“I will,” Amelia said. “Why does Grandmother wish to see me suffer? Or you or Mother? I know you said she wants power, but how can we help with that? It makes no sense.”
Her aunt smiled. “There are riddles in life we never unravel. But her reasons do not matter. Tomorrow we will go to Rumsbury and order your new dresses. Or you may continue wearing Juliet’s if you prefer. Or perhaps burlap is more to your liking?” She said the latter points with a teasing tone, making Amelia laugh.
“I believe new dresses would be wonderful,” she said.
“Good,” her aunt said before picking up the journal and heading toward the door. She stopped and turned around. “I almost forgot. On the desk in the study is a new journal just for you. Do not feel as if you must use it, but I find that writing one’s thoughts soothes the soul.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said. “I will do that.”
When her aunt was gone, Amelia returned to looking out the window. Although there were many things about which to worry, she found herself thinking of Christopher, and to her surprise, she wondered if he was looking at the same blue sky.
Chapter Thirteen
The streets of Rumsbury were busier than usual as Christopher strolled absently down the footpath. It had been nearly ten days since Amelia’s visit to Stormridge Manor, and although he scoured his mind for any excuse to call on her at Scarlett Hall, none came to mind.
If only the girl was not a servant, he thought, things would be so much easier! Yet, she was not and therefore he was left alone with a dying father.
The old man slept more every day, which left him little time to talk with Christopher. Unfortunately, he asked after Amelia several times, but yesterday Christopher had run out of excuses. His father demanded to see his daughter-in-law — as much as he could make demands in his current state, but what could Christopher do?
He stopped suddenly. Could this be a valid reason to ask Amelia to return? No, she had been quite clear when they had parted ways she was finished with him.
“Beaumont?”
Christopher’s stomach clenched at that voice, and he turned to a man with light hair and an impeccable coat from the finest tailor in London, Weston’s.
Of the Landed Gentry, Mr. Timothy Reynolds wore his wealth on his sleeve — quite literally. That fine wool coat and silk waistcoat had to have set him back at least ten pounds! Christopher had paid five for his not two months ago, and that had been two more than he had paid a year earlier. But Mr. Reynolds insisted on nothing but the finest.
“It is you!” Mr. Reynolds proclaimed as if Christopher was some sort of long-lost friend. They had been great friends all through childhood after all. “It has been years. Five, in fact, if I am not mistaken.”
Christopher stifled a groan. “Reynolds,” he said, offering the man no smile but not rebuffing him either. “And yes, I believe it has been five years since you wed.” Christopher clenched his jaw at that particular memory.
“I heard a rumor that you left Rumsbury to marry,” Mr. Reynolds said with a wide smile that could not have been authentic. “I do not see your bride.” To emphasize the point, he looked around as if searching for her.
“They are merely rumors,” Christopher replied. “I have no bride.” He no longer wished to speak on this subject, so he changed it. “What brings you back to Rumsbury? Had you not moved away? Or have you returned?” He hoped that was not the case.
Mr. Reynolds snorted. “No, I have not returned to this hole. Business brings me here, among other things.” He paused. “Allison is well. In fact, she is with child. Our third.”
Christopher clenched a fist at the image of Allison that came to mind. She had been his first love, and he had thought she returned his affections. He learned that she had not. A hard lesson, indeed.
“I am glad my former fiancée makes you happy,” Christopher said evenly, causing that insufferable grin to fall on the other man’s face. Now that was gratifying. “Do give her my best when you return to wherever it is you went.”
Christopher moved to step past the man, but Mr. Reynolds stepped in front of him, his face red. “It was not my fault that the woman chose to marry me,” he hissed. “I did not force her. She made that choice.”
“No, you did not force her, but it was you who was there when she needed counsel. You were supposed to help me, not convince her to end our engagement.”
Mr. Reynolds gave a derisive snort. “Convince her?” he said with disdain. “She needed no convincing.”
