A Heart Revealed (19 page)

It was not quite noon when Amber heard the sound of the gig on the drive in front of the cottage. She was out of the kitchen, where she was attempting to make soda bread by herself for the first time, and down the wide stone steps before Suzanne had pulled to a stop on the lane.

Suzanne turned to look at her from the seat of the gig and then removed a letter from the folds of her skirt. She held it out to Amber who took it, turned it over, and frowned at the name “Mr. Peters” scrawled across the front in her own script. She turned it again to find the wafer unbroken, then looked up at Suzanne in confusion. “You did not take this to Mr. Peters?”

Suzanne shook her head, but looked past Amber when she spoke. “I shall stay until your mother comes in September. I have written to my sisters, explaining the circumstance.”

Amber covered her mouth with her hand. Suzanne would stay? She would choose Amber over her family? The knowledge humbled Amber as nothing ever had before. “I am so sorry, Suzanne,” she said when the shock had passed.
And so grateful.

“As am I, Miss,” she said, clucking at the horse and flicking the reins to continue to the stable. Amber hurried up the steps, through the kitchen to the back door and down the path leading to the stable so she would be there in time to help Suzanne unhitch the horse, another task she had always avoided.
Were there any tasks I haven’t avoided?
she wondered. She felt wretched for being so happy Suzanne was staying, and more committed to do her share of the work about the cottage. Not only to relieve some of the burden, but also in hopes it would show how thankful she was for Suzanne’s kindness.

She was staying.

Thanks be to the heavens.

Chapter 19

September

Dearest Amber,

We have had such a lovely time in Suffolk. Lord Sunther is the most gracious of hosts, and we have fairly crossed the county ten times over enjoying the sights and history of the place while meeting friends and relations. The family is very well connected, which has only increased our excitement for this most advantageous match.

Because of our extended visit, I regret to inform you that we will not be able to come to Yorkshire. Your father has told me of the terrible winters there, and I fear that should I come so late in the season—for I could not be in readiness until late October, I am sure—I may very well be forced to stay longer than expected. I cannot take such a risk, not with Darra’s wedding plans. The ceremony shall be at Glenhouse—Lord Sunther’s estate—in April, when the year of mourning for his father is passed.

You have not spoken of your hair so I shall hope that it is continuing to grow back; I will be glad to see what takes place over the course of the winter. Your father assures me that when he met with Mr. Peters and the caretaker a few weeks ago everything was in order and you are doing well. It did my mother’s heart good to hear such a happy report. Mr. Peters is to arrange someone to sew you and your maid some winter clothes. He shall contact you when the arrangements are in place, and your father shall burden the expense.

Mind you remain attentive to your health and do not overexert yourself. I fear you may lose your fine manners without opportunity to exercise them but am glad the tone of your letters has improved.

I shall let you know when to expect me in the spring. Take care over this winter season and know that I am thinking fondly of you despite our distance from one another.

Your loving mother,

Lady Marchent

This time, Amber hurled the letter into the kitchen fireplace and then railed against her mother in a most unladylike display of fury and emotion for several minutes before turning to look at Suzanne, whose face was flushed, surely as much as Amber’s own.

Seeing her maid’s distress moved Amber past thoughts regarding her own situation and reminded her that Suzanne, who was quickly becoming the dearest friend Amber had ever had, was also affected by this change of course.

In the past months, Amber had pondered often on her family and their lack of thought and compassion toward her. According to her mother’s letter, Amber’s father had even come to Northallerton and not even stopped at the cottage to see how she fared. It was humiliating and hurtful to realize how truly abandoned she was by her family.

Suzanne’s situation, however, was entirely the opposite. Her family missed her, wanted her back, and asked in every letter they sent when they could expect her return. Her mother’s condition had been failing all summer. Consideration of Suzanne’s position calmed Amber’s rage much sooner than it would have even a month earlier. She had to do right by Suzanne; her own situation could be faced afterward.

“I shall write to Mr. Peters this instant and have him make arrangements for your travel to London.” Amber took a breath she hoped would calm her increasing panic. “If you leave for Northallerton in the morning and deliver my letter to Mr. Peters early, we could have the funds secured in time for Monday’s mail coach. I do believe travel is lighter this time of year, so perhaps it will not be too overcrowded.”

Suzanne did not respond directly, but stood from the table and looked out the window set near the kitchen door. The sky was dreary, but though there had been rain most of the week, today had only presented them with angry skies which had allowed Suzanne to go to town that morning and return without difficulty.

Amber watched Suzanne with a heavy heart. How would she get on without her? After Suzanne’s agreement to stay in July, Amber had successfully negotiated additional funds through letters exchanged with the solicitor so that Suzanne could send the same amount to her family that she had before and still have finances here in Yorkshire. Could Amber increase Suzanne’s wage even more as an inducement for her to stay? But that only reminded Amber of the comment she had made regarding servants only wanting money. She was embarrassed to have ever believed such a thing. A larger wage had not been Suzanne’s motivation, only a way for Amber to attempt to show her gratitude and keep Suzanne’s family from suffering.

“I shall go to town,” Suzanne said suddenly. Her face was flushed and her jaw was tight, but her eyes reflected sorrow she did not seem inclined to share.

It was not the third Wednesday of the month so there was no dance to use as her excuse, but sometimes Suzanne just needed to be apart. She would take long walks or even ride Sally as an excuse to leave the cottage. Mr. Dariloo had taught Suzanne to ride and being outside—or perhaps just out of Amber’s company—seemed to renew her spirits.

