With Love, Louisa by Ashtyn Newbold
Chapter 25
Louisa held Jack’s hand as they walked through the gates of Haslington. She studied the signs of nervousness in his posture and expression. She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.
They hadn’t left an official calling card with the Warwicks. It shouldn’t have been necessary considering that they were all family. The walkway to the front doors was made golden by the afternoon sunlight. It filled Louisa’s chest with hope.
The butler let them in through the front doors. Making their way to the drawing room, Louisa sat beside Jack on the settee. After several minutes, Cassandra finally came into the room, followed by her mother.
“Jack.” Mrs. Warwick’s eyes rounded. Her lower lip quivered and she pressed a hand to her chest. Cassandra steadied her arm, casting her brother a look of concern. “Jack—your father…”
“I know he doesn’t wish to see me.” Jack stood, crossing the room to his mother. “But I wish to change that.” He took her other arm, guiding her to the sofa with Cassandra’s help. Mrs. Warwick seemed near to fainting at the sight of her son in the house.
“Where is he?” Louisa asked. “Where is your husband?”
“In the study.” Mrs. Warwick swallowed. “I do not wish to hear the two of you argue again.” A new flash of distress crossed her features. “And what happened to your face?”
Jack shook his head. “It does not matter.” He sat down beside his mother, exchanging a glance with Louisa from across the room. “I didn’t come to argue with Father.” He looked down at the floor. “I came to ask for his forgiveness. Louisa brought it to my attention that I have never asked him.” He paused. “I have never asked you either.”
Mrs. Warwick’s eyes flooded with tears. “I have nothing to forgive you for.”
“Because of my mistake, the family has suffered much. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
“There is a difference between accidents and mistakes.” Mrs. Warwick shook a finger at him. “I have told you this before. Mistakes are often deliberate in the moment, but regretted later. What happened the day of the hunt was an accident.” Mrs. Warwick clutched Jack’s arm, emphasizing her words. “An accident.”
Louisa watched the exchange, holding her breath.
“If it were up to me, you and your dear Louisa could come here every day.” Mrs. Warwick wiped a tear from her cheek. “You must forgive me for not arguing more with your father on the matter. I wish you had never let Benham Abbey and moved away from us.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m still glad I did. If I hadn’t become a tenant of that house then I never would have married Louisa.” His gaze traveled to her, a soft smile on his lips. Louisa’s heart skipped, and she was distracted enough to fail to notice the drawing room door as it opened again.
She had only seen him once, but she recalled his intimidating stature. Mr. Warwick, his greying hair slicked flat against his head, walked into the room. The aging hadn’t yet reached his eyebrows, leaving them dark and full like Jack’s. He froze near the settee, his eyes taking in the room and settling on his son.
Cassandra moved from her place by her mother, crossing the room to Louisa. She whispered as she passed, gesturing at the door. “We should leave them.”
Louisa nodded, casting one more concerned glance at Jack as they walked out the door. Louisa followed Cassandra through the hallway and all the way to the back door of the house. She seemed intent to escape the walls of the estate, her strides quick and determined as they stepped out onto the grass. Cassandra took a deep breath, turning to Louisa with alarm. “How did you manage to do it? How did you convince Jack to come here?”
“It was with great difficulty, I assure you.” Louisa clasped her hands together, squinting up at the many windows of the estate. She could hardly believe she would be mistress of such a house one day. Her thoughts and worries still lingered in the drawing room with Jack. “Do you think your father will forgive him? At least enough to welcome him back here more often?”
Cassandra hesitated, her pale brows drawing together above her thoughtful brown eyes. “I’m not certain. There are times I do wonder if my father regrets his harshness toward Jack. And there are times I think he does miss him. But they are both so stubborn.”
“Perhaps all it will take is Jack’s actions today. Asking for your father’s forgiveness is not a stubborn thing to do.”
“You’re right.” Cassandra exhaled, long and slow. Emotion flashed across her features. “It is my only hope that our family can be whole again. I don’t care what society thinks of us. I only care what we think of one another.”
Louisa let Cassandra’s words sink into her skin. That was all that mattered, wasn’t it? There was nothing that could not be endured, no outside forces that could break apart anything if it was bound from deep inside.
When Louisa looked up, she caught Cassandra watching her curiously. “Jack must truly love you.”
Louisa felt her face grow warm as doubt crept over her skin. She wanted to smile, to agree with Cassandra’s observation, but her tongue was tied. How could she know for certain that he did? Love was a mysterious thing, working in different ways with different hearts. Simply because Louisa loved Jack did not mean he loved her. Neither of them had ever spoken their feelings aloud, at least not in such plain terms. It was fine if Jack did not love her now, in that very moment. He could spend the years to come falling in love with her if that was what it took.
