Adelle's Time: Book Three - the Willow Tree

By Dayna Leigh Cheser

Adelle is back!

After a year of recovery from her ill-fated romance with Theo (see Morias Time), and thinking about her future, Adelle returns to London, still intent on marrying a duke with a carefully thought out plan.

First, she needs a companion to help her, and hires Lady Deanna. Together, they take Londons social elite by storm with the dramatic introduction of Adelles alter ego, Lady Mysterious. At fi rst it seems Lord Grenfell, and then Lord Hastings, may take the bait, but then, being Lady Mysterious proves to be too dangerous. Realizing the price shed pay if caught and exposed, she abandons her plan.

Instead, she enlists the aid of her Uncle Sinjin, the Duke of Devonwood, to open doors for her. At Lord Pearsons ball, the host shuns her, but his son, Walter, finds the American farmers daughter entrancing.

Theo, conscripted into the Royal Navy and exiled to Australia, returns to London. Convinced the Grayson family caused his being inducted into the navy, and now a destitute and desperate deserter, he plans his revenge on the Duke of Devonwood and his brother, Adelles father.

After jumping ship in Istanbul, the formerly pompous youth, now transformed into a dangerous, hardened man, cons his way home, and stalks the family while learning to use a gun. Adding burglar and murderer to his resume, he realizes the error of his ways and flees. The family hopes hes gone for good.

After a double wedding with Moria and Simon, Walter and Adelle, with the support of their families, devote their lives to childrentheir own, and many London orphans.

Along the way, Adelle learns about love: the love of her family, of Walter, and of many other people in her life. It changes her in ways she could never have imagined.

now there doth remain faith, hope, love these three; and the greatest of these is love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: May 23, 2014
• ISBN: 9781496911667

Dayna Leigh Cheser

I’m currently residing in Central Florida with my husband, Pete. I’m a lifelong reader. Starting before kindergarten, I devoured anything with words. In grade school, my favorite books were stories about horses. I went on to read every book the local library had pertaining to horses. I also consumed every Reader’s Digest Condensed Book I could get my hands on. Then, I discovered her mother’s stash of ‘naughty’ books—and was hooked on the romance genre. Soon after, I started writing short stories to entertain my peers, and the occasional teacher who intercepted one. Later, an English assignment was my autobiography. In the chapter entitled ‘Future Plans’, being a published author topped the list. Becoming a writer took a while. It wasn’t until I retired that I had the time to commit some of the stories in my head to paper. In 2009, @Writers_Cafe, which now has almost 32,500 followers, became a reality. Since then, I’ve earned a ‘Twitter degree’ in publishing! On New Year’s Day, 2010, I went ‘live’ with my first blog—a combination of chronicling my writing journey and offering helpful posts on publishing topics. Wanting to pay it forward, in 2011, I added ‘DIY Interviews’ to my blog. In September 2012, I switched to a full website/blog. The’ TIME Series’ information and ‘DIY Interviews’ are there. And, in 2014, I added doing book reviews under the name: ‘Reviews by Dayna’, also on my website. This book, Logan’s Time, is book 4 of the TIME Series, preceded by Janelle’s Time (temporarily unavailable), Moria’s Time, and Adelle’s Time. Coming soon will be the second edition of Janelle’s Time, and Clarissa’s Time, the TIME Series Grand Finale. Please visit my website: DaynaLCheser.com, or email me: [e-mail]. Also, (Twitter) @Writers Cafe, and (Facebook) Author Dayna Leigh Cheser.

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Book Three - The Willow Tree

Adelle’s Time

Dayna Leigh Cheser

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AuthorHouse™ LLC

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Bloomington, IN 47403

www.authorhouse.com

Phone: [phone]

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

© 2014 Dayna Leigh Cheser. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 05/19/2014

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1167-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-1166-7 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2014908681

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by iStock are models and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only. Certain imagery © iStock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

ADELLE

1.   Time Off

2.   ‘The Awful Years’

3.   Adelle’s Journal

4.   The First Step

5.   Adelle Arrives in London

6.   ‘Lady Mysterious’ Shocks London

7.   The Foster’s Ball

8.   The Christmas Ball at The Blackley’s

9.   Home for the Holidays

10.   ‘Lady Mysterious’ in the New Year

11.   The Carmichael’s Ball

12.   Lord Hastings

13.   Uncle Sinjin Changes Everything

14.   Lord Walter Pearson

15.   Love

16.   Raven’s Shadow

17.   Moria and Adelle’s Birthday

18.   The Beginning of the Charity

19.   Back to England

THEO

20.   Theo’s Exile

21.   Theo Returns to England

22.   Theo’s Plan

ADELLE AND WALTER

23.   Adelle’s Charity

24.   A Wedding, Times Two

25.   One Plus One Equals Fourteen

26.   Deanna’s Decision

27.   It’s All About the Love

Prologue

The first time she appeared was during the Hargrove’s ball.

