Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  My pulse flooded my ears. I had never been more afraid. We hurried to the back door of Rosewood as quickly as we could with Nicholas’s wounded leg. I burst through the door with Nicholas beside me, slamming the door against the adjacent wall with a crash. Mrs. Tattershall rushed around the corner, hand pressed to her chest. “Good heavens.” She gave us a look of deep disapproval.

  I stepped forward. “There are two wicked men on their way to Rosewood, including Mr. Parsons. They intend to harm and steal. We need the assistance of Mr. Rossington and Mr. Turner with their weapons at once. Send Kitty or yourself to find the constable and any others willing to defer these men.” My voice was edged with panic and fear. I could hardly breathe. I didn’t want Nicholas to fight them. He was injured! They could so easily kill him. The thought choked me.

  Mrs. Tattershall’s eyes flew open and she nodded, disappearing around the corner of the hallway. The audacity of these men frightened me. To pursue Nicholas in broad daylight likely meant they were confident in their ability to remain unscathed. I swallowed, holding Nicholas’s arm tighter. I didn’t care what he thought of it. I needed him. He had always kept me safe, and I was determined to keep him safe tonight.

  Mr. Rossington rounded the corner, scowling as his eyes fell on Nicholas. “What is the commotion about? Have you trailed your criminal acquaintances to Rosewood?” His face was pompous and cruel.

  I had endured quite enough from this dreadful creature. “Are you a man?”

  Mr. Rossington tore his glare from Nicholas and moved his gaze to my face. “Pardon me? Yes, of course,” he sputtered.

  “Then you will step outside with your weapons and defend your property and your family. These men intend to steal from Rosewood.”

  His face reddened and he muttered something under his breath before retreating into the hallway. My shoulders relaxed and the fire in my expression faded. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I felt Nicholas pull me closer.

  Several agonizing minutes later, Mr. Rossington emerged from the hall, tossing a pistol to Nicholas. Mr. Turner followed behind him. Both men had swords on their belts and pistols in their hands. Mr. Rossington offered his extra sword to Nicholas without a word and pushed the door open behind us.

  “Where are these men?” Mr. Rossington barked.

  “They were not far behind me,” Nicholas said. I walked beside him, but he stopped me. “You must accompany Mrs. Tattershall away from the property. It is not safe.”

  My heart pounded and I shook my head.

  “Please, Lucy. It will be all right. Trust me.” His eyes bore into mine for several seconds before he ran after Mr. Rossington and Mr. Turner. I didn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

  There on the road, two dark horses galloped toward where Nicholas and the other men stood, directly beside the Bancrofts’ home. I trusted that Kitty and Mrs. Tattershall were gathering more men to help fight, but I couldn’t bring myself to move from where I stood. Mr. Parsons dismounted, drawing his sword. The man Nicholas had called Gibbs did the same. I recognized him from that night. He was the tall, thin man that had pulled me down from the coach. My lungs froze.

  Gibbs moved toward Nicholas first, and I muffled a scream behind my hand. Nicholas deflected his blow, pressing back with impressive skill. Mr. Parsons approached Nicholas from behind, his sword drawn as well, but Mr. Turner jumped between them, engaging Mr. Parsons in a duel.

  Mr. Rossington staggered back, away from the dueling men, raising his pistol and pointing it at Mr. Gibbs. I tensed, shaking my head. He could easily hit Nicholas. I covered my mouth, afraid to watch, yet unable to look away. I glanced around in desperation for a way to assist, but I thought of nothing. I was helpless yet again.

  Something caught my attention from the opposite side of the Bancrofts’ property. I gasped. Julia and Mrs. Bancroft walked arm in arm toward their house from the opposite direction, unaware of the fight occurring just around the corner. Julia’s head turned toward the sound of the commotion. The scene before me played out in slow motion, unimaginable. Julia and Mrs. Bancroft were coming closer to the fight, curious to see what was causing the commotion. I gasped, my muscles tensed, and before I could stop myself I was running across the property toward them. But I was too far to warn them to stay away.

  As they stepped around the house, in clear view of the confrontation, Mr. Rossington, the only man not engaged in the fight, saw them.

