Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  “Owen said—Owen said that ladies like flowers. And gentlemen give them flowers.” Charles beamed up at me and extended his gift. Peter did the same.

  I pressed my hand to my heart in delight. “Indeed, I adore flowers, thank you!”

  They laughed, both sets of their cheeks blooming in pink. Then they turned and ran the other way, whispering indiscriminate words to one another as they went.

  When Rosewood came into view again after nearly an hour of walking, I hesitated. The Bancrofts’ home was there too, tempting me with its secrets. The line of trees, the picket fence—it tugged me closer with curiosity.

  Pulling my cloak over my head, I ducked behind the nearest tree and stared up at the tall windows of the house. I had been unable to forget the pot that had nearly landed on my head from above. The picture was vivid in my mind, and it choked me with fear. I wanted to turn back toward Rosewood, but my feet carried me closer to the house without my permission.

  I didn’t know whether or not Nicholas was home. I chewed my lip as I drew closer to the house. There were several things I could do. If I knocked on the door, then perhaps Mrs. Bancroft or Julia would answer before Nicholas could stop them. Perhaps then I could question them and discover the information I sought.

  Deciding that this was my best option, I gathered my courage and walked up the steps. The door was large and intimidating. I swallowed hard and wrung my hands together. With a final deep breath, I struck my knuckles against the door three times. Leaning closer to the door, I strained my ears to hear any sounds from within the house. I froze. A shuffling was coming closer. My heart pounded in my ears. My feet threatened to run me away before I could see what was on the other side of the door.

  Before I could move, the door eased open a crack. I looked straight ahead, holding my breath. There was nothing, just an empty house. No face. No arm holding open the door. But then my gaze traveled downward. I gasped. A small boy, likely no older than five, stood scowling up at me. His hair was a fierce red, his eyes wide and blue.

  I only saw him for a moment before a slender forearm crossed his chest and hooked under his arms, pulling him backward into the dim house. I stumbled forward, pushing the door open wider.

  I brought my hand to my mouth in alarm. Mrs. Bancroft was holding the boy against her to keep him from running out the doorway of the wide sitting room straight ahead of me. Mrs. Bancroft.

  I had forgotten how beautiful she was, made to be a haunting beauty by the effects of her illness. Her hair was black and her eyes were an intense blue, glazed and sharp at the same time. Her hair was plaited neatly but the sleeves of her dress were torn. The child was calm in her arms. Comfortable. I couldn’t imagine how.

  Fear gripped me with icy fingers as she stared at me. I had seen the same look in her eyes before. She had nearly attacked Rachel and me.

  Suddenly her gaze softened, fixed on something in my hand. Oh, yes. The flowers the boys had given me. I caught my breath and took a tentative step forward. “Mrs. Bancroft. My name is Lucy Abbot. You may not remember me, but we have met before, long ago.” I smiled. Her eyes were still fixed on the flowers in my hand. “Would you like one?” My voice shook.

  She didn’t move closer, but her head nodded subtly. Taking it as an invitation, I proceeded into the house, crossing the entryway. She pulled the boy behind her as I approached, hiding him behind her full skirts. Her slim hand reached for the flowers, quaking as if the movement were strenuous. Her fingernails were cut short. I breathed a sigh of relief. At least she could not scratch me.

  “What are you doing here?” A faint voice made Mrs. Bancroft draw her hand back.

  My head jerked toward the sound. “Julia?” Nicholas’s sister stood several feet behind me. She had likely just entered through the open door. Although it had been years since I had seen her, I recognized her immediately. She looked much like her mother, but with straight blonde hair instead of black. She was much taller, older now, and carried herself with confidence that the nine-year-old version of herself never had. When she saw me, her face lit up with recognition but quickly transformed to fear.

  “You must go.” Her eyes flashed to her mother and the tiny freckled hand that gripped her skirts from behind.

  “Why?”

  Julia grasped my arm firmly and wrenched me away from the doorway. “You cannot be here.” She pulled me out the front door of the house. “I am sorry.” Her eyes were weary and her shoulders were burdened as she retreated back inside the house and closed the door behind her.