Like a dream, the specter floated from the shadows.

Conversation ceased. All eyes looked her way.

Her slim body emphasized the simple, yet elegant, cloth-of-gold gown. The white silk cloak emanated a soft, subtle glow in the flickering candlelight. Concealed under the cloak’s hood, and the veil that shrouded her face, she teased the imagination with her sensuous movements.

Ladies’ fans labored furiously; the gentlemen smiled their approval.

She floated slowly around the room, as if on air, with the cloak drifting behind her.

Then, as suddenly as she’d appeared, she slipped into the shadows and was gone.

Motionless, the Lords and Ladies stared at each other in silent amazement.

Questions bubbled to the surface. Who was she? Where had she come from? Where did she go?

Several men jumped into action, racing out into the night, but soon returned. They’d found no trace of the mystical entity, ‘Lady Mysterious’.

ADELLE

1

Time Off

It’s been a horrible spring.

My best friend and companion, Deanna, has been ill for over a month, which has me greatly worried. I’ve tried dozens of potions and poultices, to no avail. Without her help, on so many levels, I’m lost.

I’ve been stuck here in the office, trying to do the work of two people but I can’t keep up. Our business is growing, but I need to order the supplies for the coming summer, and deal with the myriad of other details. It’s an almost impossible task, even under normal circumstances.

And what about the coming summer… when nearly a hundred orphans arrive, along with the extra staff needed to care for them? It’s frightening to even think about it.

Our children, well, they have needs, and they suffer minor ailments and injuries from time to time. They keep me busy, even if I had nothing else to do. Because I haven’t had the time for them, the younger ones, too young to understand why their mother is so busy, have started causing problems in the schoolroom. The tutor has told me of the shenanigans they’ve perpetrated. They need me.

And, I need them.

The head housekeeper is leaving at the end of the week. She’s with child and won’t be returning. I haven’t had the time to interview for her replacement so there’s chaos below stairs.

There was a mutiny in the barn a couple of weeks ago. Half of the men left in a huff, unhappy with the head groom’s rules. Walter is sleeping in the barn to make sure the animals are safe until he can hire more men. I miss him in our bed; I don’t sleep well without him.

It seems our lives are falling apart. There are times when I flee up the stairs to cry in private before returning to the battle.

This morning, I was up before dawn, working in the office. Later, I made sure the children were all up, dressed, fed, and on their way to the schoolroom. I returned here and picked up where I left off, trying desperately to stem the tide that threatens to overwhelm me.

After several hours, I leaned back in the chair and closed my tired eyes. I could feel a major headache creeping in. I rubbed my neck and felt the tight muscles there. In seconds, I felt myself drifting off to sleep. Blessed sleep. Oh, how I needed sleep.

Moments later, I sensed someone near so I looked. Deanna stood in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket and looking like death incarnate.

Deanna. I jumped to my feet. You shouldn’t be out of bed. I took three steps toward her to chase her back upstairs. The room went black. I collapsed onto the floor.

*     *     *

Deanna:

Adelle, I croaked. Adelle, I said as loud as I could. She didn’t move. I stooped down to shake her but the room started to spin so I stood up and leaned against the wall. Fear clutched my heart. Had I done this? Had the sight of me frightened her? Help. I must find some help.

I staggered to the kitchen where, between coughing fits, I gasped, Adelle’s collapsed… in the office. The cook leapt into action. He sent the potboy to the barn for Walter, then ran to the office, picked up Adelle, and carried her upstairs to her bed.

Within moments, Walter burst through the kitchen door, eyes wide in panic. Coughing uncontrollably, I pointed upstairs. He nodded and sprinted in that direction.

A scullery maid helped me to a chair and handed me a cup of hot tea. I sipped it, grateful for the warmth, and noticed the distinctive honey taste.

