“No, you keep it,” he said, wrapping her fingers around the ring. “It is a symbol of what we have experienced together.”
Amelia’s eyes widened. “I cannot accept such a gift,” she said with a gasp. “It is much too valuable. Please, take it back.”
“You cannot keep it as a reminder of our friendship?” he asked. “As a reminder of a man who gave safe travels in his carriage and the woman who pretended to be his wife, if only for a day?
For a moment, he thought she would reject it, but then she smiled. “If you are offering it as a way of payment for today, then perhaps I will accept it.”
Christopher realized that he would miss seeing that smile. Why, he did not know, but with her leaving, he knew a part of him would be lost.
“I am glad,” he said. “Now, I will take you home.”
Once inside the carriage, he wished he could apologize again, and he would include his regrets for speaking so abruptly and frightening her away. The words did not come, however, even as he walked her to the front door of Scarlett Hall.
As Amelia disappeared into the house, Christopher felt a sense of defeat overwhelm him. Two fiancées and now a servant girl had run from him. What a failure he was!
Yet, as he looked up at the majestic home, he realized that Amelia was no ordinary servant girl. The mystery that surrounded her still intrigued him. She had somehow set up residence in his mind, and he realized he had no desire to evict her. Chances were he would never learn the truth, and that left him strangely dejected.
***
Eleanor stood gazing out the study window as she was often prone to do. Once upon a time she would peer out in order to watch her children playing. At times she even joined them in their frolicking. Yet, those times were now gone. Her daughters were now married and her only son, Nathaniel, was away at boarding school. Despite the fact that no children played beneath that regal tree, she used that place to gather her thoughts and to work through problems.
At the moment, those thoughts were on the journal her sister had sent her. She had devoured every word the night Amelia had arrived, and Emmeline’s warning was befitting. What Eleanor learned chilled her blood, and she had no doubt that her brother, Josiah, was well aware of their mother’s secret. If he was, it would be in his best interest to remain as far from Eleanor as he could, so she had no concerns that he would appear unannounced to cause her problems.
What did worry her was the mention of a betrayal of which Eleanor had not been aware.
“Did you learn anything else in what you read?”
Eleanor turned to find Forbes standing beside her. He tended to sneak up on her unawares. It happened so often that she no longer was startled by his sudden appearances.
She sighed as she watched the dark roiling clouds churn in the distance. A storm was brewing, but a far greater storm, one that had nothing to do with the weather, was coming to Scarlett Hall.
“It seems that Charles engaged in business with my family,” she said. The news that her now deceased husband had made any agreements with the family that had thrown her to the street had shocked her beyond measure. He knew what she had endured at the hands of her mother, and yet he chose to negotiate any terms with the woman? It was maddening! “I had thought my financial situation had improved.”
“It has,” Forbes said. “It was not but a few years ago that you had thought you would lose it all.”
She turned toward the butler, the man who had befriended her so many years ago. “I did not realize that Josiah lays claim to some of the most important holdings,” she said, fighting back tears. “The love Charles had for gambling and whores was so great that he would sell the very land on which his children lived! He would have sold his son’s title if he could have!”
Rage and hurt filled her, and she clenched her fist to keep from striking the wall.
“But you already were aware of all this,” Forbes said. “Why do you seem surprised?”
Eleanor glared at the man, and although she knew the fault did not lie with him, she could not stop the words from erupting from her mouth. “What I cannot understand is what drove the man to do what he did! The affairs, the gambling, all of it! There was no end to it; there still is no end to what he did.”
“I doubt that is true,” Forbes replied.
She sighed. “I had thought that by helping Rachel and her daughter I would see peace come at last. Then my niece appears out of nowhere with news that could destroy us. I am glad to help Amelia, I am, for she deserves better than what my mother has done to her. But the men she described, those who had gone in search of her, they terrify me. Mother always had a way of finding the harshest ruffians to see her wishes fulfilled. I am just uncertain what to do.”
How often in the past had she been forced to call upon her inner strength to save her and her family? Too often. Now, she struggled to find what she needed.
Forbes, however, seemed unruffled by her outburst. “You will do as you always have,” he said as he moved past her. He opened the bottom drawer in the desk, removed an ornate wooden box, and opened the lid. “You will remain strong for yourself and for those you love. This will never change.”
“And you?” she asked, eying the set of pistols Forbes removed from the box. “What will you do?”
The man smiled, his blue eyes glinting in the candlelight. Eleanor recalled the first time she came to Scarlett Hall. Forbes, like her, had been much younger back then, his hair a dark black. Now it was nearly all silver and wrinkles formed at the corner of his eyes when he smiled. That smile, however, remained the same.
“I shall do my job,” he replied, placing one of the pistols in the pocket of his coat. “And that is to protect you and those you love. This has always been my duty and will remain so.”
Eleanor nodded and swore silently to herself as a tear trailed down her cheek.
He removed a handkerchief from his pocket. “You have faced many battles, have you not?”
“I have,” she admitted.
