by Aria Norton
Freddi was reminded of the story involving the prince who had been turned into an ogre, and who the young damsel he had come to love. The prince eventually transformed into his true form, but that would not happen to Mr Down. He may have ogre-like features, but there was no prince lurking behind his toothless façade.
Oh, goodness! I am not kind, am I? I should not think such things about the man when he only wished to help me.
Although marriage was no help at all. A job and lodgings were what she wanted, not entrapment. Not that she considered marriage as entrapment for Freddi wanted to get married, but it was who she would marry that would determine if she were to be trapped or not. Marriage was a beautiful union, and Freddi had often dreamt of her own.
Her parents were a perfect example of a happy union, of how married life should be. She could not recall her father ever having raised his voice or hand to her mother, and never had her mother disrespected him. They had a partnership, a relationship that would have lasted for many more years to come. That is what Freddi wanted for herself. She did not want a marriage of convenience or anything arranged, and she knew that her parents would have wanted the same thing for her.
Freddi left the reading books for a while, wishing to sort out her father's desk. It was not a big one, but it had served his purpose. Each drawer was filled to the brim, nearly bursting with papers, documents, and books.
“Papa, why did you keep everything? I am sure that there were some things that you could have thrown away.”
But her father had not been one to do such a thing. She recalled the day her mother had spring-cleaned the cottage, setting aside all the things that she believed had no place in the house. Some of her father's things had been in the pile, and he had come running from the main house to stop her mother from setting them alight.
Up until this day, Freddi did not know how her father had come to know of what her mother was about to do, but it had been a comical sight indeed. Her father had gathered up all his papers and marched into the house while her mother had stood with her hands on her hips, shaking her head. There had been no argument, but her mother had never again taken anything of her husband's to burn. Freddi stood up with a few things from the desk, groaning when one of them slipped off the pile in her hand.
“Heavens, I should not have piled it so high. Never mind, I shall pick it up in a moment.”
She dumped the first lot on the pile of papers to burn, going back to get the next lot. Freddi paused when she saw that the book she had dropped had opened, showing her father's handwriting. Bending down, she leafed through it, running her fingers over the writing. Her father's penmanship had been perfect; there was not a letter out of place.
“What is this book? I have never seen it before.”
It listed dates, amounts, and names, all dating back several years ago. Freddi could not make head nor tail of it, so she closed it, surprised when a piece of paper flew out of it. She caught it before it touched the floor, turning it over in her hand. Freddi read it, the words not jogging any memory.
“RD, money owed.”
There was a tremendous amount written down, a shocking amount. Who could have owed her father so much money? RD? Who was this RD?
“Perhaps this RD paid his debt and father has just kept this as proof.”
But what if he did not? Oh, what was the use of concerning herself about this matter now? Freddi scrunched up the paper, tossing it away without another thought to it. She continued to empty her father's desk, startled when she heard knocking at her door.
Had Malcolm come to help her already? The young man had offered to help her move some of her parents’ belongings out of the cottage in return for a good word with Caroline. She had warned him that it might not do his cause much good, but he remained hopeful.
'Tis too early, I was only expecting him late this afternoon.
Freddi left the desk, leaping over piles she had placed on the floor before reaching the door. She opened it, her heart racing when she saw who it was.
“Nash,” she breathed.
He was the last person she expected to see. Freddi touched her hair, imagining it to look like a bird's nest. Of all the times that he should come to see me, it is now when I am neck deep in clearing my home. He smiled at her, the gesture reaching his eyes.
“I see that you are the same Freddi, always untidy with her hair running wild. I would have thought that time would have mellowed your wild ways.”
Freddi found herself smiling as well. “Hardly. I am afraid that some things cannot be changed.”
Nash's smile dropped, and a frown knitted between his eyebrows.
“How are you, Freddi? I heard the terrible news just last night- I am so sorry for your loss. May I come in?”
Freddi would have said yes, but the curious gazes from the surrounding workers made her think twice. No, it would not be proper to admit him into my home, someone may say something to tarnish both our reputations, although mine has already suffered that fate.
