Saving Marilee

by Annette K. Larsen

  I reached over to rub Rogue behind the ears. He scooted over so that he could rest his chin on my leg and look up at me with his big brown eyes.

  The sounds of a shouting match reached my ears, and then the sound of feet pounding up the stairs. I hurried from the room, reaching the corridor just as Beatrice came into sight. Edmund followed close behind with Falstone at his heels, grabbing Edmund by his collar before he was able to catch Beatrice. Leo came from behind me and planted himself in front of me. Two more guards ran up to assist Falstone in detaining Edmund.

  "What is the meaning of this?" I demanded over all of the clamor.

  Beatrice thrust a piece of parchment at me, her breathing heavy.

  "You've no right to steal my effects," Edmund blustered, struggling against my guards.

  "It's not yours. It has the mistress's name on it," Beatrice shouted back. I never thought I would see the day when Beatrice would shout at a gentleman, but her face made it clear that she was willing to defend her actions to the end.

  I grabbed the parchment out of her hand and sure enough, Marilee was scrawled across the front.

  I held it up. "What is this?"

  Edmund's chin lifted in defiance.

  "Where did it come from, Lord Rockwell?"

  His lip curled. "He's no good for you."

  "He?" I broke the seal and glanced only at the signature before brandishing it at Edmund. "James left this for me and you thought I didn't need to see it?"

  "He's a philanderer. He's off right now comforting some poor maiden and you don't seem to care!"

  Rogue growled and crouched in defense. I grabbed hold of his collar.

  Edmund spared Rogue one sneering glance. "I'm offering you a chance to keep all of this, to truly be a part of the Rockwell family. But you won't look twice at me, at the life we could build together, at the legacy that we could create, because you're so blinded by that fool!"

  "You are the fool, Edmund!" I shouted, and he pulled back as I narrowed my eyes at him. "You are a manipulator. And I am tired, so tired of being manipulated and contorted into something that someone else wants me to be."

  His eyes remained cold and defiant.

  "Were you aware that your brother did the same thing? That he stole my letters, cut me off from all the people who cared about me? Did you really think that doing the same thing would make me accept your deplorable idea of a life together? I don't need you!"

  His lip curled up in a sneer. "I will break you."

  "You can't break me any more than I've already been broken."

  "You will lose this house and everything in it!" he screamed.

  "If that's the case, then so be it. It's just mortar and stone. It's just furniture and tapestries, all of which will burn if given the chance, believe me." I turned my back on him, pulling Rogue with me. "Throw him out!" I strode down the hallway, and the struggle resumed, Edmund flinging insults at my back as my guards dragged him down the hall.

  Once I had put some distance between us, I let go of Rogue and he dutifully followed at my side. I reached the end of the corridor and opened the door leading to the back stairs. I hitched my skirts and climbed them at a run, jogging through the muted light of the upper hall until I reached my alcove. I sat down, breathing hard, and opened the note.

  My dear Marilee,

  Please forgive me for my boorish behavior. Edmund has always tried my patience, but that is no excuse. I hope to have the chance to explain myself fully when I return. Which brings me to my next apology.

  Forgive my abrupt departure. My mother has been summoned back to Maplegrove. It seems that some tragedy has befallen the family of her housekeeper, whom she considers a good friend. My mother has always supported her staff in personal matters, and she can do no less this time. I must see her safely home, and then I must ensure that any necessary transitions are made and established before I can return.

  I hope you will not hate me for saying this once more, but please be wary of Edmund. Please know that it is my fear for you which made me behave so badly. Be brave, Marilee, for I know you are.

  James Sutton

  I laughed in relief, but it held no humor. A maiden in distress. Edmund surely had a way of twisting the truth. I wondered how much of his story about James and Juliana was truth. I didn't doubt there was truth, but which parts had been twisted and what had been exaggerated? I would simply have to ask James myself when he returned.

