Road to Rosewood
Page 1
ALSO BY
ASHTYN NEWBOLD
Lies and Letters
Mischief and Manors
Unexpected Love:
A Marriage of Convenience Anthology
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© 2018 Ashtyn Newbold
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever, whether by graphic, visual, electronic, film, microfilm, tape recording, or any other means, without prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief passages embodied in critical reviews and articles.
This is a work of fiction. The characters, names, incidents, places, and dialogue are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. The opinions and views expressed herein belong solely to the author and do not necessarily represent the opinions or views of Cedar Fort, Inc. Permission for the use of sources, graphics, and photos is also solely the responsibility of the author.
ISBN 13: 978-1-4621-2876-1
Published by Sweetwater Books, an imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc.
2373 W. 700 S., Springville, UT 84663
Distributed by Cedar Fort, Inc., www.cedarfort.com
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA
Names: Newbold, Ashtyn, 1998- author.
Title: Road to Rosewood / Ashtyn Newbold.
Description: Springville, Utah : Sweetwater Books, An imprint of Cedar Fort, Inc., [2017]
Identifiers: LCCN 2017058116 | ISBN 9781462121823 (perfect bound : alk. paper)
Subjects: LCSH: Man-woman relationships--Fiction. | Nineteenth century, setting. | England, setting. | LCGFT: Novels. | Romance fiction. | Domestic fiction.
Classification: LCC PS3614.E568 R63 2017 | DDC 813/.6--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017058116
Cover design by Shawnda T. Craig
Cover design © 2018 Cedar Fort, Inc.
Edited by Jessica Romrell
Typeset by Kaitlin Barwick
For every adventurous spirit
No matter how small
ONE
DOVER, ENGLAND
SUMMER 1811
I thought you would be better at piquet,” I said, raising my eyes above a perfectly fanned hand of cards. My curls bounced as I shifted in my chair to face Nicholas. My feet dangled above the ground.
Nicholas leaned his elbow across the small table in the middle of the library at Rosewood. He lived in the smaller house next to Rosewood where I spent a great deal of time during my summer visits with my family. I enjoyed staying at Aunt Edith’s house and playing with Kitty, but usually only if Nicholas was there too. Today Mama had taken a trip to town with the adults, so Nicholas had been enlisted to watch over Kitty and me—although I despised the idea of requiring supervision at my age. I was eleven after all.
“I thought you would have grown taller since last summer,” Nicholas said.
I threw my cards face down onto the table. “I have grown taller.”
“Your curly little head only reaches the second to the bottom button of my waistcoat. Last year it reached the third. Either you have grown shorter or I have grown taller.” A grin marked his face as he studied his cards.
I shook my head, but couldn’t help but smile. He always teased me about being short. I was the shortest girl of my age that I knew, and much shorter than Kitty. She watched silently, her eyes darting between the two of us. I raised my eyebrows at her. “I haven’t grown shorter, have I?”
She stifled a giggle. “Perhaps you might consider wearing your hair atop your head to add an inch or two.”
“I have not grown shorter!”
Nicholas laughed. “Very well. Then can you see that I have grown taller?” He pushed away from the table and stood, stretching his neck.
I moved over to him and stood on the tips of my toes, looking straight ahead at the second button of his waistcoat. “Perhaps we have both grown, but you have just grown a slight bit more than I have,” I conceded.
Kitty chewed her fingernail, observing us critically from her chair. “I do believe you have grown a bit, Lucy.”
Nicholas chuckled, patting the top of my head like an older brother might do. I did not appreciate it. I watched his face, wondering how much closer I would be to his height when I was sixteen just like him. But there was no way to know. My eyes flashed to the chair I had been using at the card table. Giggling, I pulled it around to where it stood right in front of him. I stepped on top of it, using Nicholas’s shoulder as a balance. “I am taller!” I said, nearly toppling over with my laughter. Kitty’s eyes widened. She had always been the proper sort of girl. She did not climb atop chairs and make a cake of herself like I had made a habit of doing.
Nicholas raised one eyebrow, forming a deep, curving crease in the right side of his forehead. “You are a silly little girl, Lucy.”
That made me frown. “You are a strange little boy.”
“I am not a little boy.”
“But you are not old enough to be married,” I countered.
He reached around me, tipping the chair I was standing on. I shrieked as I fell, but he caught me by my arm as if he had planned it all along. My laughter rang through the room, but I tried to frown at him.
“How old should I be when I get married, then, Lucy?”
I caught my breath, sitting on the floor with my dress tucked under my feet. “Thirty.”
“Thirty?” he scoffed. “I will be an old man by then.”
“Fine. Twenty-five,” I declared, staring up at him from the ground, fluttering my lashes.
The maid dusting the bookshelves in the corner chuckled. I didn’t know what I had said that had been so humorous. Kitty leaned across the table, propping her face on her hands, watching the exchange with a sly grin pulling on her lips. As my dearest friend and cousin she knew all my secrets. And one of those secrets was that I wished to marry Nicholas when I was all grown up. But something about Nicholas’s amused smile made me wonder if he knew my secrets as well.