Before I’d taken more than a few sips, Walter returned, quite distressed. He skidded to a stop in front of me. Deanna, I can’t rouse her. She’s as limp as a rag doll and barely breathing. I’m going to Devonwood. Moria and Simon are there. I’ll be back as soon as I can.

I nodded, convulsed with more coughing.

He headed for the door. Moments later, a horse left the yard at a full gallop.

The cook returned to the kitchen, took one look at me, and shook his head.

You need to be in your bed, young lady. Before I could object, he picked me up, took me upstairs, and put me in my bed. I barely heard his admonishment that I stay put before sleep overtook me. I suspect there was more in that tea than honey.

*     *     *

Adelle:

When I awoke, I was in bed. I sat bolt upright, disoriented. How long had I been asleep? I shoved the covers aside, intending to rise. I had work to do. Time waits for no one.

Oh no you don’t, Sis. Moria said as she pushed me back and covered me again. You’re not going anywhere, not today and not for a few more days.

Mori? I looked around the room. We were alone. Where did you come from? What happened? Why am I in bed in the middle of the day? I’ve got work to do. I started to get up again, but, again, she pushed me back onto the pillows.

She raised her voice, something she rarely did. "You’re not getting up, do you understand?" She waited for me to agree.

I held her gaze and knew she was serious. I blinked and nodded.

Smiling now, she continued, You collapsed and no one could rouse you. Walter knew we were at Devonwood, and planned to come here for a few days before going back to the mission, so he rode hard, hoping to get us to come right away. We came immediately, and took over. She paused, shaking her head, obviously remembering their arrival here. "I came here to see what was happening with you, and Simon saw to Deanna. When we knew you both were stable, we took on the rest of it.

Deanna, like you, was run down from overwork. Because she was distraught, thinking she’d been responsible for your collapse, he gave her some laudanum to calm her. She’s much better now, and has been here to sit with you for a while the last few days. She handed me a bowl of chowder and a spoon, encouraging me to eat, then sat in a chair near the bed. I saw an open book on the table nearby.

Last few days? Oh my, how long has it been?

Over a week.

I digested that while she continued her story.

"Simon and I then returned to Devonwood to borrow some people to help you and Walter here for a while. You really should have asked someone, anyone, for help, you know. Things were really out of control here."

I sighed. Hmm. I know, but it never occurred to me. I shook my head in wonder. Why hadn’t I thought of such an obvious temporary solution? I was so busy; asking Devonwood for help didn’t even cross my mind. What’s wrong with me and how long has it been?

Mori stood, then came and sat on the edge of the bed. You’re not sick. You’re exhausted, that’s all. There’s nothing wrong with you some rest and sleep won’t fix. You’ve been pretty much out of it, although you have been awake before now, and actually took sustenance a few times. You’re on the mend now, but, she waggled a finger at me. You must stay in bed for a few more days.

I don’t remember anything after seeing Deanna in the doorway until now.

I’m not surprised. She rose and took the bowl from me, noting I’d eaten every bit of it. Oh, by the way, your housekeeper had her baby, a girl she named Adelle. Mother and daughter are doing fine.

My eyes opened wide in surprise. So soon? And she named her baby after me?

Yes, and yes. She stayed as long as she could. She could see this situation developing and wanted to help as much as possible.

She paused and smiled. You should know there are some little people out in the hall, waiting to see you. She walked to the door. I’ve told them you’re fine but you need some rest. They can each come in, one at a time, and spend a few minutes with you, but they’re not to whine or complain, or be anything but nice.

My babies. Oh, Mori, I’ve neglected them. They deserve better. Tears gathered and threatened to spill over onto my cheeks.

I know. For the first few days, I had my work cut out for me with them, but I think things will be better now. Are you ready to see them?

I want nothing more. I need to apologize and hug every one of them.

Three days later, Moria and Simon left. Their visit here had not been the relaxing break from the rigors of their mission they’d planned on, but it was great seeing them anyway.

The next day, Walter brought the pony cart around to the front door. He carried me down the stairs and put me in it.

I know what you need. He said as we drove toward the residence, then turned off the road into the field across the street.

When I saw where he was taking me, I turned to him, tears in my eyes. Thank you, I whispered.

Slowly, I got out of the cart and walked away, turning after a few steps to throw him a kiss. He was right; this was exactly what I needed.

He turned the cart and headed back to the lodge, knowing I’d be fine now, sitting under the willow tree.

