Beautiful Whispers (Ausmor Plantation Book 1 - Romance/Suspense)

by Alice Ayden

“Just Mrs. Kiness.”

  “Don’t think it was her.”

  Alexander rolled his eyes. “You sure?”

  “She’d never hurt Josie’s grandson.” My mind raced trying to place the usual suspects. Johnston never got his hands dirty. Pathetic little bastard probably hired someone else to wipe his own sweaty ass.

  “I know who it was,” Alexander said. “Coward waited till my back was turned.”

  I nodded. “Just his style.”

  Alexander hesitated. “Glad you agree.”

  I wasn’t sure what he meant. It’s not like I normally defended Johnston. Guy was a total prick. Bought the whole prick package and didn’t scrimp on the extras. Before I knew it, I sat down beside Alexander and touched his head. “Does this hurt?”

  He flinched, and his breathing intensified. So, he wasn’t as aloof as he wanted me to believe.

  He took my hand and gently kissed it, and all I could think of was how much we could do before Mrs. Kiness came back. I didn’t want to think about Johnston, about my missing memories or weird scars. I just wanted Alexander’s lips on me.

  I leaned in closer to him. I don’t know where I found the courage. I normally wasn’t that bold. But, around him, I found my missing confidence. Maybe he had an extra spine he loaned me. I moved slowly. I was afraid he would stop me, pull away, look away. But he didn’t. His intense green eyes never left mine, and his crooked smile took me in. He breathed harder as if he wanted to capture me.

  I slowly leaned in - our lips only inches apart. He didn’t reciprocate. It was like he wanted me to make all the effort. I didn’t mind. I would have done anything. I kissed him. Once our lips touched, everything made sense. I wanted everything. I never wanted it to stop.

  16 Alexander

  I had to be sure this time. Jane usually gave me signals and then the stop sign. I needed to know, but she didn’t hesitate. She didn’t stop. She kissed me. It was like it used to be. We were like we used to be. I could pretend the past didn’t exist. She hadn’t broken me when she chose Byron. She wanted me. She was with me. She kissed me and nothing else mattered. We were together. She wouldn’t choose Byron again. I wouldn’t leave again.

  I pulled her to me before she changed her mind. And rolled us both until I was on top of her. I stopped to make sure. I had to be sure. She smiled and gently touched my face.

  “Alexander,” she said.

  But something wasn’t right. I could have continued. I wanted to continue. Believe me, it took all my strength to stop. Why did I have to think? I knew her memories. I knew she didn’t remember me like we were. I couldn’t take advantage. I wouldn’t take advantage. I needed her to remember me. Okay, fine. I needed her to choose me over Byron. There, I admitted it. Tired of coming in second to that.

  I stopped and smiled at her then propped myself back in bed.

  “Does your head hurt?” she asked, sitting up.

  I winced. “A little.”

  “I shouldn’t have pushed you.”

  “Mrs. Kiness will be coming back in soon.”

  Jane nodded. “Right, Mrs. Kiness.” She knew it was an excuse, but I hoped she wouldn’t push.

  “You sure that’s it?”

  I should have remembered Jane likes to push. “What else would it be?”

  That made her uncomfortable. She jumped up and looked out the window. “Like maybe you wished I was someone else.”

  “Me? No, that’s what you do. That’s not me.”

  She turned around and stared at me. “What does that mean?”

  “What do you want me to say?” I waited, but she didn’t respond. “Come on, Jane.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  “I don’t know what to say. You don’t remember me. You don’t remember what we were together. Do you know how that makes me feel? You’re the only one in the world that can hurt me.”

  Jane stepped back. She didn’t do uncomfortable. She quipped and then found something else she had to do. Somewhere else she had to be.

  “I’m sorry. I’m not manor born. Don’t have the manners hardwired.”

  She rolled her eyes. For the first time I saw what it was like for her to be born an Austen walking on eggshells to everyone and apologizing for being born into privilege. “I’m sorry.” I hesitated, but I needed her to understand. “It’s a little confusing, that’s all. You act like you want me. The way you look at me. That kiss. And you finally agree with me about Byron, but then—”

  “Agree with you about Byron?”