He leaned over with a sigh to sit beside me on the ground. He flinched as if the movement had hurt him. His family was not among the wealthiest in town and his father had died in recent years. His mother was strange—she hardly spoke and seemed to require more care than most grown women I knew. Because of these things, Nicholas worked hard at his house during the early hours of the day. I smiled at the lean muscles in his adolescent arms. It was the first summer I had noticed or cared.
It was then that I began to wonder how many girls fancied Nicholas. Just how easy would it be for him to find a wife? My eyes flicked up to his face. He was smiling in amusement, with brown eyes like mine, dramatic eyebrows and a dented chin, freckled cheeks, and messy golden-brown hair.
“How old will I be when you are twenty-five?” I blurted.
Kitty chewed her nails faster, blinking quickly.
He chuckled, rubbing his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. “You’ll be … twenty.”
I stood up, twirling my skirt as I moved across the room. “I will attend balls and be pretty and we can dance together!” I immediately clamped my mouth shut, feeling my round cheeks heat up.
“You wish to dance with me?” Nicholas asked, leaning back on his hands. “You needn’t wait until you are twenty. I’ll teach you now. Surely your mama wouldn’t have you at your first ball without learning to properly d
ance.”
I jumped toward him, feeling the ribbons in my curls slide a little with the motion. “Are you being serious?”
He nodded. “I’ll teach Kitty as well.” He motioned for her to join us in front of the table. As she approached, we exchanged a grin that felt wide enough to cross all of England. Twice.
“Very well … which of my students would like to be first?”
I was not usually shy, but the thought of dancing with Nicholas was daunting. Kitty and I stood in silence before Nicholas threw his head back in exasperation. “Come now, Lucy. Stand on my feet,” he said, nodding toward his boots. He had a little smile on his lips.
I pressed my lips together in concentration, grabbing his outstretched hands and standing on his boots. “Does this hurt your toes?”
He grinned. “No, you’re just a little thing.”
“I am not!” I said through a giggle.
Nicholas took a step, then another, an awkward sideways shuffle that made me laugh harder. “This is not the proper way to dance!”
“No, but it is much more fun, is it not?”
I tipped my head back, holding his hands at arm’s length, and squeezed my eyes shut, letting the stomps of his boots echo through the empty room and off the domed ceiling. When I looked up, far, far up at his face again, I remembered thinking for the first time how wonderful it would be to dance with him when I was old enough to dance the proper way.
“You are a horrendous dancer,” I said. “I don’t believe any girl will marry a boy that dances in such a way.”
And Nicholas laughed. I quite enjoyed the sound.
NINE YEARS LATER
1820
Dearest Lucy,
I cannot believe it has been so many months since we have spoken in writing, but much longer in presence, I might add. Six years is far too long. I miss my dearest cousin. Please forgive my neglect of your letters; I expect you will, once you are informed of my reason. It was with recent events that I found myself rather bereft of a proper companion to share a most thrilling piece of news with. I am writing to tell you that I am engaged to marry! His name is Mr. John Turner, and I love him very much. We met at the start of the season in a small London ballroom and have been courting through the spring. I received his proposal last week, and cannot comprehend the dullness of my life without him. Is that not strange? You must still imagine me as I was six years ago when we both thought ourselves to be so grown up, chasing after Nicholas Bancroft.
I would be so delighted to hear from you. If it puts you at ease, I promise that I will return a response promptly. You must think me to be a most careless friend. If you demand it, I will repay you with a jaunt to town and one of your favorite scones, should you ever visit us here at Rosewood again.
Yours,
Kitty
Dear Kitty,
It is not fair of you to claim that you have missed me so dearly, when truly you have been finding such joy in your cherished courtship. My sincerest congratulations on your engagement! Upon my word you shall deliver that promised scone by post, because surely I will not be permitted to visit you there in Dover. What should make this summer different than the last? You are right, I do still imagine you at the age of fourteen, singing in the drawing room, and of course, chasing Nicholas Bancroft. Where has life taken him?
I do wish I could find passage to Rosewood to see you before your wedding. It isn’t likely my parents will allow it. I cannot tell you how much I long to travel to the South. My heart aches with every passing day I remain in Craster. I fear I do not belong here any longer. It seems I never have.
Please send my love to your family.
Lucy
Dear Lucy,
My poor cousin! Are you certain that you cannot travel here to Rosewood? Surely my family will welcome you without a moment of hesitation. If there is a thing I know about you, Lucy, it is that you are quite skilled in the art of persuasion. Do you remember the day you persuaded me to swim in that pond full of toads?
Perhaps your parents will allow you this trip. Surely if they knew the depth of your melancholy they would provide you with anything necessary to remedy it. Let us strike a bargain. I will inquire after the date you may be welcome to arrive, if you will consider the possibility of traveling here, even if it means you must do it alone.
