The Healing Heart by Isabella Thorne

Author:Isabella Thorne [Thorne, Isabella]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-03-02T16:00:00+00:00

11

M ercy paid a visit to Mrs. Hardcastle near the end of the week.

“My goodness, what has become of you?” Cordelia asked as soon as Mercy entered Hardcastle House to greet her old friend.

Mercy looked down at her gown, even spun around, as she looked for some flaw upon her person. None could be found.

“I meant that coy smile upon your face and the fact that you have already come to town several times this month! That is more than we like to get in a year before that General arrived in town.”

“I am sure I do not know what you are talking about,” Mercy attempted to lie and make light of the situation, but her grin gave her away.

“You cannot fool me, child.” Cordelia grinned as she tucked her arm through the younger woman’s and led her back out the door so that they might walk together toward the teahouse. “I know everything that goes on in Nettlefold, Upper and Lower. I can tell you this, that contraption that you and Mr. Brassey configured has got the town abuzz. The blacksmith is thinking to ask you if he can make them available for sale to others with similar hindrances.”

“Of course he might!” Mercy exclaimed. “He is so very skilled and his wife was very helpful to line the inside with a cushion. She does such fine leatherwork.”

“Yes, well do not ask that one to sew a fine silk seam.”

Mercy laughed at that. “I know, I have heard the complaints from her sister, but Phoebe does seem to handle leather well, and with that, I am sure the pair could make a go of it.”

“Well, bless my boots,” Cordelia exclaimed, “then it worked?”

“Swimmingly!” Mercy confirmed. “Better than even I expected. We have been out to ride nearly every day and he has not fallen even once.”

“Every day, you say…” Mrs. Hardcastle’s keen mind lit on the detail and she leaned in for more.

“Cordelia, you ought not to pry,” Mercy pretended to scold but it could not be done.

“Pry? Me?” Cordelia looked abashed. “I have been pressing you to meet new people for years. I have begged and pleaded and coaxed and scolded… to no avail. Now I find out that you have been spending time with a gentleman, a very handsome one at that, nearly every day and my sweet young friend has not said a word about it to me.”

“It is not like that,” Mercy protested. “He is a friend of my brothers.”

“Sounds more like the General is a friend of yours,” Cordelia corrected.

“Fine,” Mercy submitted to the undeniable, “I suppose I should call him my friend as well, but it is not what you think.”

“It is exactly what I think, my little dove.” Cordelia tweaked Mercy’s nose and put an arm around her shoulder like a mother might her daughter. Mercy leaned into the woman who had always been her rock. The pair had been through a very similar trauma and it was Cordelia’s support and advice that had seen Mercy through her darkest days.

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