Page 4 of However Long the Wait (Sweet Treat Novellas #4)

C arina expected Wilkington to be a small town like Rafton. She had filled her thoughts with fields and farms, stone cottages and grand estates. She had not been at all prepared for the bustling industrial center she found instead.

The station was filled with a crush of humanity.

She feared she would never manage the short distance between the tracks and the road beyond.

Movement was slow, painstakingly so, but she at last freed herself from the press of people.

She inquired at three different carriages before finding the one her great-aunt had sent to fetch her.

The coachman whistled as he held the door for her, as he closed it, and as he climbed onto his perch at the front of the conveyance. He likely continued his whistling as he drove, but the cacophony of sounds and voices drowned out any noise he might have been making.

She'd hoped for a quiet drive to her home for the summer, but fate was not ever that kind. The din seeping in through the rattling windows of the carriage kept her on edge, uncertain, and overwhelmed.

I am meant to be miserable here, but I will not give in to it. She could not. The moment she accepted that spinsterhood was a repugnant path in life, one to be avoided at all costs, her determination might falter. She could not allow that.

On and on the coach drove, bumping and jerking over uneven cobblestone, winding around ever-narrowing lanes, before it began to climb an unpaved road, one without buildings on either side.

Open country lay in both directions, though it did not extend far.

She could see the city encroaching on its edges, staking ever more territory.

Great-Aunt Chadwick did not live in the heart of the city, it seemed.

That was a most welcome realization. The estate would be far quieter, far more peaceful, even if the woman herself was not.

If Carina were truly fortunate, her presence would not be regularly needed and she could escape to the fields and trees, explore nature, perhaps even find an isolated spot she could make her own.

The carriage slowed, curving around a short drive.

Carina leaned toward the window. Her bonnet brim pressed against the glass.

The home was not grand, only slightly larger than the vicarage in Rafton.

It had a stone edifice with two rows of windows and a pitched roof.

Two identical potted shrubs trimmed into an upward swirling pattern adorned either side of the door.

A rainbow of flowers filled the low garden boxes beneath the front windows.

The house might not have been a grand one, but it was clearly meticulously cared for.

A woman with salt-and-pepper hair tucked neatly into a crisp white cap stepped outside and waited on the front step.

She straightened her spotless apron and smoothed her puffed sleeves.

Carina knew a housekeeper when she saw one.

The coachman opened the carriage door and handed her down.

Carina held herself with dignity, knowing that these first interactions would set the tone for the remainder of her time in this household.

She walked at an appropriately sedate pace directly to where the servants—the housekeeper had been joined by the butler, a footman, and two maids—waited for her.

Carina dipped her head in acknowledgment. The staff bowed and curtsied as appropriate. Then the housekeeper . . . hugged her.

So tremendous was Carina’s shock that, for the length of several heartbeats, she did not move or breathe.

Never in all her life had a member of another household’s staff embraced her.

She remembered the nursemaid who had looked after her when she was a young child doing so, as well as her governess.

While her lady’s maid had never been quite so intimate, they had shared a few confidences over the years and were known to laugh together.

This degree of friendliness, however, was utterly foreign.

“We are so pleased you’ve come,” the housekeeper said, still holding Carina close. “Miss Chadwick’s so lonely for company.”

Carina was set back once more. The staff all smiled broadly at her, eagerness in every face.

Was she expected to say something? Her family didn’t often visit others, but when they did, their arrivals were far swifter and quieter, consisting of little more than being ushered inside and shown to their assigned bedchambers to recover from their journey.

“I am grateful I can offer her a bit of company.” The statement held a note of uncertainty that could not be helped. She was not on familiar ground.

“Come in. Come in.” The housekeeper waved her inside, a grin permanently affixed to her face. “Johnny’ll see to it your trunk and bag are taken upstairs. Miss Chadwick’ll want to see you straight off.”

“I am not to go to my room first?” Carina had been hoping for even a moment of quiet before beginning this new and dreaded chapter in her life.

It was not to be.

The housekeeper moved quickly, pausing now and then to allow Carina to catch up. After the third pause, the housekeeper remained with her, slowing her own steps.

