Seraphina blinked at her mother. “Cynthia is happy there and she chose that life. If I thought it would make me happy, I might dedicate myself to the orphans too.”
Her mother gasped in exasperation and turned to her husband. “Augustus, please. Talk to your daughter.”
Silence fell between the three while Seraphina stood with her arms crossed.
Her father looked from her to her mother and back again. He sighed as he rose.
“Eleanora, I appreciate your assistance in this matter, but I believe it will be more fruitful if I have a word with our daughter alone.”
The expression on her mother’s face changed at once. Where she had been sitting there with a look of anticipation, even victory. She now looked outraged at the change in the situation. Her head whipped around to her husband but seeing his face, eyes narrowed, and lips pressed together, she knew there was no arguing with him.
“Very well. As you see fit, Your Grace.” She rose slowly, taking the time to smooth her dress before leaving the room. As she passed Seraphina, she leaned in to her daughter.
“This is what is best for you, even if you cannot see it now.”
Seraphina leaned forward so they were almost cheek to cheek.
“Was it best for you, mother?”
Lady Oxshire said nothing and instead made her way to the door, her footsteps slowly departing down the hall.
“Seraphina, have a seat, please.” Her father motioned for the chair her mother had just departed from. As she sat, she felt the warmth still coming from the seat.
“Papa, I thought you promised me no…”
He raised his index finger to silence her. At once, Seraphina did as he’d requested and folded her hands in her lap. She found it so much easier to obey her father and respect his authority than her mother.
“I know we had a conversation, the two of us. I know. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it. However. Your mother is not wrong. You are picking up somewhat of a reputation as being strong headed and… difficult. We must find a husband for you.”
Seraphina shrugged, she knew well that her personality was considered contrary and difficult. “But must it be Lord Alderbridge? Why can it not be somebody else?”
“Who else?” Her father threw his hands up. “Who else, Seraphina? For I have presented you with every lord I can think of that appeared suitable and you have refused every single one. You know well, I hope, that most other fathers are not as lenient when it comes to the matches for their daughter.”
She nodded. Indeed, two of her friends had recently been married off to men they did not like. From their letters, the marriages were as miserable as expected.
“I know, Papa. I am grateful. I only wish that I…why can I not choose a husband of my own?”
“Because you are not the daughter of a merchant. You are not the daughter of a farmer. You are the daughter of the Duke of Oxshire and I cannot allow you to choose and marry who you want. It is unheard of and you know it. and given your sister’s choice…” he shook his head, “given Cynthia’s choice it is imperative that I find you a good match.”
“Why not find a match for Mary first? She is eager.”
It was true, her sister had all but planned out her wedding. She’d chosen names for her children, pending the approval of her husband, and daydreamed of an entire life together with him.
“She is the younger daughter. You know very well that our society frowns upon the younger daughter being married first. It was a minor scandal to have her come out with both of my older daughters out and not married.”
Seraphina shook her head and looked out of the window. “And that is the most important thing, is it not? What the ton thinks. Lest it’s the on dit that the Duke of Oxshire cannot find husbands for his daughters. Lest the ladies at the Almack’s talk about us.”
Her father got up and walked around his heavy desk, pulling the chair up next to her.
“I know this is not what you want; and truth be told, I cannot blame you. I cannot see Lord Alderbridge as my son-in-law either. However, I cannot politically afford to alienate him at this very moment. I need his allegiance. Can you not at the very least humor him? Be a little attentive? Perhaps take him for a walk with the dogs? He will be departing for a lengthy trip to India in a month’s time, which will buy us some time to consider our options.”
Seraphina nodded, hardly hearing what her father was saying. The moment he mentioned taking Lord Alderbridge on a walk, her mind had begun to race with just one thought. Getting Alderbridge close enough to Oliver so he might perhaps jog the young man’s memory.
She looked up at her father.
“Please, let it vex you no longer, Papa. I shall take Lord Alderbridge on a stroll across the property. Show him the lake and the garden beyond. And perhaps even the stable yard. I hear he is fond of the horses.”
Lord Oxshire’s eyes lit up with excitement.
“Indeed, he is very fond of horses. What an excellent idea!” he leaned in and gave her a small kiss on the cheek before rising.
“I am glad we could come to an understanding, my Darling.”
She rose and curtsied to him before departing.
Later on that evening, Seraphina was seated on the window sill of her bedchamber, a pillow propped behind her as she read.
She bit her lip as she flipped the pages, her eyes growing wide with the excitement on the page before her when there was a knock on the door.
She glanced up and when the door opened, she saw her sister standing there, a bunch of wildflowers in her hand.
Placing the book on the table by the window, Seraphina jumped off the windowsill.
