An Inadvisable Wager (The Curse of the Weatherby Ball Book 2) Eliza Lloyd (reading books for 7 year olds .TXT) 📖

“Your mother died about six months after you and Timothy arrived at Whitmarsh. To me, she died when she abandoned her family,” Lady Fortenay said.

“Why? How can two people be so selfish? Whatever Papa was doing, he had to know the dangers. Even his petty thievery angered people! And Mother? The wife of an earl?” Nora asked.

“No, the wife of an accused traitor,” Grandy said gently.

Nora set the diary on the table near her. “What does it say?” she asked. “You must have read it, or you would not have kept it secret.”

“Oh, Nora. I can hardly speak it. Wait a few days. Read it privately. Forgive her.”

“Have you?” Nora asked.

“I should have never held a grudge because I didn’t know the whole truth or even the reasons behind any of their decisions. And I still don’t know the whole story.”

“How bad is it?” Nora looked to Gabriel. He took the seat beside her and she reached for him. He had one characteristic she could not fault: he was a rock.

“It won’t answer the questions you have. I fear it will only make your doubts about her grow.”

“I should have never pursued this. Not one thing I believed has been true. And now I’ve ruined Carlow’s future just as my parents ruined mine—with lies and deception. I’m sorry, Gabriel. I am truly sorry.” She squeezed his hand. The pity in his expression dismayed her. Better there be outright disgust and hatred.

Nora scooped up the book and hurried from the room. Where could she go? There was no place for her that wasn’t tainted by some aspect of their duplicity. And now her own duplicity.

She shoved through the front door and walked down the lane, clutching the diary and the last of her vengeance. She walked past lilac bushes, wooden fences and a rock post marking the direction to Stinsford. Nora hustled down the road toward Dorchester until she came to Berber’s Pond where she walked over the dam and, taking a deep breath, ambled down the newly built wooden dock where Timothy and Dill fished occasionally. For her, the new planks might still give way just to show her that she could have confidence in nothing.

She dangled her feet over the edge and stared into the mirrored water. Clutching the book, she held it over the water, ready to discard whatever hurt she would find between the pages.

Had Mother abandoned Papa in his hour of greatest need? What could she possibly believe was more important than two young children at home? Two children who needed her.

Nora pulled the diary back and held it to her chest. A clog of despair built in her chest. Why did she feel the pain so much more than Timothy? Why in the middle of discovering some new truth was he off fishing with the local waste-about? Tears rolled down her cheeks before an anguished blubber escaped her mouth. She pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. Several sobs shook her shoulders. When she thought she could breathe, another racking surge of tears appeared…and she hadn’t even read the diary yet.

“I was in jest when I asked you the first time, but are you planning to hurl yourself into the water?”

She wiped at her cheeks and turned to look at Carlow, shadowed by the sun behind him. “If I thought it would do any good. And this time, I think it might. I see you are wearing your favorite boots. Feel free to stay where it is safely dry while I put an end to this misery. How did you find me?”

“I followed your boot tracks in the dust.”

“Carlow, you can’t come following after me over every setback in my life. I am bound to have many more in the years to come.”

As he sat on the boards, one knee pulled up, his other leg dangling over the edge, he said, “It sounds like you have made a decision about continuing our marriage, then?”

“Why don’t you just drown me? Then no decisions have to be made except which dress to bury me in. And please don’t let it be any of the beautiful new gowns you’ve bought for me.”

“You would come back to haunt me. And I’m not sure I am strong enough to hold you under.” He held a stalk of meadow grass and twirled it a bit before he placed it between his lips, completely sanguine about his wife’s anguish.

“I think that was more a small praise than an actual threat,” she said, feeling a hint of a smile.

“It was, dear.”

“Nora the Avenger is not so easily defeated!”

“Is that who I met at the lake the other day?” he asked.

“What is left of her.” As an avenger, she had not accomplished her lofty dreams of vanquishing her enemy, let alone liking the enemy.

“Are you going to read it? It probably won’t answer any of your questions about Henbury Hall, but it would give a clearer picture of your mother’s motivations. Maybe even your father’s. You and Timothy might be able to leave the past behind. Finally.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“Honestly?” he asked.

She nodded.

“I want to read it. I want just a hint of what was going through your father’s head that set all this in motion.”

“Do you really remember being there…at Henbury that day?”

“You know how memories are. They come. They go. But I do remember what I think was that day. Not in vivid detail, but parts of it. I’m not sure why Father took me, other than I was the oldest and would inherit all one day. My memories seem to be tied to great sadness and such strong emotion. My feeling wasn’t about you but more about my father’s behavior. He wasn’t cruel or