by Laura Martin
‘I will leave you to get settled in,’ he said. ‘I have a few things I need to do.’
Quickly Edward left and made his way into his own rooms. There was a sense of urgency building inside him, the need to capture something special, almost magical. For years his sketching had been about losing himself in something that occupied his mind and allowed him to escape from his memories, or a way to relieve stress and tension, but before that, long ago, he’d drawn because he’d had to draw. Something or someone had inspired him and he couldn’t help but put pencil to paper.
Just now, looking at Amelia, for the first time in years he had that feeling again. It was a primal need, something Edward had to satisfy, and as he picked up his pencils and a fresh sheet of paper he allowed himself to enjoy the warm buzz that was building inside him.
Chapter Seven
Amelia wandered downstairs, feeling a little lost. She was pleased that she had a room of her own now and a very comfortable room at that, despite a small part of her craving the warmth and protection she’d felt the previous night in Edward’s arms. As a well brought-up young lady Amelia knew her even just being in this house alone with Edward would destroy her reputation and, if anyone ever found out they’d actually shared a bed, there would be moral outrage. Even so, Amelia had felt particularly safe with Edward’s strong arms wrapped around her and it wasn’t as though anything inappropriate had happened.
With a sigh Amelia admitted to herself her reputation would already be in tatters because of her crime. She would never be able to go out in society again, never take tea with respectable ladies, never whirl around ballrooms or flirt with eligible bachelors. Her life as it had been before was over. The best she could hope for was to escape back to India where no doubt she would have to live a life of quiet repentance. It was against her character and against her spirit, but Amelia had to acknowledge if it kept her from doing something awful again maybe it would be worth it.
Even now as Amelia wandered through the house her mind kept returning to Edward. Strong, safe Edward. A man she had known for only a day and already she found herself trusting him as though he were her guardian angel. She was too quick to trust, she too easily judged a man honourable based on very little information. Edward had a powerful physical presence and when she caught him in a moment when the frown dropped from his face he was a very attractive man, but that shouldn’t be enough to make her trust him. Amelia knew her attraction to McNair had been primarily due to his good looks and easy charm—surely she should have learnt from that experience.
As she reached the hallway Amelia froze. Someone was pushing the door open and with Edward retired to his rooms it couldn’t be anyone good.
‘Golly gosh, what a fright you gave me,’ a plump woman in her late fifties said as she bustled through the door.
Amelia felt herself relaxing a little. The older woman looked no more of a threat than a fluffy pussycat.
‘Not in all my years have I ever felt my heart beat so fast.’
‘I’m sorry for startling you,’ Amelia said, recovering enough herself to move forward and greet the woman properly.
‘No harm done, my little ducky, I’ll live to see another day. I’m Mrs Henshaw, but why don’t you just call me Goody? Everyone else does, except the master, of course, but rules are different for some folk.’
Goody bustled through the hallway, took Amelia by the arm and began to lead her through the house. Already the half-derelict mansion felt more alive, even warmer somehow, with the older woman’s presence.
‘Now you must tell me who you are and what on earth you are doing here.’
Amelia thought about lying, she knew she shouldn’t let another person in on her secret, but Goody’s kindly face made her want to spill every secret she had.
‘I’m Amelia,’ she said as she was directed to sit on one of the wooden stools in the kitchen. Next to her Goody began unpacking a small sack, placing a loaf of bread and various other foodstuffs on the table. ‘I’m in a bit of trouble and Edward, Sir Edward, is letting me stay for a few days.’
That made Goody stop what she was doing and stare at Amelia for a few seconds.
‘Well, I never,’ Goody said eventually. ‘I never thought the day would come.’
Tears began to fill the older woman’s eyes and immediately Amelia wondered just what was going on.
‘What day? What do you mean?’
Goody shook her head and patted Amelia kindly on the hand.
‘I’m just glad to see the master being roused by something. By someone. Now why don’t I fetch us some biscuits and make a nice cup of tea and you can tell me all about yourself.’
Goody busied herself lighting the stove and boiling the kettle and after a few minutes she set a steaming cup of tea in front of Amelia, accompanied by a large plate of biscuits.
‘I baked them fresh this morning.’
‘Goody, have you known Sir Edward for long?’ Amelia asked as she took a bite of one of the buttery biscuits.
‘Oh, Lordy, yes. I can remember when he was no more than a lad, must have been about seven or eight. That was when I joined the family.’
Amelia knew she shouldn’t pry, but Edward intrigued her and with his often monosyllabic conversation she wouldn’t get much information from him.
‘You worked for his parents?’
‘Indeed I did, worked for the late Sir Edward and Lady Gray for twelve years. And then when they passed away I carried on as housekeeper for young Master Edward.’
‘Edward must have been young when his parents passed away.’
Goody nodded sadly, the tears springing to her eyes again. Amelia wondered what this family had done to earn such love and loyalty from a former servant.
