Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “For the inconvenience I will send your pay in double forthwith.”

  The man stepped closer to Nicholas, and I was astonished at the similarity of their height. The innkeeper was just an inch or two shorter. His nostrils flared and a stream of sweat fell down his temple. “You ’spect me to take you for your word?” He shook his head. “Why not your lovely wife? Give me her and you are free to leave.” He laughed, shifting his eyes behind Nicholas. Without thinking, I gripped the back of Nicholas’s jacket.

  He stood straight, but I saw his fists tighten at his sides. His jaw clenched.

  “A tempting armful, she is.” He sneered, and tried to glance at me from around Nicholas, but Nicholas shifted to hide me. Reaching back, Nicholas held my wrist, and I stepped close to his back.

  “Don’t speak another word of her.” His jaw was tight when he turned to the side, pulling me along beside him. I walked fast, but not a second later a large hand clamped over my shoulder.

  I shrieked, reeling back in disgust as the innkeeper leaned close to my ear. His breath reeked of port. His hand slid down my arm and I slapped it away. Nicholas took one stride, extended both hands, and thrust the man against a nearby table. The parlor was nearly empty, except for the couple that stood in the corner, watching with alarm. The innkeeper recovered for a short moment before launching himself at Nicholas, swinging his fist and making contact with Nicholas’s cheekbone.

  I gasped, stumbling back as Nicholas returned the gesture, knocking the man to the floor this time.

  Nicholas turned to face me, and I could already see the start of a bruise on his cheek. “Run,” he said, grabbing my arm.

  I gladly obeyed, and he pushed his way through the front door until we were outside again. Nicholas slipped his hand around mine and pulled me along as we ran down the road. His hand was warm and safe, and I tried to calm my racing heart. What had just happened? The wind pushed my hair back and capsized my bonnet, but I caught it before it could spin away.

  Nicholas led us to a narrow path that adjoined the one we had taken on the coach, but farther up the road from where we had come. There was a square of public gardens, edged with topiary and rose bushes. Hills rose and fell, marked with simple benches and rocky pathways. We ran until we were hidden safely behind the trees behind the gardens. The grass grew sparsely here and branches closed in from all sides. We stopped to catch our breath, but Nicholas didn’t let go of my hand.

  “Are you all right?” he asked in a gentle voice.

  I tried to speak but could only nod. Was I all right? Nicholas was the one who had received a firm facer from a horrific man.

  He held my gaze with concern for one more moment before exhaling in a shaky laugh. I snorted into laughter, pressing my hand to my mouth to muffle it. I bent over, leaning my hands on my knees and continued to laugh in disbelief. Nicholas threw his head back, joining me. When my giggles finally subsided, I felt an enormous sense of release.

  “I am very sorry,” he said.

  “I am too.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “What can you be sorry for? You cannot be sorry for being—how did he put it?—a tempting armful.”

  I cringed as a shiver rolled over me. “Do not ever speak of that again.”

  He smiled, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that disarmed me. “Are you certain you’re well?”

  “I’m as well as I can be for a woman who hasn’t changed her dress in multiple days, nor had a warm bath, and who is many miles from her home and family, not knowing when she might arrive at her destination or how many other levels of madness she may encounter on the unpredictable journey.” I bit my lip. “I suppose when you consider all of that, I am faring quite well.”

  Nicholas burst into laughter, shaking his head.

  “Have you paused to consider your own state?” Without thinking, I rose on my toes and squinted through the dark. And then I reached up and touched his cheek—the place the innkeeper had struck him. My hand froze there. I was so surprised at myself that I didn’t know what to do. Soft as a feather, I traced my index finger over the bruising skin. My eyes met his in the dark, and the traces of his smile were gone. His eyes searched mine, but I looked away, dropping my hand to my side.

  He had defended me. Surely that was not a sign of a dishonorable person. It was impossible to know what to believe. But this could be all an act, an effort to deceive me. He could be stealing my trust and my affection only to tear it away. He had done it before, why should he not do it again?

