know what they want, and I’ve always managed to give it to them while still getting what I want.”

“How did he take it?” Daniel asked. “Word has it the college was offering him a bonus if he could secure both properties.”

“He wasn’t thrilled, but it’s my decision. I’m not inclined to be kind to the man, after what I saw of him when we first met.”

“Well,” Hollis said, “I suppose that’s a relief. I helped build this house with my father and his father, and I’m happy for Teddy to have it if he wants it. And I think your grandparents would be pleased to know you’re not going to give up The Grove.”

“What were they like?” Beau asked, genuinely curious. “Knowing Aunt Vee’s inclinations, as well as my mother’s, I have to say I can’t imagine them growing up here.”

“They were good people. Fair. And probably a little eccentric,” Hollis said with a far-away look in his eyes, as if he were catching memories and holding on. “I helped out around the property, seeing as they had daughters. Not that they weren’t put to work, because of course they were. But they were very private people. I always suspected they came from money, though. Your grandmother spoke with an accent. Not sure what kind—but it sounded like one of those Slavic tongues.”

Beau thought back to the book, and to some of the recipes he saw there. They were unusual to him, but he would return to it with fresh eyes.

“Were my mother and my aunt happy?”

“I think so,” he said. “Your mother, she was restless. It was probably hard for her. Emily sparkled. Once she found a fancy necklace of her mother’s and she snuck it out of the house and showed it to me. She was so excited. She imagined her mother was a princess—a runaway princess, living in the woods. And you know, I have to wonder about it. It was like nothing I’d ever seen.”

The idea of his mother wearing jewels didn’t surprise Beau in the least. Some of his clearest memories of her was her wearing her jewels. He got Hollis to describe it, but nothing caught in his memory. He would have to ask Aunt Vee about it when this was all over.

Beau asked Hollis more questions, but this time about Daniel’s mother, and about his family. The niece who lived in Avonford, that he hadn’t yet met.

Teddy bounded into the living room followed by Annie and Madeline.

“Supper is ready,” Annie announced, giving Beau a little wink.

Something was amiss. Maddy could feel it in her bones. It wasn’t a bad something, but a something nonetheless. She could tell by the twitchiness in Teddy’s body language. The way Annie, who was normally as calm as a soft summer morning, nearly lunged at her when she offered to take a basket of freshly sliced bread out to the dining room. And now, she saw a spark of something in Beau’s eyes that bordered on mischief.

The ease of the three men with each other brought a smile to Maddy’s face. She’d gone with Annie to give Beau the time and privacy to have conversations with Hollis and Daniel without her hovering about. Normally she should have been happy to have the break from him, having been her near constant companion for over a fortnight. But as she helped Annie in the kitchen, tossing salad greens and generally making conversation, she found herself distracted by Beau’s absence. It was utterly ridiculous, given he was under the same roof. But she found herself missing his presence. He somehow steadied her, filled her up while turning her world upside down at the same time.

“I’m starving,” Daniel said, rubbing his hands, signalling his hunger and eagerness for the feast Annie had been cooking. And it was a feast, as far as Maddy could tell. This was a family reunion of sorts. The Chandlers, reunited. A missing piece of the puzzle, now back into place.

Where did that leave her?

She wasn’t lonely—not entirely. Part of her had been lonely for so long the sensation had become familiar. She had her Everwell Spinsters, of course, and she did miss them. Her birthday was tomorrow, and if she were home, they would have had a little party for her. Rimple would have made a cake, and she would have been presented with a new book. And another year of her life would have come and gone. But tonight, and indeed, this entire adventure, was not about Maddy. It was about Beau, and it was about helping Everwell. Phillipa had promised her funds from this job to help build a new greenhouse. That was a present, that for years, Maddy could only dream about.

“Shall we?” Beau said, walking to Maddy and offering his arm, which felt so good. So right.

And she took it.

They walked down the short hallway to the dining room. Maddy’s breath caught in her throat as her heart filled with an emotion she was coming to recognize as joy.

The room was beautifully lit, sparkling in the warmth of a fading sun glinting from a single stained-glass window to the west. Garlands made from paper flowers in the shapes of peonies and cabbage roses were strung from the ceiling. It created a lush sort of fairy garden hanging above her.

She turned to Beau, about to gush about how wonderful it was for them to go through all this to make it special for him, when she spied a beautifully decorated chocolate cake sitting on a side board, and above it, on a sign that it looked like Teddy had made himself, read the words: HAPPY BIRTHDAY MISS MURRaY.

She blinked, and kept blinking, trying to keep the tears at bay. Maddy didn’t cry. She certainly never cried publicly.

“Beau told us about your birthday, and the cake your friends make for you,” Annie said. “I’m sorry you are missing your friends.”

“Thank you,” she said, turning to Annie and smiling through blurry eyes. “You didn’t have to go through all this trouble just for me.”

“Don’t you worry, Maddy,” she said, looking at Beau and smiling conspiratorially before turning back to her. “I get to decide what trouble I want to get into.”

“I think my sign is pretty good too,” Teddy pipped up. “Though I almost forgot the ‘a’. I hope you don’t mind.”

“It’s perfect,” she said. “Honestly, I have never seen anything so perfect in my life.”

“Well, that is somewhat disappointing,” Beau said, cocking an eyebrow and looking so devilishly handsome she wanted to kiss him right there. “I assumed the moment you first met me you’d already crossed that threshold.”

“Hey,” Daniel pipped up, “I think I got the looks in this family. Eh, Annie?”

“Well you got them both from me,” Hollis said, looking for all the world like a man at peace with himself.

“I think that is enough Chandler bravado for one evening,” Annie said. “Come and sit, before it gets cold.”

They all took their seats. The table was lavishly set, and Maddy was certain every bowl and plate in the house had been put on display just for her benefit. At her place setting, there was a small posy of wild rugosa roses in a small glass cup.

It was, compared even to the faded elegance of Everwell Manor, humble in size. But there was no less joy around that table. Beau sat beside her and all felt incredibly right. Plates were passed, toasts were made, and the cake was served. And though she would rather die than admit it to Rimple, Annie’s chocolate cake may have been the best she’d ever had.

Throughout the evening, she felt Beau staring at her, and a warm tingly sensation spread through her body. She yearned to reach under the table and brush her hand up against the hard muscle in his legs. They had only made love a few hours ago, but her body wanted more of his. She wanted the comfort of his warmth, the elixir of his touch, and the way his smile lit up her insides like nothing she’d ever experienced.

As the tea was poured, and the last of Annie’s dandelion wine was drunk, Maddy was content to listen to the stories around the table. Stories about how Daniel and Annie met, stories about Daniel’s mother, that Hollis told with the bittersweet melody of a man still missing the love of his life. And every once in a while, she looked up to see Beau smiling at her as if she was a brilliant shining light in the darkness. Part of her realized that maybe, just maybe, there was nothing she enjoyed more in the world than the way he looked at her. Nothing more wonderful than the way he made her feel.

Beautiful.

And as the laughter rose from the table at one of Daniel’s stories, somewhere in the corners of Maddy’s heart, a different sort of yearning took root.

The thought, impossible as it seemed, that there was a life to be found outside of Everwell.