Follow the Heart (38 page)

Christopher followed Andrew’s gaze.

At his friend’s sharp intake of breath, Andrew looked at him. “Do you recognize her?”

“Who?” Nora joined them.

“The woman . . . there, in green.”

“Oh, why, that’s Mrs. Headington. She was the Buchanans’ governess when Edith was a child.” Nora’s nose wrinkled. “And I cannot say much for her methods, given the results.”

“Yes. Ka—” Christopher gave Andrew a furtive glance. “I met Mrs. Headington on the steamer from New York. And I think I would prefer to avoid her if we can.”

Christopher communicated something to Nora with an intense expression, and she nodded. “I do believe I am ready for something to drink.” Nora hooked her hand through Christopher’s arm. “Shall we return to the refreshment court downstairs?”

Getting to the stairs necessitated walking past the section where Mrs. Headington and her companions now examined silver platters and plates.

Whispered conversation stopped Andrew at the top of the stairs.

“. . . betrothed to Viscount Thynne.”

“. . . heard she had a liaison with the gardener.”

“. . . he might marry her regardless.”

Andrew turned. A cluster of women huddled together like hens on a winter morning. He followed their line of sight—right to where Mrs. Headington and the women he’d supposed were her daughters stood. He watched for a long moment.

The tallest of the four younger women stood at an angle that allowed him to see her face. His stomach twisted and skin tingled.

Kate.

He was halfway to her before he remembered the agreement that sealed their fates. He could not speak to her. Could not be near her.

Turning, he almost plowed into Christopher and Nora. Both wore horrified expressions.

“I did not talk to her. You do not need to worry that I will compromise her further. I am leaving, immediately.” He lurched past Christopher, but his friend stopped him with a viselike grip on his arm.

“Wait. There’s something I need to tell you.”

C
HAPTER
T
WENTY-
S
EVEN

K
ate wondered when Mrs. Headington would realize she’d slipped away and send one of the constables to find her. She had not wanted to come to see the Great Exhibition, but her jailer—hostess—insisted. The press of thousands of people made Kate’s insides tremble and her skin crawl. The noise of brass bands and choirs, squalls of exhausted and bored children, and adults’ voices raised to be heard over all the rest, thrummed through her head in a sharp ache.

Mrs. Headington, enraptured by the cases of priceless jewels, had waved her hand with a grunt when Kate mentioned she needed to visit the ladies’ room—on the first level. The other three wicked wayward women seemed to understand Kate’s need for escape. They nodded as if to say they would keep Mrs. Headington occupied so she would not notice Kate’s disappearance.

Kate promised herself she would not stay away long—it wouldn’t be fair to the other wickeds if she did not help provide the same opportunity for each of them.

She hurried past the long queue of women waiting to enter the ladies’ room, past the giant locomotives and fancy carriages, across to the other side of the building and out through one of the doors on the south side.

The cool drizzle soothed her upturned face. Before her stretched the terraces leading to the Grand Center Walk through the gardens. She nodded to other walkers—most headed back inside and out of the misty drizzle—as she descended the steps to the lower terrace.

A sign explained that the Crystal Palace Gardens had been designed by Joseph Paxton in the Italianate and English styles. As Kate looked around her, she realized how wrong she’d been in calling Andrew’s style Italianate. The precise terraces, square flower beds, ornate fountains, statues and urns, and low, carved stone walls raised her tension rather than relieving it.

She sped her pace, hoping not all of the areas of the garden had been designed in this style. A few dozen yards farther down the path, past the large circular ponds with fountain features in them, she slowed again. The Italianate style softened. Flower beds took on rounder, softer shapes. Colors mingled, hue blending into hue. Trees were no longer cut into unnatural geometric shapes but had been trimmed to reveal their full beauty.

It reminded her forcibly of Andrew’s drawings for the gardens at Wakesdown, and she wondered if his name should be alongside Joseph Paxton’s on the plaque.

