Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “Pardon me?” I asked, lowering my goblet.

  “How is your family faring?”

  “Quite well.” I didn’t want to share any further details—not of Rachel’s marriage, not of my father’s occupation, not of anything.

  He raised a chunk of bread to his mouth and said, “I am glad to hear it,” before taking a large bite that he had to wash down with a swig from his cup. My eyes skipped over to Kitty, who watched her father with a look that surprised me. Caution, annoyance … distaste. She caught me watching her and quickly thrust her fork into her beef, avoiding my gaze.

  “I am anxious to see the Bancrofts again upon my visit here. How have they been these years? I trust they are well?”

  A hush fell over the table. My fork froze. Mr. Rossington straightened in his chair and Kitty and William exchanged a glance. Mr. Turner whispered something in Kitty’s ear.

  “They are quite well,” Mr. Rossington said in a blunt voice.

  The party resumed eating and fell to silence once again. My brow furrowed. What could have passed between the families? I recalled the fence and line of trees between the houses. They had never been there before. I thought of Nicholas again and frustration filled me. Why must he keep so many secrets?

  I cleared my throat. “I suppose I will have to call upon them while I am here.”

  Mr. Rossington muttered a few words under his breath that I couldn’t hear. He raised his face from his plate with a pleasant smile. “They will be happy to receive you, I am sure.”

  His sister threw him a hidden look of annoyance. But I saw it.

  “I hear that Nicholas has been married in the recent months.” I took a spoonful of soup to my lips, keeping my complexion even as Mr. Rossington gave a firm nod.

  “Indeed, he was.”

  Ah. So the rumor had not been dispelled yet. Why had such gossip started at all? Nicholas had created quite the ruse, and I wished I knew the reason behind it. What would he do when he arrived here? How would he explain himself? My heart beat with dread. It was growing dark. If he had not returned home by now, he likely never would.

  Nothing was right in this house. The entire property was filled with an air of dishonesty and shifting eyes. It was heavy and quiet, dark to the soul but still bright as ever to the eyes. If I hadn’t treasured this place so much, I might not have noticed the difference in the aura. And there Mr. Rossington was, smiling away in the center of it all.

  When the meal was complete, the ladies withdrew to the drawing room while the men stayed behind for port. I took Kitty’s arm with urgency, mumbling my excuses to her aunt, Mrs. Tattershall. I needed to speak with Kitty. I lacked the patience to wait another moment. She laughed as I pulled her down the wide hall and stopped beside a candle so I could see her face.

  “What is so urgent?” She straightened her elbow-length sleeves, raising her delicate eyebrows.

  “What the devil has happened here?” I whispered. My voice echoed in the halls. Kitty’s eyes widened. “I have been kept in the dark. What has happened between your family and the Bancrofts?”

  Kitty chewed at her fingernail in silence.

  “Nicholas Bancroft is not married,” I whispered.

  She met my eyes in shock. “What do you mean? Of course he is married. He abandoned his family for it.”

  I shook my head. “He told me himself. But do not suppose he hasn’t been up to mischief; he most certainly has.”

  She looked over her shoulder and grabbed my wrist, pulling me farther down the hall until we reached a small study. She lifted a candle from a nearby sconce and pushed open the door. Inside, the room was small and crowded with three wooden chairs, a desk, and a single shelf of books. Kitty lit two candles on the desk and motioned for me to sit. “When did you see Nicholas?”

  I swallowed. “In my travels here. He and his accomplices apprehended my coach on the road, robbing me of my belongings. Nicholas rescued me after he recognized me and assisted me in what remained of my journey.”

  She gasped, covering her mouth. “He is a highwayman? You cannot be serious! What could compel him to behave in such a way?”

  “I have been thinking on that for quite some time.” I sighed. “He would not explain. I hardly knew if I could trust him.”

  “How did you trust him? You could have been in great danger!”

  “I know.” My head clouded with questions and confusion. “But somehow I knew I could trust him. He would never harm me, Kitty, I know it.”

