Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  My mind spun with conflicting emotions. Nicholas made me angry and happy and confused all at once. Did he truly wish to be rid of me? I had spoken in truth. I was not afraid of him. Did he think I was in danger from him? But he had rescued me. Just this morning he had planned to accompany me to Rosewood. If he had truly been away from his family for so long, would he not be anxious to return? I thought of Mama and her apparent fear and dread at the thought of the Bancrofts and the neighboring Rosewood. What secrets could be hidden there? What had my youth sheltered me from these past years? Mama was a sensible woman, steadfast and thoughtful. It struck me that perhaps she had more than a simple dislike of the place to keep us away for so many summers.

  I had been walking for several minutes, far past the millinery now. Lost in my thoughts as I was, I didn’t hear the chaise approaching from behind me until it was too close. I turned around to find the horses just a few feet from me. I gasped before something solid collided with me from the side. I stumbled off the road, nearly crashing into the stone wall of the shop beside me. My hat fell from my head and skidded across the cobblestones. The chaise rattled past, and I blew the hair away from my eyes. My heart raced.

  “Pardon me.” A man—the one that I assumed had just pushed me to safety—was gripping my arm, looking down at me with concern. “Are you all right?”

  I exhaled shakily. “Yes, thank you. I—I should learn to be more attentive to my surroundings.” I tried to smile, but the effort was painful.

  “A pretty woman such as yourself can afford to be in danger. There are often a multitude of gentlemen waiting to assist at any sign of trouble,” he said.

  I would have been taken aback by his words, but the charming smile that followed made his boldness acceptable in an odd way. He was very handsome, with wavy dark hair and striking blue eyes. I was suddenly very aware of his hand on my arm. I steadied myself and he dropped his hand.

  “I don’t see a multitude of gentlemen.”

  He glanced behind his shoulder. “Then I suppose I was more fortunate than most.”

  I laughed politely. “I was the fortunate one. If not for your assistance I might have been run down. I sincerely thank you …”

  “Mr. Parsons.” He tipped his head in a polite bow.

  “I sincerely thank you, Mr. Parsons. My name is Mi—” my voice trailed off. Nicholas was crossing the road between us, carried by long strides. I cleared my throat. “My name is Miss Abbot.” I made my voice louder than necessary, hoping Nicholas would overhear. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “Oh, the pleasure is mine,” Mr. Parsons said in a cheerful voice. He spotted my hat sitting in the road and scooped it up, handing it to me. He didn’t make a sardonic comment on it, which I quite appreciated. Nicholas had stopped walking, looking at Mr. Parsons with narrowed eyes. When Nicholas saw me watching, his expression placated. Had I seen jealousy? The thought made me smile.

  “I must be going,” I said. “I cannot thank you enough for your service to me.”

  He seemed uncomfortable with the flattery, giving a bashful smile that was quite endearing. “When might I see you again?”

  He was indeed a bold one. I enjoyed the attention. Or rather, I enjoyed that Nicholas did not enjoy it. Something devious inside of me giggled with triumph. “I am bound for Dover at the moment, planning to visit my aunt, uncle, and cousins at their estate, Rosewood.”

  “You cannot be earnest.” His eyes widened. “I live just outside of Dover near Canterbury. I will be returning home in a week! How interesting that we should meet here at this time—and how auspicious that I might know where to call upon you when I arrive. Rosewood is a very fine estate. It neighbors many other fine homes, does it not? Stanton Manor and Willowbourne?”

  “Yes—I believe it does. I look forward to our reunion.” I clasped my hands together and gave a quick nod before squinting in the direction Nicholas had been. He was still watching, the same tightened jaw and narrowed eyes.

  Mr. Parsons gave another charming smile. “As do I, Miss Abbot. I wish you the safest and most comfortable of journeys.”

  I glanced at him again from beneath my eyelashes. He truly was striking, and very kind. We bid our farewells, and he walked away. I turned toward Nicholas where he stood across the road, forcing myself to keep my smile at a reasonable size. With one hand on my hip, I raised an eyebrow. “Have you calmed your nerves?”

