by Rebecca Dash
She had to force herself to keep going until she got over the gentle hill that preceded her destination. The round tops of the apple trees became more and more visible until she could see the full detail of them. The luscious, red fruit against green leaves was pretty when they were all lined up in rows. Amelia went to the beginning of one of those rows and looked down as far as it stretched. The trees reached at each other across a path of green grass. There was no one at the end of it. She strolled at the edge of the orchard, peeking down each trail, and finding only disappointment. The more empty walkways she found, the more her enthusiasm for the day was stripped from her. The place was deserted. She walked down a path between apples until she reached the center of the place.
“What now?” she said, leaning back against an apple tree.
They never agreed upon when to meet exactly, or even if they would meet at all. It could be too early or late for all that she knew. How long was too long to wait? Amelia had no answer except that it wasn’t time to leave yet. And after several minutes had gone by, it wasn’t time then either.
“Are you not the least bit tempted by an apple?” said Lord Thoram from behind.
Amelia let out a brief scream of surprise. “Do you enjoy sneaking up on me wherever we are?”
“I have been told that I am naturally quiet.”
“That is very annoying. In the future, try to make some noise.”
He stomped around the tree in an exaggerated way and wrinkled his eyebrows. “I shall do my best from now on to be a forest ogre. Then you will hear me crashing around.”
“You would have to do something about your face. No ogre looks like you.”
He smiled. “Like what?”
“I do not know. Something else.”
“Attractive, Miss Amelia?”
“Agreeable, Lord Thoram.”
“Attractive enough for you to meet me here.”
“I did nothing of the sort. This orchard is where I take my walks. You just happen to know it.”
“And I waited for you here, because I think you are attractive.”
With her back against the tree, Amelia rolled off it and walked. “Are you always so forward?”
He walked with her. “I cannot help what I am. I have been bred to be a duke.”
“Is that how they all are?”
“That is how my father is. You take what you want.”
“What of charm or finesse?”
“There is a certain charm to it. I am honest enough.”
She laughed. “Because you could not hide your thoughts if you tried.”
“Why would I try? Why would I not want a beautiful woman to know she is beautiful?”
“Because it is not done, my lord.”
He picked an apple from a tree and held it out to her. “Would you like one?”
“No. I have heard you can get sick from uncooked fruit.”
“Nonsense. I have been eating apples from this orchard since I was a child.”
He took a bite of it himself, then picked another one for her. Amelia reached out. The tips of their fingers touched as she took it. Her hand shook. She almost dropped the fruit.
“Do you mean to tell me you have been coming here for years and have never taken an apple?” he said. “Even to cook later?”
“Of course not. I am no thief.”
“We have had a lot of trouble with thieves. Do not come here at night. You never know who you might run into. But in the daytime, you can have as many apples as you want.”
“Why not hire laborers yourself and have them picked?”
“I would, but my father sees no use in it. He makes enough from property already and cannot be bothered to even have a steward take care of the details of that. I will run things differently one day.”
“Perhaps I will help you.”
He stopped and gave her a sly smile. “Help me run things? Now who is being aggressive about what she wants?”
Amelia blushed. “I did not mean it that way.”
“In what other way could you help me, my duchess?”
“Do not make fun of it.” She turned from him, upset.
Lord Thoram stopped laughing. “It was not my intention to make you angry. I did not realize you could get hurt.”
“Well, of course I can.”
“Every time I see you, you are threatening me with grievous injury, refusing my help, or generally being the most spirited lady I have ever had the pleasure of meeting. I thought that may be all there was.”
“All I meant by it was that my family has done quite well on the farm we already have. Perhaps it can be expanded to include the orchard one day.”
“Then I am sorry that I misunderstood you, Miss Amelia. When I am duke, I will certainly discuss such an arrangement with your father. Unless you would rather make an introduction well before that?”
She stopped, looking up at him and speaking clearly. “We have discussed all this already, sir. All our pact demanded was one moment looking into my eyes. And here they are, bright as day.” She batted her eyelashes at him.
Lord Thoram stepped closer, holding her waist, leaning over and kissing her deeply. Amelia’s first instinct was to push him away, but there was no desire for it in her arms. The kiss was what she wanted, what she went there for. Not the meeting, or the banter, or even the subtle promise of a relationship. Everything was for that one moment, that kiss. It was worth nearly getting run over for. Amelia felt like she may be getting run over right then, legs weak, heart racing, fallen back into his arms. A first kiss. Her first. Heaven. Then he pulled away.
“I am quite taken with your eyes,” said Thoram.
It was a moment before Amelia spoke. “I should get back before someone comes looking.”
“Will they miss you?”
“Terribly.”
“Not as much as I.”
“Perhaps we will see each other in the orchard again soon then,” she said.
“It is my new favorite place to stroll.”