  “Do you still fancy him?” She raised one eyebrow in reprimand.

  “Of course not,” I lied. “I never did.” My cheeks reddened against my will as I thought of our last encounter—when he had called me lovely and walked backward into the trees.

  She scoffed. “That is not true.”

  I gave up my ruse. “I once did, but not now. I forgot him years ago.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “You mean to say that you traveled alone for days with him? Your reputation could have been vastly tarnished.”

  “We took the proper precautions, I assure you. I am grateful for his services to me. I will always be grateful. I was never afraid of him. He seemed intent to change—to turn his life to that which is honorable once again. We mustn’t give up on him. Please know that what I am sharing with you I am sharing in confidence. Do not tell a soul, I beg of you.” I pleaded with my eyes. “I do not know why he created a false marriage and resorted to such wicked ways, but please do not tell anyone.”

  She gave a slight nod. I knew I could rely on Kitty. “Where is he?”

  “I do not know.” I chewed my lip. “He told me he would return tonight.”

  “To his home?” Her eyes flew open.

  “Yes.”

  She brushed her hand over her hair in an effort to appear nonchalant about the matter. “How wonderful.”

  “Kitty.” I willed her eyes down to mine. “Please tell me what has passed between your family and the Bancrofts. I can see there is something amiss.”

  “I don’t know enough to tell you. I have been kept in the dark as well.” She stood from her chair and offered a forced smile. I knew she was lying. “I am very happy that you have come to visit, Lucy. But please do not worry yourself with things that are not of any consequence to you. I will be in the drawing room with my family if you wish to join me.”

  I slumped in my chair in defeat. With closed lips I nodded, but didn’t move an inch. With one more glance over her shoulder, she exited the room, leaving the door cracked open. I stood and pulled it shut, returning to my chair. I put my face in my hand. What was I doing? I had come to Rosewood with the intention of finding joy and entertainment and freedom. I would not find such things in a dim, lonely room. I felt uninvited, unwelcome here. I needed Nicholas. I was reminded of another day my last summer here. Another day I had been alone in a room behind a closed door at Rosewood.

  TWELVE

  SUMMER 1814

  No matter how many times I told myself not to cry, I always did. My tears were like an uncooperative child, much like what Mama had called me this morning. I was only fourteen years old, therefore it wasn’t smiled upon to have me in attendance at an organized ball. Rachel was old enough to go. Many other girls from the town would be in attendance. That was why I needed to be there. It would hurt to see Nicholas flirting with the older girls, but at least I could intervene if absolutely necessary.

  I wiped my cheeks and forced my crying to stop. I was such a pathetic watering pot, crying over something that I had endured for years already, and that every other girl had to endure. It was a social rule, nothing more. But I was afraid—very afraid that Nicholas would fall in love with someone else. I would feel much more sad than I did now. Much more.

  Sniffing one last time, I sat down in the empty morning room and watched as the carriage took everyone else to the ball. William was upstairs and Kitty was sick in bed. I would have no one to play with. I closed my eyes and tried not to imagine Nicholas with his arms around anyone
. Anyone but me.

  Something had changed since the previous summer. Nicholas saw me differently. He didn’t treat me so much like a child. I was growing up, little by little. But he also didn’t play with me as often as he used to. He was growing up too.

  My family had been at Rosewood for two weeks now and with every passing day my heart leapt a little higher, my face burned hotter every time Nicholas looked my way. He didn’t know any of this, of course. And I intended to keep it that way. How embarrassing it would be if he discovered how I felt. My heart leapt just with the thought. He was too old and too handsome and kind and perfect to notice me. He did notice me, but not in the way he noticed the older girls.

  The sort of girls that would be at the ball tonight.

