by Abbi Glines
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Compton,” Miriam replied then curtsied. No one had ever curtsied to me before nor had they called me lady. I believed I liked that quite a lot. I should tell Alice we were to change my name to Lady Compton. I did not believe Alice would curtsy to me, however. She was much too stubborn for such as that. I would ask though, for it was rather lovely.
“I was looking for you,” I informed her then. “Alice is taking her rest and I was to be taking mine too, but you see I didn’t know if Ashington would truly introduce us and I was curious. Alice says I am much too curious. I don’t think there is such a thing. Do you?”
Miriam Bathurst smiled at me and shook her head. “No, I don’t think there is. One can learn a lot with curiosity, I suppose.”
I liked her. “Do you want to go for a walk in the fairy forest? We have one you know. It is just over there and Alice is to take me, but if she awakens to find me gone, I am positive we won’t go on the walk nor will I get jam with my tea.”
Miriam pursed her lips together as if the idea of no jam was as terrible as I thought it to be. “No jam sounds awful,” she replied. “However, seeing as you and I just met and no one other than me knows where you are, it might not be wise for us to go for a walk. I would love to see the fairy forest, but I do think it would be wise if Alice knew where you were.”
That wasn’t what I wanted her to say. Adults rarely said what I wanted them to say. It was truly frustrating. “I could leave Alice a note.” Although my handwriting wasn’t excellent and I wasn’t sure how to spell very many words.
Miriam nodded as if thinking this idea over. If she agreed, I could have her write the note. Alice would likely be able to read it then. “Yes, well, that is a good idea, but what of your mother? Wouldn’t she be worried if you went walking with a stranger in the forest?”
I shook my head. “Not at all. My mother is dead. I have very little memory of her. She was blonde and spoke with a lovely accent. My father said she was French.”
The smile left Miriam’s face and I remembered that talking about dead people often bothered adults. I wasn’t sure as to why, but it always made them frown. Alice said it makes them sad to think of someone no longer living. “Don’t be sad. It is alright. I have Ashington. Alice said I am very lucky indeed.”
“Yes, I believe Alice is right,” Miriam agreed with a smile not as bright as her other one. I did wish I hadn’t mentioned my dead mother. I liked her other smile.
“Alice is often right, I am afraid,” I told her. “Ashington said that was what made her an excellent governess.”
“I will have to agree with Lord Ashington,” Miriam replied.
It was then that Alice’s voice rang out, calling my name. Miriam heard it too and she lifted her gaze from me to the path that led back to the cottage. If Alice caught me talking to Miriam, I would be in trouble. Possibly punished with no jam for many days.
“That’s Alice. She’s awake,” I told Miriam, staring toward the cottage, hoping Alice didn’t come walking out of it.
“Perhaps it might be wise if you hurried back before she decides not to take you to the fairy forest. Would be a shame to miss such a lovely adventure,” Miriam said.
I nodded my head in agreement. “And the jam,” I added.
“Yes, of course, the jam.”
“It was lovely to meet you,” I told her.
She curtsied again and replied, “it was indeed a pleasure Lady Compton.”
Smiling, I turned and ran back toward the cottage. I did so like it when people curtsied to me. I would suggest that Alice do so, although I did doubt she would. Alice wasn’t an easy one to convince of much. Hopefully my leaving the cottage wouldn’t be cause to punish me. Perhaps Alice had slept well and was in a fine mood. One could always hope.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Earl of Ashington
Lady Wellington had informed me that Miriam had gone for a walk amongst the gardens. After another lively breakfast with Miriam, her aunt and uncle and her sister this morning, I had taken my leave to the office to catch up on work. I hadn’t intended to be so long, but I had looked up from my desk to find it was well past noon. Lady Wellington had been coming in the front door with her shoes in her hand and flushed cheeks from the sunshine when I came out of the office.
I was glad to see Miriam’s family felt so comfortable here. It said much for the future if her family liked me and Chatwick Hall. I had to keep in mind they hadn’t met the most important person just yet, but the more I came to know of them, the more I believed they would react the way I needed them to. The way Emma needed them to.
Lady Wellington’s disregard for the way society believed one should behave was a blessing really. She didn’t have strict ideas of what a household should and should not be. I had rarely seen her in shoes since her arrival. She also found it amusing to tell stories about her family and home in America that would make most ladies of the ton blush with embarrassment.
I scanned the grounds as I made my way around to the gardens, looking for Miriam’s red hair I was sure would shine with the day’s bright sunlight. It wasn’t until I reached the back of Chatwick Hall that I saw her sitting amongst the roses again. She was staring off toward the path that led to the cottage, and for a moment, I felt a shred of panic. Had she walked back there? Had she seen Emma? Then she turned her head before I could worry too deeply and smiled at me. The relief from just a simple smile was greater than she knew. I returned one of my own and made my way over to the woman I was almost sure would be exactly what I needed in a wife. Introducing her to Emma, however, would wait. I wasn’t ready to take that step.
“I must apologize for getting lost in my work. I meant only to do some correspondence that had been delayed. Yet it seems I managed to spend an entire morning locked away in my office.”
