Azalea Read Online Free PDF

It was as though he had
aged ten years in a few hours.
    "What is it? What's wrong?" She could feel
the blood draining from her face.
    "You had better sit down, my dear. I'm
afraid I have some very bad news," he said heavily.
    He waited while Azalea shakily seated
herself across from him.
    "I don't know how to prepare you for this,
child," he began in a voice devoid of expression. "I have received
a letter from Herschel Morely, Howard's eldest son."
    She closed her eyes, willing the words to
stop, but her grandfather continued inexorably.
    "The Fortitude, which was carrying his
father and brother home to England, never reached port. It was lost
in a storm at sea, along with its passengers and crew. No trace has
been found of the ship, nor of any survivors. I'm sorry,
Azalea."

    * * *

CHAPTER 2

    September 1815

    Azalea closed and fastened the valise
containing the few clothes and essential toiletries she would need
during her voyage. Everything else had already been packed in
trunks and sent ahead. The sun was just rising, but in an hour's
time a coach would arrive to carry her the forty miles to Hampton,
where she would stay the night. The following day, she would board
a ship for England.
    She sighed as she contemplated the tedious
journey before her. The months since her grandfather's death had
been spent preparing for the voyage, down to the smallest detail,
yet she felt far from prepared mentally. Mechanically, she walked
to the window and gazed out over the lawns.
    The past six years were almost a blur in her
memory. Only a few events stood out clearly in her mind. The most
vivid, still, was the day she'd learned of Christian's death at
sea. Her grandfather had suffered a seizure two days after receipt
of that sad news, brought on, no doubt, by the stress of coping
with both his own grief and Azalea's. He never fully recovered his
faculties and for his final two years had been entirely
bedridden.
    Azalea had focused herself completely on his
care, though her grandfather had repeatedly expressed concern that
such determined devotion, while touching, was an unhealthy escape
from reality.
    "The world goes on, my dear, and so must
your life," he had said. "You cannot hide here with me forever.
There is money enough to hire a nurse. An hour or two of your time
in the evenings, playing chess or reading, would content me. I
would not have you waste your youth at my bedside and then remember
me with bitterness because of it when I am gone."
    "You know how much you mean to me,
Grandfather," she had replied. "It is my own choice to be here. The
boys have all gone away to school or are tied up with their
farming, and I never did have much in common with other girls and
their silly, gossiping ways. I am much happier here with you,
believe me."
    Eventually, she allowed the persistent Mrs.
Swann to share a bit in his nursing, but she used the extra time
only to tend her neglected gardens and horses. Azalea had spoken
truthfully when she'd said she had little desire for the society of
others.
    This was still true. Well-meaning neighbours
came and went, their sympathy a cloak for curiosity. Especially
unwelcome was the frequently asked question, "What will you do
now?"
    For Azalea's future was foggier than her
past, even though her path had been carefully laid for her. Despite
his infirmity, Reverend Simpson had prepared quite thoroughly for
his granddaughter's future, she found. When it became clear that he
could not linger much longer, he had summoned his lawyer, dictated
letters and made certain changes to his will.
    The reading of that will was another event
that stood out clearly in her mind. Reverend Simpson had left all
of his land and possessions to Azalea, which in itself had not
surprised her. But the conditions of that legacy did: that she sell
the house and land and, with the proceeds, remove herself to
England. There she was to establish herself in London and regain
her father's inheritance, currently held by her uncle,