Christopher took a step back to keep himself from striking the man. “That is a lie. We were perfectly happy until you drove us apart.”
“It does not matter. She chose the better man, and your failure at marriage since proves it.” Before Christopher could respond, the man pushed past him, leaving Christopher with his anger.
I should have pounded the man to the ground! Christopher thought.
Yet, he was not only angry at Mr. Reynolds. Allison had broken the engagement and ran off to marry the man. Christopher’s latest fiancée had left him for a marquess. Even a servant girl had rejected him. What was wrong with him?
He barely noticed anything around him as he stomped down the footpath, passing several shops without so much as a glance. As he passed a dress shop, however, something caught the corner of his eye. He stopped and looked through the window, his eyes widening in shock.
There stood Amelia wearing a new dress and Lady Lambert smiling in approval!
A thousand thoughts ran through his mind, but one in particular rose above the rest. Why would Lady Lambert buy a servant girl a new dress? And this dress was not simply new livery or even an article of clothing a commoner might wear. Instead, it was something a lady would don!
She looked more beautiful than he remembered. Was he the only man who saw how handsome she was? The light green and white striped dress suited her quite well and would turn any man’s head.
She and Lady Lambert walked up to the counter where more packages sat.
“So, not just one dress but several,” Christopher whispered.
When he spotted another patron staring at him, he quickly turned away and walked down two storefronts to stand in front of a butcher’s shop. As he waited – for what, he was uncertain – he considered what he had seen. Was it possible the girl had earned favor with Lady Lambert and was being rewarded? No, that was unlikely; the baroness would not take a servant out in public and buy her new dresses.
“What is the mystery surrounding you?”
The two women emerged from the dress shop, Amelia wearing a new pelisse coat over the new dress. So, an entire new wardrobe? No servant received such attentions from her mistress no matter what good deed she had done.
They crossed the road and entered another shop, a millinery. With increased curiosity, Christopher followed them, keeping his head low so as not to gain their attention. He neared the shop window and saw Amelia pointing to a white hat.
Then the truth hit him. Amelia had lied; she was no servant. All women were the same — liars. Breaking promises and telling lies seemed to be the only traits they all shared. Yet, not all men saw this, so was he somehow at fault? Why had no one told him he was so undesirable?
Feeling more miserable than he had before leaving his home, Christopher turned from the window and walked away. He was soon lost in his thoughts. He had thought that Amelia was somehow different, yet she had proven to be the same.
Without warning, Christopher ran right into another man.
“Pardon me,” he said. “I am afraid I was not looking where I was going.”
He looked up and immediately recognized the two men who stood before him. Christopher had seen them before at the hotel when he had met Amelia, one with dark hair and a nose that had been broken more than once. The other had light hair and a jagged scar across his left cheek.
“Mind where you’re going next time,” the dark-haired man growled.
Christopher dipped his head a fraction and walked away. If those two were
in Rumsbury, he had no doubts they were after Amelia. He stopped at the next shop and turned toward the window as if looking at the wares. The two men walked past the millinery without so much as a glance, and Christopher breathed a sigh of relief. They had not seen her enter.
Then his heart skipped a beat when the light-haired man turned back and stood in front of the shop.
“Why are these men searching for you?” Christopher whispered. Well, he would remain here to find out.
***
Amelia had never known that purchasing new dresses could bring such joy. There were so many choices to make — styles, fabrics, colors — and if her Aunt Eleanor had not been there with her, she would never have completed such a daunting task.
They had come into the village over a week earlier, and the shop owner, a Mrs. Harvis, daughter to the previous Mrs. Harvis who had apparently had the shop before her, had assured Amelia and her aunt that she would have her seamstresses working all hours to complete two of the simpler dresses within a fortnight. Amelia had been surprised, but then she had no experience with dress ordering. Perhaps this was not uncommon, but she doubted so.
