Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  But now, it was becoming frail and yielding and I needed to change that. I needed to make it understand what it must contain and what it can and cannot feel.

  So today, I was to start by reminding my heart of what was important. And that was Peter and Charles, because they occupied the only two seats in my heart and they always would. My attention had been too scattered; I had been neglecting them. Never mind Aunt Ruth and her punishments; never mind that we were going back within a month. Peter and Charles had changed since we arrived here. They were becoming well-behaved little by little, but were still the same boys that I loved.

  “When is Owen coming back?” Charles asked as I tucked him into bed that night.

  I lifted the blanket over him and tucked it under his chin. “Probably soon.” My stomach gave a rather hard plunge at the thought. But something inside me lifted at the same time. I didn’t have the alertness to puzzle out what it meant.

  “How soon? Will it be very soon?” Peter asked from his bed across the room.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know.”

  They settled into their blankets with looks of disappointment. My heart melted a little. They missed him. And although I told myself not to, I missed him too. “Do you enjoy spending time with him?”

  Charles nodded up at me, his head sinking into his pillow until just his round face peeked out from the plume. His eyelids drooped and his mouth stretched open in a quiet yawn. He smacked his lips and turned his head to the side. “It’s like having a papa, I think.”

  My heart fell and I felt suddenly adrift and broken. We were going to have to leave this place eventually—my brothers were going to have to leave Owen. I didn’t want to imagine how that would fragment their tiny hearts. They had grown too close to him. My heart thumped loudly as I remembered that I had too.

  I let my gaze linger on their curled lashes and youthful faces and soft smiles waiting to dream. They deserved a life full of dreams that were not only dreamed, but also realized. I leaned over and placed a kiss on each of their foreheads. “Goodnight.”

  A

  Chapter 17

  Iwas invited to practice embroidery in the drawing room with Alice and Miss Lyons the following afternoon, which was something that I had been trying determinedly to avoid. But for politeness’s sake, I found myself outside the drawing room door at precisely two of the clock. I checked my warped reflection in the curve of the door handle and took a breath. Entering the room should not have required so much fortitude, but the prospect of polite conversation never failed to make me uneasy. Polite conversation with someone who didn’t seem to like me much would be extremely difficult. And I had an inkling that Miss Lyons didn’t like me above half.

  I pushed open the door and entered hesitantly. Alice greeted me with a wide smile. “Annette! I was just telling Charlotte how you should be here soon, and now here you are! Come, sit and have some tea.” She used the needle from her embroidery to point at the empty cushion of the sofa beside Miss Lyons. “Oh! And you must try one of these cakes. They have been a favorite of mine since my nursery days.”

  I smiled, relieved by her kindness, and moved toward the sofa.

  “I have heard so much about you but have not spoken to you hardly at all,” Miss Lyons said, turning to me as I sat down. “I must own that I would have been vastly disappointed had you not come to visit with us.” Her smile never reached her eyes.

  “I thank you both for thinking of me.”

  Miss Lyons reached for the cream pot on the tea table. She added three slow drops of cream to her cup and took a miniscule sip. “You must be so very lonely. It would seem that you don’t have many friends, given your hapless situation.” She lowered her voice. “I have heard a tale or two about your aunt. She sounds positively wicked! You poor, poor thing.”

  Something about the tone of her voice settled uncomfortably in my ears. I cleared my throat. “You shouldn’t pity me, truly, I—”

  “And you have not even been to town! To be deprived of such an experience would render me utterly heartbroken! I cannot comprehend the longing you must have for a season.”

  I pressed my lips together until she finished speaking. “Country life has always been my preference.”

  Her eyes rounded and she looked at me in the way a teacher might look at a pupil. “Town is full of many more wonders than you can imagine. But I don’t expect you to understand its superiority over country life given your inexperience.”

  My mouth was very near hanging open. My cheeks tingled with a hint of shame.

