by Alice Kirks
How well she could identify with Arabella! Though, at least, in her case, she could see Lord Blakeley each day. How much worse for Arabella, who didn’t even know when she would see Frank again.
“I miss seeing him. Sometimes, in the summer, we saw each other often! Then he had to go away to school, and I saw him less and less. It was such fun, going riding. I miss that.”
“I’m sure,” Alexandra said gently. She couldn’t imagine a childhood like that. Her own had been so solitary. She thought of little Arabella, solemn and big-eyed, riding alongside Frank. They would talk to each other and tell each other stories. She herself, at a similar age, had been curled up in her bedroom, or in the library, hoping her father would go out so that she could take her dinner alone.
“I do miss him so,” Arabella murmured.
Alexandra nodded and took her hand as she cried silently.
Alexandra was glad to be here to protect Arabella, though, she thought with a small smile, she didn’t need protection from the Duke. Lord Blakeley might be short-tempered on occasion, but he had a good heart. She thought again of her own childhood. She had been told – by her aunt – that her father’s rages had been just as bad before she was born. Her mother, Aunt Claudia had said, had been frightened of him too. Aunt Claudia herself had only visited once and left a week early.
“I don’t know if I will ever see him again. What think you?” Arabella sniffed.
“I think,” Alexandra said, looking Arabella firmly in both eyes, “that love like that has a way of flowing back to you. I am certain that you’ll see each other again. It can’t be that long. And, who knows? Switzerland isn’t that far away…”
“Oh, Alexandra,” Arabella giggled. “It’s so far away! It’s further than France! And that’s far away…very far away.”
“Nonsense,” Alexandra grinned. “It’s not far at all. It is no more than a few hundred miles; I am quite certain of the fact. There’s a big globe down in the schoolroom. Let’s fetch it and we can work out how far away it is. The one with the answer first – and closest to being right – gets a slice of chocolate gateau for tea.”
“Hurrah!” Arabella shouted, then covered her lips, giggling. “Let’s go!”
They ran to fetch the globe, startling the butler, who stared after them as if they had both lost their sense.
The calculations didn’t take too long, and Arabella got there first, though Alexandra’s answer was closer – when they looked it up – to being correct. They both giggled.
“Cake for both of us!” Arabella declared.
Alexandra kissed her fondly on the top of her head.
“Yes, indeed!”
They chuckled and Alexandra stood to take her leave, still feeling stiff and weary.
Upstairs, alone in her bedchamber, Alexandra sat on the bed and thought about what Arabella had asked. Yes, she was definitely in love. And she knew she had never felt like this before.
“And it would be so easy – so very easy – if only I could reveal my identity!”
She shut her eyes, trying not to cry. She was almost as noble as he was!
She just could not tell him who she really was, and it was already so hard to conceal the truth from him. She wished she could let him know somehow, but she simply couldn’t risk it. Not yet – not before she was absolutely certain of what his response would be, or she could not live without the risk of her father finding her, and dragging her back into an awful, unwanted marriage with Lord Nailsworth.
Chapter 19
“Alexandra was feeling ill last night,” Arabella said.
Matthew looked up from his plate of toast and marmalade, startled. It was morning, and they were seated in the breakfast-room, the warm fire burning in the grate, the light shining brightly through the window. He took a moment to understand what she’d said. Alexandra was il.
“What?” He pushed his chair back instinctively, already halfway to the physician’s, in his mind.
“Alexandra was feeling out-of-sorts, but she’s much better now,” Arabella said patiently, looking up at him with those lovely green-brown eyes. “We talked for a while in the Little Room. She isn’t really sick, not exactly: she seems sad.”
“Is she?” he sat down again. “Is she sad because of her job here?”
“She didn’t say,” Arabella pointed out, reaching for some toast and buttering it neatly while she spoke. “I just feel that. She was quiet, and she had sad eyes. I thought you should know.”
“Thank you,” Matthew said, feeling upset. “Is there aught we could do? Did she say what it was, that made her sad?”
“No,” Arabella said. “But she didn’t have to. It’s someone – she was thinking about someone.”
“Thank you for telling me,” Matthew said hastily.
He didn’t know what to say. On first thought, it seemed logical to assume that the ‘someone’ she was thinking of meant him. But…what if it didn’t? What if he’d been misunderstanding, and she was missing someone else? Or what if she’d had some news from homeand the schoolmaster, her father, was ill?