Is not your happiness worth it?
Kitty
Dear Kitty,
You must remember my sister, Rachel? She has recently been engaged to marry a man from Yorkshire. She will be leaving soon and I fear I will feel even more lonely than ever without her. There are days I find little reason to leave my bedchamber. Perhaps a trip to Dover is precisely what I need to lift my spirits. The problem of the matter lies not only with my parents’ misgivings, but also with their intentions for me. With Rachel soon to be married, they feel the need to offer me equal opportunity to spread my wings in society. They wish to offer me a season in London. However, I am older than many debutantes, and I have no desire for anything at all of late. I do not want new dresses, new hats (quite unlike me, I know), nor do I want a husband. All I can dream of is green, trimmed grasses, and the sort of sunshine that requires a parasol, although it would suit my spirits well to let the sunlight grant me a freckle or two.
When I am asked to be a proper lady I feel that the boot is quite on the other leg. I don’t wish for stuffy London ballrooms like I did as a child, but for open hills and horses.
Did you make mention of how Nicholas is faring?
Yours,
Lucy
Dear Lucy,
Have your persuasions met success? My family would love to receive you at Rosewood and I will be living with my husband just two miles from the estate.
Unfortunately I have little good to say with regard to Nicholas Bancroft. He has not been living in his family residence for well over a year since his marriage. Did you not know of this? It was a bit of a scandal actually, the way he ran off to marry an unknown woman in London. Nicholas has always been spirited I suppose, but it seems love has made him reckless.
I hope you will receive this news lightly. I trust your childhood adoration of him has been put to rights? I should hate for him to hurt you again.
Yours sincerely,
Kitty
TWO
Droplets of water hit the window like tears. Not silent, contained tears, but the kind that fall uncontrolled, shaking the world with sobs. I watched the gray, late summer sky as it fell to a dark line at the horizon of the unsettled sea. Wind blew rain at the window again, blurring the familiar castle ruins on the distant headland, and I wondered if the wind was strong enough today to carry me away from this town.
My fingers touched the window before I sunk deeper in my chair, wrapping my arms around myself. Chill bumps inched over my skin.
Kitty’s latest letter had arrived this morning. I had read it so many times that I imagined the words would never leave my memory. Opening the book on my lap, I pulled the folded parchment out from between the pages.
Dearest Lucy,
It is settled. You are always welcome here at Rosewood. At what time may we expect your arrival? I cannot contain my excitement. Six years is far too long. My husband will be very pleased to meet the woman I spent so many adventurous summers with as a child. I do hope you will be coming soon, for we have always had nothing but open arms for you. Mr. Turner’s home is beautiful as well, and quite comfortable, but we will certainly stay at Rosewood during your visit. Please do write back soon.
With love,
Kitty
The drawing room door opened and I jostled from my spot at the window, nearly dropping my letter.
“What is that you are reading?” It was my sister, Rachel, in the doorway, her smile wide as she walked into the room and gazed ahead out the window. She had always enjoyed storms and the color gray.
My eyes were dry, stinging with hours of missed sleep. I stared at her as she crossed the room to me, pressing the letter to my chest.
Rachel knelt down on the floor beside my chair, her brown eyes wide and filled with concern. She had always been the first person to know when I was troubled. She had always known the best way to make me feel stronger. She understood me too well, in a way that made me even more vulnerable. I hardly ate. I hardly slept. I stared out of windows and occasionally at the flames in our fireplace. While the conditions of this town filled Rachel with joy and comfort, they did nothing but plague me with sorrow. It was as though I were a fish on land, gasping for breath because there was somewhere else I belonged. There was a place I could breathe, live, find happiness. Rachel knew as well as I did that it wasn’t here in Craster.
“A letter from Kitty,” I breathed, “inviting me to come to Rosewood.”
Rachel lifted her brow in a look of surprise. “Mama and Papa will take quite a lot of convincing.”
“I do not care what they say. If they love me, and I am sure they do, they will allow me to do this. It is necessary for my happiness.”
Over Rachel’s shoulder, I saw the outline of a top hat stooping under the doorway. I nodded at the man who had just stepped into the room. Rachel turned, and I watched the way her eyes sparked with joy at the sight of her husband. They had been married just a fortnight before. I almost smiled, but a pinching started in my stomach and rose to my heart.
Certainly it was the same manner in which Nicholas looked at his wife.
Mr. Harding doffed his hat at me and turned his smile on Rachel. “I am sorry to interrupt, my dear, but the coach has arrived.”
Rachel stood, brushing one of my dark curls from my forehead. “I will visit again in two months.” Dropping her voice to a whisper, she added, “And when I do, I expect you to be at Rosewood. You must write me of all your adventures there.” Her lips twisted into a sad smile. She didn’t like to see me like this.
“I will.” I squeezed her hand.