  I was still running, getting closer. I tried to conceal myself along the border of trees between the houses as I moved. Mr. Rossington stopped. I followed his gaze as he stared at Mrs. Bancroft as if he had not seen her in years, and perhaps he hadn’t. His head was turned toward them, his pistol still withdrawn and pointed at Gibbs, and for a moment I saw his face. Pity, shock, and a bit of regret.

  And then I heard the shot.

  I jumped, covering my mouth with another scream. My eyes darted to Mr. Rossington’s pistol, but I found that it had fallen from his hand. And then I saw Gibbs, lowering the aim of his pistol from Mr. Rossington’s chest. Mr. Rossington fell to the ground, and the fight continued between Mr. Parsons and Nicholas.

  Mr. Rossington’s aim had been on Gibbs, but he had been distracted for long enough for Gibbs to shoot him instead.

  Mr. Rossington lay on the ground, motionless. Julia pulled her mother back toward the house, flying up the steps and through the door. My head alternated between clarity and smog, seeing the wound in Mr. Rossington’s chest and the blood that soaked his jacket one moment, and blocking it from my mind the next. My stomach lurched, and I ran closer to him. Metal scraped against metal beside me, bringing me back to my senses. I needed to help Mr. Rossington. No matter how horrible he was, he didn’t deserve to die like this.

  “Lucy!” It was Nicholas’s voice. “No!” I stumbled away from the two pairs of men as they fought. I could not distract Nicholas like Mr. Rossington had been distracted by Mrs. Bancroft. His eyes were trained on me, and Gibbs took the opportunity to strike Nicholas’s sword from his hand.

  Nicholas backed away, nearly tripping on his wounded leg. Gibbs swung his sword, moving tauntingly toward Nicholas. I searched in desperation for an idea, a way to help him. Then I saw Mr. Rossington’s pistol hewn across the grass beside him. Scrambling forward, I jerked it from the ground and positioned my finger on the trigger. I had never even held one before, but I had a basic idea of how they functioned. It was walnut with intricate silver wiring. My eyes focused on the trigger.

  Nicholas backed farther away from Gibbs, barely missing a strike from his sword. I had little time to act. Raising the pistol, I aimed it toward Gibbs. I didn’t trust my aim. My heart thudded and my palms slickened with sweat, making it difficult to grip the weapon. Mr. Parsons was facing me now in his fight with Mr. Turner. His eyes widened and he opened his mouth to warn Gibbs. When Gibbs swung his sword again and Nicholas jumped to the side, I screamed and squeezed the trigger.

  My ears rang and I wasn’t sure where the bullet had landed. I held my breath, lowering my shaking arm. Gibbs screamed a number of curses and fell to the ground, clutching his knee and writhing in pain. Nicholas reclaimed his sword and held it to Gibbs’s throat, making him freeze.

  Another gunshot rang through the air, and I turned around in alarm. Three men I did not know were approaching on horseback, one with a pistol pointed toward the sky. For a moment I worried that they had come to assist the wicked men, but then I saw Kitty and Mrs. Tattershall huddled close to the doors of Rosewood in the distance. Could they see Mr. Rossington? I glanced at him again, lying there in his own blood. He was dead.

  I tore my eyes away. Mr. Parsons had begun to realize he was outnumbered. When the men on horseback dismounted and stormed toward him, he dropped his weapon and put his hands in the air, pleading his innocence. It didn’t work.

  After Gibbs was tied and led away along with Mr. Parsons, Nicholas crossed the grass to me. His face was caked in dirt and sweat, and his arm was sliced deeply with another cut. The sight of him t
hen brought all the terror inside of me to the surface. I buried my face in his chest and cried, and he held me, shaking with relief and fear. It was over.

  But Mr. Rossington was dead. I ached with grief for Kitty. How would she bear the news? Only twenty years of age and an orphan. I could hear her behind me, but I didn’t look. I was too afraid, too weak. She sobbed, and her husband’s voice comforted her. I couldn’t believe what had just happened, and all so fast. Guilt choked me as I thought of the words I had spoken to Mr. Rossington. I had been the reason he came to fight at all. Nicholas whispered words of comfort to me but I couldn’t hear. I was too tired and too focused on the sound of Kitty and Mrs. Tattershall as they cried behind me.

