“This isn’t so bad, is it?” Tilly asked, swaying in Ashford’s arms.
They weren’t exactly following the steps of the dance and every few beats another couple would bump into them. Tilly didn’t care. She loved these rare times dancing with Ashford.
It reminded her of the ball at the Scottish estate all those years ago. Serena had thrown it to welcome Ashford back home and he was as sour about going to that one as he was this one. It was a special memory to her because that was when he confessed his feelings to her. She had already been madly in love with him. At least that was how she remembered it. She tended to skip over the memories of him being a stubborn, grouchy mule.
He tried to give her one of his signature grouch looks just then, but failed miserably, his stern face relaxing into a smile. She didn’t know how it was possible, but she loved him even more than back then. She always thought it was hogwash when older couples said that, but now she was grateful to know it could be true.
“I don’t suppose it’s as terrible as I feared,” he said, leaning down to kiss her behind the ear. “But don’t think it’s something I’d want to do every season.”
She scowled. “Heaven forbid. It’s not as if you have to lift a finger. It’s as if it causes you physical pain to be nice to people.”
He chuckled. “Close to it, my love. And I think you secretly enjoy the mystique it gives you. An invitation to this place is like a rare gem. Like going to the Taj Mahal.”
She pressed her lips together, embarrassed that it was slightly true. “Goodness, the Taj Mahal? That’s a bit much.”
The couple next to them slid past and Lord Camberling paused in his careful steps.
“He’s quite right, Lady Ashford. I took my young bride here to the Taj Mahal last year and she wasn’t half as excited as when your invitation arrived.”
The young bride, who worked diligently on Tilly’s charity committee, blushed crimson.
“Your home is beautiful, Lady Ashford. We’re having a lovely time tonight.”
“Thank you Lady Camberling, you’re too kind.”
Tilly tried to stuff the pride she felt in Belmary House down. It had caused her all sorts of trouble but it had also given her Ashford and her wonderful life. Her beautiful children. She loved the grand old mansion.
“And Lady Ariana’s gown,” Lady Camberling continued, as they started awkwardly dancing again. “It’s divine. The best you’ve designed yet, I think. But of course, she’s so exquisite, she’d make anything look heaven sent.”
Now Tilly couldn’t hold back the gush of pride. She worked hard at her gowns. Ashford didn’t let her sell them, but she auctioned at least two a year for her charity. They fetched huge sums and she’d been begged more than once by society mums to make their daughters a dress. And a compliment about one of her babies always made her glow. She didn’t think there was anything much wrong with that.
She craned her neck around the dancing couples and found Ariana in the crowd, speaking with Maria and another of her friends, Lottie. Those two girls were lovely but couldn’t hold a candle to her own daughter.
“Thank you, she’s really such a sweet angel— Oh dear God, Ashford!”
She thought her eyes were deceiving her but Lottie’s shriek confirmed that her sweet angel had just decked the girl, sending her toppling over a row of chairs. Lord and Lady Camberling danced away as quickly as they could, shock and horror in their previously admiring eyes.
“What in the blazes?” Ashford said, pulling her off the dance floor. “What could have come over her?”
Tilly knew she should address the fallout from the shrieking girl who was hit, but when she saw Ariana run off sobbing, she had to leave it to Ashford.
“Darling, she’s crying her poor eyes out. I have to go to her.”
“Go after the wee savage, then,” he said, eyes full of worry as he watched his daughter run toward the stairs. “I’ll see what that young lady did to deserve such a smack.”
Tilly ran upstairs, her mind a whirl. Except for her brothers, Ariana had never struck anyone, and her brothers were usually only whacked in jest. As much as she knew there was no excuse for her behavior, Tilly prayed the other girl actually had done something worth getting hit over. Either way, all of society was going to be in a tizzy for weeks over it.
As she turned on the second floor, a flurry of pale blue caught her eye at the opposite end of the hall from Ariana’s room. Ariana stood in front of the portal bedroom, her hand hovering near the latch.
