I set the book aside. “You should rest, Alice.”
She nodded and allowed me to assist in making her comfortable. As I added wood to the fire, she said, “I have something for you. For tomorrow.”
Surprised, I watched as she pulled a blue ribbon from under her pillow. “I asked Mary to pick it up for me.”
I sat on the bed next to her and took the ribbon. It was the perfect shade to compliment the embroidery on my ball gown. The shade of Gregory’s eyes. “Thank you, Alice. This is a wonderful gift.”
“Will you wear it?”
I placed my hand over hers. “Of course I will.”
Forty-Two
The lake was nearly gone. No more than a trickle ran down the stream the men had cut into the hill, its grooves now so deep from the draining that the shadowed water didn’t even sparkle in the afternoon light.
There was really nothing left but a giant, muddy hole. No more reflection of the sky and the trees on its surface, no more promise of peace. Even the sound of the birds had dimmed.
I turned and slowly strolled back to the house. Where should I take my walks from now on? Through the fields? Into the trees? Neither idea seemed appealing.
It was a problem to be figured out later, after I survived Mary’s fussing over my hairstyle for the ball. I decided to take my book upstairs to distract me so I didn’t become antsy while she worked.
Retreating to the study, I had just located my new book when my mother’s raised voice drew me toward the front. “Margaret, what is the meaning of this?”
She stood before the open front door, blocking the entrance of a gray and white donkey, its rather large ears stuck out from a newspaper hat.
“It’s a donkey. Wearing a hat,” I said lamely, knowing that if I removed the hat and added a few more folds, I could make a boat.
“Yes. I am well aware it is a donkey. What I wish to know is why there is a donkey on the front porch.”
“I don’t know,” I replied in all honesty, though that conversation with Gregory and Mr. Lundall about winning the good opinion of someone you cared for, of winning hearts, popped into my mind.
She glanced at me. “Are you certain you have no idea why there is a donkey on our porch?”
I might have had some idea as to why the donkey was here, and it filled me with hope. “Why do you assume it has anything to do with me?”
Her brows rose. “Do you really need to ask that question?” Her exasperated expression asked if anything unusual ever happened around our house that didn’t have something to do with me.
I tilted my head in acknowledgment of her reasoning, set my book on a nearby table, and slid past her. “I promise I had nothing to do with this. I’ll take him to the stable and—”
The donkey brayed at me, long and loud. I stepped back. “I don’t think he likes me.”
“Oh, where is John!” My mother sighed. “Take him. Be quick, though. You need to be getting ready for this evening. I don’t want to be late.” She shut the door.
I stepped forward. “Come on, then, donkey.” A rope hung loosely around its neck. I reached for it and the donkey backed away. I reached for it again, and the donkey turned, blocking me.
This was the most nonsensical situation. “Now, see here. I have a ball to go to tonight that I’m not looking forward to, a mother who will be furious if I’m not ready early, and . . . and I guess it’s just those two things. So, let’s get you settled so I can go be miserable.”
The donkey’s ears twitched back and forth. I took that as a good sign. “I promise to find the best stall in the stable for you until we can figure out who you belong to.” The donkey nodded its head, though I doubted it was in agreement to my plan. Perhaps it was laughing at me. I think I would be laughing at me, had our places been reversed.
“I’m just going to reach forward and take a hold of this rope, though it doesn’t really look long enough for much. . . .” I slowly extended my hand. The donkey’s ears twitched again but the beast didn’t move. My fingers closed around the rope and I stepped back.
“There, now. You’re a good donkey, aren’t you? Let’s just go—”
The donkey jerked back, tugging the rope from my hands.
I didn’t have time for this. Mary would be frantic about not having enough time for some new twist she’d just thought up. “This is ridiculous. Wait here. I’ll go find John and he can deal with you.” I started walking across the grass toward the barn, but stopped when the clip-clip-clip of hooves followed. I turned slowly. The donkey was a few steps behind me. I walked a few more steps and peeked back—the donkey was now right behind me, so close I could touch its nose.
“Well, an extra bucket of oats for you, I guess. Donkeys eat oats, right?” We padded in a single-file line to the barn, where the door stood open. “John! Are you here?”
No one answered. I pushed the door open further and strode inside. The horses stuck their noses over their doors and the donkey bumped me, as though wanting to stay close. I patted its nose. “All right. No need to worry. Even if they are four times your size. There’s an empty stall there. Let’s get you settled.” The door was partially ajar, and when I opened it, it appeared as though fresh bedding had been laid and fresh hay stuck out of the feeder. “Well, see? There’s a nice little spot all ready—”
A white rose with a long stem lay on top of a folded letter between the stall’s wooden bars. I withdrew the rose and letter. Miss Brinton was scrawled along the front in the same superb handwriting as the other small notes.
My fingers trembled with hope and anticipation as I broke the seal.
My dearest Miss Brinton,
It was from him. It was from Gregory. I glanced around the barn. Where was he? Why wasn’t he here?
There was no noise but the stirring of the horses. Aside from me, no one was here. I turned back to the letter.
I will never forgive myself the part I played in your sister’s illness, nor in the hurt I have caused you and your family. I have acted with all the selfishness and arrogance you once accused me of. Yet seeing you again—
The donkey shoved at me. Startled, I fell back a step and the donkey made its way into the stall, turned a couple of times, then settled in the bedding.
Huh. Perhaps donkeys were as intelligent as people claimed.
I shut and latched the door.
Yet seeing you again has made me more determined than ever to secure your affections, if it is not already too late.
You once said you found something disagreeable only when it gave you no other choice. I know that I have given you no other choice. Yet if this poor donkey, of which I have it on good authority you have such a strong dislike, can possibly find a place in your affections, then perhaps there is reason to hope that I can, too.
Forever yours, Gregory
They were from Gregory. The flowers, the book, the donkey. Though the donkey was a little much.
I peeked back in at the animal. It lifted his head and almost purred at me. Perhaps I could get used to donkeys. Or at least this one. Maybe I’d name him Gregory. Lady Williams would be amused.
I glanced back down at the letter and the rose.
The rose. The one that had been at the lake. He’d left it for me? He must have known I would walk there one last time.