He supposed that he was a curiosity. A man who appeared out of nowhere, injured but with no recollection. She had to be as intrigued by him as he was by this entire circumstance.
When they reached the bottom of the grand staircase, he found himself in the parlor. Like the rest of the house, or rather the Castle, as she’d said, it was as grand as the library. However, it wasn’t until they stepped outside that his breath truly caught in his throat.
It was indeed a castle.
The moment they stepped outside, he turned to take it in, walking backward as he craned his neck.
“Take care, Oliver. I fear you will trip and hurt your head again,” she exclaimed. The sound of his new name made him twist his head toward her. It felt strange to react to it for he knew it wasn’t his.
“Do not worry about me, perhaps another knock on the head will restore my memory entirely,” he chuckled.
I have a sense of humor, another new thing discovered about myself.
She shook her head in concern but stood patiently beside him as he surveyed his new surroundings.
The Castle was three-stories tall and constructed of sandstone with a slate roof. Towers rose on the two visible corners as high as four- or five-stories. He spotted several bay windows. The windows were in the same gothic style as the painting in the library, several with open tracery.
He walked across the lawn until he could spot the side of the Castle which faced to the South. This part of the building was in only two stories and contained many large French windows and more gothic windows with Y-shaped tracery.
“This home is magnificent. I can see why there would be a feud over its occupancy.”
Seraphina sighed and shook her head. “You will get along well with my parents and sister Mary. They all appear to think so as well. Now, come. Let me show you where you will be living. Daylight will be fading in a few hours and I wish to ride and take the air with the dogs before then.”
She turned and marched on toward the south, across the beautifully maintained garden.
He’d offended her with his comment, he could tell. He wasn’t even sure why he’d said it or where his opinions regarding the building came from.
He rushed after her, but she was already disappearing behind a row of trees. Suddenly, the man now called Oliver found himself sinking into a very dark space indeed. He had no ally but this woman whom he hardly knew at all. And she appeared to be cross with him now.
He suddenly realized just how alone he was in the world. Alone, and lost to all who might know his true name. Whoever they might be.
Chapter 7
Seraphina marched on, the rage inside her subsiding.
Why did I grow so angry at him? He knows nothing of the feud. Indeed, I doubt he knows what he says at all.
She stopped in her tracks and turned, waiting for him appear behind her. When he did not, she started back toward the garden.
She found him sitting on a bench under a cherry tree. His head was buried in his hands.
“Oliver?” She spoke quietly but he still sat up with a fright. When he looked up, she saw that he had been crying. Seraphina sat down beside him.
“I am sorry if I upset you. I should not even talk about the silly feud for it sets my bristles up at once. I apologize,” she said.
He shook his head. “It is quite all right, Lady Seraphina. I was simply overcome by the gravity of my situation.”
“I can imagine how vexing it has to be not to know…anything.”
He chewed his bottom lip as she observed his profile. He was a handsome young man. His skin appeared even paler than when she first looked upon him.
Perhaps the exhaustion from walking after several days in bed?
On his nose, she noticed a sprinkle of small freckles. For a lady of the ton this would have been considered an unsightly flaw. Large amounts of crushed pearl powder would have to be applied in order to obscure them on any social occasion. Faith, a potential husband might even be averse to making a match with such a terrible mistake of nature. However, on him, she found it charming.
He’d stared at the ground for a long moment and then glanced up at her. She noticed for the first time just how bright blue his eyes were. They reminded her of sapphires.
“Vexing is a good word for it. Daunting, that’s another. For what if I do not recall my memories? I will be lost. Like a leaf, just floating in the breeze.”
She swallowed, fighting the urge to reach out to him and touch his hand. Instead she turned herself closer to him, so she was facing him properly.
“If you cannot recall your memories, then you will build new ones. You will start fresh. A new man.”
He nodded and turned his head up at a bird flying overhead.
“I suppose. A new man. A man without a penny, without a home, and without a friend. Not even a name of my own.”
“You have a friend,” she exclaimed before she could stop herself. The eagerness in her voice embarrassed her for a moment and she forced herself to sound calm as she added. “You do. She is sitting right beside you.”
He straightened up, crossing one leg over the other.
“You are very kind, Lady Seraphina. Alas, I am, by current accounts, a stable hand employed out of charity by your father. You are a lady. A proper lady. We could never be friends.”
She cocked her head to one side and smirked. “Says who?”
He shrugged. “Society?”
“So, you do remember some things.”
He pressed his lips together and narrowed his beautiful eyes as he considered this.
“I do. Some things appear second nature to me. I am not sure why.”