  I crossed my arms, standing uncomfortably in front of him. “I don’t know what has come over me. I suppose I am much too tired to function properly.” I laughed, but it was dry and dull.

  I sensed a great battle in his expression, over which emotion to portray. He looked … frustrated. Guilty. Ashamed.

  Opening the large canvas bag at his side, he unpacked several shirts and a jacket, laying them out on the ground at the base of a tree. Then he slipped his own jacket off and gestured at the line of shirts on the ground. “I’m afraid that is all I can offer you for a bed.”

  I smiled down at the neat shirts and almost laughed again. “Are you certain I can use your … clothing?”

  “I know it is not proper and certainly not comfortable, but you need to rest. At least for a few hours.”

  I was shaking my head, and Nicholas stopped. “How did you know that I have always wanted to sleep out of doors? Mama and Papa never allowed me to do so as a child.”

  I expected him to laugh, but I only saw that look again—the frustration and the guilt. He shook it away before I could consider what it meant. “Rightfully so. I will stay nearby and ensure that you are not seen.”

  And there he was again, protecting my reputation, protecting me from harm. With careful movements, I knelt on the first piece of fabric and rotated back until I was flat on my back under the tree. I set my bonnet beside me and smiled up at Nicholas, laughing between breaths. “I feel ridiculous.”

  Bending down, he draped his jacket over me, tucking it over my shoulders before moving to sit several feet away. He didn’t look at me.

  The ground beneath my back was hard and covered in bumps. I shifted so I faced away from Nicholas, self-conscious at the thought of him watching me sleep. Despite all the things I didn’t know about Nicholas, I felt safe and secure even in my current situation. Several minutes passed and I was still completely awake. I listened to the sound of crickets and night breezes trickling through the branches. In the middle of it all came Nicholas’s voice.

  “Lucy?”

  My eyes opened. I stared at the nearby trees on the other side instead of rolling over to face him. “Hmm.” My heart picked up speed in the silence that followed.

  “Have you ever wished you could reach inside a person’s head and pluck out any memory you wanted and hide it from them forever?” His voice was hoarse and quiet.

  I puzzled over the odd question. “Yes.”

  He paused. “I’m sorry for hurting you.”

  My throat clenched with emotion. His voice rang in my ears and I held perfectly still. By the time I composed myself enough to speak, the words wouldn’t come. Too much time had passed to respond, so I held his jacket more tightly around myself, squeezed my eyes closed, and tried to sleep.

  ELEVEN

  SEPTEMBER 1814

  I hadn’t spoken more than a few words in the last week of our travel home from Rosewood, and neither had Mama. Rachel knew why I was sad, but neither of us understood why Mama was distant. She told us that all was well. She smiled and patted our hands. Papa held her close and played with her hair.

  The day we finally arrived home, our house was cold. It wasn’t cold like snow or ice, but cold like desertion, darkness, and broken things.

  I stayed in my room the entire day, trying not to think about Nicholas. He had occupied my thoughts for too long already. It was unfair how people changed and grew. Some grew faster than others, and some were waiting for the right opportunity to make them
grow. Nicholas had grown out of being my friend. He had grown out of being kind to me. He had grown far past the possibility of ever loving me. He had said it in the clearest possible way.

  Tears stung the corners of my eyes and I swallowed. Crossing the floor of my bedroom, I lifted the lid of my trunk. My things were packed hastily, but I knew where to find the item I sought. Emotion tore through my lungs as I breathed until I gasped for air. I wrenched the tiny engraved wooden box from the trunk and placed it on my palm. Nicholas had given it to me over a year ago. I hadn’t wished away any of my pearls yet—nothing had seemed important enough. Until now. Through blurred vision, I pinched the clasp between my fingers and lifted the tiny lid. There were my pearls, all five rolled to one corner of the box. I chose one carefully, withdrawing it into my fist and setting the box on my writing desk.

  I cleaned it free of all the dirt until it shone. Then I held it to my chest and whispered my first dream.