Twirling about, Amelia could not help but feel a sense of pride as her aunt gave a smile of approval.
The shopkeeper was equally as commendatory. “That dress is just the right shade of green for your complexion,” the woman said. “She will no doubt stand out amongst her peers.”
Unable to keep from beaming, Amelia turned about once more. When she stopped, her aunt was smiling at her.
“You remind me of your mother,” Aunt Eleanor said. “Mrs. Harvis is right; you will stand out when you attend all the social activities to which you will be invited.”
Excitement coursed through Amelia at the thought. Her aunt had explained that soon Amelia would receive invitations to all sorts of events, such as parties and dinners. There she would make new friends and acquaintances. The idea of meeting new people was a bit overwhelming to be sure, but it did not stop the feeling of anticipation from welling up inside her.
She followed her aunt to the counter, where Aunt Eleanor signed the account. “Will you please keep these for safekeeping for the time being?” she asked. “We must go to the millinery next and would rather not be burdened with so many packages.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Harvis replied with a smile. She collected the wrapped parcels and handed them to one of the girls who worked for her. “Put these on the shelf in the backroom. Lady Lambert and Miss Amelia will return for them later.”
The girl bobbed a quick curtsy and did as her employer bade.
As she donned the coat she had borrowed from Juliet’s wardrobe — she would receive her new coat within the month — Amelia could not help but beam. “This has been such a special day,” she said, pushing a button through its hole. “I cannot help but think that I do not deserve such wondrous gifts. There must be something I can do in return.”
Her aunt tapped her chin. “Perhaps you are right,” she said thoughtfully. She paused for a moment, appearing to be thinking. “You must make me a promise. That will be payment enough.”
“Yes, of course,” Amelia replied, pleased she could somehow repay her aunt for her kindness. “I will do whatever you ask.”
“I wish you to allow me to continued buying whatever you need, but you must promise to no longer speak of not deserving what you receive. If anyone deserves new dresses and other gifts, it is you.”
The firm look her aunt gave Amelia told her that arguing would be fruitless. “I will keep that promise,” Amelia replied.
They exited the shop and crossed the street. The village of Rumsbury was alive with various people walking from shop to shop. Numerous couples strolled arm in arm, taking advantage of the warm weather after several days of cold.
Her aunt stopped in front of an empty shop, a sad expression on her features. Amelia wanted to ask what had brought on such melancholy, but instead she remained silent. Her aunt would explain if she wished; who was Amelia to invade her privacy? Looking through the window, she saw empty shelves and cobwebs, but several mismatched shoes lay scattered on the floor.
“A cobbler’s shop?” Amelia asked without thinking.
“Yes,” her aunt replied and then sighed. “Come. The millinery is nearby.” The look of pain in her eyes was unmistakable.
Amelia wished there was something she could do to help, but she had no idea what the problem was. By the time they entered the millinery, her aunt was smiling once more, so Amelia pushed the concern from her mind.
The shop was small with various samples of all sorts of hats and bonnets on display. Along one wall hung a variety of decorative items — silk flowers, feathers, and other ornaments that could adorn any hat.
“The haberdasher has more if you cannot find what you want here,” her aunt explained when she noticed Amelia eying a large peacock feather.
“Oh, no,” Amelia replied. “There is more than enough to suit my needs right here.”
Her aunt walked over to one particular hat, a wide-brimmed straw hat, white in color. She placed it on Amelia’s head and made Amelia turn this way and that. “Yes, I think that will do.”
Amelia walked over to a nearby mirror. “It is beautiful,” she replied.
She frowned. She had seen something in the reflection, and she glanced over her shoulder. Had that been Christopher peering in through the window? She shrugged. If it was him, he was now gone.
She had little time to consider this as her aunt placed another hat on her head, and soon she was absorbed in the task before her. By the time she finished, she had tried on a dozen varieties and had chosen two.
