Dalton’s Challenge by Penny Fairbanks

Chapter 13

Back straight, neck long, face blank, Winnie knocked on the door of the guest wing’s sitting room. A passing maid had informed her that Mr. and Mrs. Thirley had requested tea in their sitting room, and that they were alone. Every moment that passed that they did not answer felt like an eternity.

Every moment had felt like an eternity since Winnie had left Dalton behind on the hill. She had promised herself the whole way down that she would never cry for him again, storming straight to her room in a flurry of anger and grief. As soon as the bedroom door had closed behind her, she had collapsed onto her bed, sobbing into her pillows.

With that episode over with, Winnie felt composed enough to do what she must do next. Mr. Thirley’s muffled voice called for her to enter. Her courage faltered only slightly as she strode into the sitting room, stopping before the couch her parents occupied.

Neither of them spared another glance at Winnie, Mr. Thirley returning to his book and Mrs. Thirley to her knitting project. Winnie did not mind. It gave her a moment to gather herself, to bring forth the words she had rehearsed to herself in her bedroom.

“What is it?” Mrs. Thirley asked absentmindedly. Winnie jumped slightly at the question. She must have been silent for longer than she thought.

Taking a deep breath, Winnie presented her case. “Mother, Father, I humbly request that we leave Attwood Manor early—as soon as possible. I have encountered a situation I find most unpleasant, which would make staying here nearly unbearable for me.”

The words longed to fly from Winnie’s mouth. She forced them to come slowly and carefully. She would not betray her true reasons for needing to leave. It would only embarrass her parents to know that they had a foolish, naive daughter who had allowed herself to be trapped in a false sense of security.

Mr. and Mrs. Thirley exchanged a puzzled glance, still refusing to look at their daughter. Mr. Thirley simply shrugged as he flipped to the next page. Mrs. Thirley’s knitting needles resumed their rhythmic clicking.

“I do not think so, dear. We are only here for another two weeks. It would seem so strange to leave now. Surely you will be fine for another two weeks,” the woman said quietly, pausing to adjust her yarn.

Winnie’s stomach twisted in on itself. “Please, Mother, I beg you. Leaving two weeks early would not be unusual at all. Tell them you have had a message from home that requires your attention.”

She hated the pathetic pleading tone in her voice, but she needed to do everything she could to get away from Attwood Manor, away from Dalton, forever.

“No, Winifred. That is final,” Mr. Thirley added gruffly.

Tears threatened to flood Winnie’s eyes once more. She inhaled deeply, forcing them away. They had not even bothered to ask why she wanted to leave so badly. Winnie doubted she would have given them all the particulars. Still, it would have been nice to have been asked.

“I understand. If you will excuse me,” she muttered. She could not tell if they heard her. They did not acknowledge her or dismiss her, so Winnie dismissed herself.

She walked back to her room, keeping her eyes focused on some distant point straight ahead. She did not stop to appreciate the artwork or to peer into a room to see which Harcourt she might find. She did not stop long enough to allow herself to mourn for this place that had become more of a home to her during these past few months than her true home in Wiltshire.

Once back in her room, Winnie sank down onto her bed, sitting upright and glaring at the opposite wall. Her stomach felt as though some cruel hand squeezed it down to nothing while her chest felt utterly hollow, as if she had never had a heart to begin with.

Without her permission, a tear broke free, racing down Winnie’s cheek and dripping off her chin before she could wipe it away. So Dalton had thought about marrying her. That must have meant that he loved her. That bitter realization only tore Winnie’s wounds open anew.

She had never expected to be loved, not even by her future husband. She had simply hoped to find a proper gentleman, a man who took his duties seriously and behaved respectably. Despite all her preconceived notions, Winnie had thought she had found that man hidden beneath Dalton’s bright, relaxed exterior.

He loved her. Why had she been cursed with this knowledge when it had become abundantly clear that love would not be enough for Dalton to truly open himself up to Winnie?

If she must live in this cursed house for another two weeks, Winnie would take any and all measures to avoid any further suffering.

A soft knock at the door jolted Winnie back to the present. She knew that knock. “Come in, Warren.”

