“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Your Grace,” said Susana, trying to mimic the lady’s curtsey. Susana knew how to curtsey, of course, but could not execute it with near the same level of balletic grace and poise as the storied widow before her.
“Oh, dear, my darling Richard was altogether too generous in describing your want of education,” said the widow, clucking her tongue. “I see we have quite a bit of work to do.”
“I suppose so,” said Susana through gritted teeth. Although she did perhaps want some improvement, she did not need all that much improvement, and the Dowager Duchess looked at her as if she were a piglet squirming about in the mud.
“Well, our dear Duke has arranged for me to stay for some two months, but I am not entirely sure that will be sufficient!” The widow clasped her hands and shook her head. “I suppose we ought to start by my evaluating your manners. I shall simply observe you in your natural state for a day or two, and then the work shall begin.”
Only, it was not a matter of a day or two. Instead, the Dowager Duchess observed her for an entire week, evidently deeming her a woefully desperate case. The Dowager Duchess lived and ate at Silkstone Manor alongside Susana and William, following Susana’s every move. She carried a small notepad and a stub of pencil, making note of every last flaw in Susana’s behavior, seldom verbalizing her thoughts, but only marking them with a tsk, tsk, and a shake of her head.
Susana grew so used to the tsking that it became a sort of metronome about her day. Apparently, everything about her was in need of improvement—from the way she combed her hair, to the way she drank her tea, even to the way she danced, which Susana had thought was her one socially-redeeming quality.
“No, no,” the Dowager Duchess explained. “You dance with entirely too much enthusiasm. It is not proper for a lady to show as much emotion in public, you know.”
“But men show emotion in public all the time!” Susana cried. “Men can laugh out loud, and get angry, and dance however they please.”
“But you are not a man, are you?” said the widow, patting her hair. “Do not fret, my darling Susana. Dear girl, it is not entirely your fault that you act like a man, having been raised by two of them. But, fret not, the Duke has given me leave to stay for as long as I should require, to mold you into a picture of feminine charm and poise. When I am through with you, darling, you will indeed be fit for a king.”
To which Susana said, under her breath, “One can only hope.”
At last, the Dowager Duchess announced that her tutelage should commence. She spent several days in an ascetic sort of isolation, occupying Richard’s desk in the library and writing, writing, writing. She took hardly any food or drink, only tea and a biscuit here and there, and Susana prayed she would stay there until she starved to death. For while the Dowager Duchess wrote—composing her curriculum, no doubt—Susana had Will all to herself again.
Covertly, they went out to ride, after telling Dowager Duchess they would be out on the moors. This was not technically untrue. They did ride across the moors quite a bit, and even broke at mid-day for a picnic on a hill, surrounded by the wildflowers of late spring. The hillside was bathed in sunlight, with white butterflies flitting all around them.
Soon, Susana forgot all about the Dowager Duchess, and only saw William, who helped her down from her saddle. The Dowager Duchess had begun her regimen by restricting Susana’s diet, and Susana found herself utterly lacking in energy.
“She says that is the point,” Susana muttered, steadying herself against Will’s shoulder as she dismounted. Her cheeks flushed with Will’s hand on her waist. Her head swam, and in spite of herself, Susana hoped she would swoon into Will’s arms. “She says that if I am hungry enough, I shall lose my spirit.”
“What a horrid thing to say,” said William, scowling to himself, and holding on to Susana several moments longer than were strictly necessary to help her off her horse. His gaze roved over her face. “I hope you never lose your spirit, Susie, and I have brought enough food in our picnic today to give you spirit for the next two days. I hope you eat until you can hardly breathe and give the Dowager Duchess all the spirit you can muster.”
Tears sprang to Susana’s eyes with these words, and she did not know why. Will seemed to have the power to bring tears to her eyes rather frequently these days. This was a new development, as he had only made her cry in past years on the very rare occasion he might pull her hair or try to provoke her in some other, older-brotherly way. But William had lost all interest in provoking her since his return from war, and his tenderness toward Susana made her tremble.
Was he always this way, and I simply did not notice? Or perhaps life had softened him? Perhaps, instead of becoming hard and mean like his brother, William responded to life’s trials by becoming more gentle and kind? A tear escaped her eye—for the first time since they came to Silkstone Manor. At least, in William’s presence.
“No one has ever accepted me like you,” Susana murmured, her hand resting on Will’s shoulder. She was still in his arms. The wild urge to kiss him stole over her again, and she resisted, but only just. “You make me feel so strangely these days, Will.”
I hardly know what has happened to me.
“It is the country air. It can have that effect,” he said, tucking a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear. “You are pale, sister. Let me help you sit down.”
“I am sure I can manage,” Susana said, though she let William help her, all the same.
He had spread out the blanket, and lowered Susana to the grass. She reclined slightly, and watched him heft the enormous picnic basket, and set it on the ground. She admired him, everything about him, as he unpacked the lunch—not only because she was hungry, and grateful to him for feeding her, but because he looked so dashing while doing it.
