Road to Rosewood

by Ashtyn Newbold

  I had been performing quite well in my efforts to avoid Nicholas, but it was making me anxious. Without him, there was no one to speak to that didn’t make me want to run across the country to my home in Craster.

  Kitty was suspicion personified in every glance she cast my way. We talked and laughed over old memories, but it had been so long since we had been together that we had grown apart. We disagreed on much now that we were older and had experienced our own separate lives. It broke my heart a little. William was sweet, always lending an ear to my prattle when I was lonely. He didn’t speak much, but he listened.

  I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the little red-haired boy I had seen at the Bancroft’s home. I didn’t share the details with anyone. The only person I knew that could explain was Nicholas, and I couldn’t allow myself to see him.

  Mr. Rossington was disturbingly unreserved in his attentions toward me. He rarely spoke to me, but rather fixed me with prolonged stares and wide, unsettling smiles. Mrs. Tattershall frowned at me all hours of the day, whispering things to her brother when I turned my back.

  But I knew they were speaking of what they had seen out the window.

  My nerves were constantly in motion, waiting for the moment Mrs. Tattershall would turn to me and announce that she had taken measures to preserve my reputation, but not by keeping quiet about what she had seen, no—she carried every trait of an incurable gossip. She would preserve my reputation by telling Nicholas to marry me instead.

  My longing for Nicholas was growing every hour that I was apart from him. I missed him. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t lie to myself. But then I remembered that he hadn’t come to visit me either. If he did care for me as he said, would he not try to find me? It was my fault. I was too harsh the last time I had seen him. I had accused him of lying and keeping secrets, but I had lied about my feelings for him. All this time I had been holding his words to me six years ago against him … but hadn’t I just done the same thing to him? Spoken the same words? I was a hypocrite. A cruel hypocrite.

  Leaning my forehead against the cold window, I breathed, watching my breath create a film of fog on the glass. My skull throbbed with a headache.

  When my eyes opened, I sat up straight. Out the window I could see someone approaching the Bancrofts’ door. I squinted. Dr. Kellaway walked with long strides, carrying a leather case. I scrambled to my feet, leaning both hands on the window to get a closer look. It was certainly him.

  My eyes widened as Dr. Kellaway moved up the path and knocked on the door. I held my breath. How would Mrs. Bancroft react if she opened the door to another stranger? To my relief, the door swung open and Nicholas stepped outside. My heart raced as I watched their muted conversation. I was too far to read their lips, but I saw Nicholas step back and run a hand over his hair. Dr. Kellaway smiled, and Nicholas gripped his arm and slapped him on the shoulder in gratitude. He dropped his head and smiled in disbelief.

  Suddenly, Nicholas’s gaze moved toward the window I was peering out of. I screeched and ducked my head, spying with just my eyes above the windowsill.

  Nicholas was shaking his head in disbelief, rubbing the side of his face. His expression was distorted with emotion as he invited Dr. Kellaway inside and closed the door.

  A knock at the door to my room made me jump. I cleared my throat and stood, turning away from the window. “Yes?”

  Kitty’s head appeared behind the door. “Mr. Parsons is here.” Her smile grew to a wicked grin.

  “Kitty!” She was already retreating out the door. I rushed forward and threw it open. She grinned at me from the hallway. I scowled. “Why is he here?”

  “To see you, of course.” She winked before bursting into giggles, stifling it behind her hand. “He wishes to see you in the drawing room immediately. He seemed quite determined.”

  I felt the color drain from my face. “For what purpose is he here?” I repeated.

  Kitty swatted her hand through the air. “Oh, calm yourself. There is a handsome, highly eligible man in the drawing room that wishes to see you.”

  “And why does that give me reason to be calm? It is quite the contrary. I don’t wish to see him! Tell him I’m unwell.”

  She rolled her eyes and straightened the lace at the cuffs of her sleeves. “You must come down, Lucy.” There was no room for argument in the look she cast my way.

  I breathed an exasperated sigh. “Very well.”

