Chapter 35

S taring at the embroidery hoop on her lap, Angelica tied off her string. Again. Wrapping the thread around one finger, she rubbed it against her thumb, tangling it up until it created a thick enough knot to keep it from sliding through the fabric. Such a thing ought to be simple, yet the last several attempts had ended with tiny knots that popped through the weave of the fabric.

But even when the thread was ready, Angelica just stared at the white expanse, her needle hovering where it ought to go. With a sigh, she forced herself to start the next line, each stitch adding to the tapestry of color.

“What is that?” asked Charity, staring out the inn window and pointing at the people gathering in the village square. Setting aside his book, Thomas rose to his feet and joined her, his hand resting at her back as Biddie wandered over to join them, reaching up to her mama.

“The Holly Man! I had entirely forgotten about him,” said Thomas with a smile. “A villager is asked each year, and they cover him in their Christmas greenery. He’s supposed to be an impish spirit or something of the sort.”

But Angelica’s thoughts drifted from their quiet conversation. For all that this was a coaching inn, with the patrons out enjoying the festivities and no carriages passing through, the building was mostly silent (far more so than what one usually found at Stoneleigh Cottage). Only their family occupied the guest parlor, the fireplace happily burning away as Thomas and his wife watched the goings-on outside, pointing out everything to Biddie, who clapped her hands and laughed.

Some part of her wanted to see for herself, but Angelica couldn’t muster the strength to stand. Even moving the needle up and down took tremendous effort, and she was of half a mind to set it aside; though Angelica was not one for a midday sleep, she was tempted to ask Charity if she might lie down for a half hour. No doubt even a little rest would do her a world of good.

“I know—” Thomas’s voice spoke right beside her, appearing from nowhere, and Angelica jerked, nearly stabbing herself with the needle. His eyes widened. Rather than tempting fate, she pinned it to the fabric and set the embroidery hoop aside.

Clearing his throat, Thomas shifted in his reclaimed seat with a sheepish grin. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“I was lost in thought,” she murmured.

“I see.” Her brother watched her in a manner that would normally have her fidgeting, but she merely watched him back.

“I know we are still on rather uncertain footing, you and I,” he said, drumming his fingers against the arm of his chair. “But I cannot sit here watching you pine for Mr. Knight and remain silent—even if it makes you fly into a rage again. I beg you to speak to him.”

Angelica’s brows furrowed, and it took a moment before she recalled what he was referring to, for though it had made a significant impression on her mind then, too much had happened since the village’s New Year’s Eve party for her to pay it much heed.

“I wasn’t angry with the meddling as much as I was angry that you were attempting to do so without knowing a thing about me,” she replied with a frown, but then amended, “And I had already received a lecture from Mama about Mr. Knight not long before that. After years of my family tossing me at any bachelor who dares to cross my path, it is a tender subject for me.”

“And I do not mean to stick my nose into your business or harangue you about it, as they do,” said Thomas. “However, I feel as though you are making a mistake. It is clear that you care for him.”

Try as she might, Angelica couldn’t stop her shoulders from sagging. Thomas’s tone was so gentle and held such a ring of genuine concern that it was impossible to take offense when he’d spent the past several days supporting her as no one else in the family was willing to do. This was the brother she remembered.

“I hardly know Mr. Knight, yet I feel as though I am losing a part of myself,” she whispered, her eyes fixed on the wall opposite, unseeing.

“I know that feeling well,” said Charity, coming over to slip into the seat beside her husband. Her hand slid through his arm with ease, settling the two of them snugly together.

“But can you not write to the gentleman?” asked Thomas. “If you are worried about propriety, you can wrap them up in letters to us, and we will mail them from London. No one in Haydon will be the wiser.”

Charity’s lips pulled into a wistful smile. “Our friends did the same for us, and we would gladly do so for you.”

Glancing at his bride, Thomas’s expression softened, his eyes holding hers. “Courtship by post isn’t an easy way to go about things, but it is wonderful as well. Even with her at my side, I cherish and often read the sweet words she sent me.”