  Never had I imagined that a trip to Rosewood would bring about such circumstances. I had expected a relaxing, freeing escape, but I had been granted this instead. I still didn’t believe any of it was true. I didn’t believe that Mr. Rossington was dead or that Nicholas was holding me in his arms. But I did believe in Nicholas.

  TWENTY-TWO

  The funeral of Mr. Rossington was a small service with very few in attendance. The town was fresh with gossip over how he had died, spinning the tale however each preferred to tell it. After the night of his murder, Gibbs and Parsons were taken to trial and found guilty. I didn’t sleep for days, living the horrific events over and over again. Gibbs and Parsons had tried to accuse Nicholas of his involvement with their crimes in trial, but Kitty and Mr. Turner had vouched for him, among many others. I had seen little of Kitty in her mourning, and hadn’t been given a moment to thank her for defending Nicholas.

  Rosewood was a solemn place, always wrought with tears and black dresses. After discovering Mr. Rossington’s wicked ways, I had felt nothing but disgust for him. But he was still Kitty’s father. And it hurt me to see her and Mrs. Tattershall so solemn. I had never been very close to my uncle, so the grief that I felt for Mr. Rossington’s death was only determined by the shock and the depth of sorrow that surrounded me. It made Rosewood a dreadful place, and it took great effort not to allow the memory of his violent death to resurface every moment I was alone. And there were many.

  Dr. Kellaway treated Nicholas’s wounds that night, or so I had heard. A fortnight had passed since my uncle’s death and I had only seen Nicholas twice. When I did, he was distant, reserved, and far too polite. I had broken his heart that day he had proposed to me, just as he had once broken mine. I hated myself for it, and my own heart felt as if it were shattering more each day. We hadn’t spoken of that day he had proposed. I hadn’t yet apologized. Nicholas had been keeping to himself, surely waiting for me to make the decision that grated on me.

  Today, Kitty and Mr. Turner were returning home, leaving me at Rosewood with only William and Mrs. Tattershall as my company. And soon they would leave as well, for a distant cousin of Mr. Rossington would claim the property of Rosewood as heir. With Mr. Rossington’s death, no will had been discovered. Therefore, the laws of primogeniture would give his property to his nearest male relative, which happened to be a cousin living in Leeds.

  I would be leaving Rosewood soon too.

  I stood outside the carriage that would take Kitty and her husband away. The air was cold today and the trees shed their leaves all around me, swirling in the wind, making the black of our dresses haunting instead of beautiful. I embraced Kitty, smiling as she stepped away from me. I offered her my most sincere gratitude for defending Nicholas and ensuring that he was no longer accused. For a while I had held a grudge against her for the night she had accused Nicholas at the party. But she was like a sister to me, and I couldn’t let anything ruin that. And she needed to be loved during such a difficult time.

  “I will visit again before you leave,” she promised. Her eyes blinked back tears.

  “Of course. I will miss you.”

  She gripped my hands before stepping into the carriage. “I have seen the pain in your eyes, Lucy, and I do not like it.”

  I frowned.

  “I know that I haven’t always approved of Nicholas, but I can see now that he is a good man. Do not let anything stop you from claiming your happiness. You came all this way to find it.”

  The crisp wind whipped my curls into my face but I pushed them away. I had once been so certain that Rosewood was the epitome of happiness, the one thing that would pull me from my feelings of being trapped and bored, lonely and cold. But the things that made me happy were not tied to this place. It was my family, my friends, and most of all …

  “Nicholas,” Kitty said, leaning close to my face. “Do not convince yourself that you cannot be with him. He loves you, I can see it. You love him, for I have always known that. Tell him.”

  My cheeks warmed and my heart pounded. I missed him. I had been restless, anxious, waiting for him to come to me again, so I could admit that I was wrong. But he had not come, and that convinced me that he had changed his own mind. He had always been the brave one. Perhaps Kitty was right. Perhaps it was my turn, once again, to be brave.

  “I thought you did not approve of Nicholas for me.” My voice was breathless.