“Cynthia? Why have you brought me flowers?”
Her sister shook her head. “I have not. They were laying on the floor outside your chamber.”
Seraphina took the basket from her sister and found that it was full of the same kind of wildflowers she’d spent all morning gathering. They were of course not the same. The ones she’d collected lay on the ground, trampled upon in her silly rage.
She moved the flowers with her hand to see just how many there were and then noticed a small, bound bouquet of them underneath all the loose ones. She sat the basket on the table and gently removed the flower bouquet. It was small and clumsily put together, but beautiful, nonetheless. It was made up entirely of a mix of yellow lilies, sunflowers, and calla lilies mixed along with assorted greenery.
Her heart was full of joy at the sight, for she had a good idea where the flowers had come from.
“Sera? Who brought them?”
She turned and looked at her sister who was standing beside the table, curiously surveying the assembled flower bouquet in her sister hand.
Seraphina shrugged but made sure not to look at her sister, for Cynthia always knew when she was being lied to. A quality that served her well as Assistant Matron. That, Seraphina was sure of.
“Well, perhaps this letter will tell us,” Cynthia grinned and stuck her tongue out as she waved the letter in the air.
“Thia! That is wrong of you and you know it. Give it to me,” Seraphina reached for the letter but her sister, taller and stronger than her, raised it into the air.
“Not until you tell me. It is from a man, is it not? Who? Tell me.”
Exasperated, Seraphina dropped her shoulders. She knew that her sister would not read the letter without her permission. Mary would, she was certain, but not Cynthia. She was too soft hearted, too kind. But it was exactly those qualities that made her the ideal person to confide in.
Seraphina looked at her sister and took a deep breath.
“I cannot be certain, but I imagine they are from Oliver. We had a talk this morning and he…I collected the flowers for you but then I had a temper tantrum and ruined them. I imagine he salvaged what he could and—”
“Wait,” the grin had disappeared from Cynthia’s face and she started at her sister.
“Oliver? The amnesiac we found in the woods? He is send
ing you flowers?”
Again, she shrugged. “I believe so. You may read the letter. There will not be anything untoward in it, I’m sure.”
Confusion rife on her face, Cynthia picked up the letter and unfolded it. After scanning it, she handed it to her sister.
“It is signed Excalibur. I imagine it is one of your jokes.”
She could not help but smile as she took the letter from her sister and read.
Dear Stable Boy,
Unfortunately, the flowers you so carefully collected encountered an unexpected storm and could not be salvaged. I hope these hastily collected replacements will serve their purpose just as well. You will also find a small bouquet that I have assembled myself, to match your pretty, yellow dress.
My sincerest regards,
Excalibur.
PS: I believe it is safe to assume that in my previous life, I was not a gardener, nor a florist.
She grinned, the words only confirming what she’d already suspected.
“Faith, Seraphina. You are blushing like a bride in love. You cannot… you have not…” Cynthia sat down, her tan face paling with the realization of her sister’s entanglement, “how have you even spent time with him?”
Seraphina cocked her head to one side. “You know how I enjoy my secret time in the stable.”
“You still sneak to the horses at all hours? I thought you had outgrown that habit.”
“Never. Not until I can do so at my own leisure and not under disguise. In any case, it gives me freedom. You know how it is when you are constantly under mother’s critical eye.”
Cynthia nodded, a haunted expression on her face. No doubt she was remembering the years as ‘oldest daughter’ and the pressure she had been under. Still, the concern in her voice was evident when next she spoke.
“I understand wanting the freedom, but to entangle yourself with the stranger in such a way? Sera, you do not know him. He doesn’t know himself. He might be dangerous.”
Seraphina laughed. “He is not. I have spent time with him. He is no danger. He is kind and funny and caring. No. I would not be surprised if he turned out some nobleman.”
Cynthia grimaced.
“You know Mama believes he is a spy, sent by the Keswicks.”
Seraphina laughed so loud at the notion Cynthia had to shush her, though she too grinned.
“Oh, Mama. What a notion. Why would they send a spy that poses as a man without memory? What information could a stable hand get them? It is ridiculous.”
“I agree, but you know well that anything out of the ordinary, anything odd, always comes back to the Keswicks, at least in the eyes of our parents.”
Seraphina nodded. “And Mary. She is beginning to live by the age-old feud as well.” The sisters sat in silence for some time until Cynthia reached over and squeezed her hand.
“Promise you that you will take good care of yourself. Do not give in to an infatuation. Before you make any decisions that could alter the path of your life, you must be certain.”
“I promise,” she said but it was not good enough for her sister, who squeezed her harder.
“Hear me when I say, you must be sure. Do not take decisions lightly. Do not let your heart guide you on its own. You must think things through. You know the price I paid for my decision.”
