by Aria Norton
If there was anyone who could have achieved her goals, it was Freddi. Has she changed her mind about it all?
He opened her wardrobe, his eyes falling on a pretty green box. Nash was certain that the box contained the Freddi that she was hiding from the rest of the world. Opening it, he was immediately drawn to a piece of wood. Amazed, Nash took it out, turning it over in his hands.
She has kept this after all these years?
He brushed his hands over the initials N and F, remembering the day they had carved their names into it. If she had kept this, what other mementoes lay hidden? He found a newspaper clipping detailing his injury ten years ago, a few dried flowers, and letters without an address. Intrigued, he opened one. It was dated three years after he left Blackmore Estate, and it appeared to be for him. Happiness filled him to think that she had continued to think of him despite their loss of contact.
If she wrote me a letter, why on earth did she not send it?
He closed his eyes, holding the letter to his chest. Of course, Freddi did not know where he was, only that he was in France. I am the fool here. Nash read the letter, smiling at the titbits of news she had included. The letter finished all too soon, but he saw a few more in the box. Taking it out of the wardrobe, he went to her bed, sitting before taking each letter out. There were sixteen in total, and as he arranged them according to their dates, he noticed how they ended three years ago. Had she given up on him returning?
I would not blame her, I gave no indication of returning. What must she have thought?
That he had forgotten about her? Never! He had only wanted to make something of himself before coming back to make her his wife.
I should have told her, then she would not have become so distant towards me.
But what if he had told her then he had failed to reach his goals? That had been his fear. Nash did not want to face her disappointment.
I think that she is disappointed in me, or perhaps she is now past that.
Perhaps she had learnt to no longer care; that would explain his first icy reception. Pushing those thoughts away, Nash concentrated on the letters, learning about the years he had missed. Up until the last letter, she had signed it 'all my love', but the last one had been merely signed with her name. Nash did not like the implications of that one difference in the letters. It scared him so much so that he wanted to march out of the cottage in search of Freddi and demand she tell him whether or not she loved him still.
What right have I to do that? She did not know of my plans to succeed and marry her, and still I am keeping the most important aspect of my plan away from her.
Nash had thought about coming clean and baring his heart to her, but worries about rejection had kept him mute. He could handle many things, but her rejection was not one of them. That was why he had to solve his father's crisis and bring closure to her about her parents.
There was clearly no evidence that he could see in the cottage, so he carefully returned all the letters and mementoes, laying a kiss on the wood before leaving the cottage. Freddi was waiting for him, and he no longer wished to keep her waiting.
***
Freddi weighed her options for dinner as she entered the town's market. She had to be wise about what she purchased as it had to last her several days. The cheapest vegetables were potatoes, cabbages, carrots, and onions, so she would keep to them.
“I have some pork drippings from Caroline, they should lend a lovely flavour to the vegetables.”
Perhaps a simple stew would do her a world of good, and if she had some coins to spare, she could buy a few apples to poach in a wine syrup for dessert. What she desired was a lovely suckling pig, roast potatoes, gravy, fresh bread, and a cherry pie for dessert, but those were hardly possible. Freddi grimaced as her stomach rumbled.
I am not doing myself any favours by thinking of such food. I hardly have two pennies to rub together, what do I think I shall achieve by dreaming?
Just the other day she had smelt the mouth-watering aroma of offal and beef pie coming from the main house, so she had tiptoed to the kitchen window to see the beauty.
I could have swooned when I saw the pie sitting upon the window sill. Had I been any other type of woman, I would have stolen it away and finished the lot!
She sighed. Freddi had never been one to be ungrateful, but going without many comforts of life had taught her a habit of being thankful for everything. Be it a stale chunk of bread, a mouldy piece of cheese, or a sliver of ham, she was thankful for it all. Caroline had been a great help, sneaking whatever she could to her, but she knew that Caroline's employers wanted none of their employees to associate with her.
I hope that I may put things right someday, but until then, I must find a means of supporting myself.
It was generous of Nash to wish to give her part of his earnings, but she did not feel entirely comfortable with the idea. I know that he wants to help me, but we are nothing more than strangers with a past. However, her love for him seemed to forget that many years had passed. I still love him, but I understand that we can never be. She had come to terms with that many years ago, but that had not stopped her daydreams about one day marrying him. Not even her parents had known about them, for they were something she kept buried in her heart.