  Kitty clapped her hands and reached for my wrist. I might have turned around if not for Kitty’s unrelenting grasp. With her free hand she smoothed my curls and tugged the fabric of my dress down, forcing the neckline to scoop lower.

  “Kitty!” I jerked it up again, throwing her a look of dismay.

  “We must entice him to marry you in every capacity.”

  I stopped on the stairs. “Marry me?” I whispered angrily.

  She leaned closer, pulling me after her down the staircase. “You cannot continue to pine after Nicholas Bancroft. It is time you claim what is directly before you. Mr. Parsons is smitten by you. Do you realize what this means?”

  I shook my head, hoping to drown out her words. “I don’t want to marry Mr. Parsons.”

  “Lucy, my aunt has not spoken to Nicholas. You need not rely on securing a marriage with him.”

  “I am not relying on him!” My voice was too defensive.

  Kitty planted her hand on her hip, cocking her eyebrow. “You have wanted to marry him since you were twelve years old.”

  I couldn’t lie to her. She knew me too well. There wasn’t a time I could remember that I didn’t dream of marrying Nicholas. Until now. How could I marry him now? I told him I didn’t love him. My head spun with a rush of pain and regret, tingling out to the tips of my fingers.

  My last pearl rolled across my hand, settling in the crease between my fingers and palm. I had already used the other four. The wishes I had already made collected in my mind: That Nicholas will never forget me. That I could see him again, but only so he could apologize. Then I had wished that he would never fall in love with anyone else. That he would dance with me when I was all grown up.

  I thought I would have forgotten Nicholas by now, but it had been a year and I still thought of him every night as I fell asleep. I replayed his last words to me in my head, over and over. I traced the moments he spent with me in my memory, searching for the most wonderful things about him to remind myself that he was good. That loving him was not foolish. There were far more things about Nicholas to love than there were to hate.

  We were not going to Rosewood this summer. Mama had told me that this morning. I had suspected as much, but I had been obedient and good, sensible and patient all year. No matter how good a daughter I was, my parents’ minds could not be altered. Aunt Edith had died in the winter, and Mama did not wish to go back.

  I stared at the fireplace and let my last pearl roll over my hand again. I was much too old to believe in such ridiculous things as a wishbox and magical pearls, but here I stood.

  How had I wasted so many dreams on Nicholas? Even acknowledging that I was a fool didn’t stop me from being foolish. I was foolish and fully aware of the fact. Closing my eyes, I made another wish—that one day I could marry Nicholas. I whispered it as I threw the pearl into the flames.

  I balanced on the staircase and looked down at the door to the drawing room. Kitty was speaking.

  “What?” I blinked.

  “I will wait here.” She smiled but it only unsettled me further.

  Commanding my legs to stop shaking, I descended the stairs and paused at the drawing room door. I planned to fully explain my intentions to Mr. Parsons. I did not have any interest in courting him at all. Kitty nodded with encouragement as I stepped inside the room.

  Mr. Parsons clamped his book shut in his hand and stood, straightening his shoulders and fixing me with a look of admiration. I stared at him. There was something false about the expression on his face—the admiration seemed forced compared to the way N
icholas had sometimes looked at me. Before I could puzzle over his expression further, Mr. Parsons moved across the room until he stood directly in front of me. He held a bundle of roses in one hand, the crimson red and tightly wound buds far from blooming. I didn’t take another step. I didn’t make a sound.

  “Miss Abbot, what a pleasure it is to see you.” He took my hand and kissed the top of it, prolonged and firm. I tried not to visibly cringe at the wet mark he left on my hand as he pulled away. When he straightened his posture again, he turned my hand over and placed the roses there, smiling down at me, just a twinge of his lips and a tip of his head.

  “Oh—er—thank you, Mr. Parsons. The roses are lovely.” When he looked heavenward with another smile, I wiped the top of my hand off on my skirts.

  “You need not thank me. A gentleman cannot help but give roses to the woman that so easily steals his heart.” His blue eyes tilted down to look at my face, and his stare was so intent and penetrating that I cleared my throat as loud as I could manage.

