Leave a Widow Wanting More by Charlie Lane

Chapter 29

Henry galloped away from Cavendish Manor for, perhaps, a half mile. He cantered another quarter mile before slowing to a trot. Burke whinnied in confusion, used as he was to having his head for the first many miles to London. But Henry’s heart was a stone, weighing him down, slowing his pace. Gulliver’s emitted a dangerous heat from the pack beside him. He couldn’t help but think of it, and when he thought of it, he thought of Sarah, then of all he left in his wake back home.

Home.

Never had the word held more allure.

The furious cadence of galloping hooves rushed up behind Henry. He recognized the rider. “John!” he yelled as the horseman flew past. Why was his footman riding like a bat out of hell on one of his horses? “John!” Henry’s heart galloped in time to the horse’s tread and stuttered to a stop as John slowed the animal and circled back around. “What’s going on?”

“It’s Miss Pansy, my lord. She’s run off.”

Was his hearing going? “Come again, John? I think I misheard you.”

“Miss Pansy, my lord. She’s disappeared.” The man didn’t have to yell. If his hearing was going, it wasn’t gone yet.

Henry waved away the minor irritation. “Where to?”

“We don’t know. I’m off to look at Trottiscliffe. Miss Ada and Miss Nora and Master James are all out looking. Gerald, too.”

They had the situation well in hand, then. He could continue on to London. Pansy was a small bit of a girl, after all; she couldn’t have gone that far on her own.

Zeus, she was small. What if she tripped and turned an ankle? What if she ran into a wild boar? What if any other number of calamities happened to her, and he wasn’t there to protect her?

His heart would break.

But wasn’t that why he stayed away? To protect his heart should those he loved most leave this world without warning? Better not to have loved and lost. He’d learned that the hard way.

Utter shite. Drivel. There he sat, supposedly the most revered scholar in all of England, and really, he was a knob cock, a complete beef-wit. How could distance soften a blow like the loss of a child? Would it really hurt less if one of them died while he traveled far from home, protecting his heart?

“Not a fucking bit less,” he muttered.

“Excuse me, my lord?” John eyed him warily. “I need to be about finding Miss Pansy.”

“Of course! Go!”

John careened down the road.

Pansy was lost. If she needed him and he wasn’t there to find her, to help her, save her and protect her … Henry’s heart rose up into his throat, and he swallowed it down. If he couldn’t save her because he’d left, that would hurt infinitely worse than anything he’d experience or imagined.

Yet, still, he hesitated. London called him, and beyond that, France and lands unexplored, peoples unmet, experiences unknown. France did not hold the same golden appeal as Egypt, but he could no longer study where he did more harm than good. There was still much he did not now about the Normans. Good with castles, they were. He’d like to discover more. The adventure of discovery still called to his blood.

And Ada and Nora were there to care for Pansy. Sarah now, too. They could take care of everything. He could still leave.

“Not a chance in Hades,” he mumbled, turning Burke around. He leaned forward to spur his horse forward but paused. He wasn’t needed at home. They could probably all get along just fine without him. They had for years. He’d made them learn how to do it.

But he couldn’t do without them.

He looked over his shoulder toward London, now behind him, then forward toward Cavendish Manor. Then he looked all around. Somewhere out in the wide world his youngest daughter wandered.

Lost?

Not for long.

He kicked his heels into Burke’s flanks and bolted into action. London could rot. Egypt was nice, but it wasn’t home. It seemed like it had taken him hours to travel this morning what took him minutes to travel now. Cavendish Manor soon rose before him. As he closed the distance, he saw a shape grow more distinct—Sarah sitting on the steps, Sarah bolting to her feet and rushing toward him.

He pulled Burke to a stop and swung down from the saddle, crushing Sarah in his arms as she flung herself at him. As much as he worried about Pansy, his heart soared at seeing his wife. His arms delighted in holding her. His mouth itched to kiss her. No matter what came, he could handle it with her beside him.

She wiggled in his arms. “Bralf uru doohner.” Her words were muffled in his vice-like embrace, so he loosened the circle of his arms, and she pulled back to look up at him. “What are you doing here?”

“Is Pansy back? Have they found her?”

