her lip and looked up at the sky with such longing in her eyes that Zoe’s heart twisted.
Zoe suspected Lady Julia was refusing because of some kind of social stricture. Perhaps one that said a lady couldn’t aspire to be more than a drawing-room ornament. “Wouldn’t you like to touch the clouds?”
“You are teasing me, Miss Gifford. Clouds are just water droplets in the sky. If I tried to touch one, my hand would go right through.” She gave a graceful smile. Mother would approve of it, Zoe thought—it was the sort of smile that would never add a wrinkle to a lady’s brow.
“Now, I promised you a tour,” Lady Julia said quickly. She pointed toward the edifice that was Brideswell, a square building of beige stone, paned windows and ironwork; with towers and spires that made it look like a castle. Zoe knew the house contained forty major rooms on the ground and first floors, along with eighty so-called lesser rooms. Gold gates were set in the outer wall, and inside them were oak doors with handles as big as her arm.
“The house itself was built between 1560 and 1603, during the reign of Elizabeth I,” Julia said, “though it’s been added to many, many times over the years. The east wing was added in the late seventeenth century and the west wing is Georgian. Unfortunately, that made it into a bit of a dog’s breakfast. It’s why the corridors inside are an absolute maze. I shall show you the chapel later—Father built it for Mama shortly after their wedding, and it is my favorite place of the whole estate. Down there—” Lady Julia nodded toward ornate buildings made of glass “—are the greenhouses. Though the flowers within are not quite as spectacular as they were yesterday.”
“You know about Sebastian’s message.”
They cantered along a gravel path that wound toward large evergreen hedges, sculpted into spheres and rectangles and columns.
“The whole house does now,” Julia said.
“Is your grandmother furious?”
Julia’s brow rose as if she hadn’t expected the question. “Grandmama will surprise you, Zoe.”
“Do you mean take me by surprise? Jump out and get me with her cane?”
Lady Julia—Julia—giggled. “I mean Grandmama is very, very practical. Now, Miss Gifford, do you want to gallop? We’ll go down past the lake, cross the bridge at the stream then take the higher trail into the woods.”
Julia amazed Zoe—the talented horsewoman could take jumps in a side saddle that she didn’t dare attempt. Julia was charming, but there were moments as they cantered along when Julia’s mouth turned grim and her eyes looked haunted.
She looked like a woman in grief. Was it over her younger brother? Mother had learned more details from the dowager. William Hazelton had died of the Spanish flu at fifteen. It would have been after the duke returned, scarred and wounded, when war was done and everyone thought the worst was over.
She remembered the day the telegram had come about Billy. Up until then, the War had been a distant thing, about loss and sacrifice, but not for her. For her it was about dances with young officers in uniform, about passionate kisses with passionate men who were pressed for time and eager to go all the way before they shipped out. A sensible girl always said no—though the girls hadn’t really understood they might never see their men again.
She’d never dreamed she wouldn’t see Billy again.
“Zoe, are you all right?”
Julia’s voice, filled with worry, snapped Zoe back to where she was. “I was just thinking about my brother,” Zoe said. But no amount of thinking would bring him back. “Let’s gallop again,” she called to Julia, and she spurred her horse to run. She leaned along her horse’s neck like a jockey, tearing along the gravel path that encircled the house. She laughed with the exhilaration, even if she didn’t really feel joy.
When she reined in on the long front drive that led to the house, Julia caught up.
“Your hat hasn’t moved, Julia,” Zoe said. “If I’d worn one, it would have sailed into the lake by now.”
Julia fixed the veil. “Oh, it’s practically nailed to my head with pins.”
From there, they had a clear view of Brideswell; of the enormous house that had stood there for over three hundred years. Her father would have been so proud of her marriage—but if he had been living, she wouldn’t have to marry to save Mother from scandal or prison. “You have a beautiful home.”
Julia shook her head. “It’s not my home—not anymore. Now it is a house in which I stay because I have not yet married and taken over management of my husband’s house.”
It was the first time Julia had sounded bitter, had sounded like anything other than a perfect lady. “Of course it’s your home,” Zoe said. “You grew up here.”
“Eventually another woman will rule the house, and she may not wish to have me under her roof. She will want to give preference to her own family. Sometimes spinsters live on the estate—if there’s a spare cottage that doesn’t cost much to run. Whoever Nigel marries will have more rights to a home on the estate than I would.”
“A woman who is only here by marriage would have more rights than you? That’s shockingly unfair. But you’ll have an inheritance—”
“Very little. I do have a dowry, which is only if I marry.”
Zoe could always buy her own house. Never had she really understood what power that gave her until now. “Then you must marry.”
The shadow darkened Julia’s eyes. “I do not think that’s possible. My fiancé, Anthony, was killed at the Somme. It is years ago now, but the loss...has not gone away. I do not think I could ever fall in love again. My mother and grandmother think me foolish, but I cannot marry without love.”
“My fiancé was killed in a plane crash. He was lost over the Atlantic Ocean. I do understand what you mean. I can’t—” But of course, she couldn’t tell Julia she understood it was impossible to fall in love again—Julia thought she loved Sebastian.
Women did survive—they did get over loss. Zoe knew it was possible. Just not for her. But it had to be so for Julia.
“I think you can open your heart again,” she said, making it sound like the gospel truth. “I did, after all. I met your brother Sebastian.”
“I do not think it will be that way for me.”
“Julia, do you do things for fun?”
“I have not felt very much like having fun.”
Zoe would not have survived losing Richmond at all if she hadn’t at least grabbed hold of life, rather than lock herself away to mourn.
Julia deserved to be happy. And after Zoe and Sebastian divorced, Julia would not listen to her scandalous former sister-in-law. If she wished to help Julia, she must do it now. “After your Women’s Institute meeting, Julia, we are going to drive down to London. It’s time you begin to have fun again.”
“I don’t think I could.”
“You can. Do you think the man who loved you would want to see you wither away in sorrow? The