Tilly’s breath caught and she ducked back into the stairwell, peeking around the corner. No one went near that bedroom. It was as if it didn’t exist. That was something Liam had added onto his spell when he closed the portal. It was locked up tight in case anyone did happen to realize there was a door there and tried to open it. But never once since Liam closed the portal did Tilly see anyone go down that section of the hall.
As a baby, Ariana’s nursery room was on the floor above. When she was around twelve, they allowed her to move downstairs into a bigger chamber and after a few worried days, Tilly’s fears were put to rest when Ariana never glanced in that direction. It was as if that entire wing of the floor wasn’t there and that was exactly how Tilly liked it. So why was Ariana there now, looking as if she was about to enter the portal room?
Ariana dropped her hand and slumped against the door, shuddering. Tilly wanted to call out to her but didn’t want her to realize where she was if in her upset state she’d only gone the wrong direction. She breathed a sigh of relief as that seemed to be the case. After leaning against the door for a moment, Ariana hurried to her own room, sweeping past the staircase without noticing Tilly.
Her daughter’s red, tear streaked face made her forget about the portal room. She hadn’t seen Ariana that upset in years. After a few minutes of hovering, Tilly finally knocked and entered without being invited. As soon as she opened the door, her heart turned over. Ariana lay weeping at the foot of her bed, a crumpled mass of blue satin.
“Sweetheart, what is it?” Tilly asked, patting her shoulder.
“Just go, please,” Ariana choked out. Her voice was muffled in the bedclothes. “I’m fine.”
Tilly pressed her lips together. It had been her daughter’s go-to answer to everything for years now. Disputing it would only make things worse.
“Well, let’s at least get you into bed. You’ll get a cold lying on the floor.”
She smirked inwardly at her lame mothering, but for some time now, she had been at a loss where Ariana was concerned. The girl was far more independent and headstrong than she ever was.
Surprisingly, Ariana shakily got up and collapsed onto the bed. She looked up at Tilly with big, heartbroken eyes. She opened her mouth to speak but only dissolved into another bout of sobs. They grew in intensity until Tilly was afraid she’d choke in earnest. All Tilly could do was pat her and try not to cry herself.
Everything was so much easier when they were babies. Just pick them up and cuddle them, distract them with something shiny, and the tears were gone. Ariana didn’t look like she’d ever stop crying.
Finally, Tilly rang for a servant to bring some whisky. She knew she would never dose her daughter with strong spirits if she was a twenty-first century mother, but right now Ariana was so upset it seemed she might have a seizure. It was time for the nineteenth century to take over.
As soon as she had the bottle in her hand, she shooed away the concerned maid and poured about a shot sized amount into the cup on Ariana’s dressing table. Putting her hand behind her head, she helped her drain the cup. The strong Scottish stuff shocked Ariana into stopping her caterwauling. Tilly swabbed away the tears and snot with a nearby shawl— no mortal handkerchief could have dealt with the mess that was Ariana at that moment.
“Ariana, honey. Tell me what’s wrong.”
She was relieved to see that the whisky was working its magic already. Ariana swallowed hard and swayed back onto her pillows. She covered her face
with her hands and started crying again, albeit less hysterically.
“I don’t know why I’m so horrid,” she squalled. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Her words were earnest for all their drama and it pained Tilly to her soul.
“It was wrong to hit Lottie, but I’m sure when you apologize everything will be fine. You’re not horrid.”
Ariana moved her hands away, digging her fingers into her blankets. Her face had gone from bewildered and tortured to pure rage.
“I won’t apologize to that cow. If she comes near me again, she’ll get hit harder.” As soon as the words were spit out, her face crumpled into a twisted ball of agony. “I ruined everything,” she wailed. “I don’t think I meant to, but maybe I did. That’s why I’m so upset. Because I not only ruined everything, I think I did it on purpose. I’m so sorry, mum. I’m so sad and sorry.”