  “I have no intention of stealing your heart.”

  His lips pressed together and half his mouth quirked in a grin, making his cheek crease handsomely. “Oh, but I have every intention of stealing yours.”

  Despite my every effort not to, I felt the unwelcome flooding of heat to my face. “Mr. Parsons—”

  “Would you like to join me at a party Saturday evening?” he interrupted. “It is at a residence of a family friend just a few miles up the road at Stanton manor. I believe they have also extended their invitations to the Rossingtons and asked that I extend an invitation to the Bancrofts as well. Particularly Mr. Nicholas Bancroft.”

  I frowned. Nicholas?

  Mr. Parsons must have noticed my confusion, so he added, “They knew Nicholas as a child and insisted that he be in attendance. Please do insist that he accompanies you there.” He gave a charming smile.

  I nodded to appease him, although I had no intention of seeking Nicholas out to invite him to a party influenced by Mr. Parsons. I had no intention of seeking out Nicholas at all.

  “I will see both of you there, then?” His voice was quick and his eyes pulled at my gaze, begging for an affirmation that I couldn’t give.

  “I will do everything in my capacity to ensure our attendance.” I tried to sound polite and convincing, but I could still hear the confusion in my own voice. If Mr. Parsons did indeed have every intention of stealing my heart, why would he be so adamant that Nicholas attend this party with me? Surely he viewed Nicholas as a potential competitor. My brow tightened.

  Mr. Parsons touched one of my curls. “I will look forward to our reunion.”

  I couldn’t speak. All I did was nod as he bid his farewell and exited the room. I heard him ushered out by the butler and heard the door close with a firm thud. What a strange encounter. I scowled at the pianoforte for several minutes as I tried to make sense of that man. Kitty eased the door open, breaking my trance.

  “Give me every detail,” she squealed.

  As expected, when I finished relaying the exchange, she slumped in disappointment. “Is that all?”

  I hadn’t included the bit about Nicholas being strongly encouraged to attend the party, but it was a minor detail. So I nodded. “That is all.”

  EIGHTEEN

  The interior of Rosewood usually began to bore me a little before noon. So today, I secured my bonnet to my head and slipped outside, enjoying the warm rays of the sun as they spilt through the clouds, trying to forget about my strange encounter with Mr. Parsons that morning. I loved days like this, when the wind was cold but the sun was stronger, cutting through with a happy warmth that reached my soul.

  There were many areas of the property that I hadn’t explored yet upon my return here. It had only been a few days and I had visited the stables, gardens, and north lawn, but I had yet to venture into the woods behind the lawn—the area I had spent most of my time playing in as a child.

  Careful to escape unseen, I approached the trees and entered between the two largest ones. I smiled to myself. This was the place I had always entered, and I was surprised it still stood. Kitty and I pretended that it was a mystical doorway that led to another land. The woods behind Rosewood might as well have been another land. They were drastically different from the neat orderliness that marked the lawns and gardens. They were wild and free.

  As I stepped farther into the trees, the sun was shaded from me, and I watched in awe as the dried leaves fluttered with the breeze and tiny pockets of light filtered through the surviving leaves on the trees, creating tiny dots of light on the dirt ground. The image filled me with nostalgia for the many hours I had spent here.

  I remembered the exact location of the pond—the one I knew so well for its abundance of toads. I couldn’t stop my squeal of excitement when I saw it, in the same place as always, tucked behind a clearing of trees. The water was murky and thick with debris. My mind created an image of a gigantic toad living beneath the water, waiting for its next meal. My arms shivered with cold as I circled the small pond, grinning at the memories that surfaced in my mind.

  “What are you smiling about?” A voice from behind made me jump. The perimeter of the pond was slick with mud, and my boot was too close to the edge. My arms flailed at my sides and I fell backward into the pond with a screech. My head submerged for a brief moment before I shot up out of the water, spewing and slapping at the dead leaves that clung to my hair. I was unintentionally floating deeper into the pond. When I gathered my wits, I tried to scramble toward the edge of the water, but my boot was encased in the mud at the floor of the pond. The water reached my waist, but I was drenched from head to toe. I tried to take another step, but my feet were stuck in the mud.

