Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  My heart flipped in my chest and I stepped backward almost frantically. As I did, my feet stumbled over themselves and I lost my balance. Owen stepped forward smoothly and caught me by the waist before I fell. My face burned with embarrassment and the small of my back tingled where Owen’s hand held me righted.

  Then he stepped closer again, and I felt my unstable balance falter even more. I heard his breath quicken the moment mine did. But his hand did not leave my waist, and his eyes didn’t abandon their softness and determination as they searched my face.

  He repeated himself, slowly, and in a lower pitch that made chills travel down my arms. “Suppose I had proposed to you. What would it have been?”

  My heart fluttered painfully. My gaze dropped to his buttons again. It was impossible to look at his eyes, not with his closeness and that question lingering in the small space between us. How could he ask such an absurd question? He must know how uncomfortable it would make me. He loved to make me uncomfortable. It was a question that I had never asked myself, and hearing it made my heart scream louder. But I blocked out its words. I couldn’t afford to hear it. My armor was supposed to be strong enough to defend me from anything—even Owen. So why did I feel so vulnerable?

  Without warning, Owen slipped a bent finger under my chin and nudged it up, forcing me to look into his eyes, the very thing I knew would unarm me entirely. The moonlight cast his face dark in shadow, his jaw was clenched tight in anticipation, his eyes narrowed slightly, searching every inch of my face. This needed to stop. The empty space between us glared at me, begging me to fill it, if not with myself, then with words.

  “Why do you want to know?” I croaked.

  Owen shook his head almost imperceptibly and the hand that was resting under my chin lifted slowly to my face. He watched his hand carefully as he gently traced the outline of my jaw with two knuckles. This was too much. My breath trembled on the way out.

  When his eyes moved to mine again, my warmed heart caught fire. “I need to know,” he whispered.

  Then the silence thrummed between us, heavy and insistent, and my mind threw an answer to my lips before I could let my heart have a say. My voice cracked as I spoke, and I felt the foreign threat of tears as a knot in my throat. “No.” I swallowed. “It would have been no.”

  Owen’s hand fell to his side, and he took a step back. He swallowed and a muscle jumped in his jaw. I couldn’t understand what his eyes held, but it shattered my armor into millions of tiny shards.

  And so I stood completely vulnerable in front of the man that was far too skilled at uncovering the truths of my heart. Panic filled me as I stared into Owen’s eyes. They lacked their usual playfulness, but harbored an anguish that silenced my roaring mind, leaving only the voice of my heart to be heard. In desperation, I tried in vain not to hear it. Because I was afraid, very afraid of what it would reveal to me. But the night was too dark and silent, and Owen was standing too close, and the pull of his gaze was much too strong for me to fight the screams of my heart any longer.

  So in that moment of undefended barriers and vulnerability and dark silence, my heart whispered to me the truth that I had been refusing to hear, the reason I felt so broken and confused—I loved him. I still loved him, and I knew, deep inside, that that would never change.

  I fell back a step, feeling a now-familiar lightness in my head. I had known—surely I had known all along, but it had been too frightening, too contradictory to everything my mind told me. My heart refused to be silenced any longer. It scared me.

  I was looking down, but I felt Owen step toward me again, heard him say my name. That was the last straw. So I ran. I ran away from the tiny stars that seemed to laugh at me for my foolish heart. Away from the dark, silent night. And away from that atrocious man who I just knew would try to follow me. But he didn’t. And somehow I loved him more for it.

  It wasn’t until I reached my bedchamber that I stopped running. My feet echoed through the hall and up the staircase, but I did not care. Only when the blankets of my bed plumed around me, and my eyes were positioned firmly at the ceiling did I allow myself to catch my breath and focus on keeping my composure.

  Suppose I had proposed to you. What would it have been? The question burned in my mind, making me wonder if my response had been honest. And why did he need to know? Why did he look at me the way he did? Could it be possible that he loved me too? My heart leapt at the thought but I quickly shushed my ridiculous idea. There was no sense in hoping. I had decided long ago that hope was far too dangerous to trifle with.