She had to pause, her sobs stopping her from continuing. Tilly blinked away the prickling sensation at her eyes, hating to see her firstborn tearing herself apart like this. But she was utterly confused. If she wasn’t upset about losing her temper and hitting her friend, what was she crying about?
Finally Ariana continued. “He’ll never forgive me. The stupid idiot. It was all his fault anyway. I told him not to. I told him!”
Oh, dear. Tilly did not like hearing there was a boy in the mix. Not one bit. Her heart raced with fear.
“Who?” she demanded. “What did you tell him not to do?”
Images of Ashford in a duel flashed through her mind. Or killing someone with his bare hands. Seeing Ariana so upset made her want to use her long dormant fighting skills to help him out.
Ariana took a long shuddering breath. “Owen. I warned him not to lie, but he did anyway. And I was the beastly wench who went and told everyone.” The sobs overtook her again and she turned away, pressing her face into her pillow.
Tilly took a moment to thank any deity that wanted her gratitude that no one needed to perish in a duel or be beaten to death. It was only a spat with Owen. A pretty bad one it seemed, but definitely something that could be fixed.
Owen was the same as family. Ariana probably considered him more like a brother to her than her actual brothers, and of course he had been her best friend since birth. She forcibly refrained from laughing with relief.
“What did he lie about?” she asked gently. It couldn’t possibly be that bad, could it?
Ariana turned back to face her. “He’s in love with Maria Winters. He asked her to marry him today.”
“Oh, poor thing. He’s upset about being rejected? But that doesn’t—”
“Mum,” Ariana interrupted, slapping at her blankets. “You need to pay more attention to gossip. Mr. Winters accepted him, but only because Owen lied. He said the Albus property was his, and he made out that Aunt Serena is better off than she really is. And I let it slip that none of it was true.” She sniveled and shook her head wildly, sending a few crystal hair pins flying. “It was so vicious, so mean. Why did I do it?”
Okay, so it was that bad. It was extremely bad. Tilly was stunned that Owen would lie about anything, let alone something so huge.
“You found out about it and told Lottie and she shouted it out to everyone else within hearing range,” Tilly deduced. Even through her anguish, Ariana rolled her eyes, making Tilly feel slow on the uptake. It dawned on her that it must be absolute chaos downstairs, if Lottie’s beat down wasn’t the only subject for all those ruthless tongues to wag about. “Goodness. Oh, dear.” She shook her head, still unable to believe it. “How did he manage it? Something like that would be so easy to find out.”
All at once Ariana stopped crying and sucked in her breath. She stared at Tilly with hard, searching eyes.
“Mum. Mummy. Have you ever done anything horrible? Anything you hated yourself for?”
A shiver ran up her spine. It was as if Ariana was pleading with her to admit all the lies she had been telling her. All those times she hadn’t been able to share with her about her own childhood. Carpools, basketball practice, crushes on pop stars. Her years before she met Ashford.
How could she explain her former job as a forensic fingerprint analyst, her failed attempt to become a police officer so she could follow in her father’s footsteps? She couldn’t speak about her high school days, how awkward she felt surrounded by beauty queens due to her mother’s high end dress design business.
There was no high school in this time, no beauty queens. Certainly no working mothers, at least not in Ashford’s class. Tilly had to do her work under the guise of charity, making clothes for downtrodden women so they could find work as a governess or tutor and not end up in a brothel.
She couldn’t even share how she really met Ariana’s father. Tears closed up her throat at the injustice of it. Of course she had done something horrible. Many, many horrible things, ever since Ariana was born. Of course she hated herself for it.
Was it worth it? Yes. She’d do it all again and more to keep her daughter safe.
“Sweetheart, you didn’t do anything horrible. Nothing that can’t be fixed with an apology.”
She hated herself right now, for that spectacular cop out. Ariana looked at her a moment longer before closing her eyes. Not soon enough for Tilly to miss the disappointment there. Surely she was only projecting because of her guilt?
