The Ladies of Ivy Cottage Page 42

  She lowered her head, but he cupped her cheek and looked into her eyes. “Jane, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. There is no guarantee any other woman I might marry would be able to have children, and even if there were, I don’t want any other woman—I want you. Just as you are. How can I make you believe me? Do I need to retract my offer on the farm? Remain in partnership with my uncle?”

  “No.”

  “I can’t go back to being your farrier.” He shook his head. “You know what I think about the lot of stage and mail horses—that they are mistreated. I have no interest in being a farrier in a coaching inn ever again. At least I know the horses in my care were better treated because I was here, but long term? It’s not how I want to spend my life.”

  “I understand.” Jane crossed her arms. “But I own a coaching inn.”

  “I know you do. And you have a new farrier who will become more experienced and skilled in time. I am happy to help him—help you—any way I can. But day in and day out? No. I’ve washed my hands of racing, but I still want to raise and train horses that will be prized and well cared for. It’s what I love to do. What I am good at.”

  “I know it is.”

  “Jane, I know The Bell is important to you. You’ve gone through a lot to save it. But do you think you might one day be ready to hand the reins to another? To leave your little lodge and live elsewhere . . . with me?”

  Leave her lodge?

  Seeing her expression, he went on. “Please do not be offended. But John built this place for the two of you. This was your home together. Not ours. I would rather not begin our married life here. Are there not too many memories here, good and bad?”

  She could not disagree. Some good memories of John lingered there amid the sad ones of her miscarriages. Those she was more than ready to leave behind.

  Jane spread her hands. “But I can’t leave now. We have a whole schedule of improvements and services we’d planned to introduce over the coming months. If Patrick were staying, I think he and Colin could manage the place quite well without me. But Patrick and Hetty are buying a lodging house. Colin has taken on more office work now that his arithmetic has improved, but he is still young and inexperienced, and not . . . family. I would need to hand the reins to someone who had a personal interest in the place.”

  “You will not consider selling it?”

  “This from the man who convinced me not to sell it only a few months ago!”

  “I know. But things have changed here at The Bell and in Ivy Hill. Things have improved.”

  “There are still obstacles. The Fairmont delays have helped us. But eventually we will feel the brunt of that competition and . . .” She turned her face away and squeezed her eyes shut to hold back tears. She knew in her heart that Gabriel was a good man and she should just trust him. But still . . . Deep in her soul, emotions tumbled together, gnawing at her, confusing her. But one thing was suddenly clear: she had to sort out those feelings before she made any life-altering promises.

  She was still fighting for composure when he gently turned her back to face him. She opened her eyes and knew he saw the tears.

  His own eyes shone with compassion as he took her hand. “I know you’re afraid, Jane. But please, don’t be.”

  “Of course I am. I am terrified.” She pulled her hand from his. “I’m sorry, Gabriel. I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t lose another child and disappoint another man.”

  Chapter

  forty-five

  Jane spent a good deal of time praying alone after that, but she now looked forward to church on Sunday. Her soul was hungry for the comfort of Mr. Paley’s voice leading them in prayer, and the fellowship of her neighbors and friends.

  From her usual place beside Thora and Talbot, Jane noticed Gabriel pause to greet the McFarlands and Tall Ted near the back of the nave. He would have sat among the staff as he used to do, Jane saw, but elderly Mr. Lane entered with his cane, took Gabriel’s arm, and gestured him forward to sit with him a few rows farther up. Mr. Lane seemed more frail than when Jane had last seen him. No wonder he planned to give up his farm and go live with his daughter. It made Jane think of her own father. And miss him.

  Sitting in the Lane family pew, Gabriel Locke was not far from Jane. She glanced over at him several times during the service.

  He sat erect, paying attention, unlike her that morning. If she focused her hearing, she could pick out his low voice among those nearby, repeating the prayers or reciting a psalm. She liked his voice.

  She glanced the other way and found her mother-in-law watching her.

  Caught.

  Thora had no doubt noticed the direction of her gaze and the object of her straying attention.

  Jane gave her an apologetic little smile and returned her attention to the service. Tried to, at any rate. She wondered if it bothered Thora that Jane was showing interest in another man. Would she think her disloyal to John’s memory? She hoped not. After all, Thora had not remarried for many years after her own husband died.

  Beside her, Thora took her hand. Not in warning, Jane didn’t think, but rather in companionable affection. Jane leaned her shoulder against Thora’s and gently squeezed her fingers.

  With one last glance at Gabriel, she asked God to give her courage and direct her steps.

  The day before Rachel’s wedding, Mercy went up to her room after breakfast and found Alice waiting for her.