2

‘The Awful Years’

Walter left me near my favorite place in the world. When I’m seated under the big willow tree in the field across from the residence, I find the peace and quiet I so desperately need. There, at the conluence of two small streams not far from home, it’s nature at it’s best. The leaves stir in the gentle breezes and the streams gurgle, soothing my frazzled nerves and calming my sometimes troubled soul. When I’m here, the people in my life, whom I love more than life itself, know they mustn’t disturb me or they’ll earn my wrath, which is formidable, though rare.

When I’m here, it’s my time alone, to think and find solutions. When I’ve finished giving serious thought to the issues at hand, I sometimes let my mind wander and think back on my life.

Sighing, I rest my head on the trunk of the tree and close my eyes. My mind drifts back to New Hampshire, and my earliest memories…

I remember feeling what I later came to recognize as anger, and jealousy.

It seemed no one paid attention to me but everyone flocked around Moria.

Moria, Moria, Moria.

She was the one who, according to Mother, looked like our great-grandmother. What’s so great about that?

She was the one who was quiet and content. Everyone said, ‘Why can’t Adelle be more like Moria?’

My answer to that is because I’m not Moria.

The anger was sometimes rage.

At times, I hated my twin sister and wished she’d never been born.

Looking back now, I know the truth was I didn’t hate Moria, ever. Deep down inside, I loved my sister. I did, but I couldn’t acknowledge it, not even to myself, until I grew up.

Still, it angered me that she got all the attention, that she was somehow special.

Moria had what I wanted the most of anything in the world: Mother’s love and attention.

I can remember many times when all I wanted was for Mother to hold me, the way she did Moria. What I got instead was a rebuke, gentle to be sure, often not even verbal, as that’s Mother’s way, but a rebuke isn’t a hug. A rebuke isn’t feeling loved. A rebuke is wondering what I did wrong to have Mother turn away from me. Was I so unlovable?

Through my young life, I watched Mother go about her duties as wife, mother, and chatelaine of the house on our farm. I studied how she walked, how she talked, and how she dressed. By the time I was ten, I was sketching her clothes and modifying them to suit me. Here was something at which I was better than Moria, although it didn’t seem to matter.

As I got older, I searched for ways to lessen Moria’s influence on the family. One of the easiest ways was when she asked for help in dressing, which was often. She had no fashion sense at all, so I’d suggest a gown that looked horrid on her, usually something plain and dark. I even asked Eleanor to make some gowns for just that purpose. Mother caught on to my actions quickly, but it didn’t stop me. While the resultant scolding wasn’t the kind of attention I craved, it was better than feeling so alone and lonely.

One of the few joys in my life was shopping. Oh, how I looked forward to those times. Mother tended to give me whatever I wanted, in a thinly veiled attempt to buy my good behavior. Occasionally Moria would stay home and I’d have Mother all to myself. Even then, all too often, we’d get into an argument, or I’d say or do something she didn’t like. Still, the negative attention was better than none.

When the opportunity arose, I made fun of Moria, or said hurtful things on purpose, hoping to cause her the kind of pain I felt. It wasn’t a very effective tactic, as Moria seldom reacted, almost as if she hadn’t heard what I said. If Mother wasn’t around, I got away with it, but if Mother heard me, she’d make me apologize to Moria.

Over and above my ongoing attempts to hurt Moria, some especially bad situations come to mind.

I’m sure there were many before this, when I was younger, but this is the first one I remember well. We were thirteen at the time. After finishing my homework, I spied Moria’s medicine bag, unattended, in our room. A simple leather pouch, it held a large number of small containers, each of which contained medical concoctions for her pharmacopeia. Moria had spent years with Maura, Mother’s companion before Rhona, learning about medicinal plants and natural medicine in general, as was her MacKendall heritage. That Moria honed her medical skills was of great importance to everyone. For years, life revolved around Moria learning as much as possible as quickly as she could. I saw the medicine bag as the manifestation of my failure. I didn’t have any of the MacKendall skills. I claimed I didn’t care, one way or the other, but if I had MacKendall skills, how would my life be different? Would I have gotten more attention? Would Moria have gotten less?

I snatched the bag and, seeing no one around, left the house by the front door. Looking back now, I don’t know what I was thinking. I never could have gotten away with what I almost did, but the sight of the bag, and what it represented, angered me. Maybe I thought that without it Moria would be just Moria, not a skilled natural healer. I don’t know.

