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trite and staid the entire assembly would take turns spinning out bits of it. When Bartholomew was born, she’d so keenly wished her mother were there. But no one had responded to her letters. She’d lost hope by the time Mark arrived.
    â€œToo long ago to recall,” she replied. It took her several tries to comprehend Gran’s unsteady writing through watery eyes. When she finally deciphered the letter, she was surprised to find that she was sitting on a settee as Marissa loomed over her.
    â€œYou look terrible, Helena. What is the news from your grandmother?”
    â€œShe . . . she is ill. . . . She wishes me to return to Marksby to see her. ‘To say a true farewell’ to her, she says. She has summoned both me and Elizabeth. Our families too, if we can manage it.”
    â€œA true farewell? She thinks this is her end?” Marissa spoke gently, calmly, in a way that should have been soothing, but the placating tone only agitated her more.
    Helena nodded as tears filled her eyes again. “She says she’s dying. She is too weak to leave the house and is sure the end is near.” Suddenly, she felt lost, felt every second of the past twenty years weighing on her. “Part of me suspected she would outlive us all.”
    â€œAnd?”
    She looked up at her friend, confused by the question, unable to reply.
    â€œAnd think, Helena! Do you mean to go?” Marissa had that impatient look.
    â€œI . . . it’s been so many years. . . . It would be more than a day’s travel . . . but she is my gran.” A lifetime of memories flooded through her, Gran’s gentle but commanding voice echoing in her ears. Her chest hurt at the thought of never seeing Gran again, and yet that prickling of her skin had already begun. She hadn’t left London, hadn’t traveled more than an hour’s distance, since Isaiah’s death. And she’d have to take a coach or train. Her clothing felt too tight as she began to perspire. “I don’t know. I would give anything to be by her side, anything for her not to be alone at the end . . . but I don’t know if I could manage it.”
    â€œHow could you expect to manage that when you can’t even leave your home to go to the market?”
    She lifted her chin. Marissa might be one of her dearest friends, but Helena wouldn’t be cowed, not over something so important. “I will manage. I must.”
    â€œDo you think Elizabeth could go? What about all the children?”
    â€œWe shall see. It will all work out. It has to.” Steeling herself against Marissa’s skeptical gaze, she admitted, “When my mother passed into eternal life, I should have insisted that I return for her services, should have fought harder to reunite with my father. Instead, in my cowardice, I stayed away. It is one of my greatest regrets, as is missing his funeral. Gran has asked for us. I will not fail her. This may be my last chance.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she burst into tears. Sweating and nauseated, she set her mind on her dear grandmother’s wish. There must be a way.
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    Having completed his last appointment, putting the final nail in this coffin of a business trip, Daniel took a sweeping look around the smoking room. He’d heard impressive things about the Gresham Club, and he was not disappointed. These were men with a vision of the future. It was small consolation compared to the utter lack of enthusiasm regarding his proposal for Lanfield wools and materials. The merchants and traders he’d met with during his trip to the city resisted taking on such a small-scale supplier. More than one pushed him for exclusivity. Not a chance. That was one point on which he and Gordon had agreed. His brother hadn’t been in favor of seeking these connections at all. The stubborn fool couldn’t see that their entire foundation was crumbling, their industry dying. At best, the head of