Miriam did not seem to hold any resentment for being left to her own whims. “Work won’t do itself, I’m afraid,” she replied. “Especially tedious correspondence.”
She was very agreeable and not at all demanding. At least she appeared that way. I wasn’t sure another lady of the ton that equaled her beauty would feel the same. I had found the more beautiful and sought after the female, the more they demanded attention. This was not the case with Miriam. Part of me felt as if perhaps she should demand more from others. She had a suitable dowry provided by her uncle and her beauty was truly unmatched. Shouldn’t she enjoy the perks that came with such gifts? Was I fortunate to have found her or was I being selfish to claim her before she truly had time to shine?
Perplexed by my sudden moment of wanting more for Miriam than she herself seemed to require, I took the seat beside her. Before I could think of my words more clearly and say things in a clear manner, I blurted out, “You really should expect more from a gentleman.”
Miriam turned her head to look at me, but for a moment, before a soft laugh escaped her bow-shaped pink lips. “Is that so, my lord?”
“Yes,” I replied simply, afraid what else I may say if I allowed myself.
“I expect what I believe is important. Honesty, kindness, intelligence, a man who is responsible and, of course, has an appreciation for the written word. I do not believe it is important to expect a man to bend to a woman’s every wish. It would do nothing more than spoil her and I daresay that ruins a lady. No matter how beautiful she may be.”
Her ideas were so unique yet so well said. How was it possible that every moment I spent with her, she became even more appealing? I wasn’t sure any amount of time spent with her would produce a quality in her I found distasteful.
“You speak as if you have known many spoiled females,” I replied.
She lifted a dainty shoulder then sighed. “Oh, I have. One doesn’t have to look very far.”
Especially amongst the ton. London was full of those who thought only of their own rewards. I had met very few who wanted more for someone other than themselves. Miriam would do whatever she must for her sister and that said m
ore about her than anything else. It made me want her for Emma. I wanted Emma to grow into a lady who believed such as Miriam.
I paused then in my thoughts. Did I? Did I truly want Emma to grow to think of only others? Not to once take a moment to choose something for herself? Did I want Emma to believe her happiness wasn’t important?
No. I did not. I wanted Emma to want more for herself than to only seek others’ happiness. I wanted her to make decisions that would make her smile and I wanted her to have the life she deserved.
“I’m sorry if I have offended you,” Miriam said as she studied me. “I often speak the truth or what I feel is the truth. My mother always said I was too blunt and should bite my tongue. I fear I never listened.”
Realizing my thoughts must have put a scowl on my face, I quickly remedied that and softened the line of my lips. “I prefer honesty and bluntness,” I told her. “I also agree with you fully.”
She didn’t seem convinced, but she also did not push the matter. Miriam Bathurst rarely pushed anything. She wouldn’t search for her happiness. She was only concerned with her sister’s. Something deep within me ached for the little girl who hadn’t been shown love from her father. The young woman whose mother wanted her to sacrifice her future for her family. How could I take advantage of her situation, if I couldn’t accept a similar future for Emma?
“Noble,” I said and Miriam turned her gaze once again to me. Her eyebrows lifted in question at my singular word. “You forgot noble. A gentleman should be noble. Not in mere title but in deed. He should make decisions based on what is right and what is fair,” I finished.
Miriam thought upon my words but for a moment then nodded her head once. “Indeed,” she agreed. “He must be noble.”
There were many things in that moment that could be said but a battle was waging inside me. I wasn’t sure if I was noble enough and when the time came could I be labeled as such. Miriam Bathurst was exactly what Emma needed but was Emma and myself what Miriam needed… or deserved?
Standing I held out a hand to Miriam. “Take a walk with me. Let’s enjoy the sunshine for it is England, and at any moment, the rain may come.”
Miriam placed her gloved hand in mine and stood up. “Sounds like an excellent idea. Although I am not sure the rain will come today. There is not a cloud in the sky,” she replied.
I felt the moisture in the breeze and knew it would be here sooner than either of us wanted it to be. “Regardless, let’s enjoy the moment,” I said.
Miriam walked beside me as I thought of a topic of conversation that would take my mind from the previous things we had spoken of. The smell of roses caught the breeze and it was if the air was but their perfume. I watched as Miriam inhaled deeply, taking in their scent. I was sure I’d never seen a sight as lovely as she. Sunlight often highlighted the imperfections on one’s face, yet with her, it just brightened the purity of her beauty. I could be happy with her. Not just because I was attracted to her outward appearance but because she was a female I truly enjoyed being around. I sought out her presence and desired her conversation.
“Tell me, Miriam, what is your favorite piece of literature?” I asked her, realizing again how little I knew of the things that delighted her. I was sure no one had ever taken the time to find out what they were and I wanted to know. I wanted her to feel like she mattered. Her dreams, her joys, her dislikes, they all mattered.
“Justine ,” she replied.
“Truly?” I asked surprised by her response. I was unsure if she was but teasing me or if this was, in fact, her favorite novel.
Miriam smirked. “So you’ve read it?” she asked me.
“I have. Like you I too enjoy reading.”