  I stared ahead in shock, unable to believe what I had just seen. My arm stung from where Julia had gripped it. My mind raced with so many questions I could hardly grasp onto just one. Who was that boy? And why had Nicholas failed to mention him? I remembered when the pot had fallen from the window, nearly hitting me and Nicholas where we sat below. He doesn’t know how to behave. Nicholas had said those words and then corrected the he. But I had heard it. I had thought the hand I had seen from the window appeared to belong to a child.

  There was no hiding from Nicholas now. I needed to find out the truth, no matter how terrifying it would be to see him again.

  SEVENTEEN

  Kitty met me at the door when I arrived back at Rosewood. “Where have you been?” she shrieked. “We have been so very worried.” She pulled my cloak off my shoulders and examined me with one raised brow.

  I gave her a weak smile. “I’m sorry. I forgot the time.” How long had I been gone? It hadn’t seemed to be more than an hour or two. The walk back from Willowbourne had been lengthy, but I hadn’t noticed—there was much to occupy my thoughts. And my visit to the Bancrofts had been very brief.

  “And where were you yesterday evening?” she questioned. Her eyes were accusing and hard.

  I stiffened. “When?”

  “After dinner. You abandoned poor Mr. Parsons, do you remember?”

  “I didn’t feel well.” I clasped my hands together and raised both my brows to emphasize my words.

  “You were with Nicholas yesterday evening. Do not deny it.”

  My jaw dropped. How did she know?

  “I am concerned for you, Lucy. Have you thought of your reputation? There are neighbors nearby … they might see you if you continue sneaking away with Nicholas.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “My aunt saw you from the window.”

  My cheeks warmed and my heart thudded. “What did she see?” I whispered.

  “Much.” Kitty frowned. “I am sorry, but I was forced to tell her the truth about Nicholas’s marriage. She was furious at the thought of him taking advantage of you, him being a married man with no intentions or capability to marry you. After she learned the truth, she was more easily appeased. But what she saw is nothing that she could not easily speak to Nicholas about. My aunt was once caught in a similar situation, yet more improper, years ago, with a man she loved. But he refused to marry her. Her reputation was hurt for quite some time. She has no tolerance for such conduct.”

  Blood rushed past my ears and flooded my face with heat. My heart pounded with dread. “She cannot force him into marrying me, Kitty. No.” I shook my head fast.

  Kitty placed her hand on my shoulder. “I begged her to keep silent on the matter. She agreed, but if she sees anything of the sort again, I fear she will not be so compliant. Do not let him tamper with your heart again, Lucy. I know how he has hurt you before.”

  I nodded, biting back sudden tears. Was that all he was doing? Tampering with my heart so he could break it again? I didn’t want to believe it was true, but somehow it was easier than hoping that it wasn’t true.

  Kitty pulled me into her arms, patting my back like a mother or elder sister. “I know it is difficult. But he is a bad man, Lucy. If he is truly a thief and a scoundrel as you say, and by what my aunt witnessed, then you will be better without him.”

  I pulled back too fast, taking a step away from her. “He is none of those things, I assure you. Not any longer.”

  “How can you be ce
rtain?”

  “I trust him.” My voice was firm and resolute.

  Kitty breathed out, shallow and slow. Something on the staircase caught my attention. I looked up. Mrs. Tattershall stood over the banister, watching me with a look of disdain. I felt miniscule beneath her narrowed eyes. I quickly backed away from Kitty and excused myself.

  Kitty reached out her hand to grasp my wrist. “Where are you going now?”

  “To the gardens,” I lied.

  She nodded, glancing at me with suspicion before letting go of my arm. I avoided the firm gaze of Mrs. Tattershall as I retreated down the maze of hallways and outside once again. My legs shook and my mind spun. How had Mrs. Tattershall seen us? I couldn’t imagine the horror of Nicholas receiving a visit from Mrs. Tattershall and then finding me and offering his hopes of marrying me. How could I believe them to be genuine if they were induced by Mrs. Tattershall? The thought sent a pit of despair to rest in my stomach. I put my face in my hands and tried to breathe before colliding into something solid.