“Then let those who wish you harm to come,” he said. “Whether it be those men or even your brother, no one will harm you.” He wiped the tear from her cheek.
That kind act steeled her somehow, stiffened her resolve, and she did something she did rarely — she allowed him to hold her. His arms were comforting, and for a moment, she allowed herself to enjoy the sensation.
Yet, like the other times, it was Forbes who gently pushed her away. He did not approve of testing the boundaries too far.
“Thank you,” she whispered. Then she laughed. “I find myself weakening with age.”
Her reward was a light chuckle from the butler. “We are certainly getting older, yet you will always be the lady all will look to in times of trouble. None have your strength, you must bear that in mind.”
He moved back two quick strides just as Amelia entered the room. “I will bring a tray right away, my lady,” he said with a deep bow. He gave a diffident nod to Amelia on his way out.
“Have you been abed all this time?” Eleanor asked, hoping the girl had not been listening at the door.
For some reason, the girl took on an abashed look. “I have not.” She went over and plopped herself on the sofa. “I cannot lie to you. I just returned from lending aid to a man with whom I shared a carriage ride. Please do not be angry with me! I did not mean to deceive you, but I did not want you to look at me as if I had done something wrong.”
Eleanor sat beside the girl and pulled her into her arms. “Tell me what happened. I promise not to become angry.”
Amelia sniffled and wiped her face with a handkerchief. “Before I do, I have a question I would like to ask you.”
“Come, let us go to the drawing room where we can be more comfortable.” Eleanor placed a hand on the girl’s arm and led her from the room. “What questions do you have?”
“I am curious about something,” Amelia replied with a frown. “Why do men make a woman’s cheeks burn?”
Chapter Twelve
>
Amelia had experienced a myriad of emotions this day. Among them were a sadness for the illness that debilitated Christopher’s father, worry that Christopher was forced to cope with what his father endured, and a strange desire to see Christopher again. The strongest, however, was an overwhelming sense of guilt about her mother.
“So,” her aunt said thoughtfully, “the earl’s dying wish was to see his son married. It was kind of you to assuage the man’s worries.”
“I could not refuse,” Amelia replied. “Not after all he did for me.”
Her aunt smiled. “Well, now you have done your part. I imagine the man has no reason to call here again, do you?”
“No, I do not believe he will.” Amelia shook her head. “My question about men making a woman’s cheeks burn has not been answered. I admit that I feel confused. The man is quite handsome, but I have no affection for him. He is stubborn and pigheaded, yet at times he is charitable. It seems men have some sort of secret way of attracting women, and I want to know how to protect myself from his handsomeness.”
This made her aunt laugh, and she placed her teacup on the table. “It is natural for a lady to be attracted to a handsome man. In that there is no secret. However, blushing is how a woman expresses pleasure that a man is paying attention to her.”
“Then it is not love?”
“Not necessarily,” her aunt replied. “It simply means that you find him handsome, is all. You can find a man easy to look at and still not like him.”
Relief washed over Amelia. “Thank you,” she said. “Although I was happy with him today, I must admit I felt guilty.”
“About what?”
Amelia sighed. “Mother is at Chatterly Estate with Grandmother, and here I am thinking about how handsome a man is.” She shook her head. “I also admit that the idea of not seeing him again does sadden me, even if it is just a bit.”
“Well, in regards to your mother, it is she who wished you come. She is a strong woman, as are you. That strength comes by way of my father, your grandfather.”
“Mother says he was a wonderful man,” Amelia said, thinking back to those nights when her mother whispered stories of growing up in Chatterly Estate — those times before her grandfather had died. “Aunt Eleanor, why is Grandmother so cruel? Mother says she cannot remember a time when she was not.”
Her aunt smoothed her skirts, and Amelia wondered if she would reply.
“My mother, that is your grandmother, was always overcome with greed. She could never have enough dresses or jewels or whatever else money could buy. When my father died, her love of money and possessions only increased, as did her sense of importance. You must understand; her attempts to control those around her, even her own blood and those she should love, is simply a means to get what she wants. Power and station.”
Fighting back tears, Amelia said, “Grandmother told me often that I am a bastard child, one unworthy of love.” The hurtful words squeezed her heart just as they always had. “Mother told me she was lying.”
“Your mother is right. You are a woman deserving of as much love as anyone else. I just wish your mother had come with you so we could both convince you that what we say is true.”
Amelia puckered her lips in thought. “Do you believe mother will be successful in her endeavor? Does Grandmother and Uncle Josiah have anything worth saving?”
“I do not know,” her aunt replied with a sigh. “My mother may be long past redemption, but I do hope Josiah has a sliver of humanity remaining. Perhaps he is still young enough, but I cannot honestly say for certain. I have not spoken to him in many years.” Aunt Eleanor clapped her hands on her lap. “But we can do nothing about that right now. We have other matters with which to contend, such as ordering new dresses and shoes and hats… Why, we have so many things we need to purchase, your head will be spinning by the time we finish! Then we will introduce you properly to society.”
“So, I will not be seen as a servant?” Amelia asked.