  His return could not come soon enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  I KNOCKED ON the open door to the library, which Mr. Vaden used whenever he worked on the estate accounts.

  "Yes?" he said, without looking up from his desk.

  I smiled at his distraction. "Mr. Vaden?"

  He looked up, then shot to his feet, pulling his glasses from their perch on his nose and bowing. "Princess. I'm so sorry, I had not expected you."

  "Please do not trouble yourself. I wished to discuss a matter with you because I don't know who else might know the laws pertaining—"

  "You're worried about Lord Rockwell's threat to take this house from you?"

  "Yes," I confirmed, relieved that I didn't have to explain myself. "Is what he said true?"

  He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, letting out a sigh. "Yes. It is."

  My heart sank.

  "The reason I did not know of it is because it only applies to marriages within the sovereign family."

  "Could he force me to leave?"

  "No. The Rockwell family is obligated to see to your comfort and security. But you would be entirely dependent."

  I sank into the chair facing his desk. I had guessed as much. But hearing Mr. Vaden state it in such blunt terms made me lightheaded. James had thought the idea ludicrous, since it would make the Rockwells look callous. "What do you recommend?"

  "I would suggest you return to Dalthia."

  "Right away?"

  "There have already been inquiries about the state of the house, the staff, and you, specifically your health. As far as I can tell, there is no magistrate involved as of yet, but Lord Rockwell is getting his things in order."

  "Well then." Shock sucked the air from my chest. I had told myself that this was a possibility, but I hadn't truly believed it.

  "As I said, you could stay. Lord Rockwell would be required by law to care for you as his brother's widow."

  "So I could live here under his rule? Under his thumb?"

  "Yes."

  "No thank you," was my blunt reply.

  He smiled. "I thought that might be the case. Which is why my recommendation was to return to Dalthia."

  Return to Dalthia, not because I had failed to take responsibility for my life, but because I had finally learned to stand up to a Rockwell. "What about the servants?"

  "What about them?"

  "Is their employment tied to the estate? Are they obligated to stay here?"

  "No. Though I do not think it feasible to transfer your entire household back to your own country."

  "No, of course not." All of the new servants could retain their positions if they wished, but I hoped that my dear friends would come with me. "How soon do you think I will need to leave?"

  He cleared his throat and fingered the glasses which sat on the desktop. "Your Highness, you know that I was hired by your father?"

  "Of course."

  "Did you know that I was keeping him apprised of the situation here?"

  "I..." Of course he was. "I suppose that doesn't surprise me."

  "I haven't given him any great detail, only kept him informed of the staffing situation, as well as Lord Rockwell's arrival and subsequent stay. As soon as Lord Rockwell's threat was known to me, I informed your father."

  "So I will likely receive a letter from him in a few days, trying to convince me to come home?" I smiled at the irony of it.

  "Would you like me to start making arrangements for your removal? The carriages do belong to Bridgefield, so we will need to make other arrangem
ents."

  At least I had the competent Mr. Vaden on my side. I took a breath of courage. "Yes, thank you."

  I stood to leave, but turned back. "Would you contact a Mr. Nutley? He is the solicitor that dealt—"

  "I am familiar with him."

  "Good. I have some questions for him. If you could ask him to come at his earliest convenience."

  "Of course." He bowed me out.

  I walked in a daze through the halls and ended up in the kitchens. When Cecily and Emeline saw my face, they both followed me from the bustling kitchen without a word. We ended up in the drawing room. I paced for several moments before collapsing into a chair.

  "Are you well, Mistress?" Cecily asked, kneeling by my side.

  "Has Lord Rockwell returned?" Emeline asked in a voice so small, it could barely be heard.

  I grabbed her hand. "No, he hasn't. However, it seems that he is following through with his threat to take control of this house. So if I don't want to live here as a dependent to Lord Rockwell, I must remove myself elsewhere."

  "Where shall you go?" Again, Emeline spoke only just above a whisper.