  He brushed his hands against his breeches uncomfortably, walking toward me. Finally he tipped his head back with a smile. “Yes, Lucy, my nerves are quite calmed.” He didn’t seem inclined to address the issue of Mr. Parsons and his flirting. I was just relieved that Nicholas was not still angry and unsociable.

  “Do you still plan to send me off on my own way?” I asked, dreading the answer.

  He was standing several feet away, and a duo of well-dressed women bustled between us on the road. When I could see him again, my heart gave a firm leap. He was looking at me in that odd way again—the look I couldn’t name. It was unfamiliar and unnerving, and it made my breath catch.

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that.”

  Relief pounded through me. “And why not?”

  He exhaled fast in an attempt at laughter. And then his eyes met mine again with a humble smile. “I need you.”

  My knees seemed to buckle in shock. I licked my lips, avoiding his eyes. Nicholas needs me. Nicholas needs me? Had I heard him correctly? I was certain it couldn’t be true. I needed him; he never needed me. I fiddled with the ribbons of my hat that I held, forcing myself to act composed. I frowned in confusion, willing him to explain.

  “I need you to help me,” he said. “I—I have lost sight of … everything. You spoke frankly of my character, and I needed to hear it.” His voice was uncertain, shy—a sound I never thought I would hear in my life.

  It took a moment, but I composed myself enough to speak clearly. “Of course.” I breathed deeply, deciding whether or not I should say the next part. “You—you have helped me many times throughout my life. It is the very least I can do.”

  He looked confused. “How have I helped you?”

  I shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. “You always gave me something to look forward to. Every month of the year I was in Craster I looked forward to the adventures I would have in the summer with you.” I fluttered my hands around the air to give dramatic effect to his name. “Nicholas Bancroft.” I grinned as he laughed. “But … I will gladly serve another platter of scolding if that is what you need me for. I am at your service.” I gave a low bow, earning a chuckle from Nicholas.

  His hair was falling over his forehead and I wished I could brush it away for him. If only I were brave enough. Or tall enough, for that matter.

  Nicholas moved closer, a smile still stretched across his lips, and he tipped his head down to look at me. I determined that I could certainly reach his hair if I wanted to. If I rose on my toes high enough then I could even kiss him. Just with the thought my cheeks burned. His eyes studied my face, growing more serious. The unspoken conclusion he reached with his study made him smile even wider. “You should wear your hat again.”

  I touched my head. “Why is that?”

  “We cannot have hair so enchanting as yours free for men like Mr. Parsons to see.” The way he said Mr. Parsons sounded as if the name had been coated in sour milk and forced down his throat. It made me smile. He turned on his heel to the direction of the millinery, glancing over his shoulder with a sly grin, extending his arm. “Come now, Mrs. Bancroft.”

  I pressed my smile down, keeping my reaction dignified as I set my hat over my hair again. I could not squeal with delight and have Nicholas assuming that I cared for his flattery.

  When we reached the door of the millinery, I glanced inside, tingling with excitement. The shop was much larger than the one in Craster, with taller ceilings and many more hats. Women worked at the edges of the room, stitching ribbon to bonnets and trimming hats. I watched in admiration.

  The milline
r was quite unlike Mr. Connor in both manner and appearance. He was aloof to say the least, throwing color suggestions without a glance in my direction, twisting his finger over his thin beard and speaking in French to the women in the room when I asked him a question. Nicholas stood by in amusement as I tried on the plainest bonnets and then the most extravagant hats. It was a welcome way to spend an afternoon.

  When we exited the shop, I blinked fast. The sky was streaked in peach, and the moon was visible as a translucent sphere. “What is the time?”

  “I didn’t wish to interrupt you. You seemed to be enjoying yourself.” He laughed as he pulled a small watch from his jacket.

  “I was.” My eyes moved fast over the cloudless sky, taking note of every color in the sky. I didn’t want to forget this day.

  “The mail coach,” Nicholas said. My gaze tore from the sky to his face. He was squinting at the watch in his palm. “I’m afraid we must hurry if we wish to catch it.”