“I’m all right now, mum. Truly. I just want to go to sleep. I’ll apologize to Lottie tomorrow, I promise. It wasn’t her fault, not really. She’s always been a cow. It was my fault for trusting her.” A lone tear trickled out and rolled down her cheek but Ariana made no move to wipe it away. “I’ll apologize to Owen too, though he won’t forgive me.”
Tilly couldn’t think of a single thing to do to take away the desolation in Ariana’s voice. She turned to a parent’s best friend, denial. Everything would be all right. Of course Owen would forgive her. And as for Lottie, who cared?
She didn’t bother to say any of those thoughts aloud, not wanting to seem patronizing. Helplessly, she sat there until Ariana’s brow began to tighten. She wouldn’t fall asleep while Tilly hovered over her. She was no longer a little baby who was comforted by her mother’s presence. Tilly was an annoyance right now. Heartsick, she leaned over and kissed that troubled brow.
“Goodnight, honey. Everything will be better tomorrow, you’ll see.”
There was no response and after another minute, Tilly crept from the room to face whatever waited for her downstairs.
***
Ariana lay there for a while, but sleep eluded her. Her first instinct after she utterly ruined everything was to flee to the future, but she knew her mother would come looking to make sure she was all right after that huge scene. So she forced herself away from the portal room, as much as she longed to be away from this wretched time.
Mrs. Hedley would offer her something delicious to eat and her new friends would comfort her, make her see how unimportant this false life was. She could get back to decorating the gorgeous four story house she’d bought with her investment scheme money. She was eager to see if Drummond had managed to donate some of those funds to the orphanage that wasn’t too far from the grubby little flat where she first met her Gloria and Milo.
They had plans to hex the place to make childless couples find it irresistible to walk past without looking in. She could continue to hone her skills and then volunteer at the hospital to heal those who were beyond the help of mere medical doctors. Those were the things that would comfort her now that she felt like her heart was being ripped out of her chest. Not her mother, who had nothing to say for herself. Not Owen, who decided to join his parents in living a life full of deception.
Well, no, not anymore. She took care of that for him. She was fairly certain the unannounced engagement to Maria would never be announced. Guilt ate at her, but she firmly reminded herself that he brought it on himself.
How could anyone want to be with someone who didn’t want them for who they really were? It
sickened her to think he was willing to do that. She only wanted to be with people who accepted her wholeheartedly. Who were like her, not ashamed or frightened of their gifts like her parents were.
Supposedly something bad might happen to her in the future? She didn’t see how. Not with the way her powers were growing. Not surrounded by people who cared about her.
She flung herself off the bed, knowing she’d never get to sleep. Rinsing her swollen face, she snuck back down the hall and entered the portal room. Every time she went through the portal, it would bring her a few days after the time she had previously been. She hadn’t done anything to make it so, in fact she was often disappointed it never brought her to any other time. It would have been interesting to see hundreds of years in the past or even further into the future, but it wasn’t to be.
She hoped Gloria was in the mood to finally teach her the traveling spell that would allow her to go to any time she chose. And with the added bonus of not having to be in her house.
She said the words to make the portal open and squeezed her sore eyes shut, waiting for the rushing sensation to pass. When she opened them and massaged away the slight headache she still got every time she went through, she smiled to see the familiar furnishings of 1889. It was late evening, just like in her own time. She shook her head.
“This is my time now,” she muttered.
With a sigh at the long carriage ride that awaited her to get to the new property, she snuck out of Belmary House. She’d visit with Mrs. Hedley before she returned. Right now she didn’t want the dear older lady to question her about her red eyes and blotchy face.
The only good thing about the ride to the country was that it would give her time to recover from her hysteria. She was glad most of the self-loathing recrimination had been washed out of her by her tears, but she still had guilt about Owen ripping at her. A little nap in the carriage might ease that. She looked forward to closing her eyes, knowing she’d soon be surrounded by her new family.
It turned out she was surrounded by them sooner than she thought. As she walked up the street trying to find a carriage, Gloria and Milo popped around a corner.
Belmary House 5 Page 15