She nodded. “That is good. Perhaps it will mean your memory will return sooner rather than later. In the meantime, you, Oliver the stable hand, have a friend in Sera. Not Lady Seraphina.”
He smiled at her, but a sadness remained in his eyes.
“Sera? Is that an alter ego of yours?”
She nodded with a grin.
“It’s the girl I am when I play in the mud with the pugs or sneak into the stables with my hair tucked under a cap to clean out the pens.”
He laughed out loud then, but clasped a hand in front of his mouth.
“Excuse me, I did not mean to be rude.”
Seraphina felt a lightness in her heart as they conversed. Time seemed to fly. A part of her felt as though she’d known this young man all of her life.
“It is not rude. And it is true. I often sneak into the stables to work alongside the stable boys. The groom will tell you. Or, rather, he should not for it is a secret between him and I. I pay him for his silence in large amounts of honey cake from the kitchen.” She winked at him. To her delight, at last, the sadness lifted from his eyes and he reveled in her tales.
“Well, then. Perhaps we can be friends as we work alongside each other shoveling manure.”
She pinched her nose and shook her head. “Perhaps you can shovel manure. I shall keep to cleaning the horse shoes and brushing the horses.”
He chuckled. “Very well then, Sera. Friends it is.”
“Friends it is, Oliver.”
She noticed how he winced at the mention of the name she’d chosen for him.
“Do you not like the name, Oliver?”
He shrugged. “It is as fine a name as any. But it is not mine. I know it is not. I cannot tell you how, it simply isn’t.”
She knew that her face gave away the disappointment she felt.
Do not make a cake of yourself, Seraphina. Of course, he was not going to love the name. Because it simply isn’t his.
“Did you choose it? You did! I can tell by the way the corners of your lips have turned down with disappointment. I am sorry. It is a fine name.”
Recovering her composure, she shook her head.
“No, no,” she wiggled her index finger at him. “We shall find you a better one. Benedict?”
“By Jove’s beard, no,” he answered with a smirk.
“I
have a cousin named Benedict but if it does not suit, very well. Daniel.”
Here, he tilted his head to one side and scratched his chin.
“A fine name, but again. Not mine.”
“Arthur?”
Another headshake. She sighed with feigned frustration and thought.
“Merlin,” the grin appeared on her face quite involuntarily. As predicted, he broke into chuckles once more.
“Merlin? Am I to be a magician as well as a stable hand? Perhaps I am to perform miracles with my pitchfork. Turn it into a flying broom?”
She found herself laughing, delighted at the lightness of their conversation.
“Very well. Not Merlin. Excalibur.”
He broke into fits of laughter and raised both of his hands in surrender.
“Heavens forfend, Lady Seraphina. You are a force. Oliver will do me just fine.” He paused and winked at her. “Now that I know my only friend has chosen it for me, I will get used to it all the easier. In fact, I may grow to like it just fine.”
She nodded, “Well then, my work here is done. Perhaps I ought to take you the rest of the way to the stables. George will wonder if you’ve gotten lost.”
She rose without further comment and waited for him to do the same.
The two walked the rest of the way to the stables side by side, settling into an easy banter Seraphina had to admit made her heart sing with happiness. She rarely ever had the chance to truly be herself. In fact, it was only Cynthia she could really trust. And her sister, of course, was hardly ever nearby.
She had a difficult time even with her lady friends to let this silly, playful side of herself shine. It would be considered unseemly for lady to tell jokes or laugh out loud. Yet with him, with this stranger, she could.
Perhaps it is because he is a stranger that I am so free. Maybe if he knew who he was then it would be quite different.
For now, she decided to simply enjoy the freedom of being herself and not worry about the reasons or implications. It was nice to just live in the moment.
They arrived at the stable only a few minutes later. Much too soon for Seraphina’s liking.
Oliver stopped in front of the archway that led into the stable yard. The path here changed from a dirt road to cobble stone which stretched through the yard.
When he set into motion again, it was with a curiosity on his face as he took in the large area. The stable, a two-story building, was ahead of them. Seraphina led him straight there, for in all likelihood, this was where George could be found. Either there, or in the workroom.
As they stepped through the stable doors, Oliver walked past the empty loose boxes and the harness room to the right and then turned down the hall. The sick box was to their left and up ahead, stalls containing a number of their horses stood. Oliver walked from stall to stall, reading the names of the horses contained therein.
“A magnificent gelding. A beautiful stallion. A thoroughbred,” he mumbled to himself.
He is remembering being around horses. Another sign that his current state will not last forever.