  “Hello, Alice. I have to help Miss Rachel prepare for her wedding soon, but when I get back, we shall spend the day together, and then I shall help you pack.”

  “Why do I have to go and live with that man?” Alice asked, and not for the first time.

  “You remember,” Mercy patiently replied. “Because he is going to be your father now.”

  Alice frowned. “I want to stay here with you.”

  Oh, Lord, please help me reassure her!

  “Alice, I have loved being your teacher. You will always be precious to me. But it’s all right. I am not going anywhere. I will still be right here in Ivy Cottage. And the Fairmont is not so far away. We will probably see each other about the village, and at church, if Mr. Drake attends, and perhaps we could visit each other from time to time. I know I would like that very much. Would you?”

  The girl nodded vigorously, and Mercy prayed she had not just made promises she would not be able to keep.

  She recalled Mr. Drake’s words: “I hope you and I might spend more time together, Miss Grove. And Alice, of course. I think it would help her to see that you and I are not enemies, but friends.” Mercy hoped Mr. Drake had been in earnest. It would certainly make the transition easier for Alice. Might it prolong the pain of loss for her? Probably. But for the little girl’s sake, she was willing to try.

  Miss Rachel Ashford and Sir Timothy Brockwell were married in St. Anne’s on a sunny December morning. Rachel wore a pale blush gown with silk embroidery, a matching veiled hat, and for going away, Lady Brockwell had given her a fur-trimmed cape.

  Throughout the ceremony, Rachel’s stomach tingled with joy. She felt warm and weightless, her heart soaring to realize the day she had dreamed about for so many years had come at last.

  After Mr. Paley pronounced them man and wife, prayed over them, and signed their marriage license, she and Timothy exited the church, hand in hand. The smile she had suppressed during the solemn service broke free, and Timothy returned it, warm affection shining in his eyes as he looked at her. Together they passed through a tunnel formed by friends and family bordering the churchyard path, applauding, wishing them well, and tossing seeds of blessings down upon them.

  Reaching the gate, Sir Timothy gave Rachel a hand up into the Brockwells’ barouche-landau, the top folded back so that everyone could watch the happy couple drive away. The carriage lurched into motion, starting on its way to Brockwell Court for the wedding breakfast. From behind, people called congratulations after them.

  Rachel turned on the bench seat to wave to the w
ell-wishers.

  Nicholas Ashford stood near the wall, with Miss Bingley on his left and Justina Brockwell on his right. Seeing his smile, the last remnants of guilt blew away like winter’s first snowflakes, and her heart felt full.

  The churchyard held all the people she loved. Even her parents were there in spirit—their graves and their memories. There was her sister, Ellen. Her friend Mercy, laying aside her worries and sadness for the day to wish her happy. The women of the Ladies Tea and Knitting Society. Mr. Basu and Mrs. Timmons. Matilda and the girls from the school. Mr. and Mrs. Paley, and so many others. She had even begun to warm to Lady Brockwell.

  And there in the middle of them all stood Jane, one hand atop the churchyard gate, watching them go. Across the distance, their gazes caught and held. The moment shimmered, floated in the air, time hanging suspended for one heartbeat. Two.

  Rachel was struck by the significance. Unlike all those times when Rachel was young, this time she and Timothy were side by side, riding away together, while Jane was left behind to watch them go. In Jane’s face, Rachel saw that the significance was not lost on her either. Was she truly happy for them? Then a smile broke across Jane’s dear face, and she waved to them heartily. Rachel waved back, her own smile stretching wide until her cheeks began to ache. Jane was happy for them, just as she’d said. Seeing it, Rachel’s joy doubled.

  Mr. Gabriel Locke came and stood beside Jane in the churchyard, and his presence reassured Rachel. Jane would not be alone for long if Mr. Locke had his way.

  Rachel waved until the barouche turned the corner and Jane and the others disappeared from view. Then she faced forward and settled closer to Timothy’s side.

  He grasped her gloved hand in his and gazed gently down at her.

  “All right?” he asked softly.

  “Better than all right. Almost perfect.”

  His brows rose. “Almost?”

  She tilted her head and pressed her lips to his, kissing handsome Timothy Brockwell as she had wanted to do for as long as she could remember.

  “Now everything is perfect.”

  He smiled and gave her another long kiss. Perfect, indeed.

  Jane realized Gabriel had quietly come to stand beside her as Rachel’s carriage turned the corner and slipped out of sight. Neither of them spoke for a moment. They stood together in companionable silence amid the jocularity of those around them.

  At length, Gabriel said simply, “I have the deed to Lane’s Farm.”