The boy peered into the room, looking back out into the hall before opening the door wider. He came in first, waving at something behind him.

“Warren, what— Oh!”

As soon as her brother made it all the way into the room, a ball of white and brown barreled in after him, clumsily trotting to the bed.

“Good evening, Sandy.” Winnie could not help giggling as she greeted the puppy, its little nose tickling her exposed ankles.

“I saw you pass by my room a while ago. You looked like you could use some cheering up, so I asked Miss Harriet if I could borrow Sandy,” Warren said softly, anxiously watching for his sister’s reaction.

Overcome with emotion once more, Winnie bent down and scooped the creature into her arms. Sandy immediately craned his neck, trying to lick Winnie’s face. She buried her face in the puppy’s side, its soft fur feeling even better than velvet against her tear stained cheek.

She set Sandy down on her bed and patted the spot next to her for Warren. He smiled, relieved that his plan had worked. He hopped up next to Winnie, snuggling into her side. Winnie put her arm around his shoulders, holding him next to her for a silent moment while Sandy hopped around on the bed behind them.

“Thank you, my love,” Winnie whispered into her brother’s hair. “You have no idea how badly I needed some cheering up.”

“What is the matter, Winnie?” Warren asked, pulling back just enough to look up into Winnie’s face. “Are you ill?”

As Winnie gazed back at the boy, her tattered heart swelled with love and pride. No, no matter what happened, she could never truly be heartless. Not with her sweet brother by her side, so concerned for her wellbeing and so thoughtfully wanting to help. She and Warren had that in common—the desire to support others, to be useful to someone. Only Winnie would not let Warren’s efforts go to waste like hers had.

She sighed, wondering how best to explain this to him or if she even should. At ten years old, Warren already displayed greater empathy than many others. Winnie did not wish to burden him with her troubles, though.

Warren took Winnie’s hand in his with a kind smile. “You can tell me, Winnie. You might feel better after.”

Winnie returned his smile before kissing him on the top of his head. Was that not the exact same message she had been trying to get through to Dalton? Though Winnie had tried, no one could be an island unto themselves. At least she had learned that much during her time with the Harcourts.

“I am not physically ill,” she started slowly, “but my heart has suffered some pain recently.” Warren’s brow furrowed. He remained silent, patiently waiting for Winnie to continue.

“You see, Warren, sometimes people hurt each other. Sometimes it is intentional and sometimes it is an accident. Sometimes, it is simply unavoidable—especially when you care very deeply about someone. When you love someone, whether it is your family or friends or anyone else, you also give them the power to hurt you. Most of the time, they do not, but…”

“But sometimes they do,” Warren finished, nodding thoughtfully. “Did Mr. Harcourt hurt you?”

Winnie jerked back in surprise. “What makes you say that?”

Warren gave a sheepish grin. “I think everyone knows that you and Mr. Harcourt have special feelings for each other.”

Winnie cleared her throat, embarrassed at having been so obvious. “Yes, Mr. Harcourt and I had an argument. He said some things that hurt me, and I am sure I said things that hurt him as well. That can happen sometimes if you keep your feelings trapped inside you for too long.”

She felt like a hypocrite for lecturing Warren about trapped feelings. She had trapped her feelings under a wall of ice for years. Something about Dalton had prompted her to erupt every time they met unexpectedly. She had once thought that he lived so freely, with all his thoughts and emotions on the surface. Winnie had been so wrong. She had realized it too late. He had retreated behind his own wall of flames, lashing out at any who came too close to the truth he protected within.

“I am terribly sorry, Winnie. I hope you will be friends again someday. After all, we are not leaving for another two weeks. There is still time to become friends again!”

Warren beamed up at Winnie. She desperately wished to have even a fraction of his childish optimism. Winnie knew better, however. She had kept her explanation simple and vague so as not to worry her brother too much. After the things Dalton had said to her, Winnie was not sure she could ever hope to be friends with him again.

Had it only been a few months ago that they had declared their friendship on that lovely day in the garden? So much had changed since then, for better and then for worse.

Winnie knew in some dark corner of her heart that she would always love Dalton, even if she went back to hating him.

