***
A week passed. Edmund and I had reached a mutual understanding. He sought to help in any way he could and I allowed it. I even permitted the hiring of additional staff, knowing that my need to keep others out was heaping undue stress on Cecily, Beatrice and Emeline.
I realized that part of my reticence was that I found an odd comfort in the emptiness of my home. Empty rooms meant I wasn't constantly watched. There was something in the accumulating dust and gloom that made me feel safe, but also very alone.
So I hired chamber maids to scrub the house and footmen to hold the doors. Beatrice became my housekeeper and Cecily my lady's maid. Emeline continued to cook in her own way and in her own time. The newly hired kitchen staff was a little bit confused when Beatrice deferred so many decisions to Emeline, but after a few days they understood.
I tried to get used to the sound of bustling through the halls, but the truth was that I wanted my house back. I wanted the old wing for myself.
I wished for the privacy to wander from room to room of the old wing and only encounter Cecily or Beatrice, never having to worry about memories of Damian because he had refused to set foot in this portion of the house. I missed the intimacy of going to the kitchens to eat with Emeline. I missed being alone.
Thus I had taken to haunting the upper hall. It was rarely used, so it was kept shut up. The curtains were left drawn over the windows, leaving the space in darkness. But behind each set of curtains was an alcove and a large window. There was plenty of light and privacy. I had stolen a chair and small table from one of the lower rooms. Here I would sit and read or stitch. But mostly I would just be. I enjoyed quiet time for contemplation, now that terror wasn't a constant in my life.
My favorite curtained alcove had a view that overlooked the gardens and allowed a good view of the hilltop as well.
That's how I spotted James. I was surprised when his horse crested the hill. It was late afternoon and his daily ride was always in the morning. Nonetheless, he was there, walking his horse along the trail, hidden by trees one second, then revealed in a patch of sunlight the next.
I stood, putting my hand to the window. His progress was slow as he looked down on Bridgefield. He might have been looking for me. It had, after all, been a week since I had seen him.
His failure to visit wasn't a surprise. He likely believed he had offended me, the way I'd run off. I'd been abrupt and rude. And all because he had kissed me. He had asked permission. I had allowed his kiss, encouraged it, wanted it and basked in it.
Then I'd walked out. What must he think of me? It wasn't as though I was angry with him. I had given my consent, welcomed it. My lack of thought was my own fault. I hadn't realized how far I had allowed our relationship to progress. And then when I'd been faced with the prospect of allowing him to kiss me, no objection had come to mind. The fact that I was damaged, that I was a widow who everyone thought should be in mourning, had slipped my mind.
Had it been right for me to walk away? Should I continue to stay away, or should I try to preserve our friendship?
I missed him. He had been my confidant, a true friend. I didn't know if I could stay away. My mind flitted to his coat. The one I had inadvertently stolen after my foray as a wheat fairy. It still hung in my wardrobe. I was too embarrassed to attempt to return it to him. Plus, it had become a comfort to me, something tangible to hold on to.
James pulled his horse to a halt and took off his hat. I wondered what he was waiting for and I wanted to ask him. He finally pulled his mount around and headed back down the hill.
Watching him ride away propelled me into motion. I left my little alcove, unwilling to give up on him. James had been a bright spot in my life and I wanted to speak with him again. I called for a carriage and was soon on my way with Mr. Tennsworth in the driver's seat, Beatrice at my side, and my guards following behind.
Rumbling down the road, I began to rethink my rash decision to chase after him, but then James's horse appeared alongside the carriage. He leaned down to look in the window, gave me a smile and a tip of his hat, and then urged his horse ahead of us.
When I pulled into his drive, James was patting his horse's side as it was led away by a groom. As soon as the carriage halted, James opened my door and reached for my hand with a grin. I stepped down, a nervous smile on my mouth.
"Marilee. I'm so glad to see you."
"Thank you," I said when he didn't drop my hand.