  “Just five minutes ago. You said it was his style.”

  Jane frowned as if trying to figure things out. “You don’t think I meant that Byron attacked you?” She waited for me to say something.

  I couldn’t believe she wasn’t on the same page. “You just said it. You can remember back a few minutes, can’t you?” I heard my tone. It wasn’t nonchalant. It was a sarcastic what the hell is wrong with you tone that makes asses sting. Shouldn’t have said that.

  Jane backed away toward the door.

  “I’m sorry.” I tried to get up, but I couldn’t.

  She turned to leave.

  I had to say something. She liked banter. What do I say to smooth things over? I just blurted out the first thing I could think of. “You can’t leave. You promised Mrs. Kiness.”

  Jane didn’t turn back around. She stopped with her hand on the doorknob. “Mrs. Kiness works for my family. I don’t have to promise her anything.” She left.

  17 Jane

  I closed Alexander’s door and leaned against it. Who just said that? What the hell? Did I just say that? I don’t talk like that. I don’t think like that. Did I channel my sister? Is this what’s buried deep inside? Some entitled bitchy little twit who thinks the world is there to serve? “What an asshole.”

  Mrs. Kiness walked up. “I beg your pardon, child.”

  “Sorry, just talking to myself.”

  “Did Alexander do something or say something to deserve such wrath?”

  I looked at her and tried to figure out what she was talking about. “No.” I shook my head. “I wasn’t talking about him. Just wondering why I’m becoming such a useless piece of shit.”

  Mrs. Kiness grabbed her crucifix. “Why would you say such a thing? Why even think it? And please refrain from that language.”

  “Can you tell him…” I thought about what I wanted her to say. I had no idea. “Tell him whatever you want.” Maybe it was better I didn’t remember him. Better for him. He deserves someone who’s… I couldn’t think. Someone else. Someone who’s not me. Not so much drama and not so damaged and pointless.

  The tears streamed down my face. Why did it bother me so much to think of Alexander with anyone else?

  18 Alexander

  I stayed in bed for awhile and thought about what I’d said to Jane. She wasn’t acting like herself. “What am I doing to her?” Jumping up, I had to catch the end of the desk as the room spun.

  “I should leave. I should go again and not come back.” The pit in my stomach churned. I called it the Jane pit. I couldn’t leave.

  “Why?” The question echoed throughout the room. She’ll choose him again. Always does. As the Jane pit intensified, I wanted to run. It was what I did when she rejected me. I ran and threw myself into work. Building, sawing, anything so I wouldn’t think of her. With him. Thinking of her made me ache. Thinking of her with him made me sick. Not after what he’d done.

  We never talked about it. Never brought it up. I had to be careful. Fragile Jane. I used to call her a burned marshmallow. Tough on the outside, but she’d melt if touched. And we’d have to start all over. Most would have told me to give her up. She’s too difficult. Too high maintenance. Whatever that meant. I didn’t mind difficult. I never had it easy. Not once in my entire life. My mother didn’t love my father. Every time, she looked at me, she saw him. She always wished I wasn’t.

  “Don’t want easy. I want Jane.”

  She saw beyond the son of a gardener and
the son of a maid. She didn’t see my past. She saw the man I wanted to be. The Jane pit returned. What if it’s still the same? What if she chooses him again? I didn’t know if I could take it. Not another rejection. Not another, “It’s always been Byron.”

  Maybe it’s her routine. Byron’s easy. He’s in her class. With him, she doesn’t have to think. I push her. No one else challenges her. That’s what sets me apart. It’s more difficult with me. Her family protects her. Their protection smothers. It’s like the most beautiful orchid kept under a tarp so no one can see. It can’t grow. It can’t be what it’s meant to be. I won’t blindly accept the status quo.

  19 Jane

  “What is it Jane?” Mrs. Kiness asked. “You barely said anything at breakfast, refused to partake in lunch and now...”

  I heard her. Barely. Or maybe I heard her more than I admitted. Sometimes I just had to think things through. Mrs. Kiness wanted everything in its place. No fuss. No mess. I was defined as a mess. Look up Jane in any dictionary: mess. Or maybe it would say, ‘shitty mess.’