The rain began to soak through her shawl and into her dress. If she planned to relieve the other wickeds, she must hurry. But she needed to see the rest of the garden—at least what she could from the main promenade.

A man offered Kate his umbrella, but she declined with a smile. For all that it chilled her to the bone, the rain had a cleansing effect on her mind, clearing it as certainly as a river carried away the leaves that cluttered its surface in autumn.

But as she walked farther, her thoughts started jumbling again. She stopped and examined her surroundings. Here, the garden looked unkempt, overgrown, untended. She snorted, startling a young couple sharing an umbrella as they hurried back toward the building.

She should feel right at home in this part of the garden. Nature as it was meant to be surrounded her. Wild. Untouched. Free to grow its own direction at its own pace.

Seeking shelter under one of Hyde Park’s original ancient elm trees, Kate contemplated what she’d seen.

Too much attention, too much discipline, and a garden was unnatural, harsh.

Too much freedom, and it was chaotic.

With the correct blend of discipline and freedom came true beauty. In a garden and in a person. She closed her eyes and started to pray, filled with an understanding and peace she’d never known.

“Kate?”

She gripped the tree trunk behind her to keep from falling over. The voice seemed to answer her prayer. Slowly she opened her eyes.

Andrew stood several yards away on the path, the pole of an open black umbrella resting on his shoulder.

“I prayed you would come.”

He took two steps toward her. “I almost did not find you. I saw you upstairs, and I tried to leave, tried to honor your decision. But when I changed my mind and returned, you were gone.”

“Did you speak with Mrs. Headington?”

“No. I found one of the young women whom I’d seen with you, and she said you needed a breath of air.” He blinked, and a slow smile pulled the corners of his lips up in an expression that made Kate’s knees weak. “I knew then that I would find you in the gardens.”

“I understand now.”

He took a few more steps toward her, cutting the distance in half. “Understand what?”

“About gardens and discipline.” She shared her conclusions. “I think you and I started out as the two opposite styles, but through knowing each other, we have balanced out our natures. And God has used us to prune each other into the people He intended us to be.”

He took three more steps, then stopped. “Kate, if you still want to marry Lord Thynne, tell me now, and I will leave so that no one sees us together.”

Kate reached up under her chin and untied the ribbons of the straw bonnet. Its wide brim would prevent her from doing what she wanted most in the world to do. She pushed away from the tree, pulled off the bonnet, and met Andrew under the umbrella.

His free arm encircled her waist and pulled her close, and his lips claimed hers in a scorching kiss that threatened to consume Kate’s physical being until only her soul remained and melded with his.

Ending the kiss, Kate wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “I
am
a wicked, wicked wayward woman. And I cannot marry Stephen Brightwell, no matter how magnanimous he was to agree to marry me even after I’d proved I could never love him.”

“You, Kate, wicked? Never.”

She laughed. She would tell him all about Mrs. Headington later. For now, all that mattered was the two of them. She raised her head and locked her eyes with his. “I have learned over the past few weeks that it was not strength that led me to sacrifice my happiness and agree to marry Stephen. It was a lack of faith. I did not believe that God could give me joy
and
provide for my family. I thought that responsibility fell on me. But in learning how to pray—no, it’s more how to
listen
to God—I have come to see that God did not want me to come here to bear a burden never meant for me. He brought me here to give me more happiness than I could ever hope to deserve. He gave me you.”

“I love you, Katharine Dearing.”

“Kate. Please.
Katharine
Dearing was a woman who could not understand the difference between pride and obstinacy and who was blind to God’s gifts. Katharine Dearing was betrothed to a viscount.
Kate
Dearing loves you, Andrew Lawton.” She leaned in for another kiss, this one gentle and filled with healing for the months of longing and heartache and years of solitude and loneliness.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “
Kate
Dearing, I am not a wealthy man. And because I have broken my promise to your uncle, I might have difficulty finding work. But if you are willing to face an uncertain future with me, will you be my wife?”

She tilted her head and kissed him again. “I will be your wife, because I have faith that God will provide for our needs.”

