Lily George - A Rumored Engagement

“It’s highly unlikely that a young lady would set about burgling a vacant building in broad daylight. Have some sense, my good man.” There, perhaps now Paul would cease his constant babbling, if he knew he couldn’t draw Daniel out.

Paul looked up, scanning Daniel’s face. “All right, all right. I know when I am invading on precious turf. I shan’t say another word about the lovely Miss Siddons.”

They strolled the rest of the way to Goodwin Hall, as the late-summer sunshine gilded the hilltops. Daniel breathed deeply of the scent of the grass as it swayed in the wind. He stifled the feeling of dread that crept up his spine as he looked out over the moors. Soon they would be mowing the hay at Goodwin, and like his father and brother before him, he would be expected to supervise—or at least pretend an interest in the matter. He swallowed convulsively. He was no master, not really. In fact, he had run from any hint of obligation or duty since he was a lad. ’Twas mere fate that brought him back, not a desire to settle down. Some fellows might call it the hand of God that brought him here, or took him anywhere, for that matter. But he’d relinquished his faith long ago. And pretending he was a happy, fulfilled master merely brought on that insatiable thirst, the kind that would only be quelled with a few stout scotches.

He just glimpsed the Hall on the horizon, the sunlight turning it a bright shade of slate. The turrets that flanked the main hall were squat and modest compared to some of the grander homes of Derbyshire. David kept the Hall just as it should be while Daniel was off gallivanting on the high seas, and after Father’s death he hadn’t helped David as he should.

Now that David had passed, it fell to him to keep Goodwin Hall and adhere to family traditions and customs as he should have done long ago. And he was certainly not equal to the task, as much as he tried to conceal it.

“You’re awfully silent company today, Daniel. I suppose I shall see you tomorrow for dinner?” Paul paused at the park gates and leaned against the balustrade.

“Yes, of course. You’re always welcome, you know. Sorry I haven’t been much company. Got a lot on my mind....” Daniel forced what he hoped was a casual smile.

“Ah, chuck your cares in the bucket. Come back to London with me when I return next. We shall tear the Town apart, and no debutante’s reputation shall be safe.” Paul chuckled at his small joke with appreciation.

“I’d like nothing more,” Daniel rejoined with bravado. But even as he spoke the words, the memory of his boyhood promise flitted across his mind. He would never be free of it. Never. They were both pretending at a farce, Paul and he. Paul would never be free of the sorrow of his first love, try as he might to satisfy himself with light skirt after light skirt. And he himself would never be free of the unhappy shadows of his past, try as he might to drown them with scotch.

He bade goodbye to Paul at the gate and stood, for a long moment, looking at Goodwin Hall and the hills beyond, so green that they looked black. The way the hills rolled beyond the horizon was like the waves undulating on the sea. They called out to him in a way that the sea had once lured him, beckoning with promise.

If only he could feel that way about Goodwin Hall and all it represented. But it remained a prison, reminding him of what a shambles his life had been and become, beneath his swagger.

Alone at last, he allowed his mind to drift toward Susannah. Her auburn hair was as lovely as ever. He’d caught his breath when he saw the length of it tumble from beneath her bonnet. And those eyes—the sea had that same caste when a storm was brewing. She was as lovely as the day he’d become engaged to her. How long ago was that? Three years now?

She’d asked for his help once, and he’d promised her all he could offer—his name. They were no longer children then, and yet at that age, time seemed infinite, unending. There was no definite promise between them, just an agreement that she would marry him when he returned. And then he ran away to sea, to follow his dream. Together, they’d given each other the most precious gift they could think of at that time. Freedom. For Susannah, that meant freedom from her tyrannical uncle. And for him, it meant the freedom to forget his familial duties and run away from his dismal past.

The gift they’d given each other had proved hollow over the years. Here he was, back in Tansley, trying to ignore a home he hated. And here Susannah was, toiling away at building a poky little shop. Well, there was no repairing his own life, or changing his own wretched fate. But he could maybe make life easier for Susannah.

He clenched his jaw. As a matter of fact, he would find a way to help Susannah Siddons.

She was, after all, his betrothed. ’Twas the least a fiancé could do.

Chapter Two

Susannah’s new building, which the solicitor had described in such glowing terms, was not much better on the inside than on the outside. The three sisters had slept in the upstairs quarters, squeezed together on the humble mattresses. Susannah awoke with a stiff neck and sharp hunger pains gnawing at her belly. ’Twas time to assume control of her pitiful situation, no matter how difficult it was.

Careful not to disturb Nan and Becky, who still slept, she crept into her serviceable lilac gown and her sturdy boots. Then she descended the back staircase and struck out for the shops at the other end of the main road. Surely there was something to eat in one of the shops. She was famished.

The street was empty, and a hush had settled over the dewy moor-grass. Even her footsteps on the gravel path were silent, for the road was also damp with dew. She paused a moment, gazing up at the pale sun as it climbed over the rolling hills. Tansley was such a beautiful place. Was it this wild and picturesque when she was a girl here? If it was, she’d been too unobservant to note. They’d moved to Matlock when she was fifteen, and it had become home to her, not Tansley Village.

She turned and scanned the cluster of shops before her. A boot maker, a dry-goods store—a bakery. Oh, how lovely—a bakery. She darted forward and opened the door, causing the bell to swing merrily. She breathed deeply of the scents of flour and yeast. She hadn’t eaten a bite since luncheon yesterday. Hungrily, she devoured the case of sweets and breads with her eyes until a plump, rosy-cheeked woman with graying hair stepped up to the counter.

“Well, then? And what can I get for you today?” She smiled and dusted her hands on her apron, sending clouds of flour dust into the air.

“Oh, I’d love one of everything. It all looks so delicious.” Scones...muffins...biscuits... She heaved a sigh. “But my slender purse must dictate my purchase. So I shall take a loaf of the cinnamon bread and three of the scones, if you please.”

The baker chuckled and tucked the sweets into brown-paper wrapping, tying the packages with a bit of string. “Here, try this marble cake. I made it this morning and I cannot tell if it’s any good. You’d be doing me a favor if you gave your honest opinion.”

Was this charity? She shouldn’t have mentioned her lack of funds. She didn’t want to beg for food, but...the kindly baker pressed the warm slice into her outstretched hand. At this point, it would be beyond rude if she said no. So she took a small bite. Oh...it was delightful—chocolate and vanilla swirled together. She finished the rest in two large bites.

The baker laughed. “I suppose it passes your test.”

Susannah nodded, wiping the crumbs from her gloves. “By far the best I’ve had anywhere.”

The baker nodded. “Good to hear that I have most of the kingdom beat.” She handed the parcels over to Susannah. “Are you new to the village? You look a little familiar.”