Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  His words struck me like daggers. “Not so. Only when I’m with you.”

  “It was not always that way. Something has changed you.”

  Yes, something has changed me, I wanted to scream. You. Did he not see it? Did he not remember the things he said to me the last time we parted ways? I had pushed my feelings aside for years for the sake of appearances; I had worn my smile well. My friends and family had distracted me, even my dear friend Mr. Connor and all the hats I ever wanted to wear. I had started to forget, my heart had healed. But then Kitty had told me of Nicholas’s marriage, and I had fallen apart again. And for nothing. He had only lied again.

  “Something has changed you as well,” I rasped. “I wish you would tell me why you have such … wayward habits. I want to understand.”

  Everything was quiet. It was his turn to say something but I wasn’t sure if he knew how. I eased back down onto my pillow, nestling the covers under my chin and stared at the ceiling. It was too dark to see more than that. I waited, wondering how he would respond to such a statement.

  The silence persisted until I couldn’t contain my curiosity. “Have you fallen asleep?” I asked. A faint rustle met my ears. I needed an answer. I knocked my fist against the wall. “Nicholas?”

  “I’m undressing.”

  It happened again. I jumped, but caught myself from falling all the way to the floor. My head crashed against the headboard, creating another loud thud. I gasped. My instinct to run from anything frightening or rather uncomfortable was heightened tonight, it seemed.

  “I would understand that reaction had you been on this side of the wall.” He chuckled.

  I started to imagine him standing there, shaking his head in amusement, but stopped when I realized at this moment he was not entirely clothed. I squeezed my eyes shut and turned my back to the wall, as if I was in danger of seeing through it. “I did not require explanation beyond a simple, ‘no, I have not fallen asleep.’” I made my voice loud and clear so he could not mistake my words.

  The chuckling continued, and I folded my pillow to cover my ears.

  A muffled sound told me he was speaking again.

  “What?” I snapped, turning back toward the wall.

  “Thank the heavens I paid the innkeeper for two rooms. I told him you needed a plentiful night’s rest. Don’t make me a liar. Off to sleep with you.”

  “You’ve already made yourself a liar, Nicholas. You don’t need my assistance,” I said in a grumble.

  He gave an exasperated sigh. “Your reputation is safe with my lies. Imagine if we had introduced ourselves not as husband and wife.”

  “Imagine if our deception is discovered. That will be far worse, I daresay.”

  He was quiet for a long moment. “Then I suppose you will have to trust me.”

  There it was again—that dreadful request. “You will need to explain yourself first. I cannot have you keeping secrets from me. You have quite a lot of trust to earn.”

  He was quiet. Surely he was remembering the time when keeping secrets from me was fun, not nearly so serious as it was now.

  “I’ll try,” he said finally. His voice was hoarse and firm at once, as if the words had taken effort but were now engraved in his soul with determination.

  I stared at the faint glow of the white of my fingernails in the dark. “You may begin by telling me how you became involved with those highwaymen.” I clicked my fingernails together in anticipation. My entire body was tense, counting the seconds before his voice would cut the air.

  Five seconds of silence passed in excruciating length before he offered a curt, “No, I would rather not.”

  I scowled, rolling to my other side. I deserved to know; it wasn’t fair that he taunt me like this. He didn’t seem inclined to continue the conversation, so I tried to close off my mind and heart and get the sleep I desperately needed.

  It was bright outside by the time I peeled myself from the bed. How long had I slept? I wished I had a maid to help me dress, but all I had were my clothes from the day before, folded neatly on the scrubbed floors by the door. I hurried over, scooping up the pale yellow dress and my other unmentionables. They were soft and warm and smelled of fresh soap. My heart bloomed with gratitude. That gruff Mrs. Allington had done such a service for me. The fact that the clothing was warm told me it had been out in the sun drying for quite some time. How late had I slept?

  After making myself somewhat presentable, I made my way down the stairs, combing my loose hair with my fingers. Despite Mrs. Allington’s brushing, it had still tangled together in tight curls. When I reached the parlor from the night before, I found it to be empty besides an elderly man and his wife, as well as two small children and the innkeeper.

