Miss Lacey's Love Letters Page 3

  "Very well." Harold took a step backward and bowed to the ladies. "Good day."

  "Good day, Mr. Rigby."

  "It was lovely to see you again, Valeria." To her aunt, he added, "And you, Mrs. Langley."

  "Yes, yes. I share your feelings and all that." Lydia tried to shoo him away with one of her envelopes. When he was gone, she gasped her niece's name. "Valeria! There is something I need to share with you straightaway!"

  "What is it? You look positively panicked!"

  "My heart!" Lydia unfolded the letter she held in her hands. "It breaks my heart! I will read it to you..."

  The last time I saw you, I was gazing into your warm brown eyes, those eyes I absolutely adored. Your lovely eyes were always so full of life, as were you. When I think that you will never open your eyes again, my heart is torn apart.

  I thought we would be together forever: Abigail Lacey and Noah Worthington, the luckiest man on earth. When I heard that you had left this world, I wanted to follow you. If there is any chance I might meet you in the next life, why should I stay here? I know what you would say if you were here. You would not want me to hurt myself, or cause myself pain. However, I cannot think of anything that could possibly compare to the pain of losing you.

  When Lydia finished reading, Valeria's eyes were wide. "Oh my! So Miss Lacey..."

  "Died," her aunt completed her thought. "She died. And if Mr. Worthington is a recluse, it could only mean one thing."

  "And what is that?"

  "He was crushed by her death. He lost his will to live!" Lydia's lips trembled as she considered his pain. "You know, it was like that when Henry died. I didn't know if I could go on. If you hadn't been there for me, I might have become a recluse as well!"

  "Poor Mr. Worthington."

  "Yes. Poor Mr. Worthington." Lydia clasped the letter to her chest and heaved a sigh. "He wrote a letter to his deceased fiance. That might be the saddest thing I have ever heard!"

  "It's such a terrible end to their tale." Valeria wanted to discuss Harold's proposal, but it did not seem like an appropriate time, not when her aunt's eyes were filled with tears.

  After several seconds of silence, Lydia exclaimed, "I've decided!"

  Valeria wrapped an arm around her aunt's shoulders and steered her toward the house. "What have you decided?"

  "We are going to meet Noah Worthington!" Lydia declared. "And that's that!"

  Chapter Four

  They were in a hired carriage bound for Steeridge, the modest estate of Noah Worthington. As they traveled, Lydia failed to hide her excitement. She had been trying to suppress a smile, but it finally conquered her lips. The thought of meeting the late Miss Lacey's beau had stirred her heart.

  Valeria wanted to share her aunt's enthusiasm, but her thoughts lingered on Harold. She had yet to mention his proposal to her aunt, mostly because it left something to be desired. As much as she hated to admit it, Mr. Worthington's letters had gotten into her head. After reading his words to Abigail Lacey, Harold's proposal seemed pitiful by comparison. Unfortunately, she feared she had been corrupted by the idea of romance.

  "Do you think he will be handsome?" Lydia asked.

  "Mr. Worthington?" Valeria's nose puckered at the thought. "Lydia, those letters were written twenty years ago!"

  "And?"

  She wanted to suggest that Mr. Worthington might be old, but she remembered she was chatting with a woman of one and seventy. Even if he was in his fifties, he might seem young to Lydia. "I... suppose he might be handsome."

  "When we were reading his letters, I always imagined a handsome man: Tall, brown hair, roguishly unkempt."

  "It sounds like you had quite a strong vision of him. I hope he does not disappoint you."

  "Should we mention the letters?"

  "I will leave that up to you, Aunt Lydia," Valeria said. "Although, for what it is worth, I cannot imagine he would be too pleased with us for reading his personal letters."

  "It is hardly our fault those letters were sitting in our house, just begging to be read!"

  "I'm not sure he will see it that way."

  When the carriage stopped, Lydia peered out of the window and gasped. "Oh my! Your Uncle Henry would love this!"

  As soon as she alighted from the carriage, Valeria understood the reason for her aunt's excitement. Steeridge was a black, gloomy building that might have been an appropriate abode for Dracula. And Henry, according to Lydia, had a flair for the macabre.