  To my dismay, the voice belonged to Nicholas. He stood at the edge of the pond, crouched down with his hands reaching toward me. “I’ll pull you out!” His voice brimmed with laughter.

  I tried to take another step, staring down into the water. I couldn’t see anything.

  Oh …

  I squinted into the murk.

  “Nicholas! Pull me out! Pull me out!” I thrashed and splashed in the water, and Nicholas burst into laughter. A large, bumpy toad was swimming straight toward me, with just its eyes poking above the surface.

  Nicholas stepped into the water and waded toward me, the water only reaching the middle of his thighs. He wrapped his arm around my waist and leaned toward the edge of the pond, hoisting me out of the mud. He held me against him above the water, one arm tucked under my knees. I could feel his laugh rumbling against me. My eyes squeezed shut with embarrassment before I burst into laughter of my own. I threw my head back, my laughter obnoxious and loud. Nicholas’s eyes widened and he laughed so hard that he struggled to breathe. He couldn’t walk, so we stood in place in the pond.

  When my laughter subsided, I dropped my head against his shoulder without thinking of the dangers of doing so. His arms were strong, and he held me without any apparent effort. Water dripped down my hairline and onto his shirt but he didn’t seem to mind at all. I was frozen there, and I could almost hear the steady beat of his heart through his shirt. I laughed softly again to dispel the silence, tipping my smile up to him.

  He was looking down at me, his eyes filled with tears from his laughter. His smile was so endearing I had a fleeting thought of kissing him again. It seemed Nicholas had the same thought, for his eyes grew more intent, searching my face and pausing at my lips.

  “You may set me down now, Nicholas,” I said, laughing again at how I must have appeared flailing backward into the water.

  He smiled, but then his jaw tightened before he trudged out of the pond. He set me down on my feet and laughed again. “You have a something in your hair.” His hand reached down to my head and pulled a twig out of my soaked curls. He held it in front of my face. I swatted his hand away and gave him a half-hearted glare.

  I remembered my visit from Mr. Parsons that morning. “Would you like to attend a party with me Satu
rday evening? It will be quite the smash I hear.” I gave my most cajoling smile.

  “Another dinner party?” His voice was pained.

  “Nicholas, please, I beg you. You have two days to prepare, and it will be much more tolerable with you there. And only slightly less comfortable.” I grinned.

  He raised a skeptical brow. I had intentionally omitted the detail that Mr. Parsons had extended the invitation. Surely if Nicholas knew that detail he would not attend.

  “Very well. I am very charming at parties.”

  “Not as charming as I am, I’d wager.”

  He chuckled before shaking his head in disagreement.

  “I believe there will also be dancing,” I said in a cheerful voice. “You know how I enjoy dancing.” I immediately regretted bringing up the night years ago that I had drafted my note to him, when he had danced with me in the morning room when I had been all alone. My heart stung with melancholy.

  His eyes met mine, a smile shining through them. “I will only attend if you will save your first dance for me there. You must also save a waltz.”

  I looked down at my muddy feet, feeling strangely shy. It was easy to be shy when he was looking at me in that way. “Very well, but I cannot promise I will not stomp on your toes.”

  “But will you stand on my feet?”

  I laughed, hiding my face behind my hands. When my laughter subsided, I dropped my arms to my sides. “Did you follow me here?” I asked, raising one eyebrow.

  He looked down at his own mud-covered boots. “I needed to tell you something.” He lifted his gaze to mine, making my heart jump in my chest. “A man, Dr. Kellaway, has insisted upon making visits to my mother.” The corners of his eyes were tight with emotion and gratitude. “He is providing his services without charge.”

  My eyes widened and I gasped in false surprise. I cringed. When I was attempting to put on an act, I was never very subtle. “You cannot be serious. That is wonderful, Nicholas!”