by Alice Kirks
Chapter 13
Alexandra looked around her room. She felt numb. What could she do?
The shock was too much for her to bear. She could not even try to think or to comprehend it. It was too great. She had no idea what to think.
Two things ached in her heart. The first was that she had no safe place. She was so shocked by that, so frightened, that she could think of nothing else at all. Her fear was so great that the second matter – the love she felt for the Duke – was almost swamped by it.
Almost.
She felt her fingers curl into her palm and tried to squeeze as hard as she could, holding off the feeling of pain and sorrow. She could not allow herself to think about the Duke. She had such immense problems ahead and she would not let the Duke take up her resources and concern.
“If I go back, he will kill me.”
She didn’t mean her father – though she knew he was more-or-less indifferent to her; she didn’t believe he would actively want her harmed – but she meant the man he’d promised her to.
To assuage his pride, he would kill her.
She had no doubt about it.
She shuddered and went to draw the curtains. The thought was too terrifying.
She sat down, recalling that cruel face, those expressionless eyes. How her father could have considered it, she had no idea! Anyone could see the man had the eyes of a killer. He had barely said a nice word to her, but he’d said several critical ones even in the short weeks of their acquaintance. She knew that if she married him it would be a long and miserable life – or not. He was the sort of person, she thought, who could organize a convenient accident, should he wish to be rid of her.
“I am not going there.”
She would not go anywhere near her home. But where, then?
Her first thought was Amelia, who they had met the previous day. Surely her parents might be in need of a governess? But if anyone heard what had happened to Arabella, she’d be out.
No, being employed anywhere in the region seemed to be a dim unlikelihood. She’d have to think of another plan.
The haberdasher! Did she need help in the shop?
Again, the thought was utterly dismissed. Besides, had she not been in the village when she’d had the only sight of any man related to her father? How likely was it that her visit there had been noted, and that her father would already be having the place watched?
Alexandra closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall. What could she do? Besides going back home – which was dangerous – what other options did she have? She’d have to get onto the stagecoach and go back to London, and risk finding another opportunity.
She sniffed. That was it, then. She’d have to go.
She stood to gather up her things. She had brought so little as it was! She started reaching for her indoor slippers, her bonnet and one good cloak, her outdoor boots. As she packed, she looked at the table in the corner, checking for items.
Something sparked and caught her eye. A hairpin, with a flower decorating it. She felt her heart twist. Arabella’s! She had forgotten that the girl had leant it to her.
Her breath stopped. She couldn’t believe it! How had she let this happen?
“It’s not your fault.”
She sighed. It was her fault. She was the chaperone, and she had badly failed. Arabella had done something that could have ruined her, and she hadn’t even known! She shut her eyes.
The Duke thought it was my fault, after all.
She should have been aware. She could have done more, she was sure of it, to protect Arabella. Now that she thought about it, she should have stayed with her that night. She should have done more to allow Arabella to confide in her.
“And now I’ve made it impossible for myself to stay here.”
She sat down on the bed. Leaving here was not just terrible because of the danger. But she was not going to allow herself to think about the Duke. He was lost to her.
She fastened the buckles of her suitcase and sat down on the bed, utterly weary. It must almost be dinnertime, she thought – she had spent almost the whole afternoon shut in here, not able to do anything besides worrying about her situation. She didn’t want to go downstairs to the kitchen.
She poured some water from the jug on the table and drank, though even that barely cut through the blank numbness inside her. She didn’t want to do anything.
At six o’ clock, she managed to find the strength to go downstairs. She walked silently in and sat down at the table, not wanting to look at anybody. Though she was ready for censure, nobody said anything to her as she took her place at the table.
“Lady Arabella’s locked in her room,” one of the maids commented.
“Who locked her in?” somebody else asked. Alexandra tensed. Had the Duke utterly taken leave of his senses?
“She just doesn’t wish to see anyone,” a kind voice put in. Alexandra looked gratefully at Brenna, who nodded.
“Is she well?” she whispered.