They stood in an embrace a few moments longer, then Andrew pulled away, his arm still around her. “You are soaked through. We need to get you home and changed into warm, dry clothing. But first we need to find your brother.”

“Yes, I hoped to see Christopher and Nora today.” Especially now that she could share the most wonderful news with them.

Andrew led her back into the Crystal Palace, then closed the umbrella and returned it to the constable standing at the entrance. “Thank you for that, Jack.”

“My pleasure, Mr. Lawton. I see you found what you’d lost.” The constable inclined his head to Kate.

“A little damp, but yes. I found her. And I will never lose her again.”

Kate beamed at her fiancé—that word no longer filled her with dread—and took his arm. The noise and press of the crowds no longer bothered her. In fact, she rather appreciated the excuse to walk closer to Andrew’s side than propriety would normally have allowed for an unmarried couple.

He led her to the refreshment court, and they found Christopher and Nora sitting at a table with several strangers, all discussing what they’d seen so far and using their booklets to plan what to see next.

Nora closed her book and jumped up to hug Kate. “You are all wet. Come, we must get you back to Mrs. Headington’s house before you catch a chill.”

“I take it from the smiles on your faces that all went well?” Christopher stood and took his sister’s hands in his. “Will I soon be introducing Andrew to others as my brother-in-law?”

“As soon as possible would be my preference.” Kate slew her gaze at Andrew, and he grinned at her.

He flourished a bow. “Your wish is my command.”

Christopher let out a cowboy whoop that drew admonishing stares and amused laughter from bystanders. He hugged Kate, lifting her from the floor and swinging her around. “I am so happy for you, Sister. When I thought that by my marrying Nora, I had forced you into a decision that would make you miserable for the rest of your life, I was beside myself. Just as you say you’ve only ever wanted happiness for your younger siblings, I have only ever wanted happiness for my sisters. Especially you.”

Christopher released her and settled his hands on her shoulders. “And now, there is something you must know.” His brown eyes bore into hers, his demeanor shifting from jovial to serious. “I received a letter from Father the day before we left Manchester to come to the Exhibition.”

Kate trembled. She was about to learn the consequences of her decision to trust God and not marry Stephen.

“The land commission confirmed their original ruling and will not open up all the land in question for development. The railroad company is out of business.”

Kate’s heart sank. She’d brought her family to ruin—

“But before he even knew the verdict of the company’s appeal, Father had already made a decision. He has sold the house in Philadelphia. He, Maud, and the girls are moving to the farm in Harrisburg to start over. It will be difficult—building up the herds and breaking ground to plant. But you know Father. He prides himself on coming from a long line of self-made men. He . . .” Christopher pulled the letter out of his pocket and handed it to Kate. “Well, you read it.”

Kate had trouble breathing. She opened the letter and scanned the first two pages, reading the details of what Christopher had just told her. It wasn’t until she got to the final page that she found what he wanted her to read.

Tell your sister I was wrong in saying what I did, and that I beg her forgiveness. That I love her more than life itself and pray for her daily. I only hope this doesn’t come too late for her to find true happiness instead of forcing herself into a loveless marriage because of my greed and recklessness. I can only pray that I have not lost her love forever.

She couldn’t read the rest of the letter for the moisture welling in her eyes, and she handed it back to Christopher. “I will write to him tonight.”

Christopher squeezed her shoulders and broke into a wide smile. “The Dearing family will be all right, Kate. You’ll see.”

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Kate allowed Andrew to pull her into his arms. After a moment she pushed away. “Christopher, why didn’t you tell me this last night at dinner?”

His bottom lip pulled down to one side in a sheepish grimace. “Well . . . I had planned to meet Andrew here today. And I knew you would be here. And I hoped to be able to bring the two of you together—but I didn’t want this to influence your choice. If you knew about Father’s decision, Andrew would never have known that you chose him because you truly loved him enough to be willing to give up Lord Thynne’s fortune and the possibility of securing that money for the family.”