  I had glimpsed Owen’s heart in his eyes tonight, but it was like peering through the window of an expensive shop. Within there was so much that I wanted, that I could convince myself I truly needed, but none of it I could possibly afford.

  So I could not entertain the idea of him ever loving me for a second longer. My heart had place for my brothers only, and I could not replace them or disregard them in any way. I set my jaw and affirmed the message to my heart so it understood. But the ache in my chest that followed assured me that my heart would struggle for a very long time. So, suddenly, I was grateful for Miss Lyons, coming here to take Owen away. It was the only solution. Then perhaps my heart would finally understand. For it understood loss quite well.

  Dread filled me at the thought of returning to the drawing room to collect Peter and Charles. I could only imagine what was happening right at this moment. Miss Lyons laughing her tinkling-bell laugh, and Mrs. Kellaway weeping into her husband’s handkerchief, and Grandmother accusing me of fancying the thought of marrying Owen so ardently that I had manipulated the entire family.

  An apprehensive sigh escaped me as I stood and headed down to the drawing room to fulfill the pending demise of my last shred of dignity. My only wish was that I would not have to face Owen again.

  A

  Chapter 18

  Iawoke the next morning with a muddled mind but with clear intention of thanking Grandmother. After I had entered the drawing room the night before, I found her in tears as she was completing her belated confession. From what I knew, Grandmother had given every detail, excluding her reasoning, of how the lie began. Relieved, I spoke as little as possible before taking my brothers up to their room. Mrs. Kellaway had asked me where Owen had gone. I said I didn’t know.

  And now, as I walked down the staircase, I still didn’t know. So counting myself fortunate, I made my way to the morning room where I assumed Grandmother would be. I didn’t want to think about Owen for a second longer. The dull ache in my head testified that I had spent more than enough hours trying not to think about him while I should have been sleeping. They were wasted hours now and I regretted every one of them.

  When I came to the large window framing the vast prospect of the back property, I found Alice leaning against it with a hand on the pane, her nose nearly pressed against the glass. Not wanting to draw attention to myself, I sneaked around her, but was stopped almost immediately.

  “Oh! Annette, I did not see you there,” Alice said, turning her face from the window. “How are you this morning?”

  I turned around, only inches from escape. “I am well. And you?”

  “Quite.” She smiled, and after a pause, her brows turned down in pity. “You must have been so mortified. You poor thing. My Grandmother dines on mischief and has quite a strong taste for the devious.” She laughed, amusing herself.

  “Yes, I have certainly learned that.”

  Alice laughed again, then turned to the window with a sigh. “I daresay it was even more excruciating for my dear Charlotte. It is certain that she will not let Owen out of her sight now, at least not until things are settled between them.”

  I stepped closer to the window, feeling a weighted stone of ache returning. Owen and Miss Lyons were walking arm in arm by the stables, having what looked like an enjoyable conversation. I wondered if he teased her and made her laugh like he so easily made me.

  “Settled?” I asked.

  Alice lean
ed toward me with a wicked smile, and her voice dropped to a whisper. “It is only speculation, of course, but it is more than likely that he will propose during the ball tonight.”

  Oh, yes. The ball. I had nearly forgotten about it and that dreadful pink dress. My stomach tied itself in a tight knot. I was not yet prepared to lose Owen. Less than one day was too short a time to properly train my heart. My gaze found Miss Lyons again, her dainty hand curled around his arm, her icy round eyes fixed on his face with such obvious adoration that I wanted to vomit. Even through the smudged glass I could see her batting lashes.

  In that moment I realized that Miss Lyons was just like Grace Dawkins. But Owen was much more important than a puppy. There was no sense in being jealous. Even if Owen did love me, I could never take any of my heart from my brothers. They needed it more than Owen did. He didn’t need it at all, in fact. He had plenty of hearts in his hands without even trying.

  “I hope you haven’t come to care for him,” I heard Alice say.