“Thank you, dear boy.” Winnie put her arm around Warren’s shoulder once more, pulling him tighter to her. Bored of playing alone, Sandy stumbled over the blanket and onto Warren’s lap, curling up comfortably.

Two weeks. Winnie only had to suffer through two more weeks. It would feel like an eternity. She had never looked forward to her departure from Attwood Manor more.

Winnie staredout the window of her room. The plan she had devised to stay away from Dalton had one major flaw. It prevented her from enjoying Attwood Manor’s beautiful grounds. She could only gaze out over the fields and hills and forests from her bedroom window. In truth, Winnie could go wherever she wished—but she did not wish to run into Dalton. She could never be sure when he might appear in the drawing room or when someone would suggest that the whole group go on a walk around the estate.

A few soft white dots wandered into Winnie’s view, appearing to float over the pasture. A memory she had been trying to repress forced its way to the front of Winnie’s mind. The sheep in the distance reminded her of the day she and Dalton had chased that little lamb. She still could not believe she had been the one to catch it. She had snatched it into her arms without thinking, breathless from the effort it took to keep the lamb from leaping away again. She remembered Dalton’s red cheeks, his tousled hair, his exuberant grin and shining eyes.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Winnie forced herself away from the window. She needed a different distraction. Perhaps when the maid arrived with her tea, Winnie would ask her to fetch a new book from the library.

With perfect timing, the maid announced her arrival on the other side of Winnie’s door. She rushed over, throwing it open. “Would you mind—”

“Winnie, may I come in?” Caroline asked with an apprehensive smile. She stood just behind the maid, who hurried into the room and set the tea tray down on Winnie’s desk. The maid left before Winnie could complete her request.

“Yes, of course.” Winnie stepped aside for Caroline to enter. “Would you like some tea?” she offered. Despite her surprise at seeing Dalton’s sister, Winnie would never forget her manners.

“No, thank you.” Caroline sat in the chair in the corner, looking as uncomfortable as Winnie felt.

“Is there something I can help with?” Winnie asked as she prepared a cup of tea for herself. For some reason, she feared what she might see on Caroline’s face. She had no idea what Dalton might have told her about their fight. Even if he had told the truth, wouldn’t Caroline’s love and loyalty for her brother turn her against Winnie?

“As a matter of fact, I came to see if I could help you.” Caroline’s voice was soft and quiet.

“That is so very kind of you.” Winnie took a seat by the window, her heart feeling just a bit lighter.

The younger woman watched Winnie in silence for a moment with a surprisingly heartfelt fondness. “You have become such a dear friend over these past few months, Winnie. I would like to do whatever I can to help, if you are in need of it.”

Though Winnie’s heart had felt relieved just a moment ago, it now broke again. Despite their differences, Winnie had also come to care for Caroline deeply.

The Harcourts were a wonderful family, so full of love and care for one another. Perhaps at some point, Winnie had begun to dream that their love and care would one day extend to her. That could never be unless Dalton wished it—and he had made it clear to Winnie that he did not.

Caroline came forward on her chair so she sat on the edge, leaning forward almost urgently. “I know you said you have taken ill, but I wondered if perhaps there was…something else bothering you?”

Winnie lowered her head, unable to look at her friend’s kind face. “Please keep my secret, I beg you,” she whispered. Normally, Winnie would have hated to hear the crack in her voice. She did not have the energy to care right now.

“Of course, Winnie.”

Caroline stood so quietly that Winnie only realized it when she saw the hem of Caroline’s dress appear before her downcast eyes. She looked up to see the woman’s outstretched hand and gentle smile. Almost instinctively, Winnie took Caroline’s hand, allowing herself to be guided to the edge of the bed where they both sat.

Winnie knew that Caroline wanted to hear her side of the story, even if Caroline’s manners prevented her from asking directly. Somehow, Winnie did want to tell Caroline. She knew it would lift a tiny part of the burden off her own chest, and she knew she would be safe to express herself to her friend—ever if her friend happened to be related to the man who had broken her heart.