“Even Marquis de Sade?” she asked with an amused tone.
“Especially Marquis de Sade,” I assured her and that caused her to laugh. It was a sound I was sure I would never tire of and felt a moment of melancholy at the idea I might not always hear it.
“Tis nothing but a miracle Mother never found the book in my room. I found it in my father’s library after his death. Mother has no interest in reading and never went in there herself. I don’t even know if she would know the plot of the book, but for fear she had heard gossip among the shallow-minded, I took it and hid it in my room. I lost three nights sleep unable to put it down.”
I pictured a younger Miriam hiding in her room with candlelight, reading Justine while others were sleeping and couldn’t help but smile. It was rather adventurous for someone any younger than she was now. However, knowing she’d read it and enjoyed it also stirred me in a way that was not good for either of us.
“And what is yours, my lord?” she asked me then.
“Ashington ,” I reminded her.
“Ashington ,” she repeated.
“I must say that my favorite novel has recently become Justine by The Marquis de Sade,” I replied honestly.
Miriam laughed loudly this time and the pleasure from being the one to make her laugh with such freedom was rather intense. She was becoming more than I had planned for and I wasn’t sure how to handle it. I wanted Miriam Bathurst in my life and in my bed. I just needed her to want me for herself. Not because I would be exactly what everyone in her life wanted.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Miriam Bathurst
Whitney had been ready to explore by Sunday morning after breakfast. I still wasn’t sure if she had been ill or if she had simply been giving me time to be with Ashington alone. As grateful as I was for the time I had spent with him getting to know him, I was more relieved by Whitney’s recovery. However, tomorrow we would leave for London and I worried about her making that trip again so soon if, in fact, the first trip had put her to bed.
I enjoyed watching her talk to the horses in the stable as if they were as human as she and the way she inhaled the perfumed air as we walked through the rose garden. She was truly taken in by the splendor of Chatwick Hall, and even if I was here only for the reason I suspected, I was still thankful she had been given this experience. It was one of her many dreams to live in a place such as this.
While Whitney studied the different roses, calling out a different type of rose with excitement when she found them, I watched the forest in the back of the property where I knew a path was well-disguised. I thought of Emma and what she may be doing today. It had yet to rain, which was a rare gift and the sunshine was out again with but a few clouds. Yesterday, I had thought Ashington would mention her or possibly take me to meet her but neither happened.
Instead, we rode horses and had a picnic. He was an excellent companion and as I had laid in bed last night, I realized I laughed more that day than I had in a very long time. As lovely as the day had been, I did wonder when or if I would be introduced to Emma. His not doing so yet could only mean I had not met his qualifications. Perhaps that was a bit harsh, but it was all I could think. It was hindering an otherwise perfect day.
“Have you ever seen so many Tudor roses in one place?” Whitney exclaimed with glee. Her hands were clasped together as she looked reverently on at the roses she had just come across. I would admit that I knew little of roses, but I did enjoy them. Deciding to focus on Whitney, I turned and walked back down the small path toward her.
“Which are the Tudor roses?” I asked.
Whitney frowned at me. “You can’t be serious. With all those books you bury your head in, you have read nothing of roses?”
Whitney was not one to read, so she did not understand the love of novels or the difference in a story and a book meant to educate. “I read novels that take me to another place and time. They give me an escape from the reality in which I live. I do not read books on botany. I have little interest in that sort of knowledge. However, it is clear that you do. Father had some books in his library that I believe you would find enjoyable. There aren’t any specifically about roses, but there are a few about the flower gardens of the English countryside.”
Her eyes widened at that. “Truly?” she a
sked as if the idea had never crossed her mind. She had never been one for stories, even when she was young. I tried to read to her and she never made it through one complete story before falling asleep.
“Yes, I should have thought of bringing you one before now,” I said, realizing all along I had been placing the wrong book in her hands.
“You did try to convince me that books were magical and I never agreed. One can’t blame you for not thinking of me when you found the garden books.”
“It could also be I was terrified you would ask me to read them to you and then I would be the one falling asleep after but a few pages,” I teased her.
Her laughter was always good for my soul. It had been since we were young. Whitney’s amusement faded quickly as she stared out across the back yards toward the trees. “I think I saw someone,” she said, studying the exact location of the path that led to the cottage.
There was no sign of someone there now, but that did not mean Emma wasn’t hiding just inside. Would she come out with Whitney here? I glanced at my sister and had to quickly decide if her meeting Emma was something that should happen.
Although I trusted my sister, I knew only what I had come to in my own imagination. I did not know the exact details of Emma’s being here, but I did know her last name was Compton. The rest took very little imagination. For if Ashington had a younger sister, she would be the daughter of Nicholas’s mother and not here at Chatwick with Ashington being hidden in a cottage.
“Tis but the breeze playing with the branches,” I told her and then took her hand to lead her somewhere else before Emma resurfaced.
“No, it was very clear. There was a little girl just inside the tree line. As if there was a path hidden.” Whitney continued to watch the area for another sighting.
“Perhaps fairies then,” I replied, remembering how she would search for the Fae so ardently when she was younger.