  “Everything’s jumbled like I’ve been in a funhouse ride that flipped me sideways, upside down, inside out. I feel and think, but I can’t grasp anything too long.” Something’s there but all blurry like rain drops sliding down a window. “Why am I like this? Why can’t I be normal. Other people are normal. I’ve seen them.”

  Mrs. Kiness stopped me from my hundredth loop around my room. “Dear, have some tea to soothe your nerves. Normal is something you have never been.”

  The words stung as they seeped slowly in my skin like an enormous puddle of elephant pee on packed dirt.

  “No, child.” Mrs. Kiness shook her head and grabbed the cross around her neck. “Saints be stymied. I did not mean to indicate you are somehow abnormal.” She hesitated and studied my room.

  I wasn’t sure if she scanned for something to dust or an escape pod to leap to another dimension so she wouldn’t have to deal with me.

  “I meant to say that you have never been ordinary. Normal. You are extraordinary.”

  I rolled my eyes. Which was worse: an outright verbal throw down or the sickly stench of bullshitty compliments? I didn’t trust either. Another thing to muck me about. I threw myself down on the bed and then looked around for Fanny.

  “She is under the bed, dear.”

  I lifted my comforter up just a bit and peered into Fanny’s lair strewn with gardener’s gloves, bits of strewn dead stuffed animals and some crumbled up pieces of paper I recognized as part of the book Karenda had given me. I smiled. “Hey, Miss Dingo. Enjoying your new collection?”

  “What does she have this time?” Mrs. Kiness asked in between fluffing pillows and checking the water level of the red roses she had placed in the corner.

  “The books Karenda gave me.”

  Mrs. Kiness stopped, smothered a laugh with a cough and pretended she didn’t have any idea what I just said.

  “Alexander and I ever do the deed?”

  Mrs. Kiness blanched and then blanched again. I’d only seen that kind of washed out paleness on movie vampires. “Child, the things you blurt.” She glanced around to make sure no one else had heard.

  “Who else would be here?” Then I remembered something about Johnston, and my skin clammed. If that little rat bastard hid in my room...where would he be? I imagine he’d be able to slither in around crevices and hide in slits.

  Mrs. Kiness brought out a dust rag and vigorously dusted the side tables which were already so shiny I used them as mirrors. “Why in all of creation, would you inquire to me about...that...particular...”

  “Cause you know everything that goes on around here.”

  “Well, dear child, I do not know about any sort of physical interactions between you and Mr. Ravenswirth.”

  “But he’s hot, right? Those muscles and those hands. Couldn’t you just imagine his tongue—”

  Mrs. Kiness closed her eyes and opened her mouth.

  I thought she’d had a stroke, but she didn’t drop the dust rag.

  “Did your sister make those cookies I like?” I had to let her off the hook.

  Mrs. Kiness smiled, and some pink peeked back into her face. “I believe she did. Would you like me to fetch some?”

  I nodded and watched Mrs. Kiness leave. I didn’t know why I enjoyed torturing her. She was old school. Prim and proper. Any hint of anything from the twenty-first century or even the nineteenth or twentieth would leave her soul scarred. Why was I like that? Sadistic little thing. I never thought of Mrs. Kiness as anything less than my own mother, grandmother, aunt, best friend, guardian. She didn’t work for me or my family. She was family.

  “Why does he bring out the worst in me?” That jarred me. Déjà vu? I remembered saying those words. When? Maybe when he was here before? I quickly knelt down and raised the comforter to see my cat. “Fanny, did I say those same words before?”

  Fanny Dingo sighed. I guess she was as sick of me as I was of myself.

  “Sorry.” I let Miss Dingo be and paced again. Byron never moved me like this. I didn’t get all weird around him. But Alexander listened to me. He questioned me as if interested in what I thought and said and did. Believe me, I was an expert at deciphering disinterest.

  Others patted me on the head and hinted that I bother someone else. Alexander didn’t. I saw depth in his eyes. He saw me. He heard me. So, what happened between us? If we were together before…why would I choose Byron?

