Page 27 of Love Thy Enemy (The Vaughns #4)
T he rain had done its worst the day before, leaving the village damp and glistening; though the roads and fields held the memory of yesterday’s storm, the worst of it had passed.
Now, sunlight filtered through the clouds in fitful gleams, dappling the landscape with hesitant cheer, and though the air was brisk enough to button one’s coat a bit higher, the chill made the warmth of the sun feel like a reward.
Thank the heavens. Today was going to be difficult enough on its own.
Fair weather was the very least they could ask for, though Gregory found himself petitioning heavenward for more than clear skies.
History was littered with greater miracles, so surely they might be graced with this little one today.
Eden Place didn’t boast the sort of expansive grounds one might expect of a grand estate, as the past owners had sold off the bulk of the property to supplement the very income that was destroyed by parcelling off the land that provided it.
However, there remained a large enough portion of parkland around the building to lend it a feeling of vastness.
Lawn surrounded the building itself with smatterings of forest in the distance to give the view the necessary visual interest the wealthy thought nature lacked.
The copse around them stretched wide, with oak, hazel, and ash forming a patchwork canopy above, their leaves fluttering in a breeze that carried the cool scent of damp soil.
Here and there, the undergrowth thickened with brambles, heavy with the promise of fruit to come, and ferns unfurled like peacock plumes along the base of the trees.
The storm had washed everything clean, making the green of the moss and the brown of the bark all the more vivid, deepening the tones until it felt as though an artist had painted over the world, and everything smelled alive. Fresh.
A pair of wood pigeons startled overhead, wings flapping as they took flight, and the usual chorus of songbirds fell silent as the Stuart horde invaded their sanctuary.
Of course, Daphne walked calmly like the young lady she was becoming, and Faith was as quiet as ever as she walked hand in hand with Gregory, but the rest of the children more than made up for that display of decorum.
The boys, freed from school for their half day, dashed to and fro, tromping through the undergrowth to examine the trees and greenery whilst Eva chased after them.
Gregory reviewed what he needed to say, though he still hadn’t found the right combination of words.
They had a few minutes before they reached the picnic site, but he needed to reveal their purpose before they arrived, as springing Mrs. Stuart on them would hardly be an auspicious beginning.
Yet all explanations slipped from his grasp.
Praying with all his heart that this was the right way forward, Gregory begged for assistance—that they might heal the breach between mother and children, and the latter would not begrudge their guardian for his role in it.
The path sloped slightly downward, and in the distance, the trees thinned, revealing an open meadow bathed in sunlight. And before he could say a word, the boys and Eva sprinted ahead, darting into the open grass.
“Wait!” he called, moving to follow, though Faith would not release his hand or walk quicker.
“What is she doing here?” shouted Clark, and as Gregory broke free of the forest with Faith and Daphne in tow, he spied the lad standing just beyond the edge of the copse, his finger pointed toward Mrs. Stuart, his muscles tightening with that movement like some furious spellcaster, desperate to curse the lady.
“Clark,” she said in a soothing voice, stepping around the blankets and pillows that had been arranged by the servants. With hands raised to calm the lad, Mrs. Stuart tried to smile, though it was strained. “I know this is a shock, but might we speak?”
“You said she left the village,” said Daphne, her wide eyes burning into her brother’s back, and the lad turned as though to face her but stopped halfway, refusing to give his mother his back but determined to keep both sister and mother in sight.
“She did,” he said, scowling at her.
“I had business to attend to in Leeds, but then I returned,” said Mrs. Stuart with a note of pleading in her tone.
Reaching for Daphne, Gregory pressed a gentle hand to her back, but she refused to move.
The boys and Eva all stood in the field like statues, facing their mother, though the youngest’s gaze darted between them all.
Stepping forward, Gregory moved closer to Mrs. Stuart, and Faith walked with him, her hand tightening around his; her eyes sparked with surprise and more than a hint of fear, yet Faith did not release him, following along with a trust that Gregory hoped he wasn’t betraying.
“It is time that we all had a conversation,” he said, giving each of the children a measured look, though Clark wouldn’t remove his eyes from his mother. “There have been some misunderstandings in the past, and I think it is time to clear the air.”
Clark scoffed. “There is nothing to clear with her . How can you even suggest such a thing!”
“Peace,” said Gregory, holding up his free hand in placation (though the other remained firmly in Faith’s hold, as she refused to release him).
“I know you are angry with me,” said Mrs. Stuart. “And you have a right to be. I have made many mistakes, but not the ones you believe.”
“And you think that simply exchanging one set of mistakes for another will make us forgive you? Listen to you? Welcome you back?” asked Clark, his hard tone at war with the peaceful setting around them. “You have nothing to say that I wish to hear.”
“I am not here to offer excuses,” she hurried to add. “I am simply hoping for an opportunity to mend—”
“There is nothing to mend,” said Clark, stepping backward. “We want nothing from you, except to be left alone.”
