Mally : Signet Regency Romance (9781101568057) Read Free

stairwell at Daniel’s prized collection of Stubbs’s paintings. They were surely not valuable enough— Taking a long, cross breath, she continued up the stairs. At the first landing she halted again, looking back down at the paintings which Daniel had collected so painstakingly. Was Chris right?
Did
she still put Daniel first—even now? Slowly, and with a heavy heart, she went on up toward the second floor, and as she reached her own rooms she heard the clock of St. Blaise’s strike four o’clock.

Chapter 2
    Lucy drew the rose brocade chair before the fire and ushered Mally firmly into it. “Sit down there in the warm while I make you a nightcap.”
    â€œIf I drink anything more I shall have the head to end all heads in the morning.”
    â€œJust warm milk then.”
    Mally nodded, wriggling her feet from the velvet slippers. She stretched her toes toward the fire and stared at the slow, curling flames. Without Lucy’s presence the room was so quiet, and beyond the drawn curtains she could still hear the seagulls. And the dog. But in the warm safety of her room the unreasonable fear could not reach her in the same way, and as she stared at the glow in the heart of the fire, it was of Chris that she thought.
    Lucy returned with the glass of milk and stood watching her sadly. Lucy had looked after Mally since childhood, and there was nothing which the old nurse did not know. “How did it go, sweeting?”
    â€œTerribly.”
    Lucy’s crisply starched apron crackled as she crouched beside the chair and took Mally’s hand. “There now, don’t fret about it.”
    â€œI can’t help it. Every time it happens. Every single time. It always comes back to Daniel.”
    â€œSir Christopher should be man enough to understand.”
    Mally looked fondly at the nurse’s old face framed by its mobcap and wispy strands of gray hair. “But he doesn’t understand, Lucy, he thinks I’m—dwelling. And perhaps he’s right, for it’s two long years now. Two very long years.”
    â€œI know, and it’s autumn again.”
    â€œThat doesn’t help. It’s worse when the fires are lit again, and then when the chrysanthemums are brought in— It’s the chrysanthemums more than anything.” She stared at the fire again. “They were by his bed the day he died.”
    â€œBut there will always be autumns, and always chrysanthemums, little one. You must go on, you cannot keep looking back at what you have lost.”
    â€œI know, I am unfair to you all. To you. Even to poor old Digby. And most of all to Chris—he deserves more than me, Lucy.”
    Lucy smiled and patted the gloved hand. “But it’s you that he wants, Miss Mall.”
    â€œLucy, you loved your husband Joseph, didn’t you? How long does it take to forget?”
    â€œForget? Lord above, you don’t
forget!
Memories mellow, but they don’t suddenly vanish like will-o’-the-wisp. Even now, eighteen years after he was taken from me, I— Well, you have your autumns, but for me it is the springtime. When the daffodils are there again. Joseph was the head gardener up at Castell Melyn when I first met him. Oh, it was a grand place then, with all the carriages, the fine folk, the lights and the music. You’ve not seen the old place like that, have you? To you it’s always been gloomy and deserted, a place for children to avoid because the ghosts await them. But in the spring the daffodils must still be there, where my Joseph first planted them. I’ve never been back since he died, but in my mind’s eye I can imagine them. Drift after drift of pale gold, and beyond that the castle itself with the sun on its yellow stone. Castell Melyn. Whatever knight in times gone by named it that named it well, for it is truly a yellow castle. An enchanted place for me, a frightening place for you.” Lucy smiled.