***
On her way back, Amelia walked past enormous fields and clusters of tightly grown trees. A rainy season had made the bark look over saturated, brown and soft, like clay. She felt light as a feather as she enjoyed the countryside, reliving the kiss over and over again in her mind. The air was sweeter. The sun was warm. She would have to make dinner as soon as she got home, and the twins would probably be rambunctious again. There was work still to be done. But everything was more wonderful than it had ever been. It was the best day of her life.
Amelia was in front of the wooden bridge that lead to the path home. She looked over at the farm to see if they were all still there, busy with their preparations. Her father and brother had left the house early that day. Much earlier than usual. She hardly saw either of them, except for that last glimpse of her father directing the work in the field. They weren’t working anymore. It was peculiar. She had never seen everything stop until the day was through. People were gathered around, shouting and waving for help. More and more were running in from the field. Her heart sank. She ran too, first by the river, then cutting through the crop. Strands of golden wheat whipped against her dress. Her ankle was on fire, but she picked up the pace until she could no longer catch a breath.
There was someone lying on the ground. She couldn’t see who it was. Luke knelt beside the man, shaking him. There was no response. Amelia knew right then, from some terrible place inside her, but she kept running. It was only the hope that kept her legs moving. When she finally saw the man’s face, eyes open in a frozen expression of pain, it was like hitting a wall. All the strength left her body. Amelia collapsed, skidding in the soil. Her father lay dead in the dirt. No amount of shaking would bring him back. The farmhands watched. It was all they could do. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Someone held his hand out to her. He was talking. She couldn’t hear a word of it, but swiped the hand away.
What would she tell her mother? Her younger siblings? The youngest could not even wa
lk yet. Her father’s favorite, who would never get to know the man. The greatest man in the entire world. Amelia’s mind unraveled on a perfect day.
Chapter 5
Months had passed since Mr. Grant’s death. Amelia’s mother still wore her mourning dress, which was once her evening dress, donned on many happier occasions. It had been dyed black since her husband’s passing. Mrs. Grant once mentioned, while in the throes of grief, that there would be no more happy occasions, anyway. What used to be a home filled with laughter had been transformed into a place of solitude and silence. Everyone attempted to grieve in their own ways, curled into their beds, keeping to themselves, or working for escape. Even the twins did not cause the trouble they were known for.
Amelia tried to keep everyone together, but it was difficult. She had stopped going to the orchard, and did her best not to think about Lord Thoram, or what they had begun. What good was daydreaming about something that would never be? He was a member of the nobility and she was a girl on a farm.
It was a quiet night, and the family had dinner together. The seats at the table were filled, except for the head, which remained conspicuously empty. Though Luke had become the man of the house, he always left that seat vacant out of respect for his late father.
Amelia watched as Luke pushed around the boiled potatoes on his plate before setting his knife and fork down and getting up. He hardly touched the roast at all. It had taken her hours to make it.
“Please finish your meal,” said their mother. “You need to keep up your strength.”
“I do not see what good it will do,” said Luke. “What point is there in worrying about my health? It did not help father. He was one of the healthiest men I knew. Strong as oxen.”
She nodded and put her face in her hands. Since her husband’s passing, Mrs. Grant had sunken inside herself, refusing to argue over such a trivial thing as an unfinished meal.
“I think we all need to be strong for each other,” said Amelia.
“There is still food on the table,” said Luke.
“A man’s strength has a bigger contribution to make to a home than a meal.”
“That depends on the man,” mumbled Prudence.
Luke stood stiffly, just staring at her. There was a knock at the front door. He took a moment to turn and go open it. One of the duke’s footmen waited outside. He was tall and in full livery, a black coat over yellow clothes and a white wig on his head. He had a metal lantern in one hand and a bottle of gin in the other.
“The night is upon us, Mr. Grant. If we are not full bosky within the hour, we are wasting it.”
Luke shook his head and let out a heavy sigh. The footman looked into the house, saw everyone, and gave a nervous smile.
“Good evening, all,” he said.
Luke took his friend by the arm and dragged him along as he walked out, closing the door behind them. Their steps fell heavily on the grass, but faded with distance as they headed down the road. Amelia went to the window and watched the lantern, a beacon in darkness, as it got farther away, crossing the bridge, and turning toward the farm.
“Why you allow Luke to go around with that footman is beyond me, mother,” she said.
“I have no control over what Luke does. I never did before. And he is now the head of the house, and can do as he pleases.”
“He would listen to you out of respect. That man is bound to get him into trouble.”
“He would have listened to your father, out of respect.” Mrs. Grant began to cry. “Me? I am not so certain. Besides, James is your brother’s closest friend. I do not know why you dislike him so. He seems to find you quite agreeable.”
Amelia’s face twisted in disgust. “I should hope not! In his eyes, I would wish to be the most disagreeable, maudlin, incompetent woman who ever lived. I may stroll into the fireplace and go up in smoke if he ever comes back here.”
“Stop it. You should learn to like him. There is never harm in enjoying the company of any man of good standing. What if one day you need someone to take care of you?”
“I hardly think it will be James that does the job. He can barely stand from the blue ruin sometimes. If he lasts long serving the duke, I shall be astonished.”