  "It seems awfully dreary," Valeria observed.

  "I know! Don't you love it?" As she climbed from the carriage, Lydia winced. She felt a familiar twinge of pain in her lower back, but she kept it to herself. She did not want to alarm her niece and ruin the moment.

  Side-by-side, Lydia and Valeria admired the edifice in reverent silence.

  "My stomach is in knots," Lydia confessed.

  "You're so silly. Mr. Worthington is a man, just like any other." While she tried to appear cool and collected, Valeria's insides were secretly churning. "Follow me."

  A moment after knocking on the door, they were greeted by a stern butler with very little hair and a solid white eye. Valeria assumed he was blind in that eye, but his other eye burned with fury.

  He kept studying them in silence, so Valeria said, "Good day. We are here to see Mr. Worthington."

  "Oi?!" He sounded surprised. "And who's calling?"

  "Lydia Langley. And this is my niece, Miss Valeria Woll."

  "Is the master expecting you?" the butler snarled. "I would say he ain't."

  "He isn't expecting us," Lydia explained. "He hasn't even met us, but we would like to make his acquaintance. We recently moved into the area, you see, and seeing as we are practically neighbors--"

  "I can take you to one of the sitting rooms," the butler interrupted. "But I don't think he'll like it." He turned his back to them and motioned for them to follow.

  Lydia and Valeria exchanged glances. They had anticipated a recluse, but hearing the crass words of the butler was something of a surprise.

  The butler wasn't particularly tall, but Valeria had to sprint to keep up with him. For an older man, he was shockingly fast. "What is your name, sir?"

  The butler barked an answer over his shoulder. "What's it to you?"

  "Um... well..." She looked to her aunt for support, but Lydia simply shook her head. They were equally taken aback by the butler's rudeness. "I was just being polite."

  "Argus," the butler said with a snort. "Me name's Argus. But I don't expect you'll care to remember that."

  "On the contrary," Valeria protested. "You are quite impossible to forget."

  When the butler turned around, his eyes were narrowed. Even the white one. "In here." He yanked open a door and motioned for her to step inside. "I'll tell the master he's got visitors." Under his breath, he added, "But he ain't gonna like it."

  "Thank you, Argus." It was Lydia who thanked him as they stepped through the doorway.

  Argus snarled at them. "Do ye want any refreshments or anyt'ing of the like?"

  When Valeria sat on the settee, an adequate amount of dust erupted around her. As she was no stranger to dust, she wasn't too bothered, but it made her realize how long it must have been since the sitting room was in use. "No, thank you, Argus."

  "Good," Argus barked. "Cuz I didn't want to ask Cook for none."

  Argus left the room before they could utter another word. As soon as they were alone, Lydia exclaimed. "My word! I don't think I have ever witnessed such rudeness in all my life!" With a click of her tongue, she added, "And I have been alive for a very long time!"

  "Argus does seem a bit...unconventional." Valeria scanned her surroundings. The drapes were tattered, the tapestries were molded, and some of the furniture appeared to be broken. "You know, I think this place might be in a worse state than our new home."

  "And I think you might be right." Lydia tried to tighten her shawl, but her tiny shoulders continued to tremble. "And it's so drafty in here! The win
dows must be very ill-fitting."

  "Do you still think Uncle Henry would like it here?"

  "After meeting Argus?" Lydia belted a snort of disgust. "I think not!"

  As shaken as they were, they had nearly forgotten the reason for their visit. So when the door opened and Noah Worthington stepped inside, their bodies jolted with surprise.

  "Mr. Worthington!" Lydia gasped. "At least... I would assume that is who you are?"

  "My name is Noah Worthington," he affirmed. "And I still have no idea who you are, or why you are here."

  As she assessed the appearance of the letters' author, Valeria assumed her aunt was doing the same thing. He was tall, but not incredibly so, and his shoulders were a bit stocky. He was wearing his shirtsleeves and plain brown breeches, which made him look more like a working man than a gentleman. His hair was a sandy color, and it was a bit long and shaggy. The light beard on his face made her think of her aunt's words: roguishly unkempt. That was precisely what he appeared to be. She could see the remnants of a handsome man on his face, but time had weathered him. The lines on his face did little to disguise his age. He looked to be in his early fifties, or thereabouts.