The market appeared quite busy, but comfortably so. There was no pulling and shoving of people, just town's folk going about their business. Freddi made sure to keep as far away from Mr Down's workshop as possible as she did not wish to encounter him any time soon. And to think that I was on my way to accept his proposal. She may still do that, but that depended on Nash himself. Freddi liked to think that Nash had stopped her because he did not wish her to marry the cobbler for his own reasons, namely his own love for her.
I cannot hold onto false hope. He simply does not think that a young woman should throw her life away on an old man.
She understood his reasoning, but her marrying Mr Down would hardly cause a scandal. Many men his age had young wives; in fact, there were likely more couples with significant age differences than those closer in age. If only the cobbler had taken better care of his appearance.
Missing and yellowing teeth, a portly belly, and a thinning scalp were hardly a young woman's dream. Now, had he black hair that curled at the nape, thickly lashed eyes that changed colour according to his mood, and magnificent, broad shoulders that advertised his ability to protect... Oh, goodness, she was describing Nash!
“I have lost the plot,” she muttered.
Sniffing, she squared her shoulders and approached the first vegetable stall. Freddi did not see any carrots, but the cabbages looked humungous. Just one of those shall feed me for a week. She heard murmuring around her, but by now she had become accustomed to it. As long as they did not see a need to make a public spectacle of her, she could withstand their cold gazes. However, when she stood by the farmer's cart, the people milling around immediately stepped away. Freddi took it as an advantageous matter as it meant that she would not need to wait in line. The farmer was still offloading a few more cabbages, his bandy legs bent as he struggled with one bigger than his head.
“Good day, Mr Roomey! You have some lovely-looking cabbages there.”
“Thank you! This year's crop has been-” He abruptly stopped as he straightened up and saw her. Mr Roomey raised a crooked finger, pointing it at her. “I don't want any of your kind here, Miss Dunn. Your parents would be ashamed of the woman you have become! Leave my stall at once!”
Taken aback, she stuttered as she spoke. “But, but Mr R-Roomey, I have only, only come here to b-buy some vegetables! I have not, n-not come here to cause you any harm.”
The man snarled. “Your presence is causing me harm! Do you think that I shall lose business from Blackmore Estate for a measly few coins from you?”
The man's yelling was beginning to draw a crowd. She looked around her, the first prickling of shame and pain striking her body. Oh my, what is happening here? How would she buy her supplies if peopl
e refused to sell to her? It is best I leave here before mob mentality overcomes these people. It does not take much to turn gentle people into a murderous lot when there is cause enough.
“I am s-sorry, I truly am. I shall go now.”
Freddi quickly left the stall, keeping her eyes down as she walked past people. She could feel their disapproving eyes on her back, but she did not dare turn around. How I shall I make a living in my own town? They have seemingly grown to hate me overnight! I cannot become a seamstress as no one will want to buy anything from me. She would have to leave Alfriston for her own good. Freddi looked to the heavens, her eyes misty. How much more must I bear?
The old smith's workshop was a dilapidated building long since abandoned. A fire had gutted the place, taking the lives of two men and destroying a livelihood. No one knew how the fire started, but it had sat as thus ever since as people believed it to be cursed. Nash and Freddi had played in its brokenness, seeing adventure where others saw misery.
No one shall come here, I should be safe.
Freddi leaned against part of the wall that still stood, waiting for Nash. She heard him before she saw him, his stick making a little tap on the ground followed by quiet footsteps. He is light on his feet, but I noticed him drag his left leg the other day.
“Freddi?”
“Here, Nash, by the wall.”
He approached, carefully stepping over burnt wood and metal pieces. The Nash of old would have run through the mess with hardly a thought to getting hurt, but this Nash appeared wary of what lay on the ground. His leg must pain him, but he will never admit it. Freddi wanted him to admit that he was wrong about his silence as well as explain his reasons for abandoning her. The matter sat between them unspoken, a reminder that there was always a distance between them.
“Could you not have found a cleaner place?” he complained.
“A cleaner place? I never thought that I would hear those words come out of your mouth, Lord Salisbury.”
He grimaced. "We are hardly children, Freddi. No matter, I am here now." He looked at her hands. "Where are the vegetables you were to buy?"
Freddi did not want to tell him about her encounter with Mr Roomey, he might just wish to confront the man on her behalf.
“Oh, it is really silly of me, but I forgot to bring my money. I shall buy them tomorrow.”