“No, of course not,” her aunt replied with a frown. “Did you believe that was what I wished to do?”
Amelia looked down at her hands. “I did. I assumed I would bring you too much embarrassment and shame because of who I am and how I was raised.”
It was not until her aunt pulled her in for an embrace that Amelia realized she was weeping.
“You may have been forced to servitude, but my sister saw you received the best training possible. I see a woman before me that is a testament of her good work. You are my niece, a Parker like I am, and I am proud of you. Now, come with me. I wish to share something with you.”
Amelia followed her aunt to the library, a massive room filled floor to ceiling with shelves upon shelves of books.
Her aunt went directly to a bookcase encased in glass, unlocked the door, and placed a fine leather tome in Amelia’s hands.
“What is this?” Amelia asked.
“That is one of my journals,” her aunt replied. “My first, actually. You will find that your story is not much different from mine.”
Amelia smiled. “Thank you,” she said. “I will be very careful with it.”
“I know you will. Remember, you are a Parker, and you have strength inside you.” She tapped a finger to Amelia’s breast. “All you need to do is call upon it when you are in trouble, and it will serve you well.”
With a nod, Amelia said, “I will.”
Her aunt walked over to the window. “The snow has returned,” she said. “We may not be able to go to the village tomorrow, but do not be disappointed. Read if you wish, either in here or in your room. Or in the middle of the hallway if you prefer.” She said the last with a laugh.
“I believe I will remain here,” Amelia replied.
“Well, I have some work to complete. If you need me, I will be in the study.”
When her aunt was gone, Amelia went to the small bench in front of the window and sat. She watched the snow fall as she ran a hand over the smooth cover of the journal. With great curiosity, she opened the book. What would she learn about her aunt and her time at Chatterly Estate?
***
A thin blanket of snow covered the ground as Amelia peered out the library window. She had read late into the night, even taking the journal with her to her room to continue reading it by the light of a single candle as she lay in bed. She finished this morning after falling asleep with the book in her lap. The pages contained the heartache of a young woman trapped inside a home, a story Amelia knew firsthand.
She recalled a time when she was no more than five and her grandmother had told her the reason she, Amelia, had no father. Although Amelia had been unable to grasp most of what the old woman told her at the time, she did understand the word ‘sin’.
By the time Amelia was ten, she understood that her grandmother hoped to turn Amelia against her mother, a feat the woman failed to accomplish. Rather than living a life of leisure, her grandmother had sentenced her to a life of servitude.
Every day she worked until her fingers bled, but every night was spent doing what she loved most — the lessons her mother would teach her. One night would be spent learning to read or write or do mathematics. Another night she would learn how to conduct herself as a lady. They spent hours pretending their tiny room was a grand house, and Amelia would dream of a life away from Chatterly Estate.
As Amelia grew older, her dreams never changed, but new joined the old. Dreams of a gentleman who would understand her pain and somehow help her heal. The man never had a face in her imaginings, but now when they came to mind it was Christopher’s face that appeared.
The notion was silly, of course. She hardly knew the man. Yet, at the same time, it was as if she knew everything about him. He harbored his own pain — rejection of the woman he was to marry, the inevitable death of his father, and the sorrow that appeared in his eyes the day she left Stormridge Manor.
His offer of employment was kind, she had to admit. Yet, why had he been so desperate to have her there? He h
ad more than enough servants to meet the needs of the household; what more could she add?
She chuckled. If he had been less impatient, she may have considered his offer, but she found his sense of urgency much too overwhelming to accept. He could give her no clear motives, and women who entered into such agreements could find themselves in a lord’s bed when she did not wish to be there.
The door opened, and her aunt entered the room. The woman reminded Amelia of her mother, not only in appearance but in the way she exuded confidence. She wished she had half her aunt’s self-assuredness!
“Did you finish the journal?”
“I did,” Amelia said. “You were right; I found your story very much like my own.” She handed the book back to her aunt. “Thank you for allowing me to read it.”
Her aunt smiled. “I am glad you did. As I said last night, I wanted you to know your struggle, as harsh as it has been, has been survived by others.”
“And you have lived a happy life since,” Amelia said, returning the woman’s smile. “I had thought finding love and one day marrying nothing more than a childish dream, but this helped me see that it can happen for me in truth.”
“It will,” her aunt replied. She placed the book on the windowsill. “There is one thing I wish to speak to you about; it is concerning the men who tried to capture you at the hotel.”
Worry settled over Amelia. Had they found her again already?
Her aunt placed a hand on her arm. “You have no need for concern; you are safe here. However, you must be careful, even within the confines of Scarlett Hall.”
“Do you believe they will attempt to come here?”
“I do not believe so, but my concern is for the times we are out and about in the village or anywhere public. Keep your mind sharp and your eyes alert, and if you see anyone who causes you worry, inform me. This includes your uncle.”
“Josiah?” Amelia asked in shock. “Why would he come in search of me?”
“Again, I do not know that he will, but you must be vigilant. I would like you to be cautious just in case.”
Vows of Honor: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 6 Page 9