  “When I am married, all my pin money is going straight to London,” Miss Lyons continued excitedly. “Parasols, fans, shawls, and all the lace and silken gowns I can afford. What do you think, Alice? Do you think my husband will allow me all these pretty things?”

  Alice tapped her finger on her lap. “Perhaps.” They shared a smile that looked like it held a secret. Then Alice looked at me and her expression turned inquisitive. “I’m curious about how your engagement to my brother came to be.”

  My stomach flipped. “Oh?”

  “Was it love at first sight? I do adore anything romantic.”

  My eyes shifted to Miss Lyons, who was listening intently. Heat spread on my cheeks. An opportunity to reveal Grandmother’s scheme was hovering over me. Heart pounding, I tried to plan my confession in my mind.

  “Alice! You’ve made the poor thing blush!” Miss Lyons appeared to be barely concealing a catlike grin that could rival even her mother’s. “Just tell us … how much time have you spent with him? I understand perfectly well how charming he can be. Those minutes can blend into hours without the passage of time being felt.”

  Why did I feel as though she already suspected the truth? My pride may have been bruised for a moment, but being called “poor thing” twice in one conversation was enough to cool my cheeks. I raised my chin and said, “From the moment I arrived we have spent nearly every hour of each day together. He insisted so.”

  Miss Lyons and Alice both seemed mildly surprised by my calm response. I was only relieved that it was actually honest.

  “Politics and horses were surely common topics of conversation during those hours.” Miss Lyons straightened the pendant at her neck, creating a disinterested pause. “You must have been acutely bored.”

  I shook my head and gave a theatrical sigh. “I cannot imagine ever being bored in Owen’s company. I haven’t yet, I assure you.” It was another true statement that produced an amusing expression on Miss Lyons’s face. I held back a grin.

  She appeared to be searching her mind for another comment. “But you must have been rather starved for feminine conversation.”

  “Not at all. Owen is actually quite entertaining when he speaks of the latest rage in female fashion.”

  Both ladies raised their brows. I smiled contentedly and took a lemon cake from the tea tray. “Bonnets are of particular interest to him. Trims, ribbons, lace, we have discussed it all.”

  Alice released a girlish giggle. “Truly?”

  My smile widened at the sound of her contagious laugh and I nodded. Owen and I had, in fact, discussed such things while riding one morning. My heart ached a little at the memory. There were few memories remaining that didn’t hurt my heart in one way or another. It seemed that the memories that hurt the most were of moments I could never have again. And they were cruel, because those were the kind of memories that were impossible to forget.

  Miss Lyons was very near glaring at me when I glanced her way again. Quickly, she cast me a smile. But I had seen the daggers. “I wonder,” she said in a quiet voice, trailing off.

  “Pardon me?”

  She cleared her throat and arched an eyebrow as she stared at her cup. “I was just thinking … what have you to trade for the living Owen is providing you with at Willowbourne? I do not wish to offend, but your family is practically unheard of. Do you have a dowry?”

  I sensed the makings of a trap. Tentatively, I answered, “I don’t.”r />
  “Remarkable, isn’t it, Alice?” She exhaled heavily and her eyes darted in my direction. “That he should choose to marry her for lack of all that.”

  My cheeks tingled with heat once again. Alice was beginning to look uncomfortable.

  “I never thought him to be a romantic of any sorts. It is astonishing that he should overlook so much for the sake of his heart.” Miss Lyons shook her head in false awe. She was very skilled at making one aware of one’s flaws. But I did not need assistance to recognize how inept I was.

  I pressed my lips together and stood. “This has been delightful, but I must see to my brothers.”

  Alice acknowledged me with a nod. I thought I saw an unspoken apology in her eyes. Stepping away from the sofa, I took two additional lemon cakes from the tray to save for Peter and Charles. There was one cake remaining, and Miss Lyons was staring quite possessively at it. So, in a sudden impulse, I swiped it off the tray from under her longing eyes.