  I had nearly forgotten. My stomach sunk with dread.

  “Are you fond of running?”

  My eyes widened and excitement thrummed in my chest. There was a wild thing inside, stretching its bound wings. I was fond of it, but I didn’t remember when I had last done it. Brisk walking was the extent of my speed. “Are you suggesting we run to the inn?” I scoffed. “How utterly ridiculous. I am a lady, do you remember?”

  “I remember quite well.”

  “How could my short legs keep speed with you?”

  Half his mouth quirked in a smile. “I am slow. Do you remember?”

  I did remember. Quite well. Nicholas had always let me win in our races across the Rosewood property. But I hadn’t known it then, and that’s what made the memory so special to me now.

  We set at a rapid walk in the direction of the coaching inn. I had never been very skilled at mathematics, but I was intelligent enough to know that three of my strides, perhaps two and one half, matched the equivalent of one of his. I grimaced, straining my legs as I tried to keep up.

  “I fear we won’t make it,” Nicholas said.

  I could not endure an additional night and day in this dress. “We must,” I choked. Short on breath, I added a spring to my step, soaring past Nicholas in a run. When I saw the surprise on his face, I couldn’t help but laugh. My hat slipped over the top of my head, but I placed my hand on top of it to keep it from blowing away. Nicholas was there beside me in a matter of seconds, but just a few inches behind, like always. I wondered how fast he could really run.

  My throat burned with exertion and laughter, but my feet moved and the wind stole my breath and Nicholas laughed beside me. My hair bounced, and I didn’t mind it one bit.

  We approached a hill, a steep, rounded, grassy top before it sloped down toward the road that would take us to the inn. I could see it—candlelight glowing from the windows and cutting the dimming air. And then my heart sunk. There was the mail coach, and there were the passengers claiming their seats on the back and on the rooftop, two women climbing inside. The coachman took his place in the box. We were too far.

  I stopped, bending over to catch my breath. I put my hand against my damp forehead. Would my fortune ever turn? I was beginning to doubt I would ever make it to Rosewood. Disheartened, I turned to Nicholas. He had stopped too, craning his neck to see the inn far in the distance. He appeared so composed, hardly a drop of perspiration on his face, his hair windblown but even more handsome for it.

  “Not to worry. We will catch it tomorrow.” He put one hand on my shoulder, sending a thread of warmth all the way to my fingertips.

  I couldn’t hide my disappointment. What would Mama and Papa think of me now? I had tried to prove my maturity by taking this trip alone, but instead I had found myself in an unbelievable and rather forbidden situation. What had they thought when they read my note? Surely Papa had not taken it lightly. I was under his protection, and he took that responsibility very seriously. I had taken it for granted. I was under Nicholas’s protection now.

  “Let me see that smile of yours.”

  I glanced up. Nicholas had one eyebrow raised, that curved crease above it on his forehead, an inquisitive grin on his lips. My heart flooded with familiarity and comfort. Perhaps under Nicholas’s protection was not such a horrible place to be.

  I sighed, wiping my palms on my skirts with finality, and mustered the smallest of smiles. “I suppose I am very tired. Another night of rest sounds wonderful at the moment.”

  Nicholas looked relieved as he stepped forward and curved my arm around his. We walked down the hill in the direction of the inn.

  “Off we go, then,” he said. “But you must promise me one thing.”

  “What?”

  His gaze rested on me for a moment before shifting to the road ahead. “That you will keep the snoring to a minimum.”

  I giggled, slapping my hand over my mouth to hide it. “I cannot control it!”

  “Then I will pray that this inn has denser walls.”

  I laughed, turning my face up to the sky, watching the stars come to light. If I finally did make it to Rosewood, then surely the intrigue and excitement wouldn’t be half what I had experienced in the past day. The thought filled me with a sudden ache that reached through my ribs and stabbed at my heart.

  I was reminded of a gift Nicholas had once given me—a box of pearls that he had convinced me were wishes. I didn’t have it with me, for I had already used all the wishes inside. I didn’t want Nicholas to leave. If I still had that box of wishes, then I would certainly have used it to wish that this journey to Rosewood with Nicholas could last forever.

