Midnight's Budding Morrow by Carolyn Miller

Author:Carolyn Miller
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Kregel Publications
Published: 2022-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

James hastened away, wonder filling his heart. Who knew if Sarah would still be there when he returned, but the fact she’d talked to him, and let him touch her, had let him help her, was the most she’d permitted in days. Or ever. Regardless, it was a most promising start.

The undusted passage—clearly this section of the castle had not been deemed worthy of attention—concluded in a locked door. Where …? He scraped his fingers along the top of the doorframe and retrieved the key, unlocked the door, and hurried to the kitchen.

“Why, Mr. James!” Mrs. Copley slunk from the shadows, her smiling expression swiftly melding to approximate concern. “There has still been no word concerning Mrs. Langley. Your father wishes to send for the constable.”

“Mrs. Langley is safe. Please ring the bell to alert the others she is found.”

“Oh.” Curiosity—or was it disappointment?—flickered in her eyes. “Should I send for the doctor?”

“I don’t believe that will be necessary. You may tell Mrs. Broomhead that a hot bath should be drawn in Mrs. Langley’s room.”

“Of course, sir.”

Having no desire to alert Mrs. Copley to his movements—or the precise whereabouts of his wife—he waited until she left before completing his journey to the kitchen, where he requested Cook to prepare tea and have Evan deliver it immediately to the yellow drawing room.

“The yellow drawing room, sir? That hasn’t been used for years, not since your mother—” She halted, gaze dropping.

“I know,” he said quietly. “But I have a feeling that it will be in use again. Quickly, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And I’d thank you not to tell the others.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll just give Evan directions.”

She bobbed a flustered curtsy and he hurried back, her mention of his mother eliciting a troublesome mood. This wing containing the yellow drawing room had been his mother’s private quarters, providing space for the lady of the house to quietly amuse herself and withdraw from the more public rooms where the entertaining of encroaching visitors was demanded. More than once he remembered Mama retreating to her quarters, giving the excuse that she was previously engaged and could not attend to uninvited visitors, like the busybodies of the village or gossips like the Barnstaples. In actual fact, she’d been happily reading from her own private collection of books, or painting or sketching in the adjoining room, or simply playing with her cats.

Tightness filled his chest, regrets knotting with grief. He missed her so.

If only—

No. God had forgiven him. He needed to remember that. And God help him to protect the current Mrs. Langley, and somehow help her know he cared.

For he did care for Sarah. He appreciated her efforts with his father, with his family home. He might never love her, but he recognized her qualities enough to fuel his concern and action when the Broomhead woman had raised the alarm about her missing charge. Which now raised further concern about his wife, and regret that theirs was not a relationship where she could seek him out and talk.

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