  I ran down the stairs and started down the hallway to the door that connected the New Wing with the main house, but I stopped. I quickly glanced at my watch. 3:30. “Tourists would still be about.” I’d have to go out the side door, down the long walkway and over to the other side of the house.

  I lost energy just thinking about it. It would take about fifteen minutes to get to him. And only if I avoided tourists and potholes and The Bitty and bees and...I turned around and someone grabbed me. Before I knew it, I was in Bitty’s storage room.

  “This is our special place.” That voice: Johnston.

  He spun me to face him and backed me up until I slammed into some metal shelves. A shelf jabbed into my lower back, and the pain took my breath away. Only inches from Johnston, I tried to be brave, but he tasted my fear. I tried to scream, but nothing emerged.

  His predatory smile. That vinegar stench.

  I was in trouble. If anyone heard a noise from the storage room they would have thought it was Bitty and avoid like a herpes rug. “What do you want?”

  Shouldn’t have asked that. I knew what he wanted and didn’t need him to spell it out for me.

  He looked me over - specifically staring at my breasts.

  “My sisters’ are bigger. Why don’t you stare at hers for awhile.”

  He gripped my arms even tighter until I thought my bones would snap. I wished I’d never said anything. He moved his hand to cover my mouth, and he pushed me further until the shelves pinched at my kidneys.

  The pain jolted, and I struggled to stay conscious. I couldn’t lose it. I didn’t know what he’d do. I had to say something. “Byron.”

  Johnston stopped.

  I knew he was afraid of Byron. “He’s waiting for me. You know how he gets. If I’m not there...”

  Johnston’s beady eyes soaked me in. He tried to determine if I was lying. He released me and stepped back. “Maybe I’m not afraid of Byron.”

  “What about Alexander?”

  Johnston giggled. It was disturbing. “I’m definitely not afraid of him. Besides, doesn’t he have a boo boo on his head. That should have killed him.”

  My blood ran cold. “He knows you did it.”

  Johnston paled but recovered quickly. “Doesn’t matter. He won’t tell. Not with what I know about him. He should be in prison.”

  I frowned. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t keep one step ahead of Johnston. “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t know, do you?” Johnston giggled. “Can’t wait for you to find out.” He grin
ned and left.

  I sat down on the floor of the storage room not understanding what just happened. Was this a game? Johnston was lying. Had to be. Alexander wouldn’t have done anything to anyone. I knew that in my heart, but my gut told me something else. I didn’t want to admit it, but it sounded familiar. What girl?

  The storage room opened, and I jumped expecting the worst.

  Bitty lumbered in and stopped when she saw me. “The hell are you doing in here? Just sitting on the floor like a filthy rat.”

  I slowly got up. “I needed a place to think.”

  “On the floor of my storage room?” She threw her hands in the air and sighed for a good five and a half minutes. “I mean, for green olive’s sake, the entire house is like fifty billion square feet, and I have to come in here and find my least favorite person on earth waiting for me like a freaking ambush.”

  She glared at the shelves. “What did you take?” Bitty rushed over to various cans and hugged them close to her chest. “What did you try to steal?”

  I left out the door without saying anything.

  “I need to put a friggin lock on this thing. Like hell I’m going to have you sneaking about and messing with my stuff…”

  She continued on, but, luckily, I walked fast. I guess the Austen curse had finally struck The Bitty. It was only a matter of time until she went full on rabid. We’d have to post warning signs for tourists.

  I shook my head. I couldn’t avoid thinking about it. Alexander. That girl. I had to piece everything together. I had to know for sure, but something told me I already knew. Was something buried so deep I couldn’t deal? Something about Alexander? Byron? Me? What was it? And who in this house would tell me the truth?

  20 Jane

  “I have to find Alexander.” I shuffled through the house, past tourists, around staff fiddling with a hundred Christmas trees, ornaments, whatnots and knickknacks. I could see a Christmas tree in each parlor with the color coordinated decorations matching the color of each room - huge twelve foot trees covered with red, green, blue and yellow ornaments to match each parlor.