A Solemn Promise

II

I have grown up this year, and I cannot fool myself any longer. I cannot pretend that I can do whatever I like. I have been forced to face who I am, and that is the heir to one of the richest titles in England. Who I marry, and who I concern myself with, must be carefully considered.

As much as our friendship has meant to me, it must cease. We cannot be friends, or anything else, as it is not proper. You must understand that we are cut from two very different pieces of cloth.

This will be my last letter. I will not write to you again, and I must hereby consider you a stranger, just as you must consider me a stranger.

I wish you good health.

Sincerely,

A.B

Grace felt a sudden frog in her throat, startled at how his words could still affect her. She could still see where the ink had run from where she had cried over this letter.

Oh, how this had killed her heart when she was a girl. Each word had been like a knife, stabbing her over and over as the letter went on.

He had changed. But what had she expected? Adam made a promise to her that he could not very well keep, even if he'd wanted to. Grace hadn't known what his true duty was when she had known him, and she doubted that Adam even knew. It was only had she had grown up into an adult that she realised the vast wealth of the Beresfords, and Adam was heir to it all.

He was destined for greatness and would surely have a bride who would equal it.

"Enough," she told herself, though she had told herself this many time over the years. She would not even be seeing Adam, so she did not know why she was forcing herself to relive these memories. Grace didn't know where he was, but he certainly was not going to be at Ashwood House.

Grace finished packing, including the letters, and the ring, reluctantly, and brought her bag down the stairs to place it at the door, ready for her to leave in the morning.

Claire had made stew, and it smelled divine. It was boiling on the stove with Claire tending to it diligently. Her brothers, Peter and Jem, her sister, Kate, and her husband, Jim Ellis, were all seated around the table, conversing jovially.

The moment Kate saw Grace, she jumped up from her chair, racing over to give her a hug. Kate looked wonderful, a little flushed, but well. She looked to be wearing a new lavender dress, with a silver pin at the collar. Her good husband was talented at forging such trinkets. It was how he had won over Kate in the first place.

"You are bound for the lion's den!" she hissed under her breath, her blue eyes flaring.

"Hush," retorted Grace. "I am a servant in a house is all," she said dismissively. "Really," she insisted, knowing that Kate's mind was exactly where Claire's had been. "The wage is good, and there is nothing to fret about." She took her sister's hand and led her back to the table. "How was your day, Jim? Peter?" prompted Grace, cheerfully changing the subject.

Jim Ellis was a tall man, wide with animal strength, and looked quite the giant next to Kate. Or perhaps, it was Kate that looked like the elf beside him. His skin always seemed to be tinged a little darker thanks to the soot that never fully seemed to wash away. He looked like brute, but he was kind and soft, and very tender in his affection for Kate.

If it were not for him taking on Peter as his blacksmith's apprentice, the Denhams would simply never have been able to afford it.

"Nothing out of the ordinary," replied Jim. "A few wheels. Peter shoed a horse by himself."