Mischief and Manors

by Ashtyn Newbold

  They nodded obediently and climbed out of bed, but I could still hear their sniffing. It was selfish of me to do this, to pull them away from the joy they had found here. And I felt that I was betraying myself by choosing to leave. But it had to be done.

  When we got downstairs, I was disappointed to see that we were not the only ones awake. I could see Mrs. Kellaway sitting on the settee in the drawing room. My stomach dropped at the possibility of seeing Owen again. That certainly could not happen.

  “Annette, is that you?”

  I smiled through the archway and open door at Mrs. Kellaway. “Good morning.” It was the most daft thing I could have said. “I—I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

  “Alice and Charlotte are taking a turn around the grounds, too.”

  I nodded slowly, expecting to be told at any moment that I was invited to Owen and Miss Lyons’s wedding. “Oh.”

  She sighed, placing the book she was reading on the cushion beside her. “Come in. I know of your plans to return to Maidstone.”

  I had ordered the carriage the previous afternoon, informing only Mr. Kellaway. I should have known that he would pass the news to his wife.

  With Peter and Charles following behind me, I stepped into the drawing room, taking a seat beside her. “I want to thank you and your husband for allowing my brothers and me to stay for such a prolonged amount of time.”

  She turned her eyes on me with a look of sadness. “You are very welcome to stay as long as you would like. Did your aunt request that you return?”

  “Yes,” I lied.

  She watched me closely. “If you are sure. I have certainly seen an improvement in the boys’ behavior.” She smiled at my brothers then turned to me again, her eyes glistening with tears. “It has been wonderful coming to know you, Annette. You remind me so much of your mother.”

  In the weeks since I had arrived here she had hardly mentioned either of my parents. Perhaps the subject was too sensitive, or she was afraid of hurting me, but what she said now was the greatest compliment.

  “Thank you.”

  Mrs. Kellaway nodded subtly, giving a half-smile. “Please come visit again soon.”

  “Of course.”

  Her eyes widened, as if she was remembering something important. “I must go wake Owen to bid you and the boys farewell! He would be devastated if he knew you had left without parting words.”

  I nearly collapsed as she hurried from the room. I looked out the front window, desperately hoping to see the carriage pulling up the drive. It was not there, of course, but that was not going to stop me from running outside. I grabbed my trunk and instructed Peter and Charles to do the same, then we rushed out the front door, my heart hammering in my chest.

  The sky was grey, lacking light from the still rising sun. I could see the empty drive ahead of me, looming like a fateful truth that I couldn’t escape. The carriage wasn’t scheduled to arrive for another thirty minutes. It was useless to hope that Owen would spend thirty minutes getting out here.

  In fact, it took him less than two.

  Nervousness spread through my veins as I watched him step through the front door of the house and start running across the lawn. He wore only a shirt and breeches, his hair mussed from sleep. It wasn’t fair that even now he looked as handsome as ever, especially with the nameless look burning in his eyes as he ran toward me. He stopped only a few feet in front of me, breathing heavily. “Annette …”

  My heart leapt. It was cruel of him to do this, to come this close to me, to cleave my heart in two when it was so close to finding relief. To say my name the way he did, to look at me the way he was.

  “You can’t leave.” He shook his head, drawing closer. His hand touched my face, unraveling my resolve in an instant. “You can’t.” His voice was hoarse, vulnerable.

  “Yes, I can.” I said, not expecting the tears that stung my eyes. I stepped back, and his hand fell from my face. I took Charles’s hand and pulled Peter to my side. “It has been weeks, and our aunt needs us to return at once.” I paused, deciding how to phrase my next thought. “Congratulations on your engagement.”

  His brows drew together. “What?”

  My heart raced. “Did you not propose last night?”

  “To whom?”

  “Miss Lyons.”

  He exhaled a bitter sound that was almost a laugh. “No. That may have been what she wanted, but no, I did not.”

  Relief flooded through me despite my effort not to feel it.

  “She wanted Willowbourne. That was why she came here at all. I could easily see straight through her game.” He smiled slightly. “I thought you knew me well enough to expect that.”

