The Vicar's Frozen Heart (23 page)

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Authors: Karyn Gerrard

BOOK: The Vicar's Frozen Heart
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He gave her a perfect bow the likes of which any gentleman would give a lady in a ballroom, “Good day, Miss Glenna.”

Already a charmer. When he grew up he would be a heartbreaker for certain. She couldn’t help but smile. “Good day to you, young sir.”

Susan laughed and pulled the child back into her embrace. “There now. Go with Molly and she will give you a jam cake. Later I will come and read you a story, all right, my dear?” She laid an affectionate kiss on the top of his head. Jeffrey took Molly’s hand and headed toward the door. He turned and waved with the enthusiasm of a happy, contented child before Molly closed the door after them.

“My heavens, Susan, the likeness is uncanny. I see none of Hannah in the boy at all.”

Susan picked up her cup. “None. He is Ravenswood through and through. He will not escape the connection, I fear. Sam and I decided when he is old enough to understand we will tell him of his parentage. Hopefully before he hears the tattle.”

Glenna sipped her tea. “Any news on Hannah?”

Susan sighed. “She is still in the asylum in Scotland. I fear she will never be released. All this compounding tragedy has made me terribly sad.” She poured more tea into their cups. “I was distraught when I found out I could never have children and leapt at the chance to adopt Hannah’s child. He really is a dear, sweet boy. Such a sunny disposition.”

No doubt Ravenswood once was, Glenna surmised, but she would not voice the thought aloud to Susan. “If any couple can give a child a loving home and stable upbringing, it is you and Sam.”

Susan passed her the plate of cakes, and Glenna took one then bit into it. “The earl comes to see him. Sometimes once a month,” Susan revealed.

Glenna was shocked, then concerned. “Whitestone? Is that wise?”

“It is his grandson, after all. He also offered to pay for Jeffrey’s schooling at Eton and Oxford, how can I refuse such an opportunity for him? He claims he will leave him a substantial inheritance.”

After adding the milk, Glenna poured a little more tea in both their cups. “I would ask for that in writing and have it legally seen to. However, he won’t give Jeffrey the family name though, will he?”

“Well, legally, I don’t suppose he could. Whitestone Manor and the title are entailed to the next in line. His nephew. He couldn’t hand it over to his illegitimate grandson. But, the earl did say he would do all he could to ensure Jeffrey’s future, and he wished to visit him now and then, how could I say no?”

“You are a kind-hearted soul. I do not blame you for doing all you can for Jeffrey. Just...be careful. I do not entirely trust the earl, I’m not sure why, but I don’t. What kind of man would let his son run wild through the land doing whatever he pleases?” Glenna licked the frosting from the tip of her finger.

“Oh, speaking of running wild. I hear there is another child of Ravenswood’s here in the village.”

Glenna shook her head in disbelief. The dissolute rake no doubt left issue all the way to London and back. “Anyone we are acquainted with?”

“I don’t believe so. The farmer Fenton’s daughter gave birth to a girl two weeks ago and claims it is Ravenswood’s.”

Glenna frowned. “Did he rape her as well?”

Susan shook her head. “No, my dear. No more than he raped Hannah. You said no to his advances and he respected your wishes. Though Hannah swore me to secrecy shortly before Jeffrey’s birth, I will reveal she lied to her father claiming she’d been raped, hoping he would not be as angry about her condition. Apparently the earl paid them good money to keep the entire matter secret. Hannah went to the viscount’s bed willingly because she loved him. He broke her heart.”

Poor Hannah.
Most of this drama happened before Glenna arrived in Charlwood three years ago, but she did make Hannah’s acquaintance through Susan, and how heart-wrenching to watch the young woman’s mental decline. After Hannah gave birth, her family did not want to keep the child. Susan and Sam stepped forward. A lump formed in Glenna’s throat. “And look where her love got her. There is a chance she will never recover.”

“No. I believe not. I will do all I can to protect Jeffrey from the vicious gossip, but I fear it will follow him all of his life.”

Later, as she waved goodbye to Susan, Glenna found herself strolling toward the cemetery. She gathered a few wildflowers as she went, her mood turned melancholy. All this talk of death, tragedy, and wrecked lives. And all of it Ravenswood’s fault. Too bad he no longer could answer for his reckless actions, though it could be argued he paid the ultimate price. Death.

Ambling past the leaning, long-neglected, tombstones, she found herself standing before the resting place of Ravenswood. Suddenly, remorse and embarrassment at her overly dramatic graveside declaration of three days ago made her blush. Curse him for eternity? How petulant and childish. He broke her heart two years ago. Later, she discovered she had been one of many in a long line of besotted women. Enough time had passed, she should be over the incident by now and for all intents and purposes--she was. But Ravenswood had stimulated her heart to life, introduced her to passion only to spurn her for more enticing and salacious delights.

Today, Glenna felt a little sorry for the waste of life. For the children he would never know. She laid the wildflowers on the mound of dirt. “Well, your lordship. Here’s hoping your offspring live a better life. And they should; now that they are free from your example. Let’s hope blood will not win out.” She hesitated. “Do rest in peace.”

A sudden breeze came up, swirling the fallen leaves at her feet. Branches from a nearby juniper scraped together in the wind creating an eerie sound, as if the dead answered her with a mournful voice. She shivered. Glenna gazed at the mound of dirt more closely. It looked as if it had been...disturbed. The gravediggers did not do a though job, it was haphazard and messy. With a glum sigh, she pulled the hood of her cloak over her head and walked away.

 

 

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