Though she hoped he loved her already.
When he had held her in his arms the night before, she had never felt more safe or comfortable. Jack made her feel like precious gold, meant to be cherished and collected, not a stone to be tossed from one place to another. He was so aware of his faults, yet so unaware of his strengths. He was surprisingly humble, kind, generous, and he made her laugh more heartily than anyone could. Unexpected tears sprung to her eyes, but she blinked them away.
Oh, how she hoped he loved her already. Because she had never loved anyone so much.
The summer breeze tossed her hair, and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I do know he loves your family, though he doesn’t know how to show it.”
Cassandra laughed. “That has always been Jack’s way. He struggles to bare his emotions, but I suspect he has a very soft heart.”
“He does.” Louisa’s own heart ached with longing. They had only been minutes apart, yet she was eager to see him again and discover if he had succeeded or not. She turned back toward the house, sending a prayer to the heavens.
“I’m asking you to forgive me.” Jack leaned his elbows on his knees as he held his father’s gaze. He hadn’t always found him intimidating—only for the past five years. His father had grown hard and cold, but with each passing moment, Jack saw hints that he was beginning to thaw. Jack had expressed his remorse many times before, but never with as much sincerity and emotion as he had just now. His father had never seen Jack cry, not even the day his uncle died. Jack had always kept himself composed in his father’s presence, but Louisa had taught him to be vulnerable.
He cleared his throat, wiping at the tear that hovered on the edge of his eyelid. “Please, Father. I know the burdens I have caused you cannot compare to what I have felt, but I ask that you give me the opportunity to move forward with you and with our family.” He paused, shaking his head. “My wife is the reason I’m here today. She helped me see that I needed to communicate with you, to tell you how very sorry I am and to ask for your forgiveness. She wishes to know you and to be free to visit this house. We both do.” Jack knew his relationship with his father wouldn’t be mended in an instant, but the fact that he was sitting with him on the sofa, Jack’s mother between them, gave him hope. He hadn’t yet demanded that Jack leave the premises.
His father rubbed at one side of his face, letting out a slow breath. He blinked as he looked down at his lap. The room fell silent, and Jack’s mother held a hand against her heart. When his father finally looked up again, his face was stoic. Jack had rarely seen any emotion besides anger from his father, but there might have been just a hint of something more spilling through the cracks of his facade. His father’s brow twinged as he blinked again. He nodded. “Very well. You may come here if you wish.” He turned away, fixing his gaze on the floor. He had always been a man of few words, but these were the first that had given Jack any measure of hope.
“Thank you, Father.” Jack smiled, the split in his lip stinging all over again.
His father glanced back as he stood. “I will not ask what happened to your face.” The exasperation in his father’s voice would have usually vexed him, but instead Jack laughed.
“I would not tell you even if you asked.”
One of his father’s eyebrows lifted, but he said nothing. “Where did Cassandra take that wife of yours?”
“I’m not certain.” Jack could hardly wait to tell Louisa of his success, no matter how small it was.
His mother sat forward, raising her eyebrows. “I wondered the same thing. She does seem to be a remarkable woman.” Her eyes welled with tears again. “I haven’t seen you so happy in a very long time.”
Jack hadn’t felt so happy in his entire life. He no longer had to be afraid that she would resent him, or hide from him, or refuse to be near him. His heart was hers, every last piece, whether she wanted it or not.
“Is dear Louisa just as happy as you are?” His mother asked.
Jack let out a sigh, rubbing his hands over his knees. He didn’t particularly enjoy speaking to his mother about matters such as this, but it was better than Cassandra, with all her wiggling eyebrows and speculation. “I—I’m not certain. I hope she is.”
His mother touched his hand, calling his gaze back to hers. “Does she know how much you love her?”
Jack hesitated, recalling the night he had first kissed her at the pianoforte. She had expressed her doubts to him then, and he had thought her mad for doubting his affection. “She should know. Surely she does.”
“Well, have you told her?” The gruff question came from his father, who still stood nearby, listening to the conversation.
Jack crossed his arms as the realization crashed over him. “No. I haven’t.”
“How can you expect her to know if you haven’t told her?” His mother shook her finger at him again. “You tell her this instant, or I will.”
He laughed, his stomach tugging with sudden nerves. He reminded himself that it didn’t matter if she loved him yet or not. If he loved her, which he did—far more than he could ever explain—she needed to know, without a single doubt.
He bid both his parents farewell, eager to find Louisa. Urgency flooded his limbs as he strode out the door to find his wife.