He wore civilian clothes that day, quite casual in breeches and a waistcoat with no jacket, his shirtsleeves brilliant white and glowing in the midmorning light. She noticed his strong jaw and broad shoulders, and the way his hands were so big and powerful, but he handled the fine china plates with utmost care and delicacy. Surgeon’s hands, they were, much to the Duke of Bainton’s chagrin.
William had always had an affinity for medical practice, and though Richard forbade him from becoming a general physician—too common an occupation for a Nielsen, apparently—William had gotten his own way, by becoming a surgeon in the Royal Navy. Richard had been apoplectic with anger, but he could not argue. William was a good soldier, and a good surgeon, and was about to make rank again, after his shore leave. He was not at all warlike, though, and had found a way to go to war without harming anyone. In fact, he healed the damage done by the war, didn’t he?
I do believe I am falling in love with my own brother, Susana reflected, as William served her a plate of cold meat, bread, and lots of butter.
“Richard seemed awfully adamant about having you marry,” said Susana, picking at her plate with one pinkie extended. “Had you, uh... met anyone at my party? Surely it was your first chance to socialize since you came ashore?”
William glanced at her, as he filled his own plate. “Um, no... I cannot say I had met anyone. I was far too busy looking after you, my wayward chickadee.”
Susana smiled to herself. “I am sorry to have been such a distraction to you.”
“Do not be sorry,” said William, touching her shoulder. “I am as happy to do it today, as I was the day I found you. I feel as if God created me, just to look after you.”
“Will! Such a thing to say!” Susana cried, flushing with pleasure. “It is... quite a shame you shall have to look after a wife one day, instead of me. I ought to be green with envy for whomever she may be.”
At this, William fell silent, and uncorked a bottle of wine. He poured it into a glass, and sipped it, his lips pressed together tight.
“It is a shame we are not crowned heads of Europe, who may marry their brothers and sisters as they please. Then you could look after me forever.” Susana chuc
kled, as if she were only teasing. “But... it would be awfully untoward for us to be married, would it not?”
“Richard would surely burst into flame, he would be so angry,” William mused. “He would never let it happen, even if it were not... untoward, as you say.”
Susana tucked into her plate, feeling queer, feeling as if that spark inside of her that warmed toward Will had just been dimmed. There was still a warmth there, but the tone of Will’s voice made her heart feel quite cold, and she knew in that moment that whatever love she felt for William could never be more than that of a sister for her brother.
Even as her entire body and soul yearned to confess her undying adoration for him, Susana swallowed it, and her appetite waned. She set the plate aside, and forced herself to smile, because if she did not fake a smile, she would cry out and wail until it echoed across all of County York and startled every cow and chicken within reckoning.
“Most untoward,” she murmured. “I think the Dowager Duchess’s restriction is having an effect on me, William. Suddenly I am not hungry.”
“All the better,” Will mumbled. “Members of the royal peerage do not make proposals to ladies like you. The Dowager Duchess shall have to transform you entirely into a different person. She will starve you until you’re nothing but a wisp of air, and just as spiritless. Until you are so fatigued you lose all your sense and all your imagination and are too weak and silly to do anything but sit in the parlor and gaze out the window with eyes like a taxidermic doe.” William threw his plate aside and leapt to his feet, and paced around the picnic perimeter, riffling a hand through his hair.
Susana looked up at him, baffled by this response, then turned to her wine glass and said, “Well, yes, William, as I am not permitted to do anything untoward, I must bend all my energies on becoming more desirable to someone more... toward. You must understand how important this is for me, and for you, and for Richard. I must do credit to the Nielsen name, to honor Richard and all he has done for me... and to honor you, for looking after me.”
“Susie…” He trailed off, as if he wanted to say something but could not.
Undeterred, she proceeded. “I shall find someone else to look after me, so that you may be free to speak to other ladies at parties and suchlike. The Dowager Duchess knows what she is doing, and I... I must trust her, Will, or Richard will send me away, and I will never see you again.” She struggled to her feet, trembling with emotion, and was disappointed that William did not help her. But when she turned to approach him, he was standing some feet away, arms akimbo, staring back toward the house.
“Well, it very well may happen anyway, as I believe the Dowager Duchess is coming this way right now!”
Chapter 4
“Of all the impropriety!” The Dowager Duchess sucked in her cheeks, pacing back and forth before Will and Susana in the library. Her eyes flashed as she visibly organized her lecture in her mind, glaring daggers at both young people, but especially Will.
“I expect this sort of behavior from Susana, as she is famously wayward, but you, Lord William, to encourage her?” The widow paused before Will with her arms folded, looking for all the world like a distraught cockatiel, with pale yellow feathers in her hair and her lips puckered into a beaklike expression of disdain and disapproval. “Richard made but small mention of your want of upbringing!”
“So, it would seem I am not immune to your scrutiny.” Will sighed, trying his best to maintain some level of respectfulness in his composure. “And just what is it about a picnic between a brother and sister at their own home, that causes you to object so strongly?”