“Shall you stay at the vicarage, then?” Amber asked. Suzanne had done so four times since that first overnight in July, either after the Wednesday dance, or when members of the congregation had invited her to dinner. The two women did not talk about Suzanne’s friendships with people in town but Amber knew Suzanne had become a part of the community, at least as much as she could living so far out of town and protecting so many secrets about her employer. The irony that Amber’s maid could participate in her own class of society, while Amber remained hidden from hers, did not escape her. Suzanne had so much more in her life than Amber did.

“The Clawsons have extended an open invitation to stay with them at any time,” Suzanne said. “I shall return tomorrow afternoon.”

“Let me write a letter to Mr. Peters before you go, then.”

Amber was grateful she had applied herself better to the tasks about the cottage. She could bake soda bread on her own now, and make all manner of roasted vegetables and soups. She could care for the chickens and horse. She still avoided the milk cow as it was filthy, and Suzanne did not mind caring for that animal as much. They hired out the laundry to a washerwoman in Romanby, but Amber could make beds, place fires, sweep floors, clean pots, and fetch water. She was more assured than before of her ability to care for herself, but her heart was heavy at the prospect, and heavier still at the thought of how eager Suzanne must be to leave.

Amber wrote the letter to Mr. Peters and then helped hitch Sally to the gig. She did not remain to watch Suzanne disappear down the lane and instead returned inside and exchanged the lacey mobcap she wore at all times for the knitted cap Suzanne had made her the week before. Thus far Amber had only worn the knitted cap at night as it was not the least bit attractive, but now she was alone and there was no reason not to enjoy her own comfort. The cap fit tightly against Amber’s head and helped keep her warm, something that was becoming increasingly difficult as she was almost without any hair at all and the season was sharply cooling.

The new growth of hair that had given her so much hope in July had fallen away in August. There were some fuzzy wisps on the left side of her head and her right eyebrow was nearly grown back, but she was not inclined to give either development much credibility. Rather than hoping for deliverance from her affliction, she found herself feeling the need to find a way to accept it. She had hoped that after her mother’s visit she could return to Hampton Grove and find a place within her family again. It was difficult to accept that would not be the case. Would it ever be?

Amber spent the evening beside the kitchen fire reading
A Midsummer’s Night Dream
—the library was well stocked with several familiar collections—and she was slowly making her way through literature she had once only attended as a topic of conversation. Now she read them from a different perspective of wanting to better understand their contents, context, and acclaim.

She tried not to think of the howling winds outside the window or how she would cope when winter would set in and the weather became more severe. She would have to find a way to get supplies from town. Suzanne interacted with Mr. Dariloo when he made his visits—Amber had not seen him since her arrival—and she did not know if he would be willing to fetch foodstuffs and supplies. Perhaps she would have to hire a servant, but how could she expect anyone to replace Suzanne?

When she finally took a candle to her room and curled up beneath the layers of quilts on her bed, she allowed herself to feel the day’s despair. Why had her father not stopped at the cottage when he’d come to Northallerton? He would have passed the road leading to Step Cottage on both his arrival and departure, but he had not stopped in at all? What had she done to deserve such spurning from her family? How would she cope without Suzanne?

Suzanne returned to the cottage late the next afternoon just as Amber was placing the pot of water, chicken bones tied in cheesecloth, and potatoes in the coals for soup. Amber looked up from the hearth to see Suzanne set the unopened letter addressed to Mr. Peters on the table.

“Suzanne?” Amber said with regret even as warmth filled her chest. She stood and wiped her hands on her apron. She’d sewn it herself a few weeks earlier so as to protect her dresses, adding a flounce to the bottom. Though it was completely impracticable to have done so, the weight of the flounce helped the fabric lay better and gave it a feminine touch. “You should return to London. You have already stayed too long.”

“I have made my decision,” Suzanne said, moving to the fire to stare into the flames and hold her hands to the heat.

Amber watched her for several moments, her heart heavy for so many reasons, some of which made her feel horribly selfish and unkind. “But your mother . . .”

“Mama passed on three weeks ago, Miss.” Suzanne said it so quietly that Amber nearly did not hear it over the crackling of the fire.

“What?” she asked, certain she had misheard.

Suzanne glanced at her quickly, then stepped closer to the fire. “She was very ill when I left,” she said, unable to hide the regret in her tone. “And, as you know, my sisters had informed me of her increasing frailness throughout the summer. It was not as much of a surprise as it might have been. She passed away peacefully with my sisters and their families around her, for that I’m grateful. By the time I received word, she was already interred.”

“Three weeks ago?”
And you did not tell me?
Amber added in her mind. While she awaited Suzanne’s confirmation, she was reminded of an evening when Suzanne had returned from town complaining of a headache. She had taken the rest of the evening in her room and remained out of sorts for a few days following. Amber had feared she was ill, but Suzanne stated she was simply not sleeping well and in time returned to her usual self, which was naturally subdued. Though they worked side-by-side and Amber dared feel they shared genuine care for one another, they had not lost all distinction of rank. Suzanne did not confide in her mistress.

“I did not tell you for fear you would expect me to stay now that Mama’s care was not a reason to return.” She began removing the pins securing her bonnet. In the process she met Amber’s eyes. “Or perhaps some part of me knew that Lady Marchent would not come and I feared for you to be alone.”