Meant to Bea

EPILOGUE

Three years later.

Surely she was making a mistake.

The thought raced through her mind, stopping her fist in midair over the wooden door that stood firmly shut before her.

She frowned, the weight of her fears and anxieties making it nearly impossible to maintain her footing on the front porch of the unfamiliar, modest building.

Surely they will be less than welcoming.

The thought nearly saw her scampering down the stairs and away from the building. It nearly saw boarding a ship back to London. But she knew she couldn't return, for her time in London had certainly come to an end. There was nothing to return to. There was certainly nowhere else she could go. She could do nothing but stand here and pray earnestly that she would be welcomed. Hadn't they invited her themselves? She still remembered the letter they had sent:

Carla,

You must pack your bags and journey to Australia immediately, lest you cause irreparable damage to the already ruined name of our family.

Bianca.

Even in Bianca's absence, Carla saw her disappointment through the letter. She saw the disapproval, and she especially saw the anger. For every emotion scattered across that letter, Carla could give account; she understood her sister's rage, disappointment and disapproval. Yet she did not wish to abate them. For how could she journey to Australia to be with her sister when there was nothing there for her?—she had reasoned. Carla knew she had done more than enough damage to her sister's marriage to Race, and did not wish to worsen the situation by moving to live with them.

Unwilling to move, she had remained in London and had lived in Darlington Hall when her home was taken away from her by her father's creditors.

Darlington Hall might have provided had shelter and companionship for her for nearly three years, but Carla always knew the day would come when she would be forced to leave. Only, she had not been anticipating that day would come so soon.

Still, the letter had been sent a year ago and she was uncertain if the invitation still stood. She wasn't stupid enough to believe her sister really wanted her to live with her family; she knew Bianca only extended the invitation in a desperate attempt to salvage the situation and to keep Carla from sinking into the pit she had eventually sunk into. But she hoped Bianca would be willing to accommodate her until she could find something to do with her life. And although she didn't know what she would do yet, she hoped to find out soon.

Heaving a nervous breath, she pounded on the door.

She must have waited for only a minute when the door swung open, revealing a red cheeked little boy with large brown eyes and curly brown hair that was absolutely familiar to her.

A pleasant smile creased her face as she considered the child before her. "You must be Johnny." Bianca's son. She had mentioned him in her letters right after he was born. Bianca had written several letters through the years until she had caught wind of the scandal involving Carla in London. It was for this scandal that she had sent the letter imploring Carla to leave London, and when Carla had refused, Bianca had cut off every communication with her.

"Mama says no strangers!"

"Your mama is a smart lady, and you're a smart little boy—" Carla was saying when a familiar voice interrupted her.

Turning sharply around at the sound of the voice, Johnny let out a loud gasp, before turning back to Carla long enough to slam the door in her face.

Stunned, she stood frozen on the spot unsure of what was expected of her. Perhaps Bianca didn't want to see her? Perhaps she had seen her from the window upstairs and had instructed her son to get rid of her? It was a ridiculous thought, but she couldn't possibly imagine a better explanation for the less than welcoming reception she had just received.