“People find themselves in odd places in life. One unexpected event can change the entirety of your prospects. You would do well to consider whatever opportunities present themselves unless you have a rich secret admirer I am not aware of.”
Amelia kept silent. She would never give herself to James, no matter what the circumstances were. It would be her preference to live in the woods if it came to that.
After cleaning up the table and seeing to it that the twins were asleep, Amelia retired to her bedroom, and stared longingly out the window at the night sky. The moon was bitter and pale that evening, not as lovely as it normally was. It was as if the heavens knew her life had been touched by tragedy. The house felt lonely since her father passed, and the farm suffered without his expert touch. Luke took over right away, but was struggling to make things work. The recent harvest had been terrible, with acres of ruined wheat to show for all that work.
Though Amelia was on the upper floor, she could still hear all the ruckus coming from outside. Loud voices that would rise and fall on the wind broke into her thoughts. Drunken laughter carried all the way from the farm. It had been hours since dinner, and Luke was still out there with a bottle of gin, his footman friend, and no concern whatsoever for getting up early enough to work the next day.
Amelia slapped her hand down on the window sill. She went back downstairs, put a torch into the kitchen fire to light it, and went out into the night on her own. She was glad everyone else had gone to bed. When she got angry, asking her as few questions as possible was for the best. The voices had died down and only the faintest echoes drifted over the fields. But she knew exactly where they went. Her torch trailed through the darkness with each step.
Amelia arrived at the farm, yanked the barn door open, and stormed in. Luke and James were sitting on two bales of hay, completely intoxicated, with cards in their hands.
“What on Earth are you two doing in here?” she said, sternly.
“Getting quite bosky, indeed!” James raised the bottle to her and had a long sip.
She ignored the footman. “You are better than this, Luke. Drinking so late into the night. You have a lot of work to do here in the morning.”
“I know that quite well, my dear Amelia. I am working as we speak, considering a change in the crops we plant.”
“I can vouch for that,” said James. “We were discussing the benefits of growing opium. Personally, I do not see a downside to that. If nothing else, we can all smoke the crop.”
Amelia closed her eyes as she sighed. “Luke, you have to carry on father’s legacy. There is an entire household to take care of and it falls on you to do it.”
Luke threw his cards down on the ground and got up. He took a drink from the bottle. “Do you not think I know that? I have to take care of the farm, I have to take care of the house, I have to take care of everything. Whether the children eat or not depends on the harvest going well.”
“It did not go well.”
“What do you want me to do about it? I am trying the best I can.”
“Is that what you call this? Ape drunk from blue ruin, tossing around insane ideas about opium, and gambling late into the night.”
James raised his hand to get her attention. “He was winning, if that helps you any.”
Both of them glared at the footman. He shrugged.
“My job is to take care of this farm.” Luke was slurring his words. “Your job is to take care of the house. I do the work, and you do the cleaning. Do you understand?”
Amelia’s face tightened. “Quite well.”
“Then get out of here and do not come back.”
She stared at him for a moment longer than was comfortable, then turned on her heel, and stalked off into the night.
“You know… Your
sister is quite pretty when she gets angry,” said James. He drank from the bottle and it spilled down the side of his face.
Luke grimaced at his friend. “And you are quite drunk right now.”
“Both observations are very astute. Hopefully neither will change.”
Laughter would come from the barn for some time.
Amelia walked back toward the house, holding the torch out to light the path there. “The nerve of him!” she shouted into the air. An owl crooned a slow, sad response. She wrapped her other arm around her body, feeling too restless to let her hands fall. She hesitated at the bridge where a pact was made with Lord Thoram, then looked longingly in the direction of the orchard. For months, she had put her feelings aside because there was family to take care of. If her mother could not be strong, then Amelia had to be strong enough for everyone. But Prudence was as reluctant to help as she had always been. And now Luke had taken to heavy drinking with a footman. Why did she have to be the one to be better than everyone else? A mix of emotions ran through her, love, hate, and desire. She realized that if she didn’t reach the orchard soon, she would go mad with yearning.
The torch flickered in the night. Amelia crossed the bridge and walked home. She stopped at the door where her father surprised her months ago. She leaned her back against it, closed her eyes, and thought of Lord Thoram, wondering what he was doing at that late hour. Sleeping, most likely. As she should have been. Luke’s words had hurt her. But she had no choice other than to forgive her brother. He was some of the only family she had left.
Chapter 6
A cool, morning breeze blew through the cracks in the barn. James woke up to find he had fallen asleep on a large pile of hay in the corner. His footman’s livery was covered in the stuff. There was an empty bottle of gin next to him. At some point he had thrown his white wig across the room entirely.
“Most peculiar,” he muttered, feeling a dull pain in his head.
Something groaned nearby, and he jumped. James looked slowly to his right, expecting to see a rabid animal of some kind, but found Luke instead. He was sitting on the ground, hunched over, holding his face in his hands.