‘He was only twenty when his father died, still at university studying, of course. And then poor Lady Gray died not two months later. It was all very sudden, a great loss.’
So at one point in his life Edward had been out enjoying the world, studying and gaining an education. Something had changed him, pushed him into this reclusive state. She assumed it was the fire that had ravaged the East Wing, but it was interesting to hear how he had been when he was a younger man.
‘That’s when Edward inherited the house and the estate?’
Goody beamed proudly as if she had brought Edward up herself. ‘He was such a good master and landlord, despite his young age. All of his tenants agreed he was just and fair, and you can’t ask for more than that, ducky.’
Amelia reached out and took another biscuit from the plate, crumbling it before popping a small piece into her mouth.
‘Was it the fire? Was that what changed everything?’ Amelia had never been good at being subtle in her approach and she decided now just to come out and ask the question she wanted to know the answer to.
‘Mrs Henshaw, I didn’t realise you had arrived.’ Edward’s deep voice made Amelia jump guiltily up from her seat. ‘I see you have met my guest.’
Amelia swallowed nervously and wondered how long he had been standing there.
‘What a lovely young lady she is, sir.’ Goody paused, and then pressed on. ‘I don’t wish to speak out of turn, master, but have you spared a thought for her reputation? A young lady staying with just a man for company...I wouldn’t want there to be gossip.’
Edward waved a dismissive hand, but smiled indulgently at his old housekeeper.
‘Always looking out for me, Mrs Henshaw. I don’t deserve you. However, I think it would be fair to say Amelia has bigger problems to worry about than her reputation.’
Amelia marvelled at the change the older woman brought about in Sir Edward. There was a fondness there, an easy companionship that came of knowing someone for a very long time. Amelia wondered if it was the first time she’d seen Edward smile properly and glanced at the old housekeeper again
. She must be a special woman to have this effect on her guarded host.
‘Ah, that’s easy for you to say, sir, but a young woman always has to think about her reputation. Miss Amelia is young and no doubt one day she will want to marry. A woman can find even a small stain on her reputation a significant impediment.’
Edward looked at Amelia and raised an eyebrow.
‘I honestly don’t mind,’ Amelia said, ‘It is very kind of Sir Edward to let me stay here. He shouldn’t have to disrupt his life in any other way.’
‘I could come to stay for a little while, sir,’ Goody pushed on. ‘No one could say anything improper was going on with me in the house. And it would give me a chance to tidy up a little at the same time.’
Amelia saw the determined glint in the older woman’s eyes and wondered if she was just the excuse Mrs Henshaw had been looking for to ensure her old master was properly looked after.
‘I wouldn’t like to inconvenience you,’ Edward said.
‘Nonsense. I’ll pack my bags this evening and return tomorrow.’
Edward gave a curt nod and then turned his attention back to Amelia.
‘Would you grant me a moment of your time, Amelia?’
It was an order rather than a request and immediately Amelia felt her heart begin to pound in her chest. Slipping from her perch on the kitchen stool, she followed Edward from the room and into the sitting room she’d first met him in the night before.
‘Is there something you want to ask me, Amelia?’ Edward asked, turning to face her.
He was standing close to her, so close it emphasised their difference in stature and build. Amelia felt small compared to Edward, but despite his powerful build and obvious physical advantages over her she didn’t feel threatened at all. There was an underlying gentleness about Edward, obvious even through his gruff exterior. However angry he might become, however much she might irk him, Amelia knew he would never raise a hand to her.
She shook her head.
‘Are you sure? I would rather you ask anything of me directly than gossip with anyone else.’
Amelia felt the heat begin to rise in her cheeks as the shame and embarrassment washed over her. She was selfish and sometimes she didn’t think how her actions affected other people. Amelia knew her flaws well, but it didn’t seem to stop her from acting or speaking before she had considered the impact on other people.
‘I was wondering why you keep yourself shut up here, away from the world,’ Amelia said eventually.
Edward turned away from her and stared out the window for a long couple of minutes. Amelia was convinced he wasn’t going to answer her, but finally he exhaled and cleared his throat.
‘Sometimes something happens in life that even the strongest person finds it difficult to deal with,’ he said slowly, ‘My solution was to shut myself off from the world, to deal with my pain in my own time without anyone making it worse by inadvertently reminding me of things I didn’t want to remember.’
Amelia wanted to push him, wanted to ask him just what pain he was recovering from, but something made her hold back. Edward would tell her when he was ready, pressing him now would only make him close up completely. This was the most frank conversation they had shared since her arrival.
‘Has it worked?’ Amelia asked instead.
Edward turned back to face her, a small smile tugging at his lips.
‘Do you know, I’ve no idea? Who is to say what I would be feeling if I’d done things differently?’
Amelia felt an urge to reach out and take his hand, to reassure him everything would get better, but she knew she was not in a position to give that reassurance. He seemed lost and empty, as if he had strayed from his path in life and was now struggling to find his way back. Amelia wanted to help. Despite her preoccupation with her own problems, she wanted to guide him to a place where he could be happy.