  Her cake-trance broke and she cast me a pointed look. Then it softened until there was only amusement and something like pity in her eyes. She already knew she had won the greater prize.

  Where did that come from? I berated myself. I was not a contender for Owen’s affections. I was falsely engaged to him—a very reliable friend. Yes. A trustworthy, kind, honest, fun, and charming friend. I stopped myself short. Listing his positive traits was not wise.

  I released a tense sigh as I stepped out of the room. Anxious didn’t even begin to describe how I felt. The thought of Miss Lyons discovering the truth about the counterfeit engagement was enough to make my stomach heave.

  After I located my brothers, I wandered. Then I wandered again. Sitting still was not an option. I hadn’t seen Grandmother at a time I could speak with her alone, so I kept one eye on the drive where Owen would arrive, pleading the heavens to keep him at Willowbourne just a bit longer, while at the same time wishing he would hurry back. The contradiction confused me, making me even more anxious. My hope was that Grandmother would confess before he arrived, but I suspected that her plan did not entail any sort of confession. Consternation quickened my pulse by the second.

  When evening arrived, and everyone gathered in the drawing room, Grandmother dropped her piece of embroidery in her lap and proclaimed, “I miss my dear grandson. He must return soon or I shall topple over in this chair and die. Right here on the floor.”

  “Mother!” Mrs. Kellaway exclaimed.

  “And what about poor Miss Annette? She must be out of her wits without him here!” Murmured agreements and light laughter followed.

  I imagined myself stealing her needle and using it to embroider her mouth closed. But instead I just blinked and stared, numb to the mortification.

  “Well, he should be home soon enough,” she finished with a sigh.

  After a few short minutes of light conversation, my heart leapt at the sound of locks clicking and boots scuffing and wind sliding through the doorway of a quiet house. The butler’s voice boomed through the door and Owen’s voice followed.

  “Oh! That must be him!” Grandmother exclaimed, eyes wide and unaware of my distress. Or enjoying it.

  Miss Lyons shifted her position on the settee. She smoothed her curls with one hand and pinched her cheeks discreetly with the other, leaving them rosy and perfect.

  My stomach tied itself into a heavy knot and my heart felt on the brink of combustion. Quick footsteps turned and gained volume, matching the rate of my racing heart. I wiped my sweaty palms on my skirts, trying to invent an impossible plan.

  Then I saw him, the first glimpse of his black coat and boots and his dark golden hair and easy smile. His eyes slid over the room and fell on me with a weight I couldn’t explain. Then his smile grew and my breath stopped like a candle flame between wet fingers. I realized it had been three days since I had seen him, but it felt like a lifetime. My heart screamed at me, but I couldn’t understand it. Surely it was reminding me of what I already knew: that I was no match for Owen Kellaway.

  Peter and Charles ran to him first, speaking over each other in an attempt to be the first to narrate the past three days. I stared at the ground beneath my chair and wished it would swallow me whole. Voices of greeting filled the air around me, but I didn’t look up. I couldn’t look up.

  “How have I gone an entire month without seeing you, my fair-haired beauty?” Laughter accompanied Owen’s words. Miss Lyons was a fair-haired beauty. Owen’s fair-haired beauty. My heart pounded as I slowly lifted my gaze.

  “I see you haven’t lost your droll attempt at humor, brother.” Edmond rolled his eyes.

  Owen laughed deeply, slapping him on the shoulder. “I see you haven’t learned to appreciate it.”

  Edmond smiled. “But I have learned to ignore it.”

  “What a show of humility, denying my compliments.”

  I quickly dropped my gaze again, relieved that Owen was addressing his brother.

  “Miss Lyons?” A pause. It was Owen’s voice. He sounded surprised. “Good to see you.”

  I held my breath.

  “And it is a pleasure to see you,” Miss Lyons answered, her voice alluring and coy—vomit inducing.

  A few words passed between Owen and his father, and although I wasn’t looking, I could feel the pressure of many gazes resting on me. I picked up the nearest book I could find and flipped through the pages, pretending that I was deeply interested in Greek mythology.