As her aunt paid the shopkeeper, Amelia walked over to the window. Would she see Christopher again or had it been her imagination? “Aunt Eleanor,” she called from over her shoulder, “may I go out and get some fresh air?”
“Of course,” her aunt replied, “but do not stray too far. We still must see to some new slippers for you.”
Amelia nodded and exited the shop. Looking to her left, she saw a man two shops down who quickly turned away from her. Was Christopher spying on her? If so, why?
Hurrying toward him, she passed by the cobbler’s without so much as a glance. When a hand caught her by the shoulder, her heart leapt into her throat. Before Amelia could utter a sound, she was shoved into an alleyway, and when she turned to leave, two men blocked her way.
“What do we have here, Barney?” one of the men said to his blond friend.
His companion grinned. “Looks like a runaway to me, Nick,” the other replied, a vivid scar on his cheek.
“You’re wanted back at Chatterly,” Nick said, his dark hair an unruly mass upon his head. “It’s time you came with us so’s we can take you back to where you belong.”
Amelia jutted her chin. “I belong here,” she said with more defiance than she felt. What she wished to do was run.
“What you want don’t matter, now does it?” Barney replied as he grasped her wrist. “We know your grandmother’s arranged a marriage for you, you see.”
“And I do not wish to marry the man,” Amelia said, her voice shaking despite her rebellion.
He chuckled. “She said you’d probably resist, so she’s said to tell you that if you don’t return with us your mother’ll be hurt.”
Tears welled in Amelia’s eyes. She did not want to leave with them. As the man’s grip tightened on her wrist, fear overtook her. Breathing became increasingly difficult, and although she was not one for theatrics, she thought she would faint at any moment.
“I believe the lady has already voiced her desire to remain here,” a voice said from behind the two men. “If you do not release her this instance, I shall cause such a spectacle with my fists that the entire village will gather to witness your pummeling.”
Amelia would have recognized that voice anywhere. “Christopher,” she whispered.
Nick released Amelia, and she placed a hand to her breast in horror as he reached into hi
s belt.
“Christopher, he has a knife!”
“Shut your trap,” the man growled.
“This is your last chance, gentlemen,” Christopher said as if he were discussing the weather. “Either kill me or leave. I doubt you will have another opportunity to get away without the entire village coming down upon you.”
One of the men grunted — she did not know which — and said, “This is not over.” They pushed past Christopher, their shoulders bumping his.
“Amelia?” Christopher asked, concern now covering his face. “Are you all right?”
As if a bucket of water had been poured over her head, a sense of terror filled her. “I cannot believe they found me,” she said, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Thank you for saving me.”
Christopher looked over his shoulder. “Who are they really?” he asked. “And what do they want with you?”
Before she could respond, Amelia heard her aunt say, “Amelia? What is going on here?” When she saw Amelia’s tears, she hurried over. “What happened?”
“The men from the hotel, the ones I told you about, they were here.”
“And who is this?” her aunt demanded.
“This is Lord Beaumont,” Amelia replied.
Her aunt gave a firm nod. “Thank you for coming to her rescue,” she whispered. She embraced Amelia for a moment and then placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Come. Let us return to the carriage.” She glanced at Christopher. “Will you escort us back to Scarlett Hall, my lord?”
“Of course,” he replied.
As they left the alleyway, Amelia felt a sense of security that Christopher was with them.
Chapter Fourteen
Amelia explained to her aunt what had transpired in the alleyway as the carriage headed toward Scarlett Hall. She could not shake the fear that continued to ravage her. The warning the two ruffians had given tormented her.
“They said that Grandmother will hurt Mother if I do not return,” she said when her story ended.
Her aunt embraced her. “You must trust your mother. She will know when to leave; she knew just the right time to send you to me, did she not? Plus, although your grandmother can be quite hateful, I do not believe she will hurt your mother, not to the extent those men insinuated.”
Vows of Honor: Secrets of Scarlett Hall Book 6 Page 10