Taking a seldom-used path through the woods around the house, I came out near the side door of the north barn, bypassing the busy yard near the main barn. Snatching a shovel from the tool room, I sprinted out the back door to the manure pile. As I hastily dug a hole, second thoughts plagued me. By the time the hole was big enough to bury the bag, I’d changed my mind. No one would be the wiser if I returned the bag to where I’d found it before anyone knew it was missing.

Tossing the shovel aside, I picked up the bag and turned, just as Father yanked the bag from my hands. I screamed, startled. Where’d he come from? How had he known where I was, or what I was doing?

What followed was a particularly terrifying time. He dragged me to the house where my repeated attempts to escape earned me a sound spanking. Mother, distressed by my actions, worried that Father might hurt me with his blows, evidenced by her attempts to stop him. Even Moria, after a brief period of panic when she discovered the bag missing, was troubled but, in her typical Moria way, she forgave me and told me she loved me. Her penchant for compassion is so typical of her, and how I now love her for it, as much as I earlier despised her. When the hours-long ordeal was over, I fled to my room, vowing I’d never touch the bag again. And, I haven’t.

Another situation arose a year later when, through my friend, Serena, and her brother, Charles, Moria heard about Elizabeth Blackwell, a woman who, like Moria, aspired to be a doctor. Mother promised Moria she’d get the chance to meet Miss Blackwell at the school she and Charles attended in Geneva, New York, adding they’d spend a few days in nearby Rochester, including doing some shopping. As I recall it now, I threw a temper tantrum; they were most certainly not going shopping without me, and that’s all there was to it. Father insisted on a serious talk before agreeing to allow me to make the trip; an ineffective formality he’d employed at other times.

Damian Gerard, normally quiet and unobtrusive, begged to come along in hopes of meeting one of his heroes, Frederick Douglass, a former-slave-turned-newspaperman and writer, who lived in Rochester.

Naturally, the trip didn’t go well for me. Mother wasn’t happy with the way I dressed Moria for the meeting with Miss Blackwell, which resulted in both Moria and me being attired in plain black skirts and white blouses. Moria was fine with the outfit, but I put up a fuss. Mother’s choice of black and white had never been my favorite; it didn’t get me the attention I craved.

Because of this situation, Mother announced she’d be looking at my clothes when we returned home, that some of my gowns were not at all suitable for me at my age. When I made my feelings known about this, she was even more perturbed.

We all met Miss Blackwell and Charles one cold and snowy Sunday. The next day, we visited Frederick Douglass at his office in Rochester. He and Miss Blackwell were nice people, but I was there for the shopping. It was no surprise when I found myself on the receiving end of another spanking because of my insistence about getting on with the shopping. My lengthy list of misdeeds caused Father, in a fit of anger, to cancel the shopping altogether, and announce we’d be heading for home in the morning.

Oh, how I hated my life and everyone in it that day.

Then, Mother and Father woke us for an odd, middle-of-the-night family meeting, about Moria, of course. After that, oddly, the shopping trip was on again. In the morning, Mother and I went out, just the two of us, but it turned out to be a disaster. Mother’s mind was somewhere else; she refused to buy me a single thing I wanted. A temper tantrum, which usually turned the tide in these times, ended the shopping abruptly.

When we arrived home from that horrible trip, Mother invaded my wardrobe and removed all the clothes I’d spent years designing and having Eleanor make for me, leaving me with only dark skirts and light blouses, and a few basic day gowns. It was unthinkable. All my attention-getting gowns and outfits disappeared to the attic where they’d stay until Mother thought me old enough to wear them. She even had Eleanor tailor a few of my outfits to fit Moria.

Next, as if she hadn’t done enough damage, my world took another bad turn. Mother announced I’d be volunteering at the orphanage in Amoskeag. Without missing a beat, I declared I’d never work in the kitchen or do any cleaning. I don’t have to tell you, Mother wasn’t happy with that, either.

I was angry and upset. Could my life possibly get any worse? I didn’t know it then, but Mother was saying the exact same things to herself about me.

Much to my embarrassment, Mother stayed with me for my first day at the orphanage, where we met Misses White, the director. Our assignment was the kitchen, of course. We were busy, which only made me hate it more. Later, however, when I was serving the meals, something strange happened. No one can explain it, least of all me. The little children crowded around me, clinging to me, tugging on my skirts… and my heart. Yes, something happened, and Misses White and her staff noticed.

