Love Comes in Three

Chapter Sixty-Eight "Home"

            As the carriage crept closer to the house, my excitement rose.  I had not thought that I missed it this much.  Honestly I had not thought of home or my family much since . . . well since Thomas turned out to be Isaac.  I was struck for a moment, how would I explain that to Freddie?  Not only am I returning home, but I am unmarried and unattached for that matter.  The man he thought I was in love with . . . well, wait . . . had he met Isaac?  I started going through all of the events of that time.  It must have been Isaac while Freddie was there, right?  Yes, it was Isaac, it had to be.  I would just have to explain that they switched places and it was Isaac that I fell in love with.  Isaac that I am in love with.  Isaac that I need to come back to me.

            I was so caught up in my thoughts that I had not noticed anyone making their way out to greet us.  Not until I heard, "Magpie?"  Freddie's voice always centered me, no matter how lost I was in my own thoughts, his words always brought me to the present.  "Magpie, is everything alright?"  I saw him approach and look inside, I could not help but smile when I saw him.

            "Freddie!" I gasped as I tumbled out of the carriage and into his arms, "It's so good to see you!"

            "What are you doing here?  Is Thomas with you?" he looked towards the carriage compartment, "You're not alone, are you?"

            "Hello again, Mr. Woodbridge," the lord said stepping out and helping Leah, "I do hope you'll pardon the intrusion, but I thought it best to return your sister home . . . "

            "What happened?" he turned to me and held his hands on my shoulders, trying to examine me in the dim lights outside, "Are you hurt?  Did Thomas . . . "

            "Ah," I choked a bit, "that is something we'll have to discuss."

            "What?" Freddie's voice raised an octave, "If he hurt you, I will find him . . . I will . . . "

            "Actually Mr. Woodbridge, that's what I'm attempting to do," Lord Edgehill interrupted, "might we go inside and I will bring you up to speed?"  Freddie nodded and lead me into the house, followed by Lord Edgehill and Leah.  "Girls, why don't you go upstairs, I'm sure you're tired . . . we're just going to talk."

            Leah nodded and kissed her father, she spoke no words.  I gave Freddie another hug, telling him "Leah will stay with me tonight."  I made no stops to see Patience or Isabella, but went straight my room.  It looked the same as always, yet something was different about it.  I showed Leah where everything was and then gave her one of my nightshifts and let her get ready.  I snuck downstairs and stole bread, cheese and fruit from the larder and returned to my room to share a snack with my friend.  Leah was sitting on the bed, "I brought us a snack," I offered with a tentative smile.

            "I'm not hungry," she said shaking her head, "I'm not anything . . . not even tired."

            "Oh, Leah," I set the bowl on the nightstand and sat beside her, "I can't imagine what you're going through . . . but I have felt extreme loss . . . both of my parents and I was younger than you."

            "I'm sorry, Margaret, but that doesn't make me feel any better . . . "

            "I didn't think it would, I was merely offering that if you do want to talk . . . I am happy to listen."  I took a ripe strawberry from the bowl and offered it to her, "If you don't want to talk, I'll still listen," she took the berry and looked at me, her eyes reddened again.  "And if you want to cry, I have two good shoulders that don't mind getting wet."  I tried to smile reassuringly at her, she managed a nod before leaning into me and weeping.

* * * * *

            I awoke with the dawn yet stayed in bed to listen to the familiar sounds of home, mostly the variety of bird songs coming from our gardens.  "I have missed you too," I whispered from my window ledge as I leaned out to take a deep breath of fresh, country air.  I looked at my bed, Leah was still curled up and sleeping so I decided to sneak out for an early morning walk.  I quickly scrawled a note and left it on the dressing table should she wake up before I returned.  Judging by how deeply she slept, I doubted that would happen.

            Dressing quickly I made sure to take a shawl since the mornings tended to be chilly, especially if I ended up by the beach.  I tried to make myself believe that that's not where I was headed, but I knew myself too well.  I slipped into the kitchen and grabbed one of Charlotte's fresh scones before I made my escape.  Most of the servants were having their breakfast so no one was around to hinder me and soon I was beyond our gardens and on my way to the craggy path that lead to the beach.

            I climbed onto one of the large rocks and watched the water, something Freddie never quite understood, especially since our parents died.  He hated that I would come out here alone, "Margaret, the sea is dangerous . . . it can sweep you away without a thought . . . " his voice echoed in my head.  But I could not help it, I was drawn to it.

            I closed my eyes and listened to the waves crash against the shore, perhaps they would share their secrets or tell me that everything would be made right.  Somewhere in the gentle whooshing noise, I thought I heard my name, "Margaret?"  I kept my eyes closed and concentrated, who would be calling me now?  "My Margaret."  I scrambled to my feet, looking everywhere for the one person that called me theirs, but Isaac was nowhere to be seen.

            A shaky breath escaped my lips as I climbed down off my perch and I watched as the laps of water played on the beach.  I caught myself staring at the sand, it reminded me of the color of his hair . . . not just the sand, but the damp sand after the water rolls away.  It was that rich color that I loved to brush my fingers through.  When I turned to the ocean, it reminded me of his eyes, vividly blue depths of a tumultuous nature.

            I remembered that just looking at him sometimes I felt a beckoning, much like when the sea calls to me, begging to let it wash away all of my worries and cares, pleading with me to just enjoy the moment.  My brother always told me that the sea was dangerous and I should be wary of it.  What would he say if I told him about this boy . . . this boy that encompasses everything that draws me to the beach, the sand the sea.