“I wanted you to know. If anyone can cheer her up, you can,” Arabella said confidently.
“Thank you,” Matthew said, blushing hotly. He wondered if it was possible his sister knew, and then he instantly dismissed the thought. She might be sixteen, but she was so young and innocent, and he thought it was unlikely that she had caught a look on his face when he looked at her chaperone.
“Will we go to the village today?” Arabella wanted to know, reaching for her teacup. Matthew watched as she poured some milk in and stirred it, watching the patterns on the surface. He shrugged.
“We could. I don’t have anything planned.”
“Good! I want to look for some ribbon. Mrs. Bramley said I could choose the ribbons for the new cream gown, and I know exactly what I want.”
“Grand,” Matthew said, and bit into a piece of toast. He hoped that Alexandra could be persuaded to come along to the village with them. He was even willing to walk, for the delight of her company.
He met with his sister in the hallway twenty minutes after breakfast, and he was happy that she was accompanied by Alexandra. They were both wrapped in cloaks, and Arabella took his hand and practically dragged him to the door.
“We want to walk the long way! So, you must leave now,” she insisted, grinning happily at him. “If we take the long way, we’ll only get there by lunchtime. And that only if we leave right now!”
Matthew had to laugh as Arabella hauled him down the steps, and Alexandra giggled as she followed them down. How lovely, to hear her voice raised in happy laughter!
He turned around to look up at her, and she smiled down at him, her lovely face softened by the smile, eyes sparking.
He took her hand and helped her down the steps.
“Thank you,” she said, and he noticed how she was instantly stiff and blushing, and he chided himself for taking her hand like that. She probably didn’t want him drawing the attention of the staff to her like that.
“Shall we take tea in the village?” Arabella asked, falling into step, oblivious of the discomfort Alexandra and himself were feeling. “Only, Alexandra and I need a slice of gateau each.”
“You do?” He was intrigued, in spite of himself.
“Yes! We worked out how far it is to Zurich!” she said. Then, before he could question her, laughingly, as to why they did, she looked away, embarrassed.
“Isn’t it so sunny?” Alexandra said, deliberately changing the subject. “Look! There are two riders there. Who do you think is faster?”
“The bay horse,” Arabella said, with absolute confidence. “I know him. That’s Lord Crofterson, and his horse is the fastest one I ever rode!”
“You did?” Matthew blinked at her, surprised. When had that happened?
“Yes. Last year when you took me to the fair. You were there, remember?” Arabella said, looking up patiently.
“Oh. Yes! I do remember that now. I was wit
h Albert.”
He felt his own cheeks flush shyly. He had been there, and he remembered the incident now – Arabella had ridden the horse around the field, and everyone had been impressed by her horse-riding skills. He had been discussing the business sense in buying farmland, and he’d paid only scant attention to her.
I have not been as good a guardian as I could have.
He looked at Alexandra, who was watching the riders silently. She had done a great deal, he thought, in bringing his attention back to Arabella. He had been preoccupied with doing the things he thought she needed, and had forgotten that, more than anything, what Arabella needed was love.
“Shall we go on?” he asked. He was standing awfully close to Alexandra, so close he could almost touch the pale skin of her neck, where the lace of her dress met her shoulder. He ached to run a finger down that creamy skin, or to plant a trail of kisses along it to her ear.
“Yes,” she said softly. “Let’s go down. We have a long way to go, as I understand it.”
“Yes,” he nodded. “A long way to go.”
They fell into step, with Arabella leading the way ahead.
At the village, Matthew followed Arabella to the haberdasher’s. She grinned at him from the steps.
“Do come in, Brother! I also had my eye on some silks, and maybe you can help me choose.”
“If you say so,” he smiled. Arabella hardly ever asked for anything, and her debut was extremely important. He was happy to spend out extra on evening-gowns.
“Come on, then,” she said with barely hidden excitement.
He laughed and went up the steps. Alexandra smiled over at him.
“Young girls and their debuts,” she said. “They are always something special.”
He nodded. Then, thinking about it, he frowned.
When had she debuted? He had never thought about it. As the daughter of a schoolmaster, she was highly unlikely to have had anything even remotely like a debut ball. Or, if she had, he couldn’t imagine what it was like, and how different that could be to Arabella’s ball.
He was about to ask her, but she was already unfolding rolls of silk with Arabella, and his chance was lost.
