Chapter 196
CHAPTER 7
Graham Lancaster sat in the leather chair of his father’s study, the
weight of the moment pressing heavily on his chest. The room,
steeped in the scent of old books and faint traces of his father s
cologne, felt eerily quiet. Papers and receipts related to the estate lay
scattered on the polished oak desk in front of him, demanding his
attention. Yet his focus drifted, his gaze fixed on the sprawling
gardens outside the window. Beyond the manicured hedges lay the
rolling fields and endless horizon of Thornfield Manor–the place he
had always considered his sanctuary.
To Graham, Thornfield Manor was synonymous with his father. It
wasn’t just a house; it was the embodiment of home, a comforting
retreat he could conjure in his mind during the most stressful days.
When the pressures of running his multi–billion–dollar company in
New York became too overwhelming, he would close his eyes and
picture this place: the sweet, fresh air of Willow Creek, the rhythmic
gallop of horses in the distance, the quiet expanse of fields that
seemed to stretch forever. And always, at the heart of it, his father-
sitting in this very chair, his face lit with a contented smile.
The memories stirred an ache in his chest. He could see his father’s
steady presence, hear the warm cadence of his voice offering advice,
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or simply sharing an anecdote from years past. And then there was
another image: a little girl with ponytails, wearing a bright pink
dress, trailing behind him as he went about his day. Isla. She had been
a constant presence during his childhood visits, shadowing him with
the quiet adoration of a younger sibling. The thought of her, happy
and innocent, always managed to bring a smile to his face–even
when he was miles away, ensconced in the steel and glass of his high-
rise office.
But now, everything felt different. The manor was still here,
unchanged in its outward appearance. The horses still grazed in the
paddock, the gardens still bloomed, and Isla was still a part of this
place. Yet the soul of Thornfield Manor–his father–was gone. No
matter how much Graham wished it otherwise, this wasn’t a
nightmare he could wake up from. His father wasn’t going to call out
from another room or walk through the door with his familiar,
reassuring presence.
This was reality, and it was one Graham was struggling to accept. The
void left behind by his father’s death was immense, and it wasn’t just
emotional. There were responsibilities now–tasks that had been his
father’s domain, and they had fallen squarely on Graham’s shoulders.
His father’s illness in the last month had left many things
unattended. The stables required their yearly repairs, the south wing
of the manor needed fixing, and the rents from the tenant farmers hadn’t been collected. The weight of these obligations pressed down on him, reminding him that the role of caretaker now belonged to
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him.
And then there was Isla.
Graham leaned back in the chair, his eyes narrowing slightly as he
thought of her. She had been uncharacteristically quiet since the
funeral, retreating into a shell he hadn’t seen since she was a child.
She hadn’t spoken a word that day, not during the service, not at the
burial. She had slipped away from the church unnoticed, walking
three miles back to the manor alone instead of calling him or Edwin
for a ride. That image haunted him–a solitary figure trudging along
the side of the road, her grief so heavy that she couldn’t reach out for
help.
She had loved his father as though he were her own, and Graham
knew the feeling had been mutual. His father had adored Isla,
treating her with the same affection and care as if she were his
biological daughter. Now, Graham felt an unspoken responsibility to
honor that bond. It wasn’t just about the manor or the estate–it was
about Isla’s well–being. She was part of this place, part of the family
his father had built here, and Graham intended to ensure she felt
secure, no matter what.
He sighed, rubbing his temples as his gaze returned to the papers on the desk. There was so much to do, so many things that demanded his attention. But in that moment, one thought remained clear: his father had trusted him with Thornfield Manor and all it entailed.
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That trust extended to Isla, and Graham wouldn’t let him down. He
would take care of her, protect her, and make sure she was never left
adrift–not while he was here.