  Then Miss Lyons’s smooth voice cut through the air in a shard of exaggerated surprise. “Are you not planning to greet Dr. Kellaway?”

  So the ground had not swallowed me whole. Heart galloping, I put the book down and slowly raised my head, desperately hoping that I was not the you Miss Lyons spoke of.

  I was.

  Anticipating my reaction, Miss Lyons was standing very close to Owen, grinning at me with a catlike resemblance to her mother. She was close to catching me in her claws too. My gaze shifted to Owen, who looked at me with a question in his eyes. A question that I could neither name nor answer.

  I stood, not even attempting a false smile. The effort wouldn’t do any good. The truth was coming out tonight whether I liked it or not, and that was certainly not something to smile about. I stopped a few feet too far in front of Owen and tipped my head in subtle acknowledgment, trying not to look at his confused expression and fallen smile. The room was painfully quiet.

  “Well, I should expect a bit more affection from you two! You are engaged, after all.” Miss Lyons looked between us, her eyes round with shock.

  There. She said it. My face burned with humiliation. I couldn’t look at Owen, so instead I looked at Grandmother. She stood far to the left near the fireplace, and I was surprised to see a twinge of guilt in her expression. I wanted to run away. I could feel the heat from my face tingling on the tips of my ears. How could I have let this happen? I should have contradicted Grandmother the moment she told this lie. Instead, I had spent three days living it.

  But it was time to stop prolonging the inevitable. So taking a shuddered breath, I dared myself to glance at Owen. He was looking at Miss Lyons, his brow knit in confusion, but only a second after I moved my gaze to him, he was looking at me again.

  His expression was impossible to read. Why isn’t he saying it? Why won’t he just tell everyone that we are not engaged? The silence in the room was too thick; I was suffocating in it. So without permission, my feet carried me forward, around Owen, and out the door where the air was fresh and I could drown in my humiliation alone.

  I didn’t stop walking. Not when I heard the creak of a door opening, not when I heard footsteps falling behind me, and not even when I heard Owen call my name. I didn’t stop walking until I was outside and Owen’s hand was closed around my elbow. He didn’t speak, he only breathed and waited for me to turn around.

  The quiet had reached a complete new level. It seemed greater somehow, filling a larger space than just a small room. The black, star-speckled sky hung like a monster above me
, like it could easily swallow me whole. But I had learned that it surely would not, so I didn’t even bother hoping. Sweeping every last bit of nerve I could muster, I turned to face Owen, grateful for the dim moon as our only light.

  “It was your grandmother,” I said, my voice too quick. “The moment everyone arrived, she—she told them that you … proposed to me, and every opportunity I had to contradict that was interrupted in some way, so it carried on for far too long.” I paused to breathe. “I told her to confess, but apparently she finds pleasure in torturing me, because she refused. But don’t worry, I am going back in there to set everything right.”

  I realized I had been staring at the buttons on his jacket, so I glanced up briefly, afraid of what his face would show. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, perhaps a small grin, or astonishment, or even anger. But what I saw was not any of those things.

  His expression resembled something like … hurt. But it was only for a moment. A teasing grin lifted his lips, but it seemed half-hearted, blended together with the flash of hurt I had seen in his eyes. “Was it truly such torture to be engaged to me?”

  His question took me off guard, burning my face and making me increasingly flustered. I let out a loud laugh. “I—no, it was the fact that your grandmother continued to lie about it. Everyone was put under false pretense, and that was what tortured me. You did not, in fact, offer a proposal, and everyone assumed that you had.”

  I hated the way my heart raced talking to Owen about this. Standing so close to him in the dark, with only the tiny stars as companions. I hated the way he was standing, with his arms folded tightly, looking down at his boots with a scowl on his face. When he looked up, he stepped toward me at the same time, making my breath stop in my throat.

  “Well, suppose I did?” His voice was careful, quiet enough to match the silence around us.