  So he didn’t love her. He knew of her intentions from the beginning. The news shouldn’t have given me hope, but it did. It doesn’t matter, I told myself. My mind couldn’t be changed now. I was leaving this place. And no matter how much my heart wanted to stay, I was taking it with me.

  He looked upward, exasperated. “Alice would stop at nothing to get the two of us together, as if allowing her brother to be used was completely acceptable.” He shook his head, then his gaze settled on my face again. His tone changed, returning to the vulnerability from before. “Please don’t leave.”

  “My aunt needs us,” I repeated.

  “For what reason does she need you?”

  I kept my voice steady as I said, “She has missed us.”

  He gave a frustrated sigh. “I cannot believe that, Annette, and neither can you. Are you not happy here?”

  “No, I was, we have been treated so well, but there is no reason for us to stay any longer.” I waited, forcing my gaze to stay on his, to convince him as much as myself that I was making the right choice.

  I could see apprehension in his eyes when he said, “There is nothing here that can make you stay?”

  I breathed deeply and steeled myself. I forced the word from my throat. “No.” It was a broken whisper, not the strong, unwavering tone I intended.

  He folded his arms and watched his boot as he kicked the grass at his feet. After several heartbeats of silence, he lifted his gaze and stepped toward me again. I held my breath, clutching my brothers to keep my hands from reaching for him.

  “If you refuse to stay, then I will follow you. If you step into that carriage and drive away, then I will follow on horseback.”

  I gasped and shook my head. “Owen—”

  He stopped me. “Because no matter how much you pretend your aunt needs you … ,” he reached out and brushed an errant strand of hair from my forehead, then said in a hoarse whisper, “I will always need you more.”

  It was a blow I couldn’t take. The heartbreak in his eyes, the vulnerability in his voice. Hearing him say he needed me. He couldn’t do that. Not if I wanted to leave here with a whole heart. What was I thinking? My heart hadn’t been whole for a long time.

  Charles was tugging on my skirts from behind. “I want to stay,” he said. I could hear the tears in his voice. I turned around to see his little outstretched hand, holding the two pennies Grandfather had given him. His clear blue eyes were brimming with tears and his chin quivered. “I want to stay,” he repeated, jerking the coins in my direction. Peter fumbled in his pocket and retrieved his pennies, extending his open palm as tears wet his freckled cheeks.

  I shook my head quickly, fighting sudden sobs, and curled their fingers over the pennies in both trembling hands. The brink I was standing on was narrowing. Was my determination to love and protect my brothers resulting in their unhappiness? They were not happy with Aunt Ruth. They were happy here and I was trying to tear them away. I bent over and pulled Peter and Charles into my arms. Immediately after I did, the sound of screaming reached my ears from the left side of the house.

  My head whipped in that direction the moment I heard it. I was alarmed to see Alice running toward us, her hair blowing wildly, her complexion ruddy. “Owen! Owen! Come quickly! The man—the man came back and he h-has Charlotte!” As she ca
me closer I could see tears streaking down her cheeks. “You—you have to save her! He told me t-to send you.”

  Panic set in wholly as I realized what was happening. How had the man come onto the property again?

  Owen was moving immediately, stepping toward Alice. “Where are they?”

  “In the woods on the west side.” She sniffed and wiped her nose with the sleeve of her gown.

  He turned to me and said in a firm voice, “Stay here.”

  I shook my head deliberately. “No, I’m coming. I can find him!”

  “No!” He stopped me. “He is dangerous. You will stay here with Alice and the boys.” He gave me what looked like a pleading look then turned and started running in the direction Alice came.

  I gave an outraged gasp and followed behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Owen! You may think me an incapable female, but let me assure you—”

  He turned around and marched toward me, cutting off my words. To my complete astonishment, he hooked an arm around my waist and tucked the other under my knees and lifted me off the ground. “You … will … stay here,” he said with exasperation, carrying me quickly toward the place where Alice and my brothers stood. My heart pounded. This was how he held me when he caught me from the waterfall. The warmth of him, the smell of him …

  “Owen! I did not give you permission to carry me!” I attempted to say it in a bold voice, but my words came out rather breathless.