The next day, Misses White assigned me to look after the younger children, those same little ones who had swarmed me the day before. She then sent my mother home. Later, when Mother and Father came to fetch me, I was a different person. Father was angry at first, thinking I’d been in a fight. From the outside, it looked that way. I was bedraggled, as I’d been playing on the floor with the children, but, on the inside, well, I’ve never admitted it before but, somehow, the children touched me in a way no one else ever could. My work there became a turning point in my life as I fell in love with the little ones. I saw what their lives were like, with no one to turn to for the love and attention they needed, and I understood, all too well.

From that point forward, everything was different. No one noticed, but I didn’t care. I started to change. In the years that followed, the new Adelle emerged slowly. Some might say I was growing up, but I knew it was more than that.

I volunteered—willingly—for several years at the orphanage. Part of the original agreement was that I would earn back some of the clothes Mother had taken from me, as well as make a little pin money for the hours I worked. Although I continued to work under that agreement, even that didn’t matter anymore. The children became the focus of my life, almost to the exclusion of everything else. My grades suffered, and friends and family rarely saw me. My parents pointed out to me that I had to find a balance between my volunteering and my life away from the orphanage.

I think back to the ‘awful years’, before my volunteering, and I cringe. I hurt so many people so many times. I didn’t see it then, but I was hurting myself as well, perhaps even more than I hurt anyone else.

There was one last ‘awful years’ episode I should mention before closing the door on that part of my life.

Several years later, the entire family was in London, at Adelle House, the family’s London town home. Moria was expecting guests for the evening. Miss Blackwell, by then her friend and mentor, was coming and bringing her friend, Florence Nightingale, whom Moria had never met but had heard much about from Miss Blackwell. Moria asked me to help her dress, as she wanted to look her best. Old habits are hard to break; without giving it a thought, I recommended a dark blue gown, knowing Moria would look terrible in it, while I’d shine in a gold gown with green trim. Mother, in the room with us at the time, had anticipated this. What ensued was the usual argument except, this time, Moria, already nervous about meeting Miss Nightingale, had endured this ongoing disagreement far too many times. In a rare display of emotion, she exploded, interrupting the wrangling between Mother and me.

But this time, it was different. I still don’t know if it was because it wasn’t Mother’s tired, old litany, or if it was because it was the always forgiving Moria. This time, I heard the words and felt the pain. For the first time in my life, I truly understood what I’d felt for all those years, the anger, rage, hate, betrayal, abandonment, pain, all of it, had been about me, and no one else. The love of my family had been there all along, but the other emotions had gotten in the way.

Mother had often referred to me as a troubled child, a term I hated. But, she’d been right. I was troubled and, without realizing it, or intending it, I’d made my life, and the lives of everyone around me, miserable. I was jealous of Moria, almost from the beginning, which blinded me to everything else. My anger at my sister because she was mother’s favorite knew no bounds. I never saw the love both Mother and Father had for me. In them, there was, every bit as much love for me as they had for Moria, and all my siblings. While Mother tried countless times to get through to me, I never heard her.

That afternoon, in London, in our room at Adelle House, I heard the words Moria said. Understanding started to dawn. Between the orphanage and Moria, what I’d spent my life evading finally started to come into focus. Love was all around me. It was always there, no matter what, but I never realized how much. The evolution of my life continued.

I was growing up and starting to take responsibility for my actions.

From my childhood in New Hampshire, to the willow tree in England was a long journey, but worth every minute, good and bad. It’s made me who I am: no longer the angry, needy child, but an adult—a mother myself, many times over—who understands, at long last, the meaning of love, and how it can change you for the better.

3

Adelle’s Journal

I’ve been here, living and volunteering at the orphanage in Amoskeag, for almost a year. I’ve earned back several of my outfits, and I’ve put aside a nice nest egg as well.

While still in school, I volunteered here for several years. I continued, even after we graduated, leaving only when the family was to spend an extended period in England.

A year ago, I returned here, after that ill-fated trip to England, as part of my recovery.

In June 1853, the American Grayson family journeyed to Devonwood, the family seat in the English midlands. About two months later, we all decamped and travelled to Adelle House, in London, for a scheduled audience with Queen Victoria and Prince Albert, arranged by my Uncle Sinjin, the Duke of Devonwood. Once we received the queen’s invitation, Grandmother Susannah and Aunt Alexis, both of whom had spent time at court in their youth, devoted hours to training everyone in the proper behavior when in the presence of the queen and prince. This so impressed Queen Victoria, she then invited us to stay and dine