“You know your way around horses,” she said as she followed him.
He nodded, but there was something odd about the expression he carried on his face. His forehead was in deep wrinkles and he swayed his head back and forth.
“I do. It seems familiar. However, there is something uncomfortable about being in this barn. I cannot quite express it. It is almost a feeling of doom.”
“Perhaps a fear of the unknown? That you might not be good at being a stable hand? If it is so, then I am certain Papa will simply move you to another area. The gardens, perhaps?”
He shrugged. “I am not certain what the feeling is. You may well be right. Perhaps my head is telling me I am not a stable hand…”
“If ye cannea handle the cuddies, I dinnae have use for ye here.”
Seraphina looked up and shook her head.
“Please be kind to my friend here. He was brought to us quite by accident and he doesn’t know who he is or where he’s from.”
The old Scot shrugged, and he stood before Oliver, who towered over him.
“I dinnae care where ye fae, laddie.”
It was clear from the expression on Oliver’s face that he had trouble understanding George’s accent. And she had to admit, the groom was putting it on quite thick. Over the many years George had worked for the Camden family, he’d learned to speak without his thick Scottish accent. However, when he was upset, or if he wanted to make it hard for somebody, he’d slip back into it with ease.
“George,” she scolded gently, causing the man to sigh.
“Very well. Ye best learn to work with me horses, laddie. I do not care where you are from. Or what ye call yeself. Do ye understand me now?”
“Yes, sir. I do. And I will do my very best. I promise.”
The groom shook his head and looked at Seraphina.
“His Grace surely knows how to make me day difficult, lassie. Excuse me. My Lady.” He bowed. “I supposed I ought to take ye to yer chamber. Come on then,” he motioned for Oliver to join him.
Suddenly, Seraphina found herself quite unwilling to part ways with him just yet. Something inside of her pulled her after him.
“I’d like to come. I never get a chance to see the living quarters of the stable staff,” she wondered if the requested sounded as odd to George as it did to her. It appeared not to, for he simply shrugged. Or perhaps he was simply used to her strange requests. Such as allowing her to pose as a boy to spend time cleaning the horses in exchange for vast quantities of ale and honey bread.
She followed George and Oliver outside and around to where a small staircase led to the area above the stable. She’d never ventured up there, never had reason to.
I wonder what it is like. I imagine it will be rather cozy, so close to the horses. And convenient.
George opened a door and led them down a narrow, boiling hallway. There were doors on both sides of the hall, ten in total. They stopped at the one on the far right and he pushed it open.
“There ye go.” He motioned for Oliver to enter and then glanced at Seraphina with an apologetic smile. “‘Tis a bit mingin. Wasn’t expecting more company.”
Oliver stepped into the room and she could tell from the way his expression changed that he was quite horrified by what he saw.
Curious, she too peeked inside.
“Oh. Faith. It is…” She searched for a word other than tiny, ghastly, dirty, or George’s expression of mingin, and then settled on ‘quaint’. “Quaint indeed. There is even a small window.” She pointed at the tiny cutout that allowed a ray of light into the room.
“Quaint. Yes.”
Oliver sat on the bed which was made of straw and did not look comfortable at all. In addition to the bed, there was a tiny table, large enough for one, a chair which looked as though it might fall apart upon occupancy, and a rusty storage chest. She noticed that there was no pillow, just a sack of straw.
“George, could you at least fetch him a proper pillow?”
With a grunt, the old man disappeared, muttering under his breath.
“I am ever so sorry. I did not know this is what the condition of the stable boys’ quarters are. I doubt my Father knows either. I shall speak to him at once.”
Oliver shook his head. “Please, do not fret on my behalf. This is quite all right. Who knows where I slept before this. I might have resided out of doors.”
She frowned. “I doubt that. However, if you wish, I will say no more.”
“Thank you,” he replied, just as George returned. He tossed a small, but clean, pillow at Oliver as well as a blanket.
“There ye go. That ought to do ye for now. Now, if you’ll excuse me, My Lady. I have the cuddies to attend to.” He turned around swiftly. “I’ll expect ye to join me in just a moment. Over there, at the paddock.”
With that, George left. Suddenly aware that she was in an enclosed building with a man she did not know, Seraphina grew
wary.
It was not Oliver who caused her alarm. It was the idea of anybody else seeing her there with him or leaving the servant quarters without a chaperone.
Her mother would be alarmed, and she was certain she would not be permitted to return to the stables at all.
I cannot risk that. As much as I wish to remain near him, I must depart.
The Trouble with Saving a Duke: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 5