He looked down at our linked hands, and then let them go and took a step back. "Would you come in?"
I wanted to say yes. But despite my desire to preserve our friendship, I was still wary of moving into a more intimate relationship. "Thank you, but I shouldn't stay long. I just wanted to apologize for my abrupt departure last time we met. It was inexcusable, and—"
"Please don't, Marilee. I understand. I overstepped."
"But you didn't. You asked if it would be all right for you to...to.."
"Yes, but I knew you were already distressed and vulnerable. It was inappropriate for me to even ask."
His eyes darted over my face and I was overcome with the urge to kiss him again. I stepped back, reining myself in, reminding myself of my status as a widow. I shook my head. "I knew what I was doing."
"Perhaps. But then you regretted it because you remembered the position you are in. Whereas I was well aware of your position when I decided to..."
"Kiss me?"
His lips twitched. "Is that a request?"
My cheeks flamed. "No. I just...that's what you were going to say, I thought." Oh dear, this conversation was getting away from me.
"I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't tease you that way." He looked contrite.
"I used to enjoy teasing." The thought made my heart hurt, made me long for light-hearted banter and freely given compliments.
"Used to?"
"It's been a long time."
He looked to the house, then back to me. "Are you certain you won't come inside?"
I shook my head, though my brow furrowed in regret. "I need to be better about obeying the rules of society. And I'm fairly certain that those rules exclude me from visiting with you in your home without other ladies or gentlemen."
"Ah. So, you're saying that I need to invite my mother for a visit so that you might be allowed to join me in my home?"
I wondered if he were serious in his suggestion. "I suppose that would be one solution, yes."
"Perhaps I shall have a house party; there are several lovely families in the area."
Panic took up immediate residence in my chest and I tried to swallow.
"Not ready for a gathering of strangers?" he asked.
"A house party might be a bit overwhelming," I admitted. "And right now, I really should return home."
"Will you at least allow me to escort you?"
I agreed and he called for his horse before handing me into the carriage. While he waited for Captain to be brought around and then mounted, I wondered what Mr. Tennsworth, Marcus, and Falstone thought of my little outing. They had stepped away while James and I spoke, but my behavior must seem odd at the very least. Beatrice sat across from me, her eyes turned toward the window, her lips pressed in a line that I was certain was meant to discourage a smile from emerging.
I wished that James could have ridden in the carriage with me. And I was certain he would have if I had extended the invitation, but that would have been ignoring the rules, and I had just claimed a renewed devotion to those cursed rules. So James rode alongside the carriage and I took pleasure in watching him as he trotted his horse. I could tell that his mount would much rather be given his head and allowed to gallop, but James kept him reined in, his confidence and skill with horses a natural part of him.
I was so drawn in by him that it was difficult to imagine how I would avoid finding myself in love with him. For all his claim of being at fault when he'd asked to kiss me, I couldn't find it in myself to lay the blame on him.
As we drew closer to Bridgefield, James's post
ure changed from relaxed confidence into tense apprehension. I leaned toward the window so that I could see farther ahead and spotted Edmund standing outside the stables, speaking with Mr. Tennsworth and two young boys who had been hired to muck the stalls. Edmund looked up, raising a hand to shield his eyes. His face hardened and he walked away from whatever conversation he'd been in the middle of. We passed him by and I turned to look out the back of the carriage. He was jogging after us.
We came to a halt and James was stiff as he dismounted and opened my door despite the footman that waited to do just that. He took my hand and I stepped out.
"What is the matter, James?"
He forced a smile. "I'm afraid this may not be the most pleasant meeting."
"What?"
Edmund rounded the carriage, suspicion written on his face. He looked out of sorts, but I could see he made a concerted effort to compose himself before speaking. "Jamie, I didn't expect to see you here."
Jamie?
"Good afternoon, Ed. I just wanted to be sure that Her Highness made it home safely."