  I approached Mr. Allington with a smile, shifting my eyes around the room one last time. “Pardon me, but have you seen Ni—er—my husband?” Last night I told myself to hate calling Nicholas my husband, but with every childish dream so etched on my heart I knew that wasn’t true.

  “Ah, yes. He is out with the horse.”

  I tipped a nod before spinning around and stepping out the front entry. My palms sweated and my heart thumped a little faster. So Nicholas had not deserted me yet.

  There he was, standing beside that sleek black horse in the late morning sun. He wore a different shirt, waistcoat, and jacket from the day before. Clean and neat. The brightness of the day marked strands of golden blonde in his brown hair, reminding me of the flecks I remembered seeing in his eyes. He was focused on the horse’s face, running two fingers down its muzzle reassuringly. The horse’s ear twitched and piqued as Nicholas whispered quietly in its ear. He bent over to look at its front hoof. The horse tensed, faltering back. He reached up and patted the horse’s side.

  I realized how long I had been staring at him and quickly dropped my gaze, allowing myself to glance up at him from under my lashes. I hoped Nicholas hadn’t noticed me staring. My hair was far too disastrous. I almost jumped. He was watching me, a little smirk lifting his lips. One eyebrow cocked in appraisal, making that crease mark his forehead. I could see him more clearly now that it was day, no sheet of darkness, rain, or a wall dividing us. I walked forward with miniscule steps, scolding my heart for quickening with each one. “Good morning.”

  He narrowed his eyes before standing upright and fixing me with a look of concern. “You are in terrible danger.”

  My face fell and my stomach pinched with dread. What could he mean? Had the Allingtons discovered our ruse? Was my reputation already in shambles? My eyes widened and I wrung my hands together. “What? What has happened?”

  He breathed out a long sigh and drew closer, the top half of his face blanketed in shadow, bringing his eyes to a darker brown. “It is difficult to say …” he looked away from my eyes and rubbed his jaw, “… but word of your horrendous snoring has already spread throughout all of England. You will never find a suitable place in society now.”

  “Nicholas!” I crossed my arms. “You cannot frighten me so!”

  He laughed, returning his attention to the horse. He stole one more glance in my direction. I didn’t mean to, but my mouth slipped into a wide grin. The laughter on Nicholas’s face faltered and his gaze lingered on me. He seemed to be studying me, a gentle awe in his expression. “I had forgotten that mile-wide smile of yours.”

  I pressed my lips together and looked at my feet. “I had forgotten it too.”

  He watched me, the concern on his face disarming. I pretended to smooth an invisible wrinkle from my skirts. He was still watching me.

  “What is next on the schedule?” I asked, changing the subject. “Shall we walk to our next destination? Or is this the place we part ways?”

  I lifted my chin, trying to appear more confident than I felt. I was still miles from Rosewood. The only person that knew of my situation was Nicholas. As much as I hated to admit it, he was the only one who could help me.

  “I’m not letting you loose alone out on those roads again.” He shook
his head.

  “Will you take me to Rosewood?”

  His jaw tightened. “I thought you were bound for London?”

  “That was not entirely true.”

  He gave a half smile before growing serious again. “I haven’t been to that part of Dover for months.”

  “That does not mean you shouldn’t.” I rose on my toes to be closer to his height. “Please, Nicholas.”

  “Perhaps I should just return you home.”

  “No!” I shouted in alarm. “I mean—no, I will not go home. I have scheduled my arrival with my relatives at Rosewood. If you will not accompany me, then I will go there myself. I must.”

  His face grew serious, a deepness clouding over his eyes. “I will take you to the front gates, no farther. We must be intelligent about our expenses as well … I have little left to spare.”

  I raised an eyebrow. I almost asked where he had acquired such money, but thought better of it.

  “We cannot be more than two days away from Dover. Three at most.” I pleaded with my eyes.