“Because you are not her brother!” the widow snapped. “She is the Duke’s ward, and if anyone should see you, an unmarried sailor, cavorting about in public with this slatternly little creature—”
“Now see here!” Will drew himself up. “I have had quite enough of you and my brother bandying about insults about Susana—”
“It isn’t an insult. She has a dribble of sauce on her bodice, and her hair is in want of combing,” the Dowager Duchess interjected coolly. “Listen, Lord William, I have been called here under the auspices of the Duke of Bainton himself. You know as well as he, that I am among the most respected of English high society, and with good reason. If you want your dear sister to have the faintest hope of staying in your brother’s good graces, you must stop interfering with her education at once.”
“And what, may I ask, classifies as interference?” Will fought not to roll his eyes. “Fresh air? Riding a horse? Sunlight?”
“All of the above, and more!” boomed the widow. “Sunlight will make those infernal freckles darker and more numerous than ever. Riding a horse is unladylike and will make her gait manly if she does it too much. Fresh air is wont to give her a cold. Aside from that, I saw what kind of food you had in that basket, William, and it is wholly unfitting for the slimming regimen I have chosen for her. Not to mention the fact that you were out unaccompanied, and never asked me whether you had permission to go a-riding.”
“I am her brother, Madam. I may take the place of a chaperone,” Will retorted.
“You are not her brother by blood, as I have said.” The Dowager Duchess’s cheeks were pink with annoyance. “I tell you, here and now, both of you, that from this moment on, until I am satisfied with Susana’s education and refinement, you will not do anything without my permission. You will not go riding, you will not eat, you will not sing, you will not so much as breathe, unless I have permitted it, either verbally or in writing.”
“Why do you care so much?” Will frowned at her. “The Duke may be compensating you handsomely, but your family is wealthier than ours. It is not the money. I sense some other motivation in your passion for this endeavor.” It had perturbed him since the Dowager Duchess’s arrival, her interest in Susana much too keen for simple generosity, though he had not allowed himself to dwell on it. Now, he found he had been forced to.
“That is a most impertinent question, which I shall not dignify with further response,” said the Dowager Duchess. “Now, William, begone from here. Miss Alvin and I have work to do.”
“May I retire to my chambers until supper?” said Will, as the widow ushered him toward the door.
“I care not how you conduct your affairs if they do not involve my charge,” said the lady as she saw him out. “Do as you please but leave Miss Alvin out of it.” With that, she shut the library door in Will’s face, and locked it.
Will clenched his fist. He had a wild, fleeting fantasy of breaking the door down, taking Susana in his arms, and whisking her away to Portugal or some place where they could live together in peace forever. Untoward or not, brother and sister or not, that certainly felt like the thing to do. Being separated from Susana by a waspish widow and a heavy, locked door felt very wrong indeed.
The caring instinct in William that had compelled him from the first moment he saw Susana had been riled up now, in the face of the closed door. He realized, now more than ever, how deeply and desperately he cared for Susana. His mind raced with a number of highly improbable notions, from Susana tripping on the rug and twisting her ankle, to a draught from the window striking her suddenly with an infectious fever.
Or, perhaps I am the one with the fever? What has become of me?
Each thought was more improbable than the last, right down to the sudden and inexplicable collapse of a rafter. Yet, each one felt so real and immediate that Will felt he would go mad with frustration if he could not go inside the library.
But he was as much beholden to his brother’s will as Susana. He had to leave the Dowager Duchess to her devices… or else. If Will interfered, he himself could be Susana’s undoing, by interrupting her training and displeasing his brother. And the thought of Susana languishing in the workhouse was bad enough without Will having to blame it on his own actions.
As he stalked away from the library and toward the stairwell, Will thought, however fleetingly, that he might leave Silkstone Manor. Perhap
s if he went away, it would be better for everyone. He might go to Leeds and find some of his friends, or to London to do the same, or to find some of his naval comrades. He could easily go away and drink and carouse until his mind was overcome and he would no longer have to think about Susana and what that Boroughbridge woman was doing to her.
But to leave now, would be to abandon Susana.
And yet, what good can I do, if I stay?
He only knew that his deepest imperative, ever since that fateful winter thirteen years ago, was to look after Susana and ensure her safety and well-being, and, if possible, her happiness. Heretofore, the task had been relatively simple, but now, within the space of a few weeks, it had become endlessly complicated.
I must stay… even if I have no purpose in staying. I will not turn from her side, no matter what the Dowager says. Susana’s voice was in his blood, calling out to him every second of the day, and as he flung himself on his bed, and closed his eyes, he saw her face, and his heart swelled.
“I do believe I am falling in love with my own sister,” William said aloud to no one in particular.
Admitting it out loud made him feel skittish. He sat up and looked around, as if Richard or even Susana might pop out from behind the bureau. But no, he was alone, sitting in silence with his thoughts. His mind wandered back to that queer conversation they’d had during their would-be picnic, and Will still did not understand what it all was supposed to mean.
Would it be so very untoward? Has she been having thoughts of such things?
He was an intelligent man, good at solving problems and diagnosing conditions, quite capable at fixing things, socially adept and charming enough. There were precious few things that escaped Will’s understanding so profoundly as did his feelings about Susana, and her strange remarks about marriage earlier.
She certainly seemed as if she were having such thoughts, and that she wished we could be permitted to marry…
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