“I am Mrs. Jones, housekeeper here at Chadwick House.” Her enthusiasm had not abated in the least. How isolated a life did Great-Aunt Chadwick live that Carina’s arrival should inspire such excitement?

“Miss Chadwick has not stopped speaking of your arrival. The entire staff is abuzz with it. Abuzz. All seven of us.”

Seven? This was, indeed, a small estate.

That, though, would be nice for a change.

Her family home was small enough to not be truly overwhelming, but too large to be deemed comforting or inviting.

Perhaps that was the reason Great-Aunt Chadwick’s staff had been so friendly and welcoming, because a smaller home allowed it.

That explanation might have easily settled on her as the appropriate one if not for what she knew of the mistress of Chadwick House.

Her great-aunt was too miserly, too unhappy and bitter, for her influence to have created a place of warmth and hospitality.

Though Carina’s memory of her great-aunt’s one and only visit to Rafton had been rendered vague by the passage of so many years and the undependable nature of the memories of childhood, her mind’s eye clearly recalled a woman who had frightened her.

Everything she had heard of her great-aunt in the years since only confirmed that impression.

“The mistress is just out here.” The housekeeper motioned to an open French door that led onto a terrace. “She’ll be so pleased you’ve arrived.”

That did not seem at all probable. Still, there was no avoiding this moment. She had come to look after her aunt, to witness the apparent torment that awaited her in her own spinsterhood. Putting off the inevitable would accomplish little.

Carina stepped through the open door. Though she intended to seek out her great-aunt first, her attention was captured by the view, and all other thoughts fled her mind.

From the front, the house gave every indication of being small and quaint—nothing that would impress anyone of discernment.

The garden that stretched out before her, however, stole her breath away.

Rows of hedges circling out from a star-shaped fountain sat in the center of the lawn before her.

A brick wall, trellised with vines, marked the edges of the inner garden.

Elaborate iron gates granted access to more gardens beyond, each with its own unique character.

This expanse could be explored for weeks without ever growing tiresome.

“Beautiful,” she whispered.

“I designed it myself,” a voice said. “I’m rather proud of it, in fact.”

Carina turned quickly toward the source of the declaration. Though she did not vividly remember her great-aunt’s face from that long-ago visit, there was enough of a resemblance to her mother for the speaker’s identity to be easily discernible.

Carina offered a quick curtsy. “Great-Aunt Chadwick. I am pleased to see you again.”

“No, you’re not.” Was that a laugh behind the words? “That father of yours no doubt told you how terrible these next months will be and that you ought to spend your train ride here weeping for your fate.”

Those had not been his exact words, but they adequately communicated the sentiment.

“Never you fear,” Great-Aunt Chadwick said. “If you find Chadwick House is not so miserable a place after all, I’ll not tell him. I will even send letters delineating how badly treated you are. That ought to earn you a little peace from that quarter.”

For the second time in a matter of minutes, Carina was rendered silent by shock. Nothing was playing out as she had expected.

Great-Aunt Chadwick patted the wicker chair nearest hers. “Sit by me, child. I’ll not bite.”

Carina took the seat she was offered, eying her hostess with uncertainty.

“You don’t believe I’m harmless, do you?” Great-Aunt Chadwick’s dark eyes narrowed on her. She certainly didn’t look harmless. “You’ve been told, by your father no doubt, that I am a miserable old woman who is absolutely torturous to spend time with.”

Carina didn’t nod. She suspected she didn’t have to.

“I will let you in a secret.” Great-Aunt Chadwick leaned closer. “He is correct.”

Why, then, did she sound as though she was barely holding back a laugh?

“However,” her great-aunt continued, “I would be willing to be a little less bitter and miserable if you would prefer. I am terribly accommodating, you see.”

“I believe I am beginning to.”

A look of pure mischief spread over her great-aunt’s heavily lined face. “Then you, fortunately, did not inherit your father’s level of intelligence. That is a good thing.”

Though it was likely disloyal to feel so much amusement at her father’s expense, Carina could not hold back her growing smile.