Quietly she snorted. All her life she had been pampered and protected. Everyone had done her bidding and she could count on one hand the times she had not got her own way How could she, a now disgraced socialite, hope to comfort a man who had obviously suffered greatly?
* * *
Edward leaned back from his desk and admired the drawing in front of him. Whatever disruption Amelia might have brought into his life he could not deny she was doing wonders for his creativity. The sketch sitting on his desk was one of the best pieces he had ever done. It was a portrait of Amelia and he had managed to capture some of her essence, some of her vitality on the page. In the drawing she was captured in motion and he’d even managed to reproduce the little frown that furrowed her brow when things weren’t quite going her way.
Carefully he set the drawing down, reluctantly acknowledging he could do no more by candlelight and the finer details would have to wait until morning.
He was tired now, but he doubted he would sleep. So much had changed in the course of a couple of days, his entire life had been turned upside down. From tomorrow he would have two people living in his house alongside him, but despite his grumblings Edward had welcomed Mrs Henshaw’s suggestion she come to stay. Amelia would have someone else to talk to and he would be doing his bit to protect her reputation. Although he would have to get used to the idea of even more social interaction.
Edward sighed. He knew his manners sometimes left something to be desired. He could be abrupt and blunt and believed in using the fewest words possible to get his point across. More than once he had seen the shock in Amelia’s eyes as he didn’t soften his words for her ears. He supposed if she would be staying for a few days he would get used to socialising again, maybe even used to considering someone else’s needs.
Slipping into bed, Edward allowed himself to consider the future for the first time in three years. Ever since the fire he had lived day by day, focusing on surviving rather than enjoying his life. Looking back, he could see it had been necessary for him, the best way for him to grieve and process all of the emotions that had threatened to suffocate him in the months after his bereavement, but today Amelia had made him question how he coped with things and what came next.
Edward sat, moulded his pillow into a more comfortable shape and then laid down again. Maybe his coping strategies weren’t the healthiest or the most robust, but they had kept him from falling into the deepest pit of despair over the past few years. For now that would have to be enough.
* * *
Edward awoke with a start. There was a scream, followed closely by another one. Quickly he jumped out of bed, his reflexes sharp despite years of living on his own. He’d reached the door before he realised he was naked and, cursing for the delay it caused him, he quickly pulled on his dressing gown.
Amelia’s room was next to his, the only other bedroom in this part of the house. His heart was pounding as he threw open her door, wondering what he was going to find. Thoughts of an intruder attacking Amelia crowded his mind and as he dashed into the room he was ready to fight whoever was there.
The room was empty apart from Amelia’s small form under the bedcovers. She was still lying down, curled up like a small child in bed, screaming in her sleep.
For a moment Edward didn’t know what to do, but then his instincts took over and he was by her side immediately.
Gently he scooped Amelia into his arms and held her firmly, but not tightly. He murmured soothing sounds and stroked her hair, all the time making sure she could feel the strength and safety of his body.
As soon as he’d gathered her to him the screams had stopped to be replaced by sobs that racked her whole body. Edward held Amelia whilst she whimpered and nuzzled into him, wondering what memory or event had caused such terror.
‘I’m sorry,’ Amelia whispered after a few minutes. She’d woken up at some point during the ordeal, but Edward just continued to soothe her.
‘Hush,’ he said gently. ‘Not
hing to be sorry about.’
It felt oddly right to be sitting with Amelia in his arms in the middle of the night. Edward felt useful again, as if he had made a difference to someone’s life, and that feeling was beyond compare.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ he asked.
For a long time Amelia just sat with her head resting against his chest, but Edward didn’t push the matter. He knew all about nightmares, all about the very real terror they could inspire in you. For well over a year after the fire he had woken up certain his bedsheets were burning. He would hear screams in his sleep and be convinced the fire was raging all over again. Dreams and nightmares were not something to be easily dismissed, they could have a big impact on your mental state and ability to cope with events.
‘I can hear your heart beat,’ Amelia said, tilting her head slightly to look up at him.
Edward held her a little tighter and wondered whether he would have coped better with his bereavement if he’d had someone to hold him and help him through.
As Amelia stared up into his eyes Edward had the urge to bend down and kiss her. It wasn’t lust, just an urge to touch his lips to hers, to connect with her.
‘It was McNair,’ Amelia said eventually.
‘You dreamed about him?’
Hesitantly she nodded.
‘It felt so real, as if I were back there in the room with him.’
Edward was well acquainted with the pounding heart and sweaty palms that accompanied these sorts of dreams, the features that made you question what was real and what was imagined.
‘It’s over now,’ he said soothingly.
‘Every time I close my eyes I can see my hand holding the letter opener.’ Amelia gave a little sob. ‘And I can see the blood oozing out of his body.’
As she nuzzled in closer to him Edward felt his body begin to respond. Trying to distract himself, he ran a hand up and down her back, but found the warmth of her body having the opposite effect.