  He glanced down at me with a rebuking look that bristled my pride. “And I did not give you permission to follow me. I cannot put you in danger.” He set me down a few feet from Alice. His hand slipped from my waist and he looked down at me, his expression full of so many things I didn’t understand, then he turned toward the woods without another word.

  Anger bubbled in my chest. I was stubborn, it was a fault I possessed and completely recognized. But I wasn’t fully aware of my own actions when I reached out and grabbed him by the back of his shirt, stopping him. “You cannot go alone! You don’t even have a weapon! I will come and watch for trouble and then—”

  He turned around with a groan. Something flashed in his eyes. Then in one swift motion he took my face in his hands, bent down, and kissed me.

  It was unexpected and brief, but my mind escaped me all the same. His lips were pleading and unhesitant. I felt myself come completely unraveled in that moment—that sweet moment that could not have possibly lasted more than three seconds. Then he pulled away, too soon, his eyes burning through mine. “Stay here,” he said in a hoarse voice. “Please.”

  Then his hands dropped from my face and he turned and ran toward the woods before I could catch my breath. I stood in shock, watching his back as he ran, trying to comprehend what just happened. Owen kissed me.

  Owen. Kissed. Me.

  How many times had I imagined that very thing? More times than I cared to admit. My face was thoroughly hot and I didn’t dare look at Alice, but I could feel her surprise. But it was impossible that she could have been more surprised than I was.

  I moved my gaze to the ground. My face and heart were on fire, but I forced my mind to collect itself and remember the most pressing issue. The strange man must have assumed that Owen loved Miss Lyons when he saw them together the day before. That was why he abducted her. I took a deep breath to steady myself, but my mind would not stop spinning and I could not stand still for a moment longer. I couldn’t wait to know what happened. Impatience was a very dear friend to my stubborn quality.

  “Peter, Charles, stay with Alice,” I said briskly before I could change my mind. I guided them toward her with a gentle push, avoiding her expression, then set off after Owen, keeping a far enough distance between us so he wouldn’t see that I had followed.

  I could hear Alice calling my name, telling me to stop, but I didn’t listen. I was halfway to the woods when Owen disappeared into the trees. My panic spread fire through my veins, propelling me faster. When I reached the edge of the lawn I plunged into the woods, skirting around and under loose branches that scratched at my face and caught in my hair as I ran. I realized how loud my steps were over the leaves and dead twigs, so I slowed to a walk. I strained my ears, trying to hear any sound that would indicate where Owen had gone. But I could scarcely hear a thing over my pounding heart, and I didn’t dare yell his name, so I continued walking deeper into the woods.

  After several minutes and many wrong turns, I reached a small clearing. Muffled voices reached my ears from the right and I cocked my head toward the sound. I followed it tentatively, sliding past trees and looking around them before proceeding. The voices grew louder, guiding me right, then right again. And then I stepped under a thick branch and I could see their owners.

  It was another small clearing, with lofty trees surrounding it on all sides. The strange man stood with his back to me, wearing his tall top hat as usual. The sight was strangely familiar, but I couldn’t quite place it. Owen stood facing me—facing the strange man. I stepped back, concealing myself behind the nearest tree, and squinted with surprise at Owen’s face. His expression was … apologetic.

  It confused me, and I was distracted for a long enough moment to fail to warn Owen. For in that moment someone else sneaked up behind him and hit him over the head with a thick branch.

  I stifled a gasp, diving forward without thinking. My feet slapped against the leaves on the ground as I ran, and my knees hit the dirt painfully. “Owen!” My hands found his shoulders and I shook them. His head was slumped to the side, his eyes closed. He was not conscious. And I was kneeling on the ground between two very deadly men. I realized the weight of my mistake as I looked up at the man who had hit Owen, standing directly in front of me.

  It was Mr. Coburn!