  I looked away sharply, turning toward her. “Of course not. He has been a great … acquaintance since I arrived here. That is all.”

  Her arched eyebrow softened. “I am glad to hear it. I would not want to you experience what poor Charlotte felt when she believed you to be engaged to him. It left her destitute of all imaginable happiness. It absolutely destroyed her. In all honesty, I doubted the truth of your engagement from the beginning. Owen and Charlotte have been perfectly compatible since the moment they met, and I could not comprehend the idea of his affections venturing elsewhere.”

  I watched them out the window. Pain dug itself deeper and deeper into my chest each time Owen smiled. So he never cared for me. I was merely a form of entertainment until Miss Lyons arrived. I had spent hours with him, playing along in his elaborate game.

  Alice exhaled another sigh. “They truly are designed for one another, don’t you think?”

  I pressed my palms against the windowsill. I felt the sting of betrayal and anger threatening my strength. Every moment I’d spent with Owen, every bout of uncontrollable laughter and every secret I had entrusted him with, I regretted. Because in those moments, I had let it become more than just a game. Something I never intended to do. But for him, that was all it ever was. I was a plaything to amuse himself with while he had the chance.

  I had spent my time listing his positive attributes instead of his faults. It was a weakness of mine to overlook faults for the sake of a few kind words or feelings of temporary security. I felt comfortable and secure with Owen. That was where I went wrong.

  I tore my gaze from the window. “Undoubtedly,” I said. And I believed it.

  Alice offered a smile then leaned toward the window in the manner of someone who intended to stay a long time. I was about to turn to leave, but my eyes caught her smile just as it faltered. “Who is that?” she asked, pointing through the glass.

  I squinted in the direction of her pointed finger. There, between the thick entwining branches of the woods, I could see a face. Chills started a long voyage over my skin. It was the strange man.

  He could barely be recognized from our vantage point, but his top hat was as high as ever, and his hard gaze was fixed on Owen and Miss Lyons. I didn’t waste a second. Leaving Alice gaping out the window, I ran for the door with panic buzzing through me. By the time I stepped onto the lawn, my heart was in my ears. I wasn’t sure what I planned to do, but a closer, uninterrupted view of the situation was necessary.

  I only made it a few steps unnoticed by Owen. He stared, confused, but I kept running. The man noticed me next, cocking his head then retreating into the trees with spine-chilling certainty.

  I stopped abruptly, slumping with both relief and defeat. He got away again! And what was stopping him from returning? Absolutely nothing. He felt no threat from us here. I took a heavy breath and squinted at the trees. The man was surely gone and I could only hope that Alice was informing her father at this moment.

  “Annette? Is something wrong?” It was Owen’s voice. It dug deeply into my ears and fit perfectly. But it was softer, more careful, and it weakened me to the core.

  I kept my gaze beyond him at the trees, and I kept my voice cold. “The man that has been trespassing. Did your father speak with you about him?”

  “Yes, he did.” A pause. “Did you see him?”

  I nodded and forced myself to look at Owen. I wished I hadn’t. His eyes were too searching, too full of questions, looking too deeply into mine. I feared that he could see my heart through them, manipulate it. I feared that any words passed between us now would be written on my heart forever, and I would never find a way to erase them.

  “At the edge of the woods,” I said. “I only thought I should warn you, but he is gone now.”

  I didn’t wait for a response. I turned and headed back to the house. But I didn’t run like I did the night before. I walked, strong and independent and untouched. Just like I was supposed to be. Coming here to Kellaway Manor had been a mistake. The fresh company and picturesque scenery had stolen my identity. I was not that happy, giggling girl that climbed trees and admired pink roses and dreamed. I was Annette Downing, a girl who knew her purpose and honored it—a girl who couldn’t afford to dream.

  I thought of the time I climbed that tree ten years ago. I had allowed myself to climb so high, not realizing that I would have to come down eventually. Not realizing that the boy that stood below was too weak to catch me—that I would have to come down alone.