  “I wish that Nicholas will never forget me.”

  As I walked through the drawing room, I tossed the pearl into the fire. Mesmerized, I watched it within the flames. And then I tried to forget about him.

  The first hint of light that bled through my eyelids shocked me, and I felt the unevenness of the ground before opening my eyes. It was still dim, and for a moment I forgot why I was here, sleeping on a pile of shirts under a tree. Never in my life had I imagined I would find myself in such a situation. And that didn’t even include the fact that Nicholas Bancroft was sitting five feet away, watching me with a thoughtful expression on his far-too-handsome face.

  I sat up, blinking fast, and rubbed my eyes. Nicholas laughed.

  “What?” My voice came out harsher than I intended. I didn’t even want to imagine how I must have appeared at this moment. My hair hadn’t been washed or combed in days, likely sticking out at strange, curly angles, my eyes puffy, and my dress dirty.

  He dipped his head and glanced up at me from under his dark lashes. “You must have been dreaming.”

  “Why?” I dropped my hand from my face. My eyes widened in horror.

  “I have never seen so many expressions cross one face in such a short time.”

  I was mortified, to say the least. “You cannot be serious! I do not remember having a dream of any sort. I hardly remember falling asleep at all.” I bit my lip, stopping my own words. I recalled what Nicholas had said to me just hours before. He had apologized and I hadn’t given him any response. But it was a new day, renewed by my short few hours of rest. And Nicholas seemed to have recovered from his strange mood, so I counted myself fortunate.

  “Shall we get you to Rosewood by nightfall?” Nicholas stood up and brushed the dirt from his trousers. Had he slept at all? I forced myself to stand on my aching legs and scooped up Nicholas’s shirts that had functioned as my bed.

  I stretched my back. “But we don’t have money to pay for a coach.”

  “Then we will walk.”

  I studied him for a moment, his strong shoulders, open face, smiling mouth, and friendly eyes. Never would I grow tired of seeing him. I would never grow tired of speaking with him or laughing with him, of knowing that he was beside me.

  But for a reason I didn’t know, he didn’t want to be at Rosewood. After today, he could be gone again. But he wanted me to help him, did he not? He was determined to change his ways. If he left me I wouldn’t have the chance. He would go back to the highwaymen and forget me. If only I could convince him to stay.

  There was something that kept him away from Rosewood, that had also kept my mother and father away for so long. There was too much I needed to still discover about Nicholas. I wanted to learn as much as I could. There was no possible way I was letting him deposit me at the gates and ride away. Ride away?

  “Nicholas? Have you forgotten Jack?” His horse was still at an inn miles behind us.

  He took a few steps closer to me, breathing out a sigh. “No, I haven’t forgotten him.”

  “How will you—how will you pay the innkeeper for looking after him?”

  He dropped his gaze to the ground, rubbing his boot in circles in the dirt. It reminded me of something the younger Nicholas would have done, at moments when he hurt but didn’t want to show it. “I hope the staff will take care of him while I’m away.”

  My brow furrowed. “But when you do return for him, how will you pay the man?”

  His eyes flashed. “I haven’t a sixpence to scratch with, Lucy. I know it. But Jack will be just fine. It is you and your safety that I am most concerned for.” He sounded frustrated as he always seemed to be when I mentioned money. My stomach sunk at the thought of him among those dreadful highwaymen. He could not go back to them. I refused to allow that to happen.

  “Please promise me, Nicholas,” I blurted. “Please promise me you will stay at Rosewood with me, just for one week.”

  His chest rose and fell with a slow breath and he rubbed his forehead. When he looked at me, his eyes were heavy.

  “Please. Are you not indebted to yourself? Think of how you will feel if you return home and mend your relationships—or whatever it is that has been troubling you. I can see it.”

  His eyes locked on mine, and he was silent for several seconds. “Have you any other motive for me staying? Or is it strictly for me and my … troubled spirits?”

  I shifted, avoiding his gaze. “Well, er—I …” He couldn’t possibly discover that I wanted him there because I would miss him.