  I had a suspicion. I asked Nicholas often who he fancied in town and his cheeks always turned a deep shade of pink. He refused to tell me. But Miss Sarah Hyatt was tall and beautiful with long blonde hair, and she most certainly fancied him. I wondered if she would be there tonight, batting her lashes across the ballroom and gliding toward him, practically throwing her dance card at him. My hands gripped a tight ball of plum satin from my gown. If only I had been allowed to be there, just to see if he did dance with her. She was seventeen. He was nineteen. I was fourteen. Much too young to be noticed. Much too young to attend a ball and look pretty. The rebellious tears pinched my eyes again and I sniffed.

  Three taps sounded on the door and I bolted upright in my chair, hastily swiping at my cheeks. I glanced at my reflection in the brass sconce on the wall behind me. My cheeks were still splotched in red. “Who is it?” I rasped.

  “Guess.”

  My heart jumped and I scrambled to my feet. Nicholas? Why was he here?

  “Are you still there?”

  I forced myself to speak. “Yes.” I didn’t feel like playing a guessing game tonight. It was ridiculous to pretend I didn’t know who stood behind that door. I would recognize Nicholas’s voice anywhere.

  “May I come in?” His voice held a smile.

  “Not yet.”

  “Why not?”

  I couldn’t let him see that I had been crying—and crying in part over him. My eyes caught on the inkwell on a small desk in the corner. “I—I am writing a secret note.” I bit my lip.

  He paused. “A secret note? How interesting. Let me see it.”

  “No!” My eyes flicked to the door. It was still closed. I breathed a sigh of relief. “You cannot see it.”

  “And why not?” He repeated, even more amused this time.

  “Because it is written to you.” I scrunched my face and pressed my palm to my forehead. What was I thinking?

  I could hear a muffled laugh, as if he didn’t intend for me to hear it. “For me? Now I’m really curious. Open this door.”

  “You cannot have it,” I said in a resolute voice. “But I suppose you may enter.”

  The door eased open and Nicholas peeked tentatively around the frame. He was smiling a charming half-smile and his hair was combed neat and dark. First his head, then his shoulders and torso came through the door. He was dressed in black with a snowy white cravat. His shiny boots stepped through the door and he crossed his arms. My heart skipped with admiration. He was very handsome tonight. But I knew that no matter how he looked, I would still admire him, even if he looked like a slimy toad. And I despised all toads.

  His smile faded and he eyed me with concern. “What is the matter?”

  He knew. He always knew how I felt before I admitted one word of it. “I wasn’t allowed at the ball and I am acting very much like a child about it. That is all.” I dropped my gaze and ignored the way my heart pounded as he walked closer across the room. “Why are you here? Did you not dance with Miss Hyatt?” I bit my cheek. Why could I not control my own voice?

  “I did dance with Miss Hyatt,” he said.

  My eyes shot upward. He was grinning down at me and I felt my cheeks flush. A weight settled in my stomach. “She is quite beautiful, is she not?”

  Nicholas chuckled, and I watched carefully to see if his cheeks darkened. They did.

  “So are you,” he offered.

  I didn’t believe him for one moment. “That is not why you are here.”

  “Why do you suppose I am here?”

  My words came spilling out without permission. “Because you danced with Miss Hyatt all evening and had a wonderful time. She is quite pretty and eligible as I’m sure you know, and before the town could form their gossip, you decided it would be best to leave and visit her in secret at a later time instead, lest you find yourself trapped in an engagement brought about by the public eye and the fluttering gossip of her mother and her companions for afternoon tea.” I took a deep breath.

  Nicholas raised both brows, pressing his lips together in an apparent effort not to laugh. “That is precisely what happened. Well done, Lucy.”

  My face fell before I could stop it. I wanted him to deny all of it.

  He broke into laughter, tipping his head back. “I am sorry to disappoint you.”

  “That is not a disappointment. It’s very much the opposite. I daresay you and Miss Hyatt would be a lovely couple.” I tried to make myself sound composed and mature.

  Nicholas rubbed one side of his face, breathing out a long sigh. “Unfortunately she does not share your sentiment.”