  She smiled. “I only worried that he did not deserve you. But it is obvious now that the two of you are perfect for one another. After all he did to ensure your safety, I can see that I have misjudged him. I declare I have never seen a more perfect match.”

  I laughed, biting my lip. “Farewell, Kitty. I will see you soon.”

  She climbed into her carriage and clung to her husband’s arm. How fortunate it was that she was well-married and had a home to live in since she was not willed any property from her father.

  I hadn’t had an opportunity to speak to her about what Nicholas had revealed to me about Simon and Mrs. Bancroft. Did she know that she had a half-brother living directly beside her? Or did she scorn him because he was considered by law to be illegitimate, an outcast by society? It was not fair what Mr. Rossington had done to his only son and his second wife. He had banished them from social existence. I tried to shush my angry thoughts, but simply because he was dead did not mean I had to dispel all my feelings of anger toward him. Simon would suffer because of him. So would Mrs. Bancroft and Nicholas and Julia. They were poor and exiled from society. But perhaps now that Kitty’s father was gone, she might be bold enough to reacquaint herself with Simon. When she came to visit again, I would need to arrange it.

  If I am still here. I missed my family more each day. They had written me a letter, and I had received it one week ago. They missed me, and forgave me for leaving. Mama said she loved me and wished me to have a wonderful time here. I wished I could see their faces and tell them how foolish I was. I had been foolish many times over the last month.

  But there was one person here that I needed to speak to face-to-face and confess my foolishness to. Perspiration gathered in my palms with the very thought of approaching Nicholas. My feelings were raw, and so were his. He still needed the wealth for his family that I could not offer. How could I be so selfish as to deprive him of that opportunity? And Julia was nearly of marriageable age … I didn’t want the pressure to fall on her to make a wealthy match.

  I sat in my room as I had done for countless hours over the past fortnight. I chewed my nails, begging myself to have the courage to find Nicholas. I could not live without him. I could hardly breathe. I felt as if a piece of myself had been missing these last two weeks, and I knew it was my distance from him that was causing it.

  Why was I so afraid? How could his feelings have been changed over two weeks? Two weeks. My feelings had not been changed in six years. My heart hammered and I was filled with courage. I was not averse to work. Surely I could learn to make hats and other fashionable items, and even assist the seamstress in the village to help gather the funds for Nicholas’s family. Perhaps we could even move to Craster together. My mother was the most hospitable, kind woman that I had ever known. She would take all of the Bancrofts into our home.

  My soul sprung with hope, making me jump to my feet. I pus
hed my hair from my eyes and tried to breathe normally. I needed to be brave. I was going to find Nicholas, and I was going to tell him I was sorry. I would tell him all my secrets, just as he had told me his. I loved him, and I always had.

  I was quite certain I had never been more afraid or more vulnerable. I walked across the grass toward the Bancrofts’ home. Leaves crunched under my feet, leaving little flecks on the tips of my boots. I could hear my heart in my ears. What was I doing? I felt as if I were floating, unable to control my own movements as I knocked on the front door. After waiting two seconds, I regained control of my mind and my legs, turning around, intending to run back to Rosewood and never show my face to Nicholas again. But then the door clicked open, and I whirled back around to see who would be standing there.

  My heart beat so hard it hurt. I wrapped my cloak around me and tried to look calm, as if I weren’t about to burst into thousands of pieces.

  Julia peeked out from behind the door, smiling when she saw me. “Lucy, come in.”

  My throat was too dry to speak. So I nodded and stepped through the doorway. Simon stepped up behind her, offering a shy grin.

  “Where is Nicholas?” My voice was quick, and not at all the courageous tone that I had practiced.

  Julia reached behind me to close the door. I hadn’t realized I left it open.

  “He is in the library.”

  It had been a long time since I had ventured past the entryway of the house, so Julia led me to the library door. My mind flooded with memories of playing cards with Nicholas in the library, reading books and listening to him tell me stories.

  My hand froze on the handle and Julia gave me an encouraging smile. “He is not the same without you,” she whispered. “He does not smile and laugh … He needs you.” And with that she walked away, leaving me there at the door.