"And how do the two of you know one another?" His voice was almost pleasant, but his dark eyes were nearly black and piercing.
"We are neighbors." James's tone was neutral.
"I was under the impression that Lady Rockwell had no acquaintances in these parts."
I flushed at the accusation. I had claimed that. Though, to be fair, I had said I knew no women outside of my own household.
Edmund's lip curled into a snarl for a fleeting moment. "It would also surprise me to learn that she had met you through her husband, since I know very well that you and he had not been on speaking terms for quite some time."
It was my turn to speak up. "Mr. Sutton was kind enough to offer his assistance after Damian's death."
"Kind enough, was he?"
"Ye-es." Confusion crept into my voice as I looked back and forth between the two. Obviously there was a long history here that I didn't understand. The way they had each used a nickname that was obviously not appreciated by the other made it clear that there was no love to be lost between these longstanding neighbors. And yet James had been the one to defend Edmund's character.
"Well." Edmund clapped his hands together. "You have seen her safely home. I'm sure you have plenty of your own business to attend to."
Despite the animosity between them, I was surprised by Edmund's overt rudeness.
James sighed. "I didn't come here to do battle with you, Edmund. I will take my leave." He turned to me with a look of encouragement in his eyes. "Good day, Princess." He bowed over my hand.
I curtsied in return, missing the sound of my name on his lips. "To you as well, Mr. Sutton."
He settled his hat on his head and mounted up, his face grim as he heeled Captain and rode away.
"I'm surprised at your choice of company, Highness." Each word was sharp, like the thrust of a dagger.
Turning to him, I raised my brow in challenge. "And I'm surprised at your lack of civility."
I waited for an explanation, but he just lifted his chin, his jaw jutting forward as his eyes raked from my head to my feet. I spun away and hurried up the steps. So much for our truce.
Rogue met me just inside the doors and followed at my side as I traversed the corridors and climbed the stairs to my room.
Chapter Seventeen
WHETHER IT WAS my apprehension about Edmund's response to seeing James with me, or my own reticence and fear of growing too attached to James, I didn't see him for the next ten days. Perhaps he was waiting for me to approach him, knowing that Edmund did not welcome his presence. But despite my wish to see him, I couldn't just go alone, flouting the rules again.
I had just shored up my determination to keep my distance when Beatrice swept into my room with a grin and a missive. She bobbed a curtsey and held out the parchment, bouncing on the balls of her feet. "It's from Sutton Manor, Mistress."
I grabbed it from her and went to the window, seeking brighter light.
To Her Highness, Princess Marilee,
I and my mother, Georgiana Sutton, would be pleased to have your company tomorrow evening at 5 o'clock. Dinner and a small musicale will be given. Please let us know if you are available to join us for such an occasion.
Yours, very sincerely,
Mr. James Sutton
Though I pressed my fingers to my lips, my smile still pulled at the corners of my mouth. He had invited his mother to his home so that he could invite me to dinner. I sat immediately to pen a reply in the affirmative, and Beatrice dashed off to arrange for its delivery.
I worried about whether I was only making things worse by going to his home, meeting his mother, and no doubt becoming more attached to him. However, the last ten days had proven to be difficult. Now that I knew what it was like to have the sort of friendship that I shared with James, I didn't want to be without it. Having gone days without his presence to brighten them had brought a melancholy shadow into my home.
I considered what I would wear the following evening, especially in light of my decision to try to embrace more of the social customs. But I didn't have it in me to wear black. It was a tradition the people of Winberg still held to, but my own upbringing had never demanded it. Besides, I had spent the majority of my marriage in what could have passed as mourning clothes, and I simply could not do it anymore. So I would allow myself the pleasure of dressing up for the occasion.
I still believed that it would be asking for trouble to pursue a romantic relationship with him so soon after Damian's death. But what about friendship? I would allow myself that happiness, that reprieve.
***
Edmund was out checking the property when it was time for me to leave the next evening, so I was able to get away without any of his snide remarks.