Angelica’s heart cracked as the pair sat there, their attention fixed entirely on the other as though the world around them was naught but an unimportant detail. Yet when Biddie wandered to them, her father eagerly snatched her up, settling the child on his lap, though she attempted to wriggle into the spot between her parents.

“That is your mother’s seat, and I shan’t allow a usurper to steal it away,” he said in a menacing voice as he proceeded to tickle her sides. Biddie squealed and arched her back, trying to pull his hands away whilst also drawing closer to ensure that she was within reach for another barrage.

“Writing him isn’t the trouble,” said Angelica, her heart sinking. “We have discussed it and decided that it was best to part ways.”

Charity’s brows rose at that. “You don’t wish to court him?”

“I don’t know what I wish anymore.”

“So, he was the one to end things?” pressed Charity.

Angelica shook her head. “I will not allow this scandal to taint his family. The Callaghans have hurt enough people already. Besides, his parents are set against the match, and I cannot bear to sacrifice his family’s happiness for my own.”

“Nonsense. Mr. Knight is a grown man. The choice is his,” said Thomas.

“And the gossip will fade,” added Charity. “Or frankly, I doubt it will be much of an issue in Newcastle.”

“So, you would rather I cast aside any other consideration and just do as my heart tells me?” asked Angelica with a scoff. “That has not gone well for our family—”

“It did for us,” said Thomas, nudging his wife with his shoulder. But releasing her, he leaned forward, his eyes holding Angelica’s. “I know you are afraid of being like our parents and Guinevere and all the rest, but you are forgetting one important thing, Angelica—you are not as selfish as they are. Never have been. It isn’t in your nature to cast aside others’ feelings, and I am more worried about you sacrificing too much to please others. I want to see you happy.”

Angelica drew in a shuddering breath, her shoulders drooping as she stared at the floorboards. Biddie wriggled away from her parents, moving to her aunt’s side and wrapping herself around Angelica’s knees.

“Anja sad?” she asked, her little brows pulled together. And as much as her heart longed to cry, a faint smile crossed Angelica’s lips at the way Biddie reinvented the name to fit her limited speaking abilities. Lifting the girl onto her lap, she reveled in the little kisses Biddie placed on her cheeks, forehead, and even her eyes (which drew a genuine chuckle from her sad soul).

“I am going to miss you all,” she whispered.

“This isn’t farewell,” said Charity.

“We will each be writing to you weekly at the very least, and you simply need to choose a date and I will arrange for you to come to London,” added Thomas.

“I would love that,” said Angelica.

A knock on the door drew her brother’s attention, and he rose from his seat to grab the handle.

“We will show you all the sights,” added Charity. “And perhaps—”

But whatever she was going to say vanished when the door opened to reveal Mr. Knight on the threshold.

“We have something important to discuss, Miss Callaghan,” he said.

*

Every eye in the room fixed on him. Including Biddie’s, though her attention quickly shifted as she wriggled from her aunt’s arms to explore the parlor. Julian hardly noticed anything but Miss Callaghan, who watched him with wide eyes, her posture rigid as though ready to flee.

A low rumble snapped Julian’s focus to the strapping gentleman standing with his hand on the door. Mr. Thomas Callaghan watched him carefully as he gave a considering hum, weighing Julian with the sort of challenge that only a doting brother could. Though Mr. Callaghan said not a word, Julian felt the depth of the fellow’s concern and lifted his chin, daring to meet that hard gaze with a promise: he wasn’t going to harm Miss Callaghan.

Mr. Callaghan’s posture relaxed as he called to his wife, who scooped up their daughter. In a trice, the trio slid past Julian, and Mrs. Callaghan gave him a gleeful look as Biddie waved when they passed.

“We’ll be down in the main room,” said Mr. Callaghan, glancing between the pair.

And Miss Callaghan still hadn’t moved.