  NINE

  SUMMER 1813

  The stones in front of me formed a path, a jagged one with spaces between. I lifted my skirts and hopped over each stone. There were ten. When I reached the end, I turned, catching my breath, and beamed at my accomplishment. And then I bent down, pushing the stones so they lay even farther apart, and moved to the first stone once again.

  The woods were quiet today. Kitty sat at the base of a tree nearby, sketching the birds that perched on the branches above her. Every so often she gave an angry remark about how they simply couldn’t hold still. I fancied myself to be much like the birds, always hopping, moving, untucking my wings from my sides. Surely if I were a bird I would take every opportunity I had to fly. How daft to not use wings if you are given them.

  I bent my knees to jump again, swinging my arms for added momentum. My right foot hit the ground, half on top of the stone and half on the dirt. I stumbled, hitting the ground with my elbow first. Laughing, I brushed myself clean. “Too far,” I breathed.

  Kitty glanced up, a smile playing across her soft features. She had always been a conservative girl, keeping the rules and behaving like a lady. I tried, but at times it was simply too tiring.

  As I pushed myself off the ground, I spied a round ivory ball not one quarter inch in diameter, sticking out from the dirt. My heart sparked with excitement. I had always hoped I might find a piece of buried treasure.

  With eager fingers I dug at what I now recognized as a pearl. As the dirt fell away, I found a strand of them. I held it up, counting the pearls. Five. They were darkened with age and grime, but I smiled as I held them to the sunlight. “Kitty! Look at what I found.”

  She squinted from across the clearing, giving into curiosity and coming for a closer look. She grimaced, dipping her head to see them from a different angle. “They are dirty.”

  “They have been living in the dirt, Kitty. How else might they be? You live in a clean house, so it would not be acceptable if you were to become dirty. These beautiful pearls had no choice in the matter.” My voice was rambling on, but I was hardly listening to myself. I studied the pearls as I held the end of the strand pinched between two fingers.

  Kitty laughed. “You are living in my very same clean house, yet you are dirty.”

  It was true. My hands were lined in filth. Kitty reached down to pluck a twig from my hair. Cradling the pearl
s in my palm, I stood up. “Where shall we keep them?”

  Leaves rustled behind us and I jumped as a figure emerged.

  “Nicholas! You cannot sneak behind us like that!” Kitty shrieked. As predictable as clockwork, my heart ticked a little faster as I turned around. I hadn’t seen Nicholas all week, and I had begun to worry he was avoiding me after I had found him behind the stables at his most vulnerable moment, crying over his horse. The image was burned in my mind, so when I saw him standing there, I was surprised to see his wide grin.

  “How else could I approach two unsuspecting people than by surprise? It is much more entertaining.” His eyes shifted to me, an unspoken greeting in them. Then he winked.

  “I found a buried treasure,” I said in a quick voice, trying to dispel the feeling that burned through me with that wink. My cheeks reddened with embarrassment. A buried treasure?

  I wanted to bury my face in my hands instead. Certainly my expression wasn’t a treasure.

  Nicholas’s smile only grew, and his eyes lit up with interest. “What is it?”

  I looked down at the toes of my boots, tightening my fist around the strand of pearls. Why must I be so painfully shy? It was uncharacteristic of me. Something had changed that day by the stables. Nicholas wasn’t indestructible. He wasn’t the face of perfect strength and ease. He was cracked and broken. He not only laughed but he cried sometimes too. He was much like me.

  Nicholas walked closer, and I noticed that his hair was combed today, tucked behind his ears and pushed back from his face. His eyes were open and clear, and my heart skittered when they looked down at me with a question. “Where is this treasure, Lucy?”

  I pressed my lips together, planning my words carefully.

  “Ah. I believe I’ve found it,” Nicholas brought his hand up to my head, pulling a short twig from between my curls and holding it in front of my face. I swatted his hand away, a smile breaking over my cheeks. How many twigs were in my hair?