“Yes, she’s well,” Brenna said. “She’s distressed, of course, and I don’t blame her. There’s no use in being unkind when the poor girl’s so poorly. He’s just cruel.”
Alexandra said nothing. Though she might have agreed, even now she found it hard to insult the Duke.
“Come on, you lot!” the cook shouted, though she was shouting at two of the stable-hands – boys of around fifteen, who had begun to squabble over the soup.
Alexandra leaned back, trying to relax, though every part of her was stiff with fear and she felt so very tired. She wished she could come to some sort of choice, but – besides that she had to go back to London – nothing else came to mind. She could not stay anywhere near here, even though she had made friends among the servants and she would miss them, too. She had to go, though every part of her ached with the thought, and she knew that even if she tried to be, she could not be angry with the Duke.
Chapter 14
The path that wound between the hedges seemed surprisingly long, Matthew thought. He walked that way every morning; out of the house and down along the stone avenue, the bushes tall and square-trimmed on either side, hiding the view of the house.
Matthew walked towards the hilltop, as he always did, but he was barely paying heed to the scenery, the smell of rain on stone or the stable hand who led one of the horses out to groom his fur. He was numb.
“What have I done?”
He had barely slept, and had woken early, feeling weary and drained and no worse than when he’d retired the night before. He kept on imagining what would become of Alexandra if he dismissed her.
“Nonsense,” he told himself firmly. He was being foolish. She had been perfectly safe before, and she would be perfectly safe again. She would easily find new employment as a governess; he had no doubt about it.
But he should not keep her on as chaperone. He owed his sister safety. It was his duty.
“And I know it was her fault – she filled Arabella’s head with ideas.”
He walked on, trying to work himself into anger. He needed to get rid of Alexandra. It was important.
He headed down the path, focusing only on how right he was to have done as he did.
He was walking down the path, still thinking so much about Alexandra, when he stopped suddenly. He had almost walked into someone coming down the path. He looked up and saw that it was his sister. Arabella stared at him.
“Good morning,” Matthew said.
Arabella said nothing. She looked at him with big, haunted eyes for a moment, then turned away. Matthew watched as she walked down the path. Her eyes were damp, her face pale. When she walked, she leaned forward, her pace slow and her manner utterly dejected compared to what it had been.
“Arabella, please…”
She walked faster.
Matthew watched as she disappeared down the path and went into the house.
“Oh, what have I done?”
He was near the bench and he sat down, resting one hand on his knee. He
shut his eyes. He’d managed to drive a wedge between himself and his sister – the most important relationship in his life. He would do anything to protect Arabella, but he had managed to drive her away, make her hate him.
“It’s for her own good.”
He raised a brow. Even he, desperate as he was to justify his actions, couldn’t believe it. His sister, reduced to a pale, silent shadow, was good? Arabella, not even lifting her head.
It was horrible. He recalled how she usually was – so lively, so full of the spirit of playfulness! Arabella barely stood still, never mind walked slowly! She usually danced down the hallways, and her delight was infectious.
He felt guilty.
“Arabella has such a good heart.”
He stood, wondering how he could make up to his sister. It occurred to him, blindingly, that Arabella was loving, yes. Loving, playful, and careless. It was typical of her, to have tried to run away! She had a romantic heart and she always let her imagination run away with her. She would have not even considered the negative possibilities, and simply dived into what her romantic heart wanted.
It wasn’t Alexandra’s fault!
He shook his head. He had been such a fool! How had he not considered Arabella’s own nature? How had he known his own sister – the person he swore it was his duty to protect – so little? He really didn’t know her well.
“And it was Alexandra who noticed that initially.”
He couldn’t believe how foolish he’d been.
His wonderment changed to fear.
Alexandra had probably already left the house.
He didn’t stop to think. He turned and ran back up the path.
The front steps were slippery, and he didn’t pay them heed. He ran in, barely stopped to take off his boots, and headed to the stairs.
“Your Grace? Shall I deliver that letter to Lord Albert for you?”
“Do it!” he shouted, and ran on up the stairs, half-slipping and then carrying on, running up to the second floor and to the schoolroom. She wasn’t there.