“You are correct, that is a silly thing to do. Come, let me buy them for you.”
“No, no, that is not necessary. What did you find in the cottage?”
He narrowed his eyes for a moment. “I see what you are doing, Freddi, and no, I did not find anything remotely suspicious in the cottage.”
Did he perhaps find my box? She coloured at the thought of it. Why did I keep those letters and mementoes? I should have thrown them away.
“Was there anything else that perhaps interested you?”
She watched him rub the back of his neck, looking sheepish as he did so.
“No, nothing. The cottage is clean and bare, you must have rid yourself of many things.”
“Yes, I had to. There is no place that I can store them, thus I had to give most of my parents’ belongings away.”
“I am sorry, Freddi.”
She shrugged. “Do not be, you must only allow me to work with you without question. I do not want you to hide things from me, shield me from anything, or attempt to work alone. Do you understand, Nash? This concerns my parents, and I must be a part of this investigation in every way possible.”
"I knew that you would not drop this subject, even after I had relented earlier on." He sighed. "You have my word that it will be as you say, Freddi. I do not wish to oppose you in any way, but you must promise me that you shall not do anything dangerous, and neither will you make decisions without me."
She held out her hand. “That is an agreement I can live with.”
Chapter 9
Freddi decided that it would be better to sit and talk as she could see the strain in Nash's face. She did not voice her concerns to him, thinking that he likely would not appreciate them. Men, after all, were proud creatures. Even her Papa, a man of few words and sweet as honey, was a proud man who hated to appear weak to anyone. Nash was the same, and if she were to bring attention to the cords sticking out in his neck, the beads of sweat on his brow, and the way he gripped his walking stick, he would become defensive.
“Nash, I need a place to sit down, I cannot stand all day.”
“There is neither a stool nor a piece of safe wood to sit on, Freddi.”
“But there are large rocks near the entrance, let us sit there.”
She walked ahead of him, giving him the opportunity to lag behind and hide the fact that he was limping. Freddi walked a tad slower than usual, giving enough distance to balance out his needs to conceal his limp and also not appear slow. If he is unwilling to show me his weakness, how does he fare before strangers? At least he has set his male pride aside and agreed to have me partner him for the investigation.
Perhaps shaking his hand had not been the best choice as she had felt rather warm when his palm had closed over hers. And he had held it longer than necessary- was it intimidation or something else? Freddi did not wish to dwell over what that something else might entail; it was better left unsaid. She sat on the first rock that appeared to not have too many ridges to it, looking out to the fields, as Nash arranged himself on a rock nearby.
There were many large stones in this area of the town, and rather than remove them, the town had accepted them as part of the landscape. Freddi heard Nash's stick hit against the rock before he emitted a satisfied sigh. Only then did she turn to him, pausing at the speculative gaze he sported.
“What is it?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me in that manner?”
“You knew that I was struggling, didn't you?”
Freddi bit her lip. If I deny it, he will know that I'm lying, but if I say yes, I might shame him. It would not be her intention, but intentions often did not predict outcomes. Mama always told me that when in doubt, I should speak the truth, but who knew that saying yes could be so problematic? She had to say something, and she was not one to lie. What she could do was not answer directly, but indirectly.
“I did not wish to make you uncomfortable.”
He nodded, looking at his leg. “Thank you, that was kind. Most people would make a fuss, but you simply gave me a solution.”
“I would never want you to feel uncomfortable around me, Nash. I would never belittle you for any reason, or cause you to feel shame. Your injury is another aspect of you, a physical one that you have dealt with admirably. Many people have emotional injuries that cripple them and render them unhappy.”
Was she speaking of herself? What had made her say those words? I am not emotionally crippled, am I? But had she not, in a sense, given up when it seemed that Nash had given up on her? Yes, she had had her parents, and they had provided her with all the love and attention any daughter would need, but there had always remained a void in her life that had begun to change her bit by bit until she no longer recognised the young girl she had been before.
Oh, she had reasoned with herself, claiming her increasing age as the cause behind the changes, but deep within her, she had known that she had tied her future to Nash. Whether she had purposely done it or it had come about naturally, she did not know, but his departure had adversely affected her.
“Where are you, Freddi? I have lost you.”
Blinking, she focused her gaze on him. “What do you mean? I am right here.”
“But your mind is somewhere else. Have you remembered something from your past? A clue into the mystery of your parents' deaths?”