Seraphina nodded. Their mother had refused to speak to Cynthia for a year after she’d announced her decision to forgo a marriage in favor of charity work. Even their father, who favored Cynthia among all his children, had struggled. It was only for the past year or so that their parents had accepted Cynthia’s choices.
“I know it has been hard for you. And I promise that I will heed your words. Always.”
The sisters clasped hands and smiled at one another when suddenly, Cynthia grinned at her.
“A Keswick spy, sister.”
Seraphina was overcome by laughter and shook so hard she had to hold on to the back of the chair.
“Oliver. Dear Oliver, a spy sent by our mortal enemy. Oh Mama, sometimes she is good for a laugh.”
Chapter 14
Liam stood and surveyed the mess on the floor.
“Harry, you bugger,” he muttered under his breath and picked up the maps from the floor. He would not bother reassembling them on the table. There was no point. He’d take them back to his chamber and survey them there. There was not much else he could do anyhow. He’d sent scouts out, made inquiries. Until the messengers returned, there was nothing left to do.
I could ride out and search. Visit every posting inn between here and York, but what good would it to? I have no idea where he went.
No, the best he could do was remain here and support his aunt and cousin through this difficult time. Harry was in no frame of mind to handle the estate on his own. As for his aunt, Liam feared, was slowly descending into melancholy. He would write to Lorraine tonight and let her know he had to remain here until word of Lysander was received. She would understand. He was certain of it.
He smiled as he walked out of the library with the maps folded under his arm. Thoughts of Lorraine always made him smile.
As he made his way downstairs, he glanced out the window where Harry was just returning from the village via carriage. He looked thinner and gaunter than he usually did; the worry over his brother written all over his face. He felt sorry for his cousin, truly. Harry, the second son, had never really found a purpose in life, other than as Lysander’s shadow. How lost he had to feel without his brother.
Liam walked past the drawing room and caught a glimpse of his aunt, the Duchess, sitting on the chaise in front of the fireplace. Due to the warm weather, Liam did not usually have the fireplaces at Hurlock Castle stocked except for at night. At Emberborough however, the fireplaces were going at all times in the common rooms. While Liam and Lysander, did not enjoy the heat, the Duchess and Harry suffered with the chronic cold. Liam assumed this was due to their frail constitution.
“Liam? Is that you?” the Duchess called out as he sighed, making his way into the drawing room.
“Lady Emberborough, how are you?”
He could see she’d been crying for her eyes were red and her cheeks were still wet. She reached out for his hand. Her own felt dry and almost brittle. Beside her he saw a bottle of wine, almost empty. A cup was clutched in her hand.
“I am better now that you are here with us. God knows I love my son, but Harry is utterly useless when it comes to taking responsibilities for the search for Lysander.”
Liam cleared his throat. “Harry does a fine job taking care of the estate in Lysander’s absence, Aunt.” It was not entirely true, but he felt the need to say something positive to cheer his aunt.
She raised an eyebrow and then exhaled dramatically as she fell back against the chaise.
“Faith, Liam. If something happened to Lysander, Heaven forbid, we would be doomed. Harry might think he is made to be duke, and to run the affairs but he is not. And Lysander relies on him too much, making him feel as though he is right in his presumption.”
Liam sighed. “I understand. He tries. He tries his best and it is difficult to be the younger son, as you know.”
She shrugged glancing back up at the family portrait above the fireplace. Liam was growing hot from the roaring fire, sweat pooling around his collar.
“The second and third sons of the Keswick family have done well for themselves for generations. There is no reason why Harry should have struggled so. Look at your own father. William was your Grandfather Francis’ third son, in an even worse position than Harry and he died an Earl. And your own brother is blossoming as a vicar.”
Liam nodded and glanced out the window at the mention of his father. Unlike Lysander and Harry, he had not been close to his own father. Always a strong, forceful man, William Keswick had carved out a successful career in the military for himself. So successful that the Crown had made him Earl of Millsbury. That honor made his father feel equal to his brother, the Duke of Emberborough.
&nbs
p; “I earned my title; he inherited his. I reckon that makes us equal,” his father had always said to Liam.
“It is not so easy for everyone.”
His aunt looked up; her eyes fixed to the family portrait above them. It showed his aunt in her younger days when she was still a beauty, still strong. Beside her stood her husband, the Duke: tall, broad shouldered, and with a grin on his face. Their three children were before them, Lysander, a young man with the same mischievous smile he still has to this day. Harry, a shy young boy then, and was closest to his father. It was markedly so, as it portrayed the Duke’s hand resting on his small shoulder. Before Harry, seated with a shock of red hair, was Henrietta, their little sister.
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