  “Jack is injured,” he said, nodding toward the horse. “It doesn’t appear to be too consequential, but he will need to rest before we can take him.”

  “But will you come with me? If you do not, then I will go alone whether you like it or not.” It was only a slight lie. I lacked the money or possessions that it would require.

  He released an uncertain breath, refusing to look in my direction. “Very well. I will take you to Rosewood.” He gave a nod, but the narrowing of his eyes told me that he didn’t quite trust his traveling companion. That made for two of us.

  “We have little to carry. Perhaps we might travel on foot to the next inn, then await the mail coach.”

  He ran his hand over his hair and turned back to the horse. He leaned close to Jack’s face. The horse’s wide brown eyes seemed to stare straight into Nicholas’s. “I cannot leave him like this.” His voice was resolute. “He must rest first.”

  My shoulders slackened in defeat. There would be no arguing with him on that matter. I knew how Nicholas loved his horses from the hours he spent caring for them each summer. I glanced at his face as he stroked the horse between the eyes. Surely it required a large, kind heart to be so attached to animals. Watching Nicholas now, it seemed that nothing had changed. It startled me and warmed me to my toes at the same time. I pictured him standing by the horse with slightly narrowed shoulders and a much lankier build, messy hair and an untucked shirt.

  “Very well. We shall leave as soon as Jack is well rested,” I said in a quiet voice. “If you still wish to accompany me.” Perhaps he would change his mind and refuse to assist me.

  He gave me a sideways smile. “It is the proper thing to do. And of course, I would never object to spending a few extra days learning what has become of my childhood friend.”

  A sudden warmth spread over my shoulders and into my cheeks, threatening my lips with another smile. I shook it away, stepping backward and into the shade. “When you are ready, I will be inside.”

  Nicholas was still smiling. I think my reaction to his charm was his form of entertainment. It always had been.

  He nodded, bending over once again, focused on comforting the horse. That warmth in my chest caught fire with admiration. He had once teased me about caring for a small, injured bird I had rescued from the gardens at Rosewood. I had kept it in a box under the shade of a tree, letting it heal until it could fly. Nicholas had laughed at me but then he had helped me, and when the bird had recovered, we both had released it into the sky. I smiled a little at the memory. Seeing him today, with the horse, reminded me of another day, one that had taught me one truth about Nicholas—something he tried so hard to hide. He had a soft, caring heart. I had never forgotten that.

  SEVEN

  SUMMER 1813

  I strung the last ribbon around the crown of my bonnet, ending it in a wide, draping bow. It was bright yellow like the sun, edged with blue to match my day dress. It was my first week at Rosewood for the summer, and I had been filling my days with endless embroidery and creative use of ribbons. Nicholas would be returning home soon from his stay with his friend in Bath. I wanted to prove that I could behave like a proper lady, and that I was beginning to look like one too.

  “What do you think of the mauve?” Kitty asked. She sat beside me on the settee, leaning over the tea table with her bonnet. One single strand of ribbon encircled the top. Rachel sat beside her. She offered a nod of encouragement.

  “Is that all?” I shook my head. “Add at least three other colors and pin some flowers to it and you will have a start.”

  She giggled. “I prefer a simple accent. You know that.”

  I chewed my lip, threading a needle through a bundle of rose buds I had picked from the garden. “If that is what suits you, then I like the mauve very much.”

  Kitty smiled contentedly and set to work stitching the ribbon to her bonnet. I secured the flowers to my hat and set to work with a string of white thread to embroider an L for Lucy on the last cherry red strand of ribbon. When the flowers died I would replace them with the perfect arrangement of bows. I almost squealed with delight. Some of the delight was brought on by the hat, but much of it was inspired by the sound of a knock at the door. I tried to appear composed. Kitty and Rachel liked to tease me about caring too much for Nicholas.

  “Could that be the Bancrofts?” I whispered to Kitty.

  She shrugged one shoulder and continued with her stitching. Both Kitty and Rachel seemed unaffected by the prospect of Nicholas returning. Both their lips were pinched in tight smiles, focused on their decorating.