  Since arriving here, I had been climbing and climbing that same cursed tree. And now, much like before, I was falling, but it hurt much worse this time. And there was no one waiting to catch me at the bottom. Hope worked that way. It coaxed and encouraged people to climb, never caring to warn them of the fall that was coming.

  When I got back to the house, I found Alice speaking frantically to her father, pulling him by the arm toward the doorway I was entering through.

  “He’s gone,” I said. “I saw him just for a moment before he turned and departed.”

  Mr. Kellaway’s eyes flickered out the window then back to me. He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “Thank you, Miss Downing.” Then started toward the door and I stepped aside. With his hand on the handle, he turned toward me and asked, “How many times have you seen this man?”

  “Three times now.” I paused. “Perhaps you might assign a few servants to keep a specific watch on those woods. All three times I have seen him he came from the woods and departed through them also. If they were being guarded, entry would be nearly impossible. And if he did attempt it, he could be easily apprehended.”

  Mr. Kellaway’s gaze softened in thought and he gave a quick nod. “Of course. I will do just that.” He released the handle and returned in the direction he came, presumably heading to the servants’ quarters.

  Alice watched her father leave then placed a hand to her chest. She looked at me with genuine concern. “Good heavens, are they all right?”

  “They seemed perfectly content.” I hoped my voice didn’t sound bitter. Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice.

  “What do you suppose that man’s purpose is, coming here and frightening us all so?”

  I remembered with a pang of dread that man’s question: Who does Owen love? I had immediately known it was Miss Lyons, and now, so did he. My stomach pinched. If servants stood guard, there was no possible way that the man could return unseen. Whatever threat he posed was gone. I allowed myself to relax. “I don’t know.”

  After I found Grandmother and thanked her for the previous night, she broke into a new bout of crying, refusing my gratitude. Once her tears were subdued, she cajoled me into sitting and working on embroidery for much longer than I would have liked. I managed a few stitches without creating a large knot. After visiting with her for some time, I remembered why I had liked her in the first place. Aside from her mischief, she was truly a wonderful woman.

  When she finally let me go, I headed to the library, assuming I would fin
d my brothers there. Their routine had, for several days now, consisted of spending hours playing in the library and listening to Grandfather’s stories. But when I opened the heavy door, I was surprised to see Grandfather sitting alone in one of the leather chairs by the fireplace.

  “Miss Downing?” He looked up from his book and blinked at me through his spectacles. “Where are your brothers today? I have missed their company.”

  I blanched. “They haven’t been here with you?”

  He closed his book. “No, but I just got here, so they could have stopped by earlier, I suppose.

  My eyes widened and my heart dropped.

  I was out the door, through the halls and outside before I could fully process my thoughts. Tell me, or those you love will face the consequences. The strange man’s words pounded in my ears from days before. He was here! He could have abducted them! He could have hurt them … he could have …

  “Charles! Peter!” I screamed. The sun beat down on me as I ran across the lawn for the second time today. I gasped for breath as I searched around the stables, then ran across to the rose garden. “Charles! Peter!” My throat ached from yelling and my lungs from running. This could not happen. Not Peter and Charles. He did not hurt Peter and Charles. I refused to believe such a thing.

  “Annette?”

  I spun around at the sound of Peter’s voice. “Peter!” I knelt in front of him and threw both arms around him and Charles, who stood beside him snickering.

  “Where were you?” I asked over their little shoulders. “I told you never to come out of doors alone … ,” My words stopped as I caught sight of two leather boots stepping up on the grass beside us.

  “Owen brought us out here. We were looking for you, actually,” Peter said.

  My heart jumped. Preparing my best scowl, I looked up. Owen smiled down at me, a sight that made my heart jump higher.

  “I hope that is all right, I felt the need to give them another lesson.”

  I stood, ignoring his hand, rage pounding through me. “I thought they had been … ,” I stopped myself, rethinking my words. “I mean … I didn’t know where they were, and I have been looking for them.” I put my hands on my hips without realizing it. “Why did you take them without my permission?”