She shook her head. “No. How did you—”

“I’m going out to look for her. Where have they gone? I don’t want to retrace someone’s path. Best to—”

“Henry.” She reached up and cradled his face in her palms. “Slow down. They went in all the cardinal directions, but Ada said Pansy might return on her own, and I should stay and wait.”

“You? Waiting? I would find it hard to believe if I didn’t see it with my own two eyes.” He narrowed his own two eyes. “Or are you planning something? A jaunt through a downpour, perhaps? Stealing a scholar’s book? Marrying said scholar? Seducing him in a library?”

She laughed and hugged him tight. “Sometimes action isn’t the right course of action. Or something like that.” She looked up at him. “I want to be here in case she returns. It’s happened before.”

“Happened before? What’s happened before?”

“All of this. Apparently Pansy likes to run off without telling a soul.”

“Ada has never mentioned this in her letters.”

Sarah had no more answers than Henry did.

Frustration coursed through him. “I’ve made a mess of everything.” His legs ached to be off, his arms ached for action. “I have to go find her, but I have no idea where to go.”

Henry paced. How had it come to this? His daughter missing, and he powerless to help. “I’m a horrific father and a useless old man.”

“No. Well, maybe a little bit horrific at the fathering bit, but you’re not useless and you’re not old. Stop saying that, by the way. I think I’m going to have to start punishing you each time you mutter the word old.”

Punishment? What form would that take? “Don’t distract me, Sarah. I’m worrying.”

“I can see that, love, and you’re doing an excellent job of it. I’ve never known you to do anything poorly, but, of course, I’ve not known you very long.”

In her long string of words, he heard only one. Love. A throw-away endearment that tore through his chest. He pulled Sarah to him again, burrowing his face in her hair, which still trailed, long and dark down her slender back. “You’re trying to calm me. To distract me.”

“If you don’t know where to look, you’re in the same cursed boat I’m in, Henry. We wait. Not much else we can do.”

“No.” He set her from him “I want to be the one to find her.”

“What if you’re the one she sees when she comes home?”

He paused. The idea tempted him, but not enough. He set Sarah from him, pinning her with a stern scowl. “You stay right there. You’re the one I want to see first when I bring Pansy home.”

“How did you know? About Pansy?”

“John rode past me on the road.”

“You should have been further away by the time he set out.”

He nodded. “I should have been. I wasn’t.” He shoved his hands in his coat pockets and looked up at Cavendish Manor. Easier to talk to the building than to talk to her. “The Egyptians have fascinating burial customs, as you have probably deduced from skimming my book.”

“Crocodiles and feathers. Yes, but you’ve lost me again, Henry.”

“You’ll catch up. I’ve no doubt. The Egyptians also pull all the organs out of the deceased, put them in jars, and bury them with the body. Except for the heart.”

“Ada said you were preoccupied with death.”

Was he? Damn. “I have been,” Henry admitted. “Will you listen now?”

She clamped her lips together and stiffened her spine, the serious student.

“When I left this morning, I kept seeing images of dead Egyptians, organs ripped out, hearts left behind in empty chests. My chest felt empty, my heart alone.”

Beside him, Sarah remained silent. He needed to see her reaction, though, if she wouldn’t give him words. He looked down at her.

She blinked rapidly. She inhaled sharply and turned her face away from him. Then she slapped his shoulder. “Henry, are you comparing your family to—” Her body stiffened at his side, and her gaze shot over his shoulder. “Oh! Look!”

Henry followed Sarah’s gaze across the lawn. A horse galloped toward them carrying two riders. “Pansy,” Henry breathed, a prayer of thanks in the two syllables.

“Well done, James!” Sarah clapped once and clasped her hands before her. They waited together until the horse stopped before them.

James dismounted. Grinning broadly, he swung Pansy to the ground. “Look who I found!”

Pansy’s eyes were round as saucers and fixed entirely on her father. “You’re here? You’re still here?”

Henry scooped her into his arms and squeezed. “I was just coming to look for you,” he whispered. She felt light as a feather and soft as one, too. And, for once, she didn’t shy away from him.

When she pushed away from his crushing hug, he accepted it. Her embrace was good enough for now. He’d have to earn her trust, her confidence.