Without thinking, he ran up the hallway and to the stairs.
He stopped, panting, as she came downstairs. She was carrying a suitcase. Her hair was under her bonnet. She looked at him.
“Your Grace?”
“Miss Alexandra,” he said, using the name that had become a habit, now. “I sought you out. I must speak to you.”
“What is it, your Grace?” she asked. Her voice was cold. Her face was pale, and Matthew thought she looked as if she didn’t sleep.
“Alexandra,” he said, and he saw her stare at him in confusion. “Please. I was wrong. I wanted to blame you for what happened, but I know now that it was not your fault.”
“I think I…” she said.
“Come and talk with me…please. There is something I need to say.”
Alexandra’s eyes widened, but she followed him down the hallway and to the schoolroom. She stood while he shut the door, her eyes still tired as she looked up at him. He had seen Alexandra in every mood, but he’d never seen her look so blank. He hated himself for his quickness to blame.
“I brought you here to apologize,” he said gently. “I want you to stay.”
Alexandra stared. She looked at him in complete astonishment. He fought the desire to grin.
“You mean it?” she asked. “You mean…you want me to stay and work here? Work for you?”
“Indeed. Yes. Truly.”
She tilted her head back, looking up at him. “But you said yesterday that I was to blame.”
He shut his eyes. Hearing her say it hurt. “Yes,” he said. “I did. But I was wrong. Forgive me. It should have been clear to me that you were not – I do not know how I failed to see it, now.”
“You are not to blame, your Grace.”
Matthew opened his eyes. He shook his head. “I am. I should have known my sister better.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
He had forgotten how bold she could be; it delighted him.
“Well, then,” he said, grinning. “I suppose it’s not too late to ask you to stay?”
She looked up at him, and he saw the dawning wonder on her face. Finally, her eyes lost their suspicious, hesitant stare. She looked at him and then she grinned.
“You mean it,” she said. “You really mean it! I can stay.”
He nodded, laughing softly. “Yes, or I wouldn’t say it. I would be very grateful if you did stay. And my sister will be happy.” He had not stopped to think, either, of how much his sister would dislike him if he sent away one of the only people she’d ever become attached to.
“It would make me happy, too,” she said simply.
Matthew sighed. He hadn’t realized how concerned he had been; how worried he was that at the last minute she would decide she was too angry with him to accept anything from him.
“I am glad,” he said.
She smiled at him. In that moment, it felt as if there was no disparity between them. The fact that he was her employer and that he was so far above her station disappeared. He blushed and felt sweet warmth flow through every part of him.
“So,” he said. “I trust you will return upstairs, and then mayhap we can both tell Arabella?”
Alexandra raised a brow. “Have you not spoken to her?”
“No,” he admitted.
Alexandra sighed.
“I think you should,” she said. “She needs you.”
“I know,” he said, and felt ashamed that he had not spoken to her sooner. He should have known. She had looked so distressed that morning, so unlike herself. He should have spoken to her then.
“Well, while you speak to her, I will go upstairs,” Alexandra said. “Then I will come down and wait in the schoolroom.”
“I will talk now.” He walked to the door, already feeling nervous. What could he say? He’d never had to make a serious apology to Arabella before. He wasn’t sure he knew where to start.
He walked out, aware that Alexandra was walking behind him. He could hear the click of her booted feet on the stairs, and he felt relieved as she walked away. She was going upstairs, and when she came down, she’d be staying!
He hurried to Arabella’s room. Outside the door, he paused.
“Arabella?” he called, knocking softly. He didn’t feel ready for this. He took a deep breath, realized he had only whispered the first time, and cleared his throat.
“Brother?” he heard a voice in reply to his knock.
“Arabella?” Matthew called. “Could you let me in? I would like to talk to you.”
“Wait a moment.” He heard her call through the door, then move back and scuffle about. He thought it sounded as if she was tidying, or maybe asking the maid to leave. She opened the door.
“May I come in?”
She nodded. She looked pale and scared, and she stared up warily, clearly afraid.