  I screeched, pulling my hands away from my face to catch myself. I tripped backward on my dress before a hand caught my elbow. “Nicholas!” My face burned and my eyes flicked to the upper windows where Mrs. Tattershall had just been. I jerked my arm away and jumped back a step. He looked at me in bewilderment and amusement.

  “What are you doing?” I looked around frantically.

  “I might ask you that question. You are the one that just collided with me.” His brown eyes brimmed with laughter.

  “Follow me, but keep yourself at a distance.” I spoke to him without looking at his face. I marched toward the gardens on the west side of the property. At least now my words to Kitty would be honest.

  He laughed, low and charming, and my arms burst with gooseflesh. My palms were wet with perspiration. I didn’t want to acknowledge what had passed between us the previous day. I wiped my forehead and huffed a breath. Nicholas followed behind me, chuckling to himself. I ignored him.

  When I reached the gardens I didn’t pause to admire the flowers and neatly trimmed bushes. Instead I sat on a solitary stone bench, crossed my hands in my lap, and waited for Nicholas to arrive. He peeked his head around a tall bush with raised brows. I scolded myself for finding the look so endearing and handsome.

  “What is this charade?” Nicholas asked through a laugh.

  As much as I begged them not to, my cheeks warmed. “I mustn’t be seen with you.”

  He crossed his arms over his broad chest. His shoulders strained against the fabric of his jacket. I looked away fast.

  “If you mustn’t be seen with me, why did you lead me into the gardens? You might have abandoned me after you walked blindly into my chest.” There was a teasing glint in his eyes.

  “I am sorry. But I needed to speak with you.”

  His smile softened and he moved toward my bench to sit down. He leaned forward on his elbows, watching his boots before looking back to my face. There was a smile in his eyes—it always seemed to be there when he looked at me. The smile grew as he studied my face. I couldn’t help my curiosity. “What?”

  Nicholas looked down, laughing. “I’m thinking.”

  “What, pray tell, are you thinking about?”

  He dropped his head with a laugh. “If you think you are entitled to my thoughts, think again.”

  “Well, I will tell you what I am thinking.” I glanced in all directions. “We cannot continue these … secret meetings.”

  “This is not a secret meeting.”

  “I’m afraid it is. A coincidental one, but still a secret meeting all the same.”

  Nicholas’s grin stretched wider, and I could see the weight in his eyes lessening. I wondered how heavily the situation of his family troubled his mind at night. I wondered if he ever slept. He stole my hand from my lap, studying my fingers casually. Then his eyes met mine again. “Do you still wish to know what I am thinking?”

  I searched his eyes. There were too many mysteries there—too many scattered pieces of my heart shining back at me. He would tear them up and toss them away where I would never find them. I wanted to snatch my heart away from him but I didn’t know how. All I knew was that it was far too dangerous where it was now.

  “No,” I answered in a quick voice.

  He raised one brow and that crease appeared above it, just as it always had. “I would imagine that most women enjoy hearing how beautiful they are.” His smile grew shy and uncertain.

  I felt my cheeks redden. Ever since he kissed me, my control over my emotions was unsteady and unreliable. My eyes flicked to the windows again, but I couldn’t see inside. There was no way to know who was watching.

  I moved my eyes away, avoiding his gaze, but could feel it burning on the side of my face. “It is simply not proper that we be alone together without a chaperone. I have been raised to be strict with the rules of society. The …” I searched my mind for the right word, “… events of yesterday should not have happened.” My voice was hushed, as if we could be overheard at any moment.

  Nicholas shifted on the bench. I could tell he was closer, but I refused to look. Unable to accept that fact, Nicholas touched my cheek, turning my face toward his. My face tingled under his touch and I squeezed my eyes shut. “Lucy, look at me. Please.”

  My heart jumped with panic as I opened my eyes. He was so close. I could see the streaks of gold in his eyes, every lash and every crease at the corners. I could feel his grip on my heart like a palpable thing, unyielding and constant. “Kissing you was beyond my bounds.”