  "Why, I will go home." I tried to smile, but the enormity of such a task overwhelmed me. "It's really not such a terrible thing. I will be glad to see Dalthia again. I will be glad to be rid of the memories of this place. I'm only overwhelmed by this abrupt change of plans."

  Cecily patted my knee. "I'm glad you have somewhere to go." She sounded on the verge of tears.

  "What shall we do without you? Must I work for Lord Rockwell now?" Emeline asked.

  "Oh, no! Of course not. You must both come with me!" I reached for both of their hands. "I would be quite desolate without you, and I hoped you might be willing to come with me. Emeline, the head cook at the palace is the sweetest woman. I think she would just adore you. And we must ask Beatrice to come with us as well. Do you think she would?"

  Emeline burst into tears and threw her arms around my shoulders.

  I patted her back, knowing that she was unlikely to say anything, but guessing from her tears that she was relieved and happy to be coming with me. "And I shall have to visit you in the kitchens to make sure that your pastries stay just as flaky as they've always been."

  She only sobbed harder.

  Cecily stood. "May I go find Beatrice?"

  "Of course."

  She ran for the door.

  "And Mr. Tennsworth must come with us as well!" I called after her.

  As Emeline's crying quieted, I thought of my own sadness. Leaving this house would be no burden, only a relief. However, leaving Winberg meant leaving James. And James was not even here to say goodbye. If he did not return before my departure, I would have to content myself with leaving a letter and hope that our paths would cross some day in the future.

  ***

  We began our preparations that very afternoon. I had never been so thankful for the extra staff as I was then. My belongings didn't really amount to much, and would likely only fill one wagon, but with my leaving, the old and new wings would be closed up, and only the servants' wing would be lived in until Lord Rockwell decided to make an appearance. About half of the newly hired staff made the decision to seek positions elsewhere once the house had been closed. Mr. Vaden agreed to settle any wages that were owed to those who were leaving.

  It was just after the dinner hour that Mr. Nutley made an appearance. I met him in the drawing room, and he looked just as nervous as the first time we met. I refused to sit when I found him pacing the floor.

  "Mr. Nutley." I couldn't keep the chill from my voice.

  He crumpled the brim of his hat. "Highness, I apologize—"

  "Did you know? About the stipulation to my inheriting?"

  He dropped his eyes. "I discussed it with Lord Rockwell when I was at Winberg castle."

  "Why tell me that there would be no difficulty?"

  He looked up reluctantly. "He suggested that your condition was already known to him, and was determined to come here and see about that particular...circumstance...on his own."

  I fought the blush of humiliation, pressing my lips in a tight line.

  He shrugged and gave a shake of his head. "I was relieved when you said you'd like to hire someone else. I didn't want to continue working with Lord Rockwell, but I also didn't want to run afoul of him. So I took the chance to wash my hands of it."

  I sucked in a breath through my nose, keeping my mouth shut against the angry words. He was hardly the one to blame, and I was tired. "Good day, Mr. Nutley." I turned before he had a chance to respond.

  By late afternoon the next day, the majority of my things were already packed away. I had sent Cecily, Beatrice, and Emeline away to pack their own things and stood in solitary contemplation in the middle of my room. This room had been put together with love and given to me as an escape from the terror that the new wing represented.

  Above my bed, the unfinished letter from Damian to Edmund was still knifed into my bed frame. I climbed onto my bed, took hold of the parchment and tugged, letting the parchment be sliced by the knife until it was free of the wood.

  Rogue whined from the floor.

  "Stay down, boy." I continued to stare at the letter.

  "I think he's upset at my presence."

  I turned to see James leaning on the wall just inside my doorway.

  "James." Curse my breathless voice. "You're back." And standing in my room.

  "I am." The curious furrow in his brow made my stomach twist. "And I am wondering why there is a knife stuck in your wall."

  I glanced back at it. It did look rather macabre. "Oh. That."