“It is a beautiful day to walk about the grounds, don't you think?”
“Yes, I, too, am tired of sitting.”
He held out his arm, and she battled within herself as to whether or not she should take it. When all was said and done, he was still her friend, the one she had spent the bulk of her childhood with. He may have left her, but her feelings for him had never left. Freddi took his offered arm, drawing the door closed behind her. They walked in silence for a few paces, looking everywhere else but at each other. Nash was the first one to break the silence, his voice deep and soothing.
“I adored your parents, they were good people.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “They were the best type of people. I do not think that anyone could have disliked them.”
“How have you fared since...”
"As well as can be expected. There are times when I have woken up waiting to see my mother open the curtains, or smell my father's pipe burning, but I soon realise that it is not possible. They are gone, and they can never return to me."
Freddi's eyes prickled with tears, but she held them back. She did not wish to break down in front of Nash, she still had her pride.
“I wish that I had been here, Freddi, I would have wanted to see them.”
“But you were not.”
She did not speak these words in anger, but there was some bitterness and sadness in them. Yes, he should have been here. Her parents had loved him like a son; they would have wanted to see him before their end.
“Yes,” he sighed. “I only heard of deaths at Blackmore, no one informed me that anyone was sick.”
“How would you have heard of it? You have cut all ties with Blackmore, Nash.”
Freddi wanted to say that he had cut all ties with her as well, but she did not wish to show him how hurt she was by his actions. This may be the only opportunity to see him and speak with him, and she did not want to part ways with a quarrel.
“I know that it has seemed as such, but I had my reasons.”
Nash did not elaborate on those reasons, and she did not ask him to do so. If he will not readily share his reasons for leaving me without a word and never sending a letter in all of these years, then I shall not pry into his private life. They came to a little stream that flowed into the next property, merely a bubbling brook that one could dip their feet into on a hot summer's day.
This stream ran through three estates before collecting into a lake where she and Nash had fished from as children. Freddi recalled how they would steal food from the kitchen, bundle it up into a sheet, and sneak away to spend the day at the lake. They would return to Blackmore spent, only to encounter the stern gazes of her parents. It had all been worth it, and Freddi would go back to it in a flash if she could.
“Did you spend the night in your old room? I know that Lady Blackmore has kept it as is as I have been the one to clean it these years past.”
“No, I did not venture far into the house.”
Surprised, sh
e glanced at him. “Where did you rest for the night?”
“At a tavern in town.”
He offered no other information. Freddi was beginning to understand that Nash had become a man of few words, or rather he had become so around her. Perhaps he did not know what to say to her as they had been apart for many years.
“Oh, I see.”
“Do you know it? It is the one with the horse head.”
“The Black Horse?”
"That is the one. The accommodation left much to be desired, but it suited my purpose."
“The taverns in Alfriston are modest at best, I doubt that any of them would have met your standards. You are Lord Salisbury, son and heir of Lord Blackmore.”
He pulled his face. “I do not use that title, Freddi, and I have not done so since I left Blackmore Estate. As far as being the heir of Blackmore...”
“You speak of the disinheritance.”
“I do not care for it; I have my own life in France.”
Without her. His words hurt her more than he would ever know. Nash had created a life in France, and it was so consuming that he did not think of the one he had left behind. Her nose burned, but she would not shed a tear, not one.
“Do you intend to stay much longer?”
“I leave for France today.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Yes, I have much work to return to.”
“It is for the best. Thank you for your words concerning my parents.”
He nodded, coming to a stop. “This is where we part ways, Freddi. It was wonderful to see you once again.”
Freddi could only smile. A lump sat in her throat, and she knew that if she opened her mouth, she would either scream or cry, and she wanted to do neither. She lifted her hand as she took a step backwards, waving at him before turning away and hurrying back to her cottage. Only there would she allow herself to release all that she was holding.