  I nodded in such a small movement I doubted he saw it.

  He gazed at me with firmness to emphasize his words. “But I do not regret it. What must I do to prove to you that I am worthy of your trust?”

  “Tell me who dropped the pot from the window,” I whispered.

  His brow furrowed and he fell silent.

  I pulled myself away from him, gaining strength from an unknown source. “You see, you will not say it!” I shook my head and stood in one swift motion. “You should not say you feel the things you feel for me and yet deny me of the truth. You should not say you deserve trust yet keep secrets. You should not have kissed me,” I choked.

  My eyes stung but I held back my tears. I would not tell him about Mrs. Tattershall and the things she had seen. I would not tell him how afraid I was of him—how afraid I was that he would change his mind and crumple my heart like he had the first time. I took a deep breath. “My feelings have changed since I was a child. I do not love you like I once did.” The lie ached in my throat, robbing me of air.

  Nicholas looked like he had been physically struck, vulnerable and broken. He stood, but I was already moving away. I had forgotten the things I came here to say to him. I needed to leave before we were seen by the Rossingtons again and things became worse than they already were.

  When I burst through the door of the house, I spied Mrs. Tattershall and Mr. Rossington at the end of the hall that led to the drawing room, leaning on the windowpane, speaking in hushed tones. My stomach dropped with dread. It was the window overlooking the gardens. They had seen Nicholas and me in the gardens.

  In one swift motion, I turned around and rushed up the stairs to my bedchamber. I shut the door behind me and squeezed my eyes closed. Why had I been so foolish? I should have run away the moment I saw Nicholas today.

  If Mrs. Tattershall approached Nicholas about the two encounters she had witnessed, then he would surely propose or never speak to me again. She had seen us alone in the dark the night before. But he was not titled or wealthy, so why should she push him to marry me? It was not in my best interest.

  But I also had an inkling that she did not particularly like me, so perhaps she would try to force the engagement anyway. Nicholas had told me how he felt, but no matter how much he spoke of his own feelings for me, I simply couldn’t believe him. His words to me in his garden years ago were instilled on my heart, and I couldn’t erase them. How could he be happy with me? S
urely his judgment was weak. If he was going to propose to me, then I didn’t want it to be influenced by anyone. I wanted him to truly mean it. How could I know it was genuine if Mrs. Tattershall spoke with him first? I did not want Mrs. Tattershall telling him to marry me if he did not truly desire it himself. One day he would regret choosing me and I would be hurt all over again.

  I leaned heavily against the wall. How could I prevent it? To start I would need to avoid Nicholas as to not give Mrs. Tattershall any further reason to speak with him. A pinching started in my chest but I stopped it. There was no need to despair over Nicholas. I had other prospects, including Mr. Parsons. The thought sickened me.

  But I had many other things to occupy my thoughts, like the mystery of the dispute between the Bancrofts and Rossingtons. Indeed, I would hardly miss Nicholas at all.

  My body told me I was exhausted, but my mind would not relax no matter how hard I tried. To distract myself, I wrote a letter to my family.

  Dearest Mama and Papa,

  Adequate time has not yet passed for me to receive word from you, and although I am not quite certain I deserve it, I must tell you that I love you and miss you. Rosewood is not the same place I remember. While it is fascinating and beautiful, it is also a place of secrets. Much has changed. I have enjoyed seeing Kitty again. Nicholas Bancroft is here as well, and

  My quill stopped moving. After several minutes, I crumpled my note in my palm and threw it away. My parents would accuse me of being a fool for chasing after Nicholas again. They knew how hurt I had been. I could not tell them of my renewed attachment to him. Nor could I tell Kitty, Mrs. Tattershall, or anyone for that matter.

  It seemed I had a secret of my own.

  I was beginning to realize that I was often wrong. Very wrong. It had been two days since I had last seen Nicholas, and I missed him much more than I ever had. More than any summer I had departed from Rosewood. Even after months of being away I never missed him this much. Sitting on my bed, I leaned toward the window and watched the Bancrofts’ house. My vantage point faced the front path perfectly.