  "Yes, that."

  I didn't know how to explain the knife.

  "May I see what is on that parchment?"

  I hesitated. My intent on taking it down was to let go of it. To try to forget about my anger toward Damian, to try to discard his opinion of me, once and for all. But I also wanted to trust again. And if I could trust James with this, then perhaps there was hope for me yet.

  I walked the length of the bed, stepped onto the trunk that lay at the foot, and leaped lightly to the ground. I held out the parchment.

  He looked at me for a moment, checking to be sure I was giving my permission before he pulled it from my fingers. As he read, I recited parts of it in my head. She's a member of the royal family. She's adorable and naive...absolutely smitten with me...Thanks to me, you can now claim a relation to the throne of Dalthia. I tried to remember them without bitterness or resentment.

  "So, this is the reason?" he asked when he was done.

  "The reason for what?"

  "The reason that you are so hesitant to be yourself."

  "I—"

  "I know it's in you, and I know that you miss that part of yourself. Seeing you embrace my mother's silly game at dinner and hearing about the siege of the wheat fairies gave me a glimpse of the vivacious Marilee that you've told me you loved. And I've wondered ever since why you kept holding so tightly to the cloak of maturity that you've wrapped yourself in."

  "I don't..." But he was right. I did cloak myself in maturity.

  "I hoped to bring it out of you when I took you to the swimming hole, but I didn't know you had a fear of water, and it ended up just...wrong. But I wanted to help, and I could never figure out why."

  I wrapped my arms around myself.

  He held up the letter, crushing it in his fist. "He turned things like naive and adorable into dirty words, characteristics that you resented because he used them against you. And I understand that, and I don't blame you for it, but Marilee, I want those things for you." He was almost pleading.

  My voice shook. "I'm sorry that I can't—"

  "No. Don't do that. This isn't about disappointing me. You haven't let me down. This is about something that you want. And because you want it, I want it for you, because I want to see you happy, Marilee. Nothing would give me more joy than to see you happy, carefree and adorably vivacious."

  I couldn't respo
nd, and he didn't say anything else. So the words sat there, immobile between us and refusing to be ignored. James waited for me to say something. I could see it all over his face, but I kept my lips stubbornly pressed together.

  Finally he sighed, letting his head fall back against the wall. "Edmund is not here," he said to the ceiling.

  "No."

  "You asked him to leave?"

  "Yes."

  "Then why are you leaving?" He finally looked at me, and I saw the hurt there.

  Though it pained me to see him hurting, I was relieved that he was so obviously hesitant to let me go. "I have very recently been made aware of a stipulation which prohibits me from inheriting. If I remain, then Edmund will take possession of the house, and I will be nothing but a poor dependent. I would be at Edmund's mercy just like I was with Damian. I can't do that."

  "And I wouldn't want you to."

  I smiled at his insistence. "Instead I'm going home."

  He pressed his lips, staring at the ground, and gave a half shake of his head before breathing in through his nose and looking back at me. "I'm glad you have a home to go to."

  So was I, but I wasn't happy about leaving him. Perhaps I should have said as much, but bravery was elusive at the moment.

  James remained leaning against the wall. He seemed uncomfortable, as if keeping himself immobile was a chore. He rubbed the back of his neck for a moment. "I'm sorry for what happened between Edmund and me. The last thing I intended was to frighten you. I know you've had enough of that already."

  "Falstone told me what Edmund said to provoke you."

  His jaw clenched. "I wish he hadn't done that."

  "I'm glad to know. It helps me understand your reaction."

  "I should not have been so hotheaded in the first place."

  "Why were you? Did you have something you wished to keep hidden?" I looked down, unable to hold his gaze as I thought of what Johnny had said of the crying maid and the comfort James had given.

  "Spying is a bad habit of Edmund's, one I've grown to absolutely despise over the years. He would see things and then twist them into something sordid or dishonorable."