Written In Stone

she'd gotten into. He also couldn't locate anyone who actually knew who she was. In effect, she disappeared without a trace. That, of course, wasn't possible. With her name, and that of her companion, he would track them both down, no matter what it took, but that would have to wait until tomorrow. He mounted his horse and rode home.
    He lived in one of the manor houses, separate from his parents' home, and he liked the quiet and freedom that allowed. There were a number of servants to keep up the place, cook for him, and clean up after him, though he was sure he could manage quite well on his own. His mother, however, had different ideas and insisted the servants remain. Arguing with her did no good, and he knew he lost the battle years ago. Now he just let them do whatever it was they did, and mostly ignored the fact they were even there. He knew his mother's reasons for having the servants had more to do with the fact she was preparing the house for a daughter-in-law and grandchildren. That battle was a never-ending one.
    ~ * ~
    "Good evening, Sir." The butler greeted Gavin at the door and took his overcoat.
    "Good evening, Fairchild. Thank you," Gavin replied, handing him the coat.
    "Brandy, Sir?"
    "I'll get it. Go on to bed, I'll be fine."
    Harold nodded curtly and disappeared through the kitchen to the servant's quarters. Gavin went to the library and poured himself a brandy. He kicked off his boots, sat in the soft leather chair, and propped up his feet on the desk. Reaching for the humidor, he retrieved a cigar. Inhaling deeply, the pungent smoke curled through the air, he then exhaled just as deeply.
    "Angela Elliott. Beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he mused softly.
    Seeing her in his mind's eye, he recalled her soft, silky hair, her sea green eyes, and the smoky voice that did things to his insides. She was beautiful, no, correction, she was more than beautiful, she was breath-taking. Desire for her gnawed deep within his groin. He shook his head, grinning at his own foolishness, and went upstairs to his room.
    ~ * ~
    "Good morning, Angela," Mrs. Waterston said, pulling back the dark curtains to allow bright morning sun to fill the room. "How are you this morning?"
    "Mmmm." Angela moaned and stretched. "Still a little tired. That was a very short night."
    "Let's get you up, washed, and to the dining room for breakfast. You'll feel better once you've eaten. We'll attend church today, and perhaps you'll feel like going to the picnic afterwards. What do you think?"
    "Why don't you attend the picnic, Mrs. Waterston? Ben can bring me home then come back for you later."
    "You need to socialize more, Angie. You are too young to lock yourself away in this big, old house all alone. You need to make new friends, get reacquainted with your old friends, and start living again."
    "I am living, Mrs. Waterston." Angie sighed as she pulled on her housedress, and Mrs. Waterston helped get her feet into slippers.
    "You are not. You are letting life slip away without you," Mrs. Waterston scolded. "You are young and beautiful, and you can still have a wonderful life with a husband and, perhaps, children as well."
    Angie slid from the bed to the wheelchair then looked at Mrs. Waterston. "You never know when to stop, Mrs. Waterston!" Angie could feel herself becoming angry and tried very hard to quell the emotion. "I have asked you in the past not to bring up children. You know very well I will never be able to have another child and it only causes me more pain when reminded constantly that my only child died with my husband. Please, can we just go to breakfast?"
    "I am sorry, my dear, I wasn't thinking. I just so much want to see you happy." Mrs. Waterston began pushing the wheelchair across the room to the door, and then down the hallway.
    "I am happy. Happiness doesn't always come in the form you expect. Sometimes, you have to accept what life hands you, knowing you can't change it, and just be happy anyway. Happiness does not necessarily mean a husband and children. At least it doesn't to me anymore. Can't you accept that and tell my mother?"
    "All right, we'll drop the subject. But tell me you will attend the church picnic this afternoon."
    "If I agree, will you leave me in peace?"
    Mrs. Waterston chuckled, adjusted Angie's chair at the breakfast table, and took her own seat. "Very well, attend the picnic and you'll hear nothing more from me."
    "Ha! Did you know you can go to hell for lying just as quick as for