“You have heard some of what has happened, I assume?” Winnie started hesitantly. She had not planned on saying any of this to anyone, not for a very long time, if ever. She did not know quite what to say. Caroline’s comforting presence told her that she could figure it out as she went.

“Some, yes—from Dalton, Patrick, and Papa. I am sure you can imagine the scolding I gave Dalton after hearing what he said to all of you,” Caroline said with a dry chuckle.

Even Winnie had to smile at that. “With the mood I have been in, I wish I could have seen it.”

“I would be happy to reenact it for you anytime you wish.” Caroline took Winnie’s hand in hers, holding it with gentle patience.

“Someday, perhaps.” Winnie smiled weakly, grateful for her friend’s steadying support.

Slowly, she explained the disaster that had happened between herself and Dalton, often jumping from one point in time to another as previous incidents suddenly made more sense given his recent behavior.

Caroline listened without interrupting, only giving occasional nods, her light brown eyes serious and attentive. She even squeezed Winnie’s hand a little tighter when Winnie vaguely recounted their conversation at the top of the hill.

Of course, Winnie remembered it nearly word for word, each one like a dagger in her heart. She could hardly hear them in her own memory without devolving into another fit of tears, much less repeat them out loud. Instead, she did her best to give a general approximation of what had passed between them on that day.

As Winnie’s story drew to a close, Caroline gave a deep sigh, her shoulders curving forward ever so slightly. Winnie had never seen Caroline with anything less than utterly perfect posture. Somehow, it brought Winnie comfort to see her friend so affected on her behalf. At least she still had someone in the Harcourt family whom she could rely on.

“Goodness, what a mess,” she muttered, massaging her cheek as she processed Winnie’s words.

“Indeed. I am sorry you have found yourself in the middle of it.”

“Nonsense,” Caroline chirped, sitting up straighter. “You know I love to be in the middle of things.” She beamed her bright smile, letting a little light through Winnie’s suffocating gloom.

“Still, I will admit it is quite difficult when I want to help both you and my brother,” Caroline admitted. “I should give Dalton another scolding for causing me so much trouble.”

“Have I not caused you quite a bit of trouble as well?” Winnie asked with a sad smile. “After all, I am the other half of this dilemma.”

Caroline gave Winnie a strange look. “Other half indeed. In any case, I still find you to be far less troublesome than my older brother.”

Winnie adjusted her position so she could face her friend. “Caroline, I hope you do not think that by me telling you this, I expect you to act in any way. I simply appreciate you listening to me.”

The other woman frowned. “Are you certain, Winnie? I do not know that Dalton would listen to anything I have to say. Though he does not realize it, he is quite a headstrong man. But I am willing to try. I am rather headstrong as well, after all.”

“I know,” Winnie chuckled. “And I thank you for it. I do not want to involve you any further. This matter is between him and I, in the end.” She dropped her gaze as those words echoed in her mind.

In the end.How could the end have come already? They had just barely begun.

“Very well,” Caroline sighed, accepting defeat as gracefully as she ever did. “If you have a change of heart, do let me know.”

“I will.” Winnie squeezed Caroline’s hand in silent gratitude. “Until then, please tell everyone that I am still dreadfully ill and in no shape to come out or talk with anyone. It is near enough to the truth.” Her voice dropped to a whisper, irksome tears pricking at her eyes again.

“You have my word. Do not hesitate to call for me should you need anything,” Caroline insisted.

“You have my word as well,” said Winnie with a weak smile. Caroline pulled her to her feet, wrapping her in a tight embrace before leaving Winnie alone once more.

Winnie did feel better in some ways yet worse in others. Speaking with a friend about her troubles had helped more than Winnie would have guessed. Unfortunately, she knew now that no amount of sharing her thoughts and feelings or gentle hugs would heal her heart. In fact, Winnie felt certain that no force existed on this Earth that could accomplish that.

She sat on the edge of her bed again, the weariness in her bones dragging her down until she lay flat, her head cradled in the soft pillow. She stared up at the ceiling, memories of Dalton’s face swimming into view against her will.

Even without seeing him for several days, Winnie’s mind could still perfectly recreate the flecks of green and gold in his warm hazel eyes and the way his mouth pulled up at the corner in his teasing smile.