“I like this one,” Alexandra said, showing Arabella a roll with tiny white flowers.
“Maybe. But how about this?” Arabella asked, unrolling one of muslin, the gauzy fabric patterned with tiny spangles that sparked in sunshine.
“That is a fine choice,” the haberdasher said, coming to join them.
Matthew hid a grin. The spangled silk was what he imagined all the other girls of Arabella’s age would be wearing. It was showy, but not overtly so. He nodded.
“If you like it, we can take…how much do you need?” he asked the haberdasher, who grinned.
“Oh! A young girl the same height as Lady Arabella…I’d say six feet of it.”
“Well, then,” Matthew said. He wondered about the cost. He was sure it would be better if the proprietor put it directly on his account. He’d worry about it when the time came.
“Oh, Brother! Do you mean it?” Arabella said, staring up at him, wide-eyed. “Oh, hurrah!”
When they came out of the shop, Matthew carrying the parcels, wrapped with brown paper, Arabella looked up at a coach.
“Oh!” she said, pointing dramatically. “That’s Amelia! Oh, Matthew! She’s coming here! Can I go around with her? She also wanted to purchase fabric for her special ball! It’ll be such fun!”
Matthew grinned. “What shall we do with these, then? Unless…if you like, you can stay here in the village, and Alexandra and I will walk back home. Henriette’s coach can bring you home after the luncheon if you wish.”
“Oh, Brother!” Arabella said. “Oh, that would be so nice! Are you sure, though?” Henriette had come to join them, and Matthew noticed, thankfully, she was accompanied by a chaperone – hers much older and dressed in a high-necked black dress.
“I am quite sure,” he said. He smiled at the two girls, said farewell to Arabella, and then, heart thumping, hands sweating, fell into step beside Alexandra.
“It’s a fine day,” he said softly. He didn’t know what else to say. They walked side-by-side, going across the square towards the path from the little town. Alexandra was quiet. She had been noticeably quiet since they’d arrived in Blakeley. He hadn’t really noticed, when Arabella was with them – they both tended to be quiet and let her do much of the talking, normally.
“Yes,” she murmured. “It truly is.”
When they reached the path that led away from the village, she became more talkative.
“Your sister seems more confident, of late,” Alexandra said, carefully picking her way down a steep section of the path. “She is a delightful young lady.”
“She is,” Matthew chuckled. “I think we owe you a great deal, Alexandra.”. He blushed, as he did every time he said her name.
“Not at all. You’re her favorite person in the world. She adores you.” She looked up at him, brown eyes warm.
“Not sure I deserve it,” he said sadly.
She didn’t say anything, but her smile was soft and tender, and he felt it touch and warm his heart. He tried to remember to breathe.
As they walked, he remembered what he wanted to ask her.
“Your childhood, at the village. I would love to know more about that. I cannot imagine what it might have been like.”
Alexandra stopped. He saw fear in her eyes and instantly regretted that.
“Sorry,” he said. He hadn’t meant to make her remember something she clearly didn’t want to.
“Not at all,” Alexandra said, recovering quickly. She fell into step beside him. “My childhood was, in many respects, probably not too different to yours. I had a home, parents…my mother died when I was two years old. I never asked about you…when did you lose your parents?”
“When I was fifteen,” he said. It felt strange, talking about that. “Both of them at once. It was…hard.” He felt relief in discussing it. Besides Albert, nobody really knew his story.
“Arabella must have been a very little girl,” Alexandra said. She looked up at him, eyes soft.
“She was just eight. Old enough to know what happened, too young to start to understand. As if anyone can understand something like that,” he added with a sad smile. He could recall his parents quite clearly – his mother, with buttery curls about her face, her eyes wide and hazel; his father, tall and square-faced and silent, but with those wrinkles by his eyes that deepened when he smiled.
“I’m sorry,” Alexandra said softly. “It must have been terrible.”
“No,” he said, sniffing. He was surprised by his response. He had thought he had long ago ceased to be sad, though in truth, he had just forgotten. He knew that now.
“Shall we stay here a while?” Alexandra asked. She gestured to the field.
He shook his head.
“No,” he said. “Let’s go on. We have a long way to walk before lunchtime.”
As they walked, he found his mind returning to the topic at hand. Alexandra’s childhood. He imagined it as cold and friendless, though he couldn’t have said exactly why. Perhaps because of how learned she was…he could imagine her alone in some drafty room, curled up with her father’s books.