Freddi almost turned around when she heard her name, but her tears were already flowing hot and furiously down her face. She reached her door, yanking it open and shutting it behind her as quickly as she could. It was right there where she slid to her knees, going on all fours as she let out everything that she had been holding back since her parents’ death.
It was the first time that she was allowing herself to feel the extent of her pain, her loss, and loneliness. Oh, she had cried before, but those tears had been polite and reserved, nothing like the raw sounds escaping her lips. Freddi did not care that anyone could hear her- let them hear! What did she have to lose? In just a week she would leave Blackmore Estate and embark on a new journey, a new life. But first, she needed to mourn the one she had lost.
***
Nash called out to Freddi, needing to say more to her, but she continued to run. There were so many things that he wanted to say to her, to explain to her at that moment. He ran after her, coming to a halt when she closed the door. Had she done it on purpose? Could she not hear him call out to her? Nash made his way to the door thinking to knock when he heard a sob that tugged at his heartstrings.
“Freddi,” he whispered.
He leaned against the door, closing his eyes. Nash wanted to be with her, to hold her in his arms and comfort her, but he knew that she would not accept it. After several moments, he pushed away from the door. He could no longer stand there without opening the door and taking her in his arms, he had to get away. Nash moved as quickly as his limp would allow him, intending to leave the grounds and collect his luggage from the Black Horse Tavern, when his father called out to him.
“Nash, a word please.”
How had his father seen him? The cottage was not visible from his study, a place where he spent the bulk of his day. It is just my luck that he caught me on my way out once again. It must be the only time Father ventures outside. He turned, stumbling when his stick caught the root of a tree. Nash righted himself, embarrassed that his father had witnessed a weak moment. He did not want the Marquis to see him during his vulnerable states, it injured his pride.
“I am on my way, Father.”
“I am asking for a moment of your time, Nash. Is it so difficult to grant me this simple wish?”
Simple? You and I both know that it is anything but simple. Still, he was his father, and there was always the obligation of a son to a father no matter the gap between them.
“Yes, fine. Will it be your study?”
“As always.”
His father returned to the house, his hands linked behind his back. What on earth could his father have to tell him? Have we not already said all that there is to say? Sighing, he followed behind the man, regretting that he had not left sooner.
Nash found his father pacing his study, his brow heavy with a frown.
“Father?”
“Nash, come, sit down. We have much to talk about.”
He is agitated, what has irked him? Nash did as his father asked, watching the man take a seat. It was done absentmindedly as he could see that the Marquis' mind was far away. The man passed a hand over his face, his heavily jewelled hand coming to rest on the desk with a heavy thud.
“Father, is everything all right?”
His father blinked slowly, focusing his eyes on him. “Huh? What did you say?”
“I asked if everything is all right. You appear agitated about something.”
The man sat forward, linking his hands together. "No, no, I mean, yes. I called you here to say that I may have been a tad harsh with you the other day."
Taken aback, Nash peered closely at his father. “Are you all right? Did something happen?”
“What do you mean? Of course, I am all right. The question!”
Not convinced, Nash sat back in his seat, his eyes observant. “Very well. I admit that we got off on the wrong foot, but there is no harm done. I only wish to return to France and continue my work there.”
“Uh, on the topic of work, I would like you to do something for me.”
Ah, and here it is. Nash knew that his father would not call him there for nothing.
“My work is in France, Father, and I must return there.”
“But, but, what if I said that I would give you back your inheritance?”
Was the man serious? Nash narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side.
“My inheritance? And why the sudden change in heart, Father?”
“Well, your inheritance can be yours if you would do something for me.”
Nash looked away as he rolled his eyes. Another one of his deals and ultimatums. Frankly, I have had enough of them. He turned back to the man, his mouth pursed.
“Father, I do not care for your conditions. I have no need of your inheritance, and I have never needed it.”
Nash stood up, but his father jumped forward, grabbing his hand over the desk.
“Just wait a darn minute and hear what I have to say. Please.”
It was the please that had him sitting back down. “All right, I am listening.”