  Emotions—relief?—coursed through Jane, and she blinked back tears that seemed to spring out of nowhere lately.

  Before she could reply, he continued, “I’m not going anywhere, Jane. I love you, no matter what the future brings, and I will wait.”

  With a gentle squeeze of her hand, he was gone.

  The next steps were up to her.

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for returning with me to Ivy Hill. I hope you enjoyed your stay in this fictional village close to my heart, as well as learning more about circulating and subscription libraries in the days before public libraries. If you haven’t already done so, I invite you to visit talesfromivyhill.com for more about the series and its setting, including photos, character lists, maps, previews of upcoming books, and more.

  Now, just a few notes to share with you. As with my other novels, I have attempted to honor a favorite author or two with fond nods to her work. In this book, you will have noticed references to Pride and Prejudice and, of course, Persuasion by the wonderfully talented Jane Austen. I hope you enjoyed them.

  Speaking of talented, I am grateful for the insightful input of Cari Weber, Michelle Griep, and Anna Paulson. I also want to thank my agent, Wendy Lawton; my editors, Karen Schurrer and Raela Schoenherr; and the entire team at Bethany House Publishers, including Jennifer Parker, who designed the beautiful cover, and Beth Schoenherr, who made the dresses the models are wearing. Gratitude also goes to authors Dani Pettrey, Becky Wade, Karen Witemeyer, Katie Ganshert, Katie Cushman, and Jody Hedlund, who helped me brainstorm book mysteries and romantic situations during our writers’ retreats.

  Again, I want to acknowledge the real women behind the fictional Ladies Tea and Knitting Society: Beverly, Kristine, Judy, Sherri, Becky, Phyllis, Tiffany, Shari, Kelly, Julia, and Teresa. Were any of your namesakes’ shenanigans in this novel inspired by my last visit to your book club? I’ll never tell.

  Appreciation and fond memories also go to Katie Read of the Pewsey Vale Riding Centre in Wiltshire, England, for sharing the heartwarming story of her horse (a former racehorse) who trusts only one special farrier.

  And finally, I want to thank you, dear reader. Thank you for spending time with me in Ivy Hill, and learning to care for its residents as I do. I hope you will come again. I will meet you in the new circulating library, where we’ll sit down together over a cup of tea and talk about books and England—two of my favorite topics!

  Discussion Questions

  Were you familiar with subscription or circulating libraries—the forerunners of today’s public libraries—or was this new to you?

  Rachel Ashford struggles to accept charity from others—even from God. Can you relate to this at all? How easy or difficult is it for you to ask for help from others?

  Both Mercy Grove and Jane Bell yearn for children of their own, but feel they must surrender those dreams. Have you ever surrendered a dream? What did you learn?

  A few characters in the book experience the sometimes high cost of telling the truth (Mercy handing over Mary-Alicia’s letter, Jane revealing her past losses to a suitor, etc.). Have you ever paid a high price for being truthful? What are the risks and rewards of being honest?

  What did you think about brusque Thora Bell’s relationship with Hetty and Betsey? Did anything surprise or touch you?

  If you were transplanted to Ivy Hill in 1820, what kind of shop or business might you open?

  Do you belong to any kind of book club or group like the Ladies Tea and Knitting Society? If not, do you think you would like to?

  What are you looking forward to in Book 3 of the TALES FROM IVY HILL series? Do you have any predictions to offer?

  Julie Klassen loves all things Jane—Jane Eyre and Jane Austen. A graduate of the University of Illinois, Julie worked in publishing for sixteen years and now writes full time. Three of her books, The Silent Governess, The Girl in the Gatehouse, and The Maid of Fairbourne Hall, have won the Christy Award for Historical Romance. The Secret of Pembrooke Park was honored with the Minnesota Book Award for genre fiction. Julie has also won the Midwest Book Award and Christian Retailing’s BEST Award, and has been a finalist in the Romance Writers of America’s RITA Awards and ACFW’s Carol Awards. Julie and her husband have two sons and live in a suburb of St. Paul, Minnesota.

  For more information, visit www.julieklassen.com and www.talesfromivyhill.com.

  Books by Julie Klassen

  Lady of Milkweed Manor

  The Apothecary’s Daughter

  The Silent Governess

  The Girl in the Gatehouse

  The Maid of Fairbourne Hall

  The Tutor’s Daughter

  The Dancing Master

  The Secret of Pembrooke Park

  The Painter’s Daughter

  TALES FROM IVY HILL

  The Innkeeper of Ivy Hill

  The Ladies of Ivy Cottage

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  Website: www.bethanyhouse.com

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