  "We wanted to meet you, Mr. Worthington," Lydia explained. "We recently moved to this area, you see, and--"

  He interrupted. "That wasn't necessary."

  Lydia's mouth fell open. "I... um... well, you see..."

  "There are many others nearby whose company you would enjoy far more than mine." Noah crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway. "What are your names? Argus might have mentioned them, but I did not make a point to remember."

  "Lydia Langley." She turned in Valeria's direction and flashed a pained grimace. In a moment, she could tell he was not the Noah Worthington she had hoped to meet. "And this is my niece, Valeria Woll."

  "What shall I call you then? Miss Langley and Miss Woll?"

  "Mrs. Langley and Miss Woll... that should be fine."

  "I have been hidden away so long, social conventions elude me," Noah explained.

  "Your butler," Valeria spoke up, "seemed quite rude."

  "Argus suits me."

  "So he does." Valeria turned to her aunt, who nodded in agreement.

  "We are unaccustomed to receiving visitors here," Noah explained. "If we are a bit rough, you will have to forgive us."

  Valeria shrugged. "It's quite alright. We should not have assumed you would be happy to receive us."

  "Is there some other reason for your visit?" Noah asked sharply. "If you knew my name, I would imagine someone told you about me. Did they make me sound like an enigma or a pariah?"

  "More like a folk hero," Lydia replied. "Someone said you were a recluse?"

  "Well, I don't deny it."

  "Why are you recluse, Mr. Worthington?" Valeria clenched her fists as she asked the question. She expected him to mention his heartbreak over Miss Lacey. "If you don't mind me asking, that is."

  "As I matter of fact, I do mind you asking. My life choices are none of your concern."

  "I assure you, I am not concerned," Valeria fired back at him. "I simply cannot understand why someone would choose to lock himself away when the world has so much to offer."

  "On the contrary, Miss Woll, the world offers me nothing. I need no one. I am happiest when I am by myself." He glowered at her from the doorway. "And that is why an unexpected visit from prying strangers is enough to ruin my day."

  "You are being rude, Mr. Worthington," Lydia cautioned him. "Exceedingly rude."

  "Again, forgive me." His voice was without inflection, which made his apology sound disingenuous. "I am out of practice."

  Valeria rose from the settee and reached for her aunt's hand. "We should go, Lydia. I'll not stay where I am not wanted."

  Lydia stayed seated. "Wait."

  "Why? Mr. Worthington has made it quite clear that he does not want us to linger." When she glanced at Noah, her words were confirmed by the crooked grin on his lips. He must have liked that he triumphed over them. "Now that I have met him, I do not wish to linger."

  "You are more than welcome to stay, Miss Woll. I never said you had to leave," Noah said. "However, I am not obligated to be amiable."

  "No, you are not obligated to be amiable. You are more than welcome to be the brutish lout that you are. Come, Lydia." Valeria gave her aunt's hand another tug. "We should leave."

  "Wait!" Lydia repeated. "What about the letters?"

  "Now is not the time," Valeria hissed. "Please, let's go..."

  "The letters." Lydia stood, took a few steps in Noah's direction, and looked him squarely in the eye. "Surely you remember them. You were a much warmer man back then."

  Noah's jaw twitched. "I have no idea what you are talking about, Mrs. Langley."

  "Your letters to Miss Lacey," Lydia completed her thought, which made her niece groan. "You loved her, you lost her, and my heart goes out to you... but why did you change so drastically? It is such a shame."

  "You found my old letters."

  "We did," Lydia said with a nod. "We found them in our new home."

  "I see. So... someone finally moved into Abigail's old house. It's quite dilapidated now. I can't imagine you would find it to your liking."

  "This place is quite dilapidated," Valeria spoke up, motioning toward a crack in the wall. "but you seem content enough."

  "See why I do not care to entertain guests?" Noah glared at Valeria as he spoke. "At what point did you think you were free to insult me and my lifestyle?"

  Valeria's brow furrowed. She hoped she looked as frustrated and furious as he did. "Oh... perhaps after you started insulting us."