Spinning on his heel, he leveled a glare at Gregory and motioned for his siblings, but they remained rooted to the ground, their attention fixed on their mother.
Mrs. Stuart stepped forward, drawing closer to Eva, and that jerked Daphne from her stupor.
Darting forward, the young lady rushed to her youngest sister, snatching up the girl’s hand and dragging her away from the lady.
“Are you coming?” called Clark, his glare boring into his younger brother, and Jackson glanced between him and his guardian.
“It is your decision,” said Gregory, holding the lad’s gaze for a moment before looking at the rest of the children. “This is an opportunity for you to speak to your mother if you wish.”
“I will not force my presence on you,” added Mrs. Stuart. “But I would like to know you—”
“ We do not wish to know you .” Then, going over to his brother, Clark yanked on the lad’s arm, trying to drag him away. “Come on!”
But Jackson remained firm and shook him off, earning him a glare from his elder brother.
“You cannot mean to remain here,” Clark said, scowling. “You know what she did to Father. What she’s done to us.”
“But she’s our mother,” said Jackson, his brows furrowing as he glanced between her and his brother.
“Don’t be a fool. She is the woman who abandoned us so she could whore herself out—”
“Watch your tongue.” Gregory managed to speak evenly, though a flare of temper made it difficult to do so. “You do not speak that way—”
“Don’t call her that!” shouted Jackson, launching himself at his brother. Clark cocked his arm, slamming it into Jackson’s nose, and then the elder boy was on the younger like a tiger, tearing and swiping, though with the two of them grappling so close, neither was able to land decent blows.
Their mother rushed over whilst Gregory tugged at his hand, trying to extricate himself from Faith’s hold as he shouted for them to stop.
Just as Mrs. Stuart drew close, Clark aimed another blow at his brother, but it swung wide, almost striking the lady.
Giving the child at his side a promise to return, Gregory yanked free and ran over, grabbing Clark by the collar and dragging him away from the others.
“Don’t you dare lay a hand on your mother—” but Clark swung about, and his fist flew at his guardian next, though Gregory caught it. “You have every right to be angry, but you do not have the right to sling insults or fists.”
Turning his gaze to Jackson, Gregory added, “Either of you.”
“Traitor!” Jerking free of his hold, Clark shoved at Gregory’s chest. “You were Father’s friend. He trusted you to keep her away, and now you’re protecting her?”
“It is complicated—”
“No, it isn’t!” shouted Clark. “I am old enough to remember her leaving, and I won’t be taken in by her lies.”
“If you do not wish to remain, that is your choice, but I will not allow you to choose for the rest. They may stay here if they so desire,” said Gregory, meeting the lad’s gaze with an unspoken challenge.
Though he couldn’t say he knew much about children, he understood battles for dominance quite well, and to show even a shred of weakness in this moment would be to grant the lad the freedom to continue on this cruel path he’d chosen.
Gregory remained there a long moment before Clark finally broke eye contact, tugging at his frock coat as he set himself to rights once more.
Turning a burning glare to Jackson, the lad studied his younger brother, and though it was clear a slew of words flitted through his mind with every fractious beat of his heart, Clark remained silent and turned away.
Daphne followed after, towing Eva along, though the child’s brow furrowed as she stared back at her mother.
Gregory considered what to do about the situation, for he refused to allow Eva to be dragged off if she wished to stay, but before he could say a word, the child drew into her elder sister’s side, giving her mother her back as well.
But the rest remained where they were.
Faith hadn’t moved, and when Gregory returned, she snatched up his hand and burrowed into his side as Eva had done with Daphne.
Jackson dusted himself off, glancing warily at their mother, and Wesley stood alone; neither his position nor expression had altered from the moment that they’d spied Mrs. Stuart, so there was no telling what the lad was thinking.
Turning to Mrs. Stuart, Gregory wasn’t entirely certain where to go from here; the entire situation was fraught with difficulties that were nigh on impossible to anticipate. But then he glanced down at Faith, whose attention was fixed on her mother.
“We brought a picnic,” he said, nodding toward the hampers, which were overflowing with far more food than a group of five could eat. But Gregory had thought it better to plan for the best outcome, which would’ve required enough for eight.
Faith allowed herself to be led to the blanket, and Jackson followed suit, though Wesley remained where he was, standing amongst the grass and wildflowers.
Helping the child to sit, Gregory joined her, though she leaned into him close enough that she was nearly in his lap; had she not been too grown for such a thing, he would’ve happily obliged, but he contented them both by settling an arm around her.
“Are you only here because Father’s gone?” asked Jackson, his expression and tone hard as he dropped onto the blanket on the other side of his sister.
Mrs. Stuart knelt before them, her eyes bright with emotion as she folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze flicked to Gregory, and he gave her a nod in support. This was not a simple discussion to have, and he prayed the children would accept what they had decided to share.