  When I finally dared a look at his face, he was smiling, just a devilish quirk of his lips. He quite enjoyed making me uncomfortable.

  “I’ll tell you this,” he said. “I will not stay unless you admit something to me this very instant.” His feet made tracks in the dirt as I watched them walk closer to me. I couldn’t look at his face when he was smiling in such a way, or speaking with that deep, taunting voice. He stopped. “Please look at me, Lucy.”

  I huffed a breath of annoyance that I hoped he could hear and lifted my face, staring him straight in the eyes.

  “I need you to tell me what it means when you refuse to look at me. Tell me what it means when you smile uncontrollably and a short moment later frown and refuse to speak to me.” He stared down at me in earnest, not letting me escape. “Why do you want me to stay at Rosewood?”

  The leaves rustled around us, and the sun had begun its ascent into the sky. My heart fluttered with the contrast of the beauty around me and Nicholas’s strange question. “I don’t wish to tell you.”

  “Why not?”

  I felt my posture tighten, my firm look grow firmer. “Because you already know.” I shook my head. “You cannot pretend that you do not.”

  Nicholas’s smile was gone, replaced by a look of deep thought, regret, and confusion all at once.

  I clasped my hands together, the resulting sound much louder than I intended. “But enough of this. I need you to tell me if you are staying or not. At any rate, Mr. Parsons will be in town and I should hate for him to not become further acquainted with you.”

  I grinned inwardly as Nicholas’s jaw tightened—and not merely because I enjoyed the sight of his jawline. He smoothed his expression, but I had seen it. He had given Mr. Parsons the same look after Mr. Parsons saved me from that awful chaise.

  “Very well,” Nicholas said. “I will stay for one week.”

  I accidentally jumped and released a squeal of delight. Nicholas laughed, staring down at me with a wide smile that made my heart jump as well.

  He smoothed a wayward curl from my forehead, sending tendrils of warmth through my face. “Off we go, then.”

  I closed my eyes and smiled. “Off we go.”

  I had never walked fifteen miles in one day before, and it was not an experience I wished to repeat. However, as I pondered on the matter, I decided that if I were to have Nicholas walking beside me, talking and laughing and teasing me, then I would walk twice that distance every day if it meant he would be there.

  It was a troubling thought. It
put the extent of my feelings into harsh perspective. If Nicholas made walking for hours in the dust with blistering feet and sore legs enjoyable, then I must care for him far too much.

  I scolded myself over and over for allowing him back into my heart, for allowing him to weaken my boundaries.

  Nicholas was my childhood, the very thing I was trying to escape. He came from the days of weakness and naïveté. Yet here I was, even more weak and more naïve than ever. But I couldn’t blame him for it, no matter how much I wanted to.

  As we walked the final mile to Rosewood, I tried to imagine everything I could remember of the place.

  Rosewood sat at the end of a very long road, behind a set of wide gates edged in rose bushes. The Bancrofts’ home sat just to the left side, shrinking in comparison. The Rossingtons and Bancrofts had always been close friends, the relation extending back for several generations when the current families came into residence. Rosewood was one of the largest estates in all of Kent, especially the Dover area, second only to Willowbourne. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying to picture it. The bright stone, wide windows in perfect rows, immaculate gardens. The smell of courage and adventures and joy. Surely those things didn’t have a scent, but if they did, it would be the scent that came through Rosewood’s property on the wind.

  Nicholas nudged my arm. I opened my eyes, unable to hide my smile. The road was turning to the right, where I knew Rosewood was standing beyond the trees. I always loved the journey there because you couldn’t see the estate until you rounded that final corner. The anticipation overtook me every time.

  I felt Nicholas’s hand curl around my arm. “There is something you need to know.”

  Confused, I looked up at his face. His eyes were heavy.

  “You have been away for a very long time. There are certain things that have changed.”

  I scrunched my brow. “Kitty did not mention that anything was out of sorts. You have been away for quite some time as well.”