At least Winnie could be thankful that her mind more often conjured those memories rather than the terrible ones from the hill. She could not bear to relive the heartbreak in his eyes, the agony and sorrow etched on his face.

She squeezed her eyes shut so hard that strange colors danced across the black sky of her vision. She forced those memories away, into some dark corner. Perhaps later, many years into the future, she could let them out without her heart shattering all over again. For now, Winnie was too weak.

Forcing a few deep breaths, Winnie’s mind went blank again, just long enough for her to stifle a fresh batch of tears that threatened to overwhelm her. The next emotion in her never-ending cycle crashed into her, crushing her chest in its vice-like grip.

Anger. Anger always followed grief. Winnie’s eyes flew open and she glared up at the ceiling. Grief brought hot, passionate tears. Anger brought frigid stillness.

Winnie had spent so much of her life behind a barrier of refined, unfeeling ice in an attempt to be as perfect as possible. Had that been fueled by anger, too? Had she lived half her life smothered by anger?

Why did Winnie always end up hating the people she had once loved?

Not once loved, she quickly corrected herself. She still loved her parents, even if they had almost completely forgotten her existence. That was why she still tried so desperately to act with the utmost dignity and poise—for that infinitesimal chance that they would notice.

And she still loved Dalton.

Or perhaps she only loved a version of Dalton she had created for herself out of desperation to be loved, to finally belong to someone.

Winnie thought back to her first meeting with Dalton, a brief introduction at a dinner party their families had attended two years ago. He had invited her on a carriage ride at Hyde Park, most likely at the urging of Lord and Lady Welsted. During the carriage ride, he had gone on and on about his various activities, smiling all the while. He had not said a word about any of his plans for the future or if he assisted his father with managing the estate he would one day inherit. He had no substance, Winnie had thought back then.

Then, of course, came the dreadful dance. Winnie had come up behind him to greet him, wondering if he would ask her for a dance. Instead, she had heard him complain to his friends about the terribly boring conversation they had had during their outing and how emotionless Winnie had been.

“How could I have fallen in love with him?” Winnie groaned quietly to herself, covering her face with her hands. Now, the anger and grief danced together in her heart, producing a profound agony she had never before experienced.

In the end, this had all been her fault. She had allowed herself to see something in Dalton that was not really there—or perhaps, not there for her. She had wanted to see his earnest, dependable side. She had projected her desires onto him and had been hurt when he showed her that she had fooled herself.

Worse still, perhaps Dalton simply did not find Winnie useful. How often had she offered her assistance only to be brushed aside? In forcing Dalton to confront his worst fears, Winnie had also forced herself to confront her own. She realized it now.

Winnie was replaceable, unimportant. She could easily be lived without, as her parents had proved to her for the past decade. Dalton had no need for her either. She was not special to him as she had once dared to hope.

As much as she hated to admit it, Winnie knew she must take responsibility for her own grievous errors. As much as she wanted to blame Dalton for causing her this unimaginable pain, Winnie refused to run away from reality as he tried to do.

How could Winnie have thought that anyone would want her, let alone need her? She had been unwanted and unneeded her whole life. Warren wanted and needed her now, but that would change as he grew older and developed his own life. She had known for quite some time now, deep in the blackest corner of her heart, that Mr. and Mrs. Thirley had never truly loved her if they had abandoned her so quickly and completely after having the son they had always wanted.

And now there was Dalton—yet another example of how insignificant Winnie truly was. Even if she tried to be perfect, even if she tried to let her walls melt away…none of it had been enough. It would never be enough.

Winnie had once accepted that fact, at least subconsciously. This summer at Attwood Manor, spent by Dalton’s side—unraveling herself until she felt that she could truly enjoy life again as he did—had only clouded Winnie’s judgment. She had begun to hope that she could hold a special place in someone’s life. In Dalton’s life.

Gritting her teeth in frustration and defeat, Winnie finally let the tears flow. She had lost the battle against herself.

She hated Dalton for showing her a glimpse of what a happy, loving life could be like. But Winnie hated herself even more for daring to think it could be possible.