  My ears piqued. I knew he fancied her. I knew it. As glad as I was to be right, the sting in my heart overturned any feeling of accomplishment. The light out the windows was dim, bringing the candles in the room to their full potential, making Nicholas’s features more prominent and more handsome. I looked at the floor. “Is that why you left?”

  “I left so I could dance with you.”

  My eyes shot up, wide and uncertain. He was grinning down at me. He was only teasing. But my heart thudded all the same.

  “I believe I taught you a short few years ago.” He winked.

  “You are a horrendous dancer,” I said. It was impossible not to smile now.

  His eyes wrinkled at the corners when he smiled back. “I was only sixteen then.”

  “But I was only eleven and you must confess I was quite graceful and talented in the art of dancing.” I placed my hands on my hips, cringing at the way my tight curls bounced as I did so.

  He held out his hand and bowed deeply, glancing up at me from under his dark lashes. “We will see about that.”

  I pinched my smile tight, staring at his outstretched hand. My eyes flickered to the wide-open door. How embarrassing it would be to be seen dancing with Nicholas in the morning room all alone. “Shall I stand on your boots?”

  “That is not the proper way to dance.” He smiled down at me.

  I took a breath and placed my hand in his. It was strong and warm, just like the time last summer he had helped me up after I had fallen and twisted my ankle in the grass.

  “We have no music. How shall we dance with no—”

  He put his hand on my waist, and lifted my hand up in his. He was smiling, a laugh dancing across his cheeks. But I was far from laughing. I was much closer to fainting.

  “Are we waltzing, then?” I asked in a shaky voice.

  He took one step, guiding me with him, then took another, swaying to an unheard instrumental. He laughed, likely when he saw the sheer horror on my face. “You need to learn to waltz. One day you will be at a ball and a very eligible gentleman will sweep you away for a waltz and you simply cannot make a fool of yourself.”

  I didn’t want an eligible gentleman to sweep me up. As I stared up at Nicholas, at the laughter in his golden brown eyes, the creases in his cheeks, the neat hair still falling over his brow, I decided that I didn’t want any gentleman and certainly not an eligible one in the way Nicholas implied. Nicholas’s family was not wealthy. His mother was ill. They lived in a small manor beside the expansive Rosewood, and Nicholas worked hard to maintain it. He did not attend university, and likely never would. He took care of his family instead.

  My hea
rt hammered with all the admiration I had been hiding, the realization that I would never see any boy as I saw Nicholas. His light was too bright. I wasn’t a fool. I knew my own heart, and I knew it was unalterably his.

  I forced my mind to focus. “You know I will make a fool of myself no matter what you teach me. If this imagined gentleman cannot love me as a fool then he cannot love me at all.”

  Nicholas laughed again, turning and stepping faster. I followed each step, smiling down at our feet—his large boots and my tiny slippers. I wanted to freeze time in this moment. I wished with all my concentration that I could, but it was impossible.

  At last we stopped turning, and Nicholas placed one hand on my shoulder, looking down at me as a brother might look at a sister. It shattered every hope I had that he might have been earnest—that he might have left the ball for me. “You deserve the very best sort of man one day, Lucy. And I mean that. Do not let anyone steal your heart that is not worthy of it.”

  My bones ached. “The very best?”

  He nodded.

  Nicholas was speaking of himself. He was the best. He simply didn’t know it.

  “I thank you for this dance.” He dropped a bow, throwing me another wink and flashing a teasing smile.

  My hands twitched at the fabric of my gown and my eyes wandered away from his. “Thank you for coming to my aid. I was quite lonely here by myself.”

  “I will always be here should you need a friend at any moment.” I felt his eyes on my face, and dared to look up.

  He was my friend. My best friend. The best of all the best. My heart squeezed with emotion and I clicked the toes of my slippers together. When Nicholas took his leave, I shut the door behind me again, letting the silence of the empty space soak through my skin. I sat at the small desk in the corner, and wrote a secret note to Nicholas, one he would never read. My words scratched across the page.