“You were, however, blessed with your grandmother’s beauty. She was the gorgeous sister, you realize.” Great-Aunt Chadwick straightened her spine dramatically. “I was the clever one.”

“I believe you.”

Great-Aunt Chadwick folded her wrinkled hands on her lap. Hers was an intelligent and sharp eye, unwavering in its attention, which, at the moment, was focused on Carina. “Tell me a little of yourself. What are your interests?”

It was a question she had not been asked in years.

“That you have to give it such thought is not a reassurance, Carina,” Great-Aunt Chadwick said. “There must be something that brings you joy.”

“Of course there is,” she answered. “I simply don’t get asked about my interests often— ever, truth be told.”

“Because your father is a miserable old man who is absolutely torturous to spend time with?”

Carina slowly released a tense breath. “He was not always that way, only once I—” She pressed her lips closed before the words could slip out.

Great-Aunt Chadwick nodded, knowing, likely from experience, the feelings fathers too often had for daughters who did not marry as or when expected.

There was no unhappiness in the expression, no pity or disapproval, simply understanding.

The rarity of the experience provided Carina with a much needed bit of confidence in her new situation.

“I do have interests and joys, though some might consider them frivolous.”

“I appreciate a bit of frivolity.” Great-Aunt Chadwick motioned to her own pale green dress.

“You will notice I am quite the fashion plate, though most ladies of my generation, those who are not yet dead, see little point in updating their wardrobe from what they wore decades earlier. I am even wearing a bustle, which is possibly the most frivolous thing in the world.”

Carina had spent the day anticipating misery, yet she felt more lighthearted after only a few minutes of her great-aunt’s company than she had in years. “Do you consider corsets frivolous as well?”

Her aunt shook her head. “Not at my age, dear. Without tight lacing and the heroic efforts of whalebone, nothing about a seventy-year-old figure stays where it’s meant to stay.”

Wouldn’t Father be shocked to know their first conversation centered around ladies’ unmentionables?

“What are these interests of yours?” Great-Aunt Chadwick asked. “Certainly not undergarments.”

“I enjoy nature.” She felt, for the first time in five years, safe to express these personal parts of herself.

Somehow, this lady she was told to fear had already set her mind at ease.

“Meadows and stands of trees and meandering streams. I also like gardens with pebbled paths. I enjoy reading about faraway places and the people who live there and about the history of my tiny corner of the world.”

“I see nothing wrong with any of those interests,” her hostess said. “How do you feel about fashion and elegance and gatherings of important people?” The tone was teasing.

Carina found she could match it. “Those are my most favorite things. Fashion above the rest. If I cannot have the appropriate bustle, I simply refuse to get out of bed.”

“As do I. We are expected tonight for dinner with a local family of some standing, so I do hope your bustle befits expectations.” Though Great-Aunt Chadwick still spoke with amusement, Carina felt certain the invitation was a real one.

“This is an industrial town, mind you. The influential people tend to be the merchants and the mill owners.”

“Is this family we are to dine with part of that section of society?”

Great-Aunt Chadwick nodded. “They are, indeed, and fine people, if a bit pretentious.”

“Do you wish to dine with them?” Carina asked. “I would willingly serve as a convenient excuse if you’d like a reason to reject the offer.”

Great-Aunt Chadwick laughed, the sound deep and ringing. “I am going to like having you here, Carina Herrick.”

“Does that mean dinner at home?”

“Not tonight. I do like our host and hostess, though only in short spurts. Besides, I do not intend to keep you locked up here all summer. You need to meet people if you are to be at all social these next weeks. This will be a fine way to begin.”

“I am to enjoy myself?” Carina gave her a theatrically suspicious look. “That is not what my father told me.”

“It can be our secret.” Great-Aunt Chadwick leaned back in her chair. “Now, go rest. Sleep a little if you are able. Prepare yourself for a busy summer. I may be old, but I am not a do-nothing.”

“I look forward to it, Great-Aunt Chadwick.”

“None of this great-aunt nonsense. You may call me Aunt Chadwick.”

Father had sent Carina to Wilkington with the sole purpose of plunging her into the depths of despair. As she walked away from the terrace, however, her heart was soaring.