here, please! You love me—how can you let me go?”
But let her go he had. “You must accept it,” he’d said.
Wasn’t it funny that those were the exact words Clive would utter to her from his deathbed many years later? You must accept it.
Robert Spivey’s family had managed to arrange a commission in the Royal Navy and he’d left Nottinghamshire without even saying goodbye to her. He had forced her to accept it.
Daisy was older and wiser now, and she was determined that she’d not merely accept these things in her life. She wouldn’t accept that an old bishop would tell her who and when she had to marry. She wouldn’t accept that one of the most important decisions of her life had been tainted with a fortune that followed her everywhere she went.
And then, the letter had come. It is with sadness and grave concern that I have received the news of your husband’s passing, he’d written. Long have I kept you in my heart, Daisy. I will not lose you to another man again...
He’d written that he was sailing soon, but that his commission in the Royal Navy would end this year, and at such time, he hoped she would welcome his call to her in London.
Daisy had been astounded. Heartened. How was it possible that after all these years, her love for Robert could burn so brightly? And yet, she could feel it, along with all the hope gurgling in her. Unfortunately, he did not say when he might come to London. What did this year mean? Tomorrow? In six months’ time? That would be too late for Daisy.
She had to give Robert time to reach her and thereby put an end to the madness around her. And the only way to do that was to escape London for a time.
She had discussed the letter and her predicament with her good friend, Lady Beckinsal, who had urged her to go, to give the poor man time to end his commission and come to London to save her before Bishop Craig forced her into an unhappy marriage. “If he comes so soon as the summer, simply tell your butler to ask if he’d like word sent to you. He will wait for your reply if he still esteems you,” she’d said with great assurance.
A knock on the coach ceiling from above startled Daisy from her rumination; Belinda opened the little hatch to the driver as Daisy sat up, wincing as her stays dug into her ribs once again.
“Milady, Auchenard just ahead,” the driver called down. The coach was slowing, turning right.
Daisy braced her arms against the wall of the coach and peered out the dusty window. It was so filthy she could scarcely see, but she could make out a tower above a high wall. The vegetation next to the road was so overgrown that she couldn’t see much else. There was no livestock, no cattle, no sheep—nothing but untended meadow and forest.
A few moments later, the coach shuddered to a stop. Ellis pushed himself up and crowded in next to Daisy, peering out the window. “Is this it, Mamma?”
“It is.”
The coach door swung open; Ellis kicked the step down and then practically leaped out of the coach with more vigor than Daisy had seen from him in days. She followed her son, shook out her skirts and put her hands to her back as she gazed at the structure before her.
Belinda stumbled out after her, knocking into Daisy and catching herself with one hand on her shoulder. “Oh dear,” she said as she, too, gazed up.
“Oh dear” was the kindest thing that might be said. The old hunting lodge was much larger than what Daisy had expected, really—it looked more like a medieval castle. The stone was dark and weathered, and ivy ran unchecked and wild over half of it. Long tendrils of it danced in the early-evening breeze. There were two towers anchoring the structure on either end. The windows—a few boarded—were dark and looked as if they hadn’t been cleaned in years. There were numerous chimneys, at least two of them crumbling, and there was no smoke rising from any of them. Auchenard seemed completely deserted.
“I thought a caretaker looked after it,” Daisy said, baffled. This had not been cared for in the least—if anything, it had been abandoned.
“Ah, there you are!” The front door, large and wooden and battered by weather, opened, and her late mother’s brother, Uncle Alfonso, strode toward Daisy as the other chaise and the wagons pulled in to the drive. His full head of gray hair was tied in a queue, and his tall, slender frame was clad in a manner she’d never seen—he’d shed his coat, rolled up his sleeves and was wearing a leather apron. “At last! I thought you’d never come!” he sang out, smiling. “Ellis, my boy, come and give your old uncle a hug.”
Mr. Rowley, the longtime Chatwick butler, and a slightly smaller version of Uncle Alfonso, appeared at the door. He was dressed like her uncle, but he was also covered in dust.
He bowed. “Milady.”
Uncle Alfonso and Rowley had come a fortnight ahead of Daisy and the rest to make the lodge inhabitable for them all. By the look of things, that had been a greater task than they’d all assumed.
“How very happy we are to see you both!” Daisy exclaimed. “It’s been such a dreadful journey, I despaired we’d arrive at all.”
“I had begun to worry,” Uncle Alfonso said as he bent to kiss Belinda’s cheek. “You must be exhausted. We’ll feed you well, but first come and stretch your legs and have a look at your Highland hunting lodge,” he said as he tousled Ellis’s hair. “It’s not as bad as it appears on first sight.”
Oh, but it was every inch as bad as it appeared at first sight.
The interior of the lodge was just as deteriorated as the outside. The floors were covered with a thick layer of dust; Alfonso’s and Rowley’s footfalls could be seen quite plainly across the hall. The air stank of stale chimneys and damp peat. The cut stones that formed the walls were so thick that it was quite cold inside. Daisy supposed that the hearths must be lit every day to keep the chill at bay. And it was dark, in part because broken windows had been covered, and in part because there were no candles.
The lodge was archaic. It was nothing like the sun-dappled rooms at Chatwick Hall with their damask draperies and Aubusson carpets, marble floors and French furnishings. It was nothing like the bright and open townhome in Mayfair.
And yet, in spite of its decaying appearance, Daisy could see the rustic charm...but it would take the work of an army to dig it out.
When they had completed the tour, Uncle Alfonso led them to what he said was the great room. The ceilings, held up by thick beams, soared high overhead. He pushed aside some heavy velvet drapes, kicking up a cloud of dust that set them all to sneezing. When Daisy opened her eyes, she was greeted with an unexpectedly beautiful view of a lake at the bottom of a gentle green slope. Mist curled up from its surface in the day’s gloaming, and the hills beyond created a backdrop of dark green, gold and purple. She smiled with delight.
“All that you see belongs to you, darling,” her uncle said.
“Really? All of it?”
“All of it,” he confirmed. “It’s lovely, isn’t it?”
“There is so much work to be done,” Belinda said, folding her arms. “I don’t know where you think you’ll find the labor for it.”
“If we can’t find the labor, we will do it ourselves,” Daisy said and turned to her uncle. “Was there not a caretaker after