  "Please!" Lydia whimpered. "I wanted to ask you about the letters, Mr. Worthington. I wanted to ask you about Miss Lacey. If you would answer a few questions, and answer them kindly, we will happily excuse ourselves."

  "Very well. Go on, Mrs. Langley."

  "Thank you, Mr. Worthington."

  "Unlike your niece, it seems you know when to hold your tongue." He flashed another grin at Valeria before turning his attention back to Lydia. "So... you read my letters?"

  "We did."

  "And that is the reason for your visit? The real reason?"

  "It is," Lydia confessed. "How old were you when you wrote them?"

  "Nearly thirty. I am nearly fifty now. Those letters are ancient history to me."

  "But Miss Lacey was the love of your life?"

  "She was."

  "How did she die?"

  The longer the conversation went on, the more rapidly his jaw twitched. "She..." his voice trailed off.

  "I am sorry, Mr. Worthington," Lydia empathized with him. "It must pain you to speak of it. I, myself, lost my husband. A mere seven years ago."

  "When you lose someone you love, it doesn't matter how much time passes. Two months. Two years. Twenty years. The void is never filled."

  "And I couldn't agree with you more." Lydia went to his side and laid a hand on his arm, hoping to reassure him. "How did she die?"

  "A carriage accident. It happened so suddenly. I..." He ran a hand along his bristled chin and grunted. "I do not care to think of it."

  "But the letters--"

  "No!" Noah demanded. "I'd rather not think of them."

  "But they were so beautifully composed!"

  "Please. Go." Noah turned away from the doorway and motioned for them to pass through it. "And never speak of Miss Lacey again."

  "Come, Lydia. We shouldn't pry. Let us do as he says." Valeria gently took her aunt's elbow and led her out of the sitting room, out of the house, and back to their hired chaise. When she saw the tears in her aunt's eyes, she sighed. "My heart goes out to you. I know you wanted him to be a better man than that."

  "What a brute!" Lydia squealed. "A brute, a boor, a swine, a nincompoop! I did not know such rudeness existed in this world!"

  "He's is a man, Lydia. A man... just like any other. After reading his letters, I think you idealized him a bit too much."

 
"He was like an old bear!" Lydia whined. "A rude, uncouth, miserable, nasty old bear!"

  "And believe it or not, I feel a bit sorry for him." Valeria was surprised by her words, but they were true. "Obviously, he could not cope with the loss of his love."

  "There is no excuse for abandoning common courtesy! I did not turn into a brute after Henry died, did I?" Lydia made a tutting noise with her tongue. "Promise me, Valeria..."

  "Promise you what?"

  "Promise me..." Lydia took a deep breath and paused dramatically. "Promise me we will never go back there!"

  Chapter Five

  Because Lydia was so adamant against visiting him again, Valeria waited two days before mentioning his name. Even though she caught her aunt in a good mood, convincing her would prove to be difficult.

  "Please, Lydia. It will only be a brief visit. I promise."

  "No."

  "Please?"

  "No."

  "You're being stubborn!"

  "Absolutely not!"

  "I have a very good reason for wanting to see him again," Valeria insisted, and it had nothing to do with the fact that her heart prickled at the thought. Noah Worthington, despite his rudeness, had intrigued her. "I wanted to return the letters."

  That made Lydia hesitate. Returning the letters wasn't just a favor for Mr. Worthington, it was a favor for Miss Lacey as well. And Lydia had no reason to dislike Miss Lacey.

  "I believe," Valeria continued, "those letters should be in his possession. If I was Mr. Worthington, I would want them returned."

  "Well..." Lydia shifted in her chair. Her back was aching more than ever, but that would not stop her from doing what was right. "I suppose I can understand what you're saying. If Henry's poems were in someone else's hands, I would want them returned to me."

  "Exactly!" Valeria exclaimed. She had already gathered the letters in a pile on her lap. "When would you like to go?"

  "Tomorrow, dear," Lydia said. "We should wait until tomorrow."

  The next day, some of Lydia's pain had subsided, so they made the journey to Steeridge. When they were greeted by Argus, the old butler looked disgusted by them. The lines around his mouth were deeper than ever, which gave him a permanent sneer.