Page 26 of Heartbreaker of the Ton
“Jimmy misses her,” Frances said. “Sometimes I hear Ma crying. I want to comfort her, but sometimes she looks at me as if she blames…” She shook her head, and her eyes glistened with moisture. “Forgive me for rattling on, ma’am.”
She turned her attention to Gabriel. “What do you want, little man?” she asked. “Do you want to explore?”
“You can set him on the rug,” Etty said. “I swept the floor yesterday. He likes to crawl about the house, and he’s already walking, though he needs a little help.”
“What a clever boy you are!” Frances said brightly. She placed Gabriel on the rug, then took his hands, steadying him while he took a teetering step forward. “We’re going to have so much fun together,” she said. “There’s so much to explore hereabouts.” She glanced up at Etty. “That is, if your ma allows it.”
“Of course I’d allow it,” Etty said. “The countryside is beautiful. I’ve never lived in the country before. It’s so peaceful compared to London.”
The girl’s eyes widened. “You’re from London? What’s it like?”
“Too much noise,” Etty said. “And too many people. All crammed together, wanting to know everyone else’s business. Sometimes I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t want Gabriel growing up there. So I brought him here, where we could live away from prying eyes.”
“There’s plenty of prying eyes in Sandcombe,” Frances said. “But you’re out of the way here.”
Etty nodded. It was no wonder Eleanor had come here seeking solace. Two sisters who had never been close, both fleeing the judgmental eyes of the world after ruination. Except, in both cases, that ruination had been brought about by Etty herself—her spite and envy.
“Have you been to the beach yet, Mrs. Ward?” Frances asked. “I could take Gabriel there. I’m sure he’d like to see the sea.”
“How about we spend the day on the beach?” Etty said. “We could have a picnic.”
“Oh!” Frances let out a cry of joy. “A picnic? Can we really?”
Etty smiled at the girl’s enthusiasm over something so simple as a picnic. But perhaps, in her hard life, she had rarely experienced such a treat.
“We can have picnics as often as you like, Frances,” Etty said. “What do you think of that?”
More tears glistened in the girl’s eyes. “I think Gabriel is the luckiest child in the world to have you as his ma. I wish…” She shook her head and resumed her attention on the little boy. “I’m going to show you so much, Master Gabriel,” she said. “You’re going to love the beach, the feel of the sand between your toes. And paddling in the sea—you just wait till you try it!”
She glanced toward Etty again. “Of course, I won’t shirk my duties, Mrs. Ward. Ma says I must work hard and keep house for you.”
Etty lowered herself onto the rug beside Frances. Gabriel let out a gurgle, then toddled toward her, arms outstretched, and Etty drew the boy into her arms.
“My darling,” she said, kissing the top of his head. Then she smiled at Frances. “Life isn’t all about hard work,” she said. “We must also enjoy it while we can.”
She closed her eyes, recalling a pair of warm brown eyes framed by soft blond hair. What had the vicar said to her yesterday?
“Life is there to be lived.”
“That’s what Mr. Staines always says,” Frances said. “I like Mr. Staines, don’t you?”
Etty nodded. “Yes,” she whispered. “Very much.”
“He’s said some very civil things about you, Mrs. Ward. He said you’d be the kindest employer in Sandcombe and that you were in need of a little kindness yourself.”
Etty couldn’t be more ashamed. She had no need for kindness, not after the sins she’d committed. Yet if what this innocent girl said were true, there were other souls inSandcombe whose need far surpassed hers—a young woman with a brutish drunkard for a husband, and a mother whose grief for the daughter she lost marred her love for the daughter she had.
And though Etty could never atone for the sin she’d committed against her own family, perhaps, in exiling herself to this remote little village, she had found her purpose.
She might lack the ability to change the world—Papa had always told her she was too selfish a creature to think of others. But if there were a handful of souls to whom she could provide some comfort, then perhaps she could earn her place in the world. Not merely to prove her father wrong, but because it was thegoodthing to do.
Chapter Ten
It was merelya coincidence that Andrew’s Sunday afternoon constitutional took him past Shore Cottage.
Or so he told himself as he approached the front door and knocked.
The cottage looked much as it did last week, paint still peeling off the door and window frames. But signs of occupancy gave it a welcoming air. The garden had been tended to, and Andrew caught sight of a rainbow of colors in the border running along the side of the building, the blooms no longer having to compete with the nettles that had previously overrun the garden. The windowpanes had been washed and he caught sight of his reflection in the glass, through which he could discern the interior of the building.