  I stood, brushing the dirt from my gown. I was so shocked that words seemed to resist me. I stared at his balding head and bathwater eyes, opened wider than usual as he looked down at me. It was certainly him. And he had just seriously injured Owen. Fear and anger bounded through me. “What are you doing here?”

  Mr. Coburn looked as surprised as I was. “I knew that Mrs. Filbee sent you away but I never imagined it would be here! Hah! What a monstrous coincidence this is.”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” I said, daring to step forward, keeping one eye on his branch.

  “A feisty one, she is,” the strange man said, sauntering up beside me. “With obvious unrequited affection for Dr. Kellaway.” He chuckled, glancing down at Owen. “What a shame.”

  I didn’t look at him. I kept my gaze on Mr. Coburn’s grotesque equivalent. “What do you want with Owen? With Miss Lyons?”

  At my words, a small whimper sounded from the right. I looked to see Miss Lyons, icy eyes wide, cheeks wet with tears, standing with her back against a tree. A rope was wrapped around the waist of her lavender gown, securing her to the tree with her hands tied behind her back.

  “Revenge,” came the strange man’s voice.

  I jerked my head to look at him, terror plunging through me as I recalled the feeling of his cold grip on my arms and his threats whispered in my ears. I swallowed and encouraged myself to sound brave. “What deed has Owen done that requires vengeance?”

  He sighed and looked up, annoyed. “Coburn, bind her to a tree.”

  My jaw dropped. After a moment of hesitation, Mr. Coburn stepped over Owen and seized my upper arm, pulling me toward a tree near Miss Lyons. I kicked at his legs, thrashing, and even dug my heels into the dirt, but still he was able to drag me to the tree. He gripped my other arm and pressed my wrists together. Then he wrapped a piece of thick, rough rope around them, and just as quickly, took a much longer piece and strapped me to the tree around my middle, a confinement matching Miss Lyons.

  The rope scratched at my wrists as I tried to withdraw my hands from it. “You are a big, smelly, revolting bully,” I mumbled, fulfilling my promise to Owen. As Mr. Coburn stepped away, I caught a look of anger on his face, which gave me a strange bit of satisfaction despite
my current circumstances.

  The strange man watched me sedately. “Now, to answer your question … ,” he said, adjusting the ridiculous amount of fobs hanging from his waistcoat. “Oh, I nearly forgot … ,” he nodded at Mr. Coburn, “Tie up our dear Dr. Kellaway as well.”

  Mr. Coburn’s gaze shifted to Owen and back to the strange man. “But, Jasper … what if he … awakens?”

  “Then simply hit him over the head again.”

  I glared at the strange man—Jasper, as Mr. Coburn had called him—as his face spread into a wicked grin. My heart hammered in my chest. Surely Alice was informing her father at this moment, possibly even sending Edmond. I had seen the stable hands, they were certainly large and strong. Perhaps they were being sent also. They could be here in five minutes, perhaps even less. But would it be soon enough?

  “There, yes, now make it a bit tighter, we don’t want him escaping,” Jasper returned his gaze to me once Owen was secured to a tree on the opposite side of the clearing. “You wish to know why I seek retribution? Oh, you must think very ill of me, but let me assure you, I only desire that Kellaway suffers as I did. That he experiences the same pain that he inflicted upon myself.”

  “Don’t hurt him,” I blurted, straining against the ropes confining me.

  “Oh, no,” he chuckled, “I do not intend to injure him any further. Eventually he would recover, and we cannot have that. Unless of course, I killed him, which is not my intention either.” He walked toward me slowly, then stopped only two paces away. His eyes glinted like steel. “I shall hurt him where pain never heals.” He jabbed at his own chest with a finger. “The heart.”

  Then he turned and walked swiftly to the center of the clearing once more, and faced me again, extending a hand in Miss Lyons’s direction. “As you see, that is the purpose of the lady. When he awakens, he will have the honor of watching his love die before him. It is only fair, is it not? For when he failed to heal my Ariana of her illness, I was forced to do just that. And now he will pay the same price.”

  My mind swarmed. The letter. The letter that had troubled Owen so severely. The story of the woman he had failed to save, and her fiancé’s resentment. And her mourning father …