Free A Hope Remembered by Stacy Henrie

followed her gaze to see the dog lolling back toward the house, his tail wagging. How to explain? “Well, Colin…I mean Mr. Ashby offered to let the dog stay with me last night. I had a dog back at home, you see…”
    “Yes, my Mary told me all about Mr. Ashby walking you down here last night. She works up at Elmthwaite Hall as a maid, she does.” Bess’s curved face beamed with obvious pride. “Watch yourself with Mr. Ashby, though. A real charmer, he can be. Though he hasn’t been the same since his brother died—none of them have. Christian Ashby was supposed to inherit the baronet’s title and the estate, but now Colin will. Many a wealthy lady has her sights set on him, and none too subtly either, says Mary. He’ll marry well, if Sir Edward Ashby has anything to do with it.”
    Nora’s cheeks flooded with heat. She busied herself with brushing imaginary crumbs into the sink, so Bess wouldn’t see her mortified expression. She’d been here less than a day and already her neighbors suspected her of setting her cap at the baronet’s son?
    Of course, she’d enjoyed her brief time with Colin and appreciated his help, but he was only being polite. A man such as he would never be romantically interested in an orphaned farm girl such as herself. As Bess had confirmed, he would marry a rich, refined young lady, and Nora, thankfully, didn’t fit either one of those descriptions.
    “Now let me have a look at you, love.”
    Nora reluctantly turned around, hoping the woman wouldn’t notice the extra color on her face. Bess’s brunette head barely reached Nora’s shoulder, but she felt like a child beneath her neighbor’s intense scrutiny.
    After a long moment of silence—the first since Bess had shown up at her door—the woman smiled, her head bobbing with approval. “You are the mirror image of your mum, when she was this age.”
    Nora’s own smile froze in place, then lowered into a puzzled frown. “How could you possibly know my mother? She never traveled outside of the United States.”
    “Henry’s daughter Eleanor was my cousin,” Bess prattled on, oblivious to Nora’s mounting confusion. “She and I spent many happy hours together as young girls. I’d know her daughter anywhere.”
    “I’m sorry but my mother’s name is Grace, not Eleanor. Henry was my great-uncle on my father’s side.”
    Bess’s cheery expression faded. “That’s what they told you? Ah, poor Eleanor. Though it’s probably for the best.”
    The hairs on the back of Nora’s neck rose at Bess’s strange explanation. Her earlier warmth dissipated as a chill swept up her spine. What was the woman talking about? “I don’t understand.” Nora shivered and folded her arms. “Who told me what?”
    Bess paled. Her wide eyes darted about like a frightened animal’s. “L-look at me going on about silly notions that don’t mean ne’er a thing now. Just the ramblings of an old woman.” She laughed but the sound resonated with hollowness. Nora hardly considered her to be old; Bess looked to be in her early forties. “Well, I suppose I ought to be heading home now.”
    Nora couldn’t shake the peculiar feeling still churning in her stomach. What was Bess hiding? She wanted to press the woman with more questions, but she wasn’t sure she would get any real answers. Perhaps later, when she knew Bess better, she could learn more. Although that didn’t mean she couldn’t do a little investigating of her own in the meantime. Colin might know what Bess’s strange story was all about.
    “It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Tuttle.” She infused the words with genuine gratitude. Thanks to the kind woman, Nora could continue cleaning on a full stomach.
    The blatant relief on Bess’s face told Nora the older woman thought the odd turn in the conversation had been forgotten. “Oh no, love. Call me ‘Bess’ or ‘Auntie Bess,’ same as everyone else. Nobody’s called me ‘Mrs. Tuttle’ since I lost my husband five years