Liberty Calling

Chapter 11

Every moment I spent in Cardington Park, I wished I were back with Ada and the children. I'd felt a peace there that was unexplainable. But now, I'd returned to the echoing halls that made me feel so small. I spent much of the next few days hiding from William, and ensuring we were never near one another long enough to have a conversation. Of course, such a feat was near impossible when he consistently sought me out.

With every day that Seth was gone, I found myself growing more at peace. The fear of my own emotions diminished until I was certain his return would be no more than a minor pleasant addition to my day. He returned, in my mind, to the position of a casual friend, and I wished him to stay firmly planted there. Of course, I still felt concern that he was gone longer than he had anticipated. But it did not plague my every thought. Not anymore.

I ate breakfast with Mother one morning, and enjoyed the warmth that fell through the tall dining room windows. The sunshine bounced off the polished tabletop, and I let it shine in my eyes, basking in the brightness of it. This home could often feel far too dark. I sometimes felt like a flower, trapped in the darkness and searching for sunlight. As we ate, William entered the room, and sat directly across from me. He said nothing, and only watched me. Mother cleared her throat, and nodded towards him.

"Good morning, William."

"Good morning, Aunt," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. I hated the way he stared. Did he not understand the anxiety it struck in me? "Cousin Emmeline," he said suddenly, as though the words rushing forth like water from a collapsed dam. "Would you accompany me in the gardens?"

I glanced down at my food, only partially eaten, and bit off the urge to say something entirely too sarcastic. "Now?"

He did not respond, but only sat. And stared.

"Yes, dear," Mother said at last, breaking the horrible silence that rang through my ears. "You are nearly finished eating after all. The sun will do you good."

I looked one more time, longingly at the bit of toast and egg on my plate, and then stood. "Alright..."

The moment we stepped outside, a side of me was grateful for the opportunity. The day was genial, and all the earth seemed to sense it. The trees of the gardens were overwhelmed with intensely colored blossoms, and birds flitted from branch to branch. A thousand colors spread out before us in an endless masterpiece. The sky was clear, interrupted only by the smallest wisps of white cloud. The bare skin of my arms and chest practically drank in the warmth of the air, and all was well.

Until William took my arm in his.

"I am so pleased you are enjoying your time in England," he said. I tried to think of a decent reason to drop my arm from his, but none came. And so I did my absolute best to ignore the way he occasionally pulled me closer and pressed my hand. "I cannot imagine the relief you must feel to be here after so many years in those colonies." The word 'colonies' left his mouth like a swear, or a sour taste.

"I quite miss New York, actually."

He stiffened for a moment, and then nodded. He never stopped looking at me. Watching. What was it he found so intriguing that he couldn't have the decency to look away? "I suppose that is not your fault. You've spent so much of your life there, it is only natural."

That angry fogginess clouded my judgement, and took hold of my mouth. "I do not think it is anyone's fault. New York is a beautiful city."

"Of course. Forgive me."

I would not.

We walked on in silence now, and as we neared a hedge, I did nothing to keep William from scraping his arm across the thorny branches. If he refused to look at anything but me, then I would not be his eyes. As we passed the tall, twisting wall of leaves and ivy, a man caught my attention, walking confidently down the drive.