“You have your luggage?” she asked him.
“I do.” He nodded, then cracked a grin. “I hope we have everything! I don’t fancy riding back for three days to fetch my cravats or boots.” He pulled a mock-sorrowful face, hoping to cheer her up.
Hestony didn’t say anything, and his laughter sounded hollowly on the silent air. Hal swallowed hard. He should have realized what a terrible shock she’d had. Hearing that your family was living on debt was news that could fell a far stronger constitution. He should have had more sympathy. He wondered what he could do to help.
Just do as it seems she wishes you to do. She needs friendship right now.
Hal stayed silent, and, as Hestony walked toward the coach, he held out his hand to help her in. She wore silk gloves, and as his fingers touched her cold ones, he saw a small smile flicker in her eyes. It was a sad smile, swiftly gone, but nevertheless, it felt to him as if his world was brightened.
“All ready?” he asked Miss Armstrong, Hestony’s lady’s maid, as he handed her up into the coach. She blushed.
“Yes, sir. We have a cake for the journey, again.”
Hal laughed, “A Madeira cake?” He hoisted himself up into the coach and shut the door.
Hestony’s eyes met his and he saw a flicker of humor there. “Our cook is as fond of baking them as the cook at Amhurst, apparently.”
Hal chuckled. “Well, mayhap the London cook is a better baker? Now’s our chance to find out.”
Hestony laughed, but seemed to catch herself, as if she didn’t want to be light of heart again.
Something is badly wrong. I wish I could help.
Hal leaned back in the chair and looked out of the window. If Hestony wished him to be quiet, he would do it to the best of his ability.
“Ready!” the coachman called. “Let’s go.” He gestured to the horses, and their coach rolled into the street. The sound of the wheels echoed from the walls of Hartfield House, the only noise in the silence.
I wish I could think of something to say. Something that would ease her sorrow.
Hal watched the street roll past, the throng of men in suits and women in white day-dresses growing as the morning progressed. Hestony seemed to be asleep, and he didn’t want to say anything to disturb her. Miss Armstrong was hunched up by the window, looking quite sick.
Hal, alone on the seat opposite, focused on the street as it went past.
The coach climbed a little way, then passed through the stone gate and into the greater extent of the city. Here, the roads were busier, and carts and stalls clogged up the streets and sidewalks respectively, the people clad in patched clothes and drab colors. Hal looked around the coach instead, not needing to see anything more to depress him.
The road levelled off, and after what seemed an interminable amount of time, they were rolling out of the town and into the countryside. Oak-leaves caught the wind, long grass swayed in the breeze. The coach-wheels rattled, and Hal felt his spirits lift.
Hestony, sitting opposite him, seemed happier. Miss Armstrong had fallen asleep. Hestony smiled as he smiled at her.
“Two more days,” she mouthed.
He nodded. Her smile sustained him more than anything would have done.
The journey took three days. By the morning of the third day, Hal felt as if the coldness and silence had got into his soul. He was subdued and saddened. Hestony was alternatively lighthearted and silent, like an autumn day that fluctuates between showers and sunshine. He had no idea how she felt or how he ought to act around her.
“We should arrive this afternoon,” he commented, as they alighted into the coach.
“Yes,” Hestony murmured. “We shall.”
Her eyes held his and he felt a sudden sadness. It seemed as if she was saying something, almost as if a parting was ahead.
He shook his head at himself, convinced he was being fanciful. Why would he think such a thing? They would arrive at her home, and he still had to obtain proper permission to court her. He didn’t see why that was something that should be denied him, though; since his conduct in London had been something nobody could challenge. A little forward for something that wasn’t supposed to be courtship, but certainly nothing reprehensible. It was the end of this journey, but coming home should be beginning of other things.
They shut the door and the coach rolled on, at a slow pace. Hal watched the forest pass the windows, and felt his spirits rise. This was the countryside he’d grown up in. He felt as if every grassy hillside and every crumbling wall was etched in his blood. He loved this place, and only felt truly at home here. He had never relished trips to London, preferring to stay here in the North, as close to home as he could be. Managing his father’s estates here was a convenient excuse for doing what he already clearly loved.
They started to ascend the hill.
“We are almost there,” he whispered.
“Yes.”
Hestony’s voice was a whisper too – lowered so as not to disturb Judy, who slept soundly. Hal felt that same dull ache of sadness he had felt earlier. It felt as if the happy, lighthearted Hestony had disappeared in their days in London, replaced by this sorrowful being. He ached to ask her what was troubling her, but he hesitated – he had the sense that this new Hestony was not going to tell him.
“We’re slowing, I think.”
“Yes.”
Hal watched as Hestony reached for her bag and checked her skirt was not creased, readying herself to get out of the coach. He felt a lump in his throat. The Hestony he had met at a ball a year ago would have been laughing and chatting, her eyes full of life. This Hestony simply bowed her head over her clasped hands, her little velvet handbag resting on her lap.
“Westmore House,” Mr. Emms called down from the roof of the coach.
“Grand!” Hal smiled. His jollity was forced, and he saw Hestony give him a weary smile, almost as if she knew. He knew that he couldn’t maintain the illusion for long. He was too sad to try and force himself to look as if he was happy.
“I’ll be glad to be on firm ground again. I think I’m going to sway when I walk, after all this coach-travel.”
When the coach stopped, Hal watched as she gently shook Judy awake. The maid came bleary-eyed to consciousness and Hal slipped down out of the coach to help them both out. Hestony took his hand, and then Judy. He took his small case with him and all three of them crunched across the gravel to the manor ahead.
“Hal! Hestony!” Lady Westmore called out. Emilia was dressed in a pale beige gown patterned with tiny checks, her hair in loose, informal ringlets around her face. She was flushed and smiling.
“Lady Westmore!” Hal hailed her, rather more formally. “What a pleasant welcome.”