  My eyes flicked to the doorway of the morning room when I heard the butler welcome the visitors. I bounced with excitement.

  I heard Mama’s voice, followed by Aunt Edith’s. A third woman mumbled something quick and harsh, followed by a shuffling of feet toward the morning room where I sat. The voice sounded like Mrs. Bancroft. I had not seen her hardly at all the previous summer. Mama had told me she was ill.

  “Oh, dear.” A pause. “What shall we do?” It was Mama’s voice outside the door.

  “The poor boy. We must inform the girls so they should not be so dreadfully disappointed at his absence this evening.”

  An agreement seemed to be reached between them, and the morning room door swung open. Mama smiled, but her eyes twitched in Aunt Edith’s direction. I searched the hall for Mrs. Bancroft, but she was gone.

  “Where are the Bancrofts?” I asked, setting down my hat and needle. Concern filled me and I realized my legs were shaking.

  “Mrs. Bancroft is unwell … she has returned home with her family. Nicholas however, has received a bit of dreadful news.” Mama stepped forward and placed her hand on my shoulder. “His horse has died in his absence and he is quite upset over the matter. I expect he will not be joining us for some time. You know how he cared for that horse.”

  I was puzzled. I could not picture Nicholas upset. He was always so joyful and lighthearted.

  I threw my gaze to Kitty and Rachel who seemed hardly affected by the news, carrying on with their stitching as they half-heartedly listened to Mama. I blinked. Why could something so simple as a horse keep Nicholas from greeting us after a year of absence? Disappointment surged inside me. “Where has he gone?”

  “I haven’t the slightest idea, my dear. I do hope he will be recovered soon from his grief.” Her eyes softened with sympathy. “The poor boy.”

  Nicholas? A poor boy? He had always been so collected, I could hardly imagine him in any other state. I was worried and utterly confused, wringing my hands together and chewing my lower lip. “Please excuse me.”

  Turning away from Mama and the girls, I ran out the door and out the back of the property. I swept my gaze over the lawn, running along the outer edges near the bordering hills and gardens. When I reached the small stables where the lawn switched to the Bancroft’s property, I stopped, trying to quiet my breathing.

  There was a hush
ed sound, a broken sound, something so raw and feeble that I felt momentarily immobilized by it. I leaned my head closer, too afraid to walk toward the sound. A sniffle and a muffled sob came from behind the stables. I couldn’t breathe. I took one step, dragging my hand against the outside of the stables, but stopped again.

  What was I doing? If this truly was Nicholas, surely he would not appreciate me, a simple girl, bothering him at such a dreadful time. But my heart was captured in awe at this strong boy sounding so weak. It seemed impossible, but here it was, and I was a witness. I felt much like an intruder. If he had hidden himself away, there must have been a reason for it.

  I made my decision to turn and run back in the direction I came. My heart pounded as I raced over the trimmed grass. But then I stopped again. I looked over my shoulder back at the stables. How could I be satisfied with my decision to leave him when he needed comfort? I was not very skilled at offering comfort, or at least I had never been tested in the matter, but it was necessary that I try. I took three large, shaking breaths, and … I still didn’t move.

  After several minutes I gathered the courage, soaking it in slowly, like individual droplets of warm rain. When I was within twenty feet of where I had heard Nicholas, I slowed my pace. He was still there; I could hear him.

  Before I could lose my resolve, I walked closer to the sounds.

  The sunlight beat down on my face, sticking strands of hair to my temples. My legs carried me with purpose toward the front of the stables. Perhaps it hadn’t been Nicholas at all. Perhaps it was just one of the children. As the thought crossed my mind, a head of brown hair came into view from around the edge of the stables. One wet eye saw me before turning away in a flash. A strong jaw clenched against tears. I was breathless. I could hardly comprehend it.

  “Nicholas?” My voice was barely a whisper. What would he think of me? Surely he would toss me aside and tell me to leave him alone. But had he ever done such a thing? I could think of no such instance. But I had never seen him like this. Anything was possible.