The dress I had chosen for the evening was a cream satin with a pink overcoat and dark pink flowers embroidered on the sleeves and neckline. I had covered my hair with a white veil, since this was to be a formal evening.
When the carriage pulled into the drive, I expected James to appear and help me alight as he usually did, but he was nowhere in sight. Instead a groom stood at attention, dressed in full livery, waiting to assist. The moment the carriage came to a rest at Sutton Manor, he opened my door and handed me out. It reminded me of being in my parents' home. Those memories seemed far away, as if they hadn't actually happened to me.
After stepping down, I walked at a sedate pace up the stairs. The front doors both opened wide to receive me into the splendor of the entry hall. An elaborate crystal chandelier was fully lit, the prisms capturing the candlelight and throwing it outward in dancing sparkles. It was a breathtaking sight, warm and grand. Yet still I saw no sign of James. A footman swept one gloved hand in the direction he wished me to go and I did my best to float down the hallway. Walking as though floating was a talent I had mastered growing up in the palace.
I reached another set of double doors where two footmen waited. They opened the doors and one preceded me into the room, announcing, "Princess Marilee Milandaro Rockwell," before bowing out of the way.
James stood by the fireplace, his jacket fitted perfectly around his shoulders, his arm resting along the mantle. He seemed stuck, a look of stunned pleasure on his face.
A woman rose from the settee she had occupied and we both dipped into curtsies. She had bright eyes that seemed ready and willing to laugh. She was slightly plump, and held herself in a most refined and elegant manner. She stepped toward me, her hands reaching for mine. "My dear Princess. What a pleasure it is to have you join us. James." She turned and waved him toward her. "Do introduce us."
He shook himself into motion, straightening his jacket before moving toward us.
His mother leaned in. "Normally I would just tell you my name myself, but James and I have determined that we must observe all the social niceties this evening. That way at least you know we're capable of them, and I won't feel bad tossing them all out the window tomorrow." She l
et out a short laugh and then forced her face into a serious expression and pulled her shoulders back.
I stifled a smile, trying to play along.
James reached us and executed a formal bow. "Princess Marilee, might I present my mother, Mrs. Georgiana Sutton of Maplegrove manor. Mother, may I present Princess Marilee Milandaro Rockwell, formerly of Dalthia, and currently the Lady of Bridgefield."
"It is a very great pleasure indeed." She linked her arm with mine and walked me to the settee. "And please, you must call me Georgiana."
"The pleasure is all mine, I assure you." And indeed it was. Georgiana Sutton was delightful, and I was truly grateful to make her acquaintance. "And please, do call me Marilee. I sometimes tire of being called by everything but my name."
"You do have a good number of titles, don't you?"
"I'm afraid so."
"Now, I heard the most lovely story and you'll have to tell me if it's true. James, do sit down, your towering is making me nervous."
My lips twitched as James obeyed his mother, taking a seat across from us.
"What story did you hear?" I asked, worried that it might be something to do with the rumors Damian had started.
"It was about one of your sisters. It is said that one of the Dalthian princesses married a commoner whom she had fallen in love with, and who had even saved her life on one occasion. I hope you'll tell me it's true, because I very nearly fainted with romantic flutterings at the idea."
I smiled wide. "Well, I'm happy to tell you that it is true, and truth be told, I'm fairly certain that he saved her life on two occasions."
"Oh," she sighed in rapture. "That just gives me a burst of joy. Now, tell me, did your parents have objections to the match?" Her eyes were wide with concern, as if she worried that I would ruin the story with the truth of it.
"They did object at first."
"Because of his station?"
"Yes, that was part of it. But I think they were most upset because they had hoped that Ella would be the next queen."
"She gave up the crown for him?" She had the same look on her face as I had once seen on my niece, Guin's face when she was offered a large pastry. "Oh, tell me they are still happy and in love."
Saving Marilee Page 17