And he would. Her eyes as green and slanted as her mother’s hit him like an arrow to the heart. Emmeline lived on through this girl and her green-eyed sisters. He’d not been running all these years from death. He’d been running from life.

He startled when Pansy’s hand touched his cheek, her fingers lighting on his skin like butterfly wings.

She spoke with an excited eep. “Papa! You’re back! You’re back!”

Henry frowned at his daughter. He’d not told his children goodbye. He’d not even told them he was leaving. He’d left Sarah and Ada to convey the news over dinner the night before. Could he be any more of a damned ass?

Sarah stepped forward and pushed a lock of hair off Pansy’s forehead. “Yes, he is, but why, Pansy, did you leave?”

“I heard noises this morning and looked out into the hall. Papa was going downstairs, and I followed him. I wanted to say goodbye. He went to the stables and left before I could.” She turned, beaming, to Henry. “But you’re back now! I didn’t think it would work because I couldn’t fix the rocks.” She scrunched her nose. “But maybe all that matters is I tried?” She looked at Sarah for confirmation.

“Pansy, sweet, I’m not sure I understand what you’re talking about. But we do need to talk.” She reached to take the girl from Henry, but Henry held on tight.

“I’ll take her inside.” He shifted her to one hip and reached out to Sarah with his free hand. “Come along, James. Let’s get warm.” She took it, and Henry led his family inside to the sitting room. Henry plopped Pansy in front of the fire.

As soon as his arms were empty, Sarah tugged Henry to a corner of the room. “Don’t be soft on her.”

“She’s safe. I’m happy.”

“She needs a punishment, a lecture at the very least. I was going to do it, and I still will if you do not.”

“A harsh taskmaster,” he grumbled. But she had a point. If Pansy made a habit of wandering about, it needed to stop. He sighed. He steeled himself. If he could cross deserts on the back of a camel, he could be stern with a little girl. He strode across the room. “Pansy. We need to have a talk, love.”

A flurry of activity in the doorway drew everyone’s attention. Ada and Nora bustled inside, barking orders for tea and biscuits, removing gloves and smoothing hair. His beautiful daughters. His beautiful adult daughters. He’d missed the last five years of their lives. He would miss no more.

Nora saw him first. “Oh, Papa! What are you doing here? I thought you’d left. I see you found her! Where was she?”

Good questions, all.

James spoke from across the room. “I found her at the Coldrum Stones. Once I was atop Pilot, I realized that was the only place I knew to go around here. So, there I went, and there I found her.”

Ada knelt in front of her little sister. “Why did you go to the stones?”

“I thought if I cleaned them up, got rid of those marks that made Papa leave the picnic, he’d stay. But they wouldn’t come off.” Her bottom lip poked out further than any bottom lip should be able to do.

“Well, that settles that.” Nora’s gaze swung to her father. “But why aren’t you in London?”

Ada stood, pinning him with glowing green eyes.

The room grew quiet as a tomb as everyone waited for him to answer.

“I’m an ass.”

Pansy gasped. “Papa! You’re not supposed to say that word.”

“Sometimes, sweetling, bad words are the only ones that mean the right thing, and I’ve been a selfish ass for years now. There’s no denying it.”

No one disagreed. Ada even snorted her agreement.

Henry stretched his arms out to the side, offering himself up. “I came back. And I’m not leaving again.”

Sarah strode across the room, clasped his hand in hers. And there they were. A united front. Partners with a goal.

She looked up at him with gentle eyes. “Are you really staying, Henry?”

Ada took a step closer. “Are you, Papa?” She seemed to hold her breath.

His heart beat like a drum. He cleared his throat. “I’ll still work, of course. But there’s much to study right here in England. And I’ll take Sarah on a proper honeymoon, but we’ll be back and then—”

Ada hurtled into him, wrapping him in a hug. Then they were all on him, arms and hearts tangled together. Even James stood at his back, thumping it with good cheer. His heart, so long alone, beat full and happy, and when everyone pulled back from the embrace, to drink coffee, eat biscuits, or in James’s case, go back to sleep, Henry dipped his head and tasted Sarah’s kiss. It tasted like home.