by Laura Martin
The gardener’s face broke into a wide grin, ‘What an excellent idea, sir. I knew you’d have the solution.’ He slowly perused the garden, his lips moving as if weighing up where would be best to redirect Amelia’s efforts. ‘How about near the old gazebo, sir? There’s a patch of flowerbeds there where she could dig as much as she wanted.’
‘Wonderful. I’ll let Miss Amelia know when I next see her.’
Just as the gardener turned away Edward saw a flurry of colour heading towards him and found for the first time in a long time he didn’t have the urge to avoid any further human interaction. Amelia was a frenzy of pent-up energy, always on the move, always eager to do something to occupy herself. He knew much of it came from her feelings of guilt over what had happened in Brighton. She still thought she had killed a man and Edward could see that was eating away at her. By exhausting herself during the day she didn’t leave much time to dwell on her feelings and was so tired by the time she got to bed she managed to sleep at least a little.
On four separate occasions this week Edward had needed to go into her room at night and soothe her screams and tears. She seemed to be reliving the events leading up to her crime and each night it was distressing her even more. Sometimes she would wake up as he held her, but most nights she just burrowed into his chest and calmed as he wrapped his arms tightly around her.
Edward hoped Mr Guthry returned soon with good news concerning the young Captain Amelia thought she had killed. If she could hear the scoundrel was still alive, still going about his daily life, then no doubt her guilt would ease.
‘Edward,’ Amelia said, coming to a stop a few feet away. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’
She grasped his hand and began pulling him back towards the house.
‘What is it?’
‘A surprise. Now come on.’
Edward began to grumble something, but Amelia flashed him a withering look and he promptly fell quiet.
‘Close your eyes,’ Amelia instructed.
‘Why?’
‘Stop being so difficult and close your eyes.’
He didn’t doubt Amelia had ever had a problem with getting her own way. She had a confidence in her voice that suggested she hadn’t often been challenged.
Edward heard a door open and Amelia’s hands on his back guiding him into a room.
‘Open your eyes.’
Edward obeyed. They were in the sitting room, the one he had first found Amelia in, stripping off her sodden clothes. In front of him Amelia was smiling proudly and looking around, waiting for his reaction.
Edward felt his body freeze and time slow down. An uncontrollable urge to storm out almost overtook him, but he struggled and managed to remain still.
‘You don’t like it?’ Amelia asked, her face dropping.
‘You did this?’
She nodded, biting her lower lip.
‘You changed the furniture and the curtains and even the damn rugs.’
Again Amelia nodded.
‘What made you think you had the right to do that?’
A small part of him knew he was being churlish and unnecessarily harsh. True, she hadn’t asked his permission to renovate the sitting room, but she didn’t know what it meant to him.
‘You didn’t even stop and think, did you? You didn’t even consider this room might be preserved in a certain way for a reason.’
‘I...’ Amelia tried to speak, but Edward held up his hand, silencing her.
‘You’re so self-centred, so absorbed in your own little world. You didn’t even consider asking me if it would be a problem.’
‘I can put it back,’ Amelia stuttered.
Some part of her anguish must have penetrated through the red haze of Edward’s anger because he felt himself deflating, the anger subsiding as if he had been popped with a pin.
‘No,’ he said, running a hand through his hair. ‘Leave it. It doesn’t matter.’
Edward knew many women would flee the room in tears after an incident such as this. He wouldn’t have blamed her for doing so, he was acting so brutishly, but Amelia stood her ground. Slowly he saw some of her normal confidence return. Her shoulders squared, her chin raised up a notch and she looked as though she were about to do battle. Edward didn’t know if he could bear having Amelia berate him for his behaviour, not now. He was just about to apologise and leave quickly when she lunged forward and grabbed his hand. Too late. He was trapped.
* * *
Amelia knew sometimes she was not the most aware of or sensitive to other people’s feelings. She supposed it came from being a spoiled only child, always the one to get her way. She’d never really had to consider anyone else before, but right now she was having a moment of clarity.
‘Come and sit with me, Edward,’ she said softly.
She knew the look in his eye—he was weighing up whether he could get away with fleeing the room, locking himself away in his sanctuary and avoiding the confrontation that was to come. It wasn’t a healthy way to deal with things and Amelia was determined to get to the bottom of Edward’s outburst one way or another.
‘I apologise,’ Edward said.
Not good enough. She wanted to know more, only then could she actually make a difference to his life the same way he was to hers.
‘Yes, yes,’ Amelia said, pulling Edward towards the sofa, ‘apology accepted. We all get a little ratty sometimes.’
‘I need to go.’
‘No. You need to stay and talk to me.’
At the suggestion a look of panic crossed Edward’s face.
‘I really don’t think that’s necessary.’
‘You’ve just snapped at me for rearranging a few pieces of furniture,’ Amelia reprimanded. ‘I think it is necessary.’
‘I said I was sorry.’
‘It’s your wife, isn’t it?’ Amelia plunged in with the question that had been on the tip of her tongue for the last few minutes.
Edward recoiled a little, but wouldn’t meet her eye.
‘Did she decorate this room?’
For a while Edward just sat silently, looking around at the changes Amelia had made. Slowly he nodded.
‘And then I came along and charged in without even thinking.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does to you. And that means it matters to me.’
Amelia wanted to reach out and embrace him, to fold him in her arms and show him he wasn’t alone. The memories of his family and his solitary existence in this ghost of a house for the past few years would be enough to drive anyone a little mad. She had to remember she’d exploded into his life, changed so much in a short space of time. He had been remarkably patient with her; Amelia knew she was difficult to live with sometimes, but Edward had barely complained.
‘Tell me about her.’
For a moment Amelia wondered if he would refuse. She knew she was pushing him, forcing him to face up to some of the grief he had been hoarding inside for years, but Amelia couldn’t help it. Edward needed something to change in his life or he would spend his days in a never-ending cycle of guilt and regret. Maybe, just maybe, she could help him start living in the present. It was no less than what he’d done for her.
‘She was kind,’ Edward said eventually. ‘Probably the kindest person I’ve ever met.’
‘How did you meet?’
Edward smiled softly as if remembering. ‘We were just children. Jane’s family moved into the area and soon after our parents introduced us.’ He shrugged. ‘There was always the plan we would marry when we were an appropriate age.’
Amelia resisted the temptation to screw her face up in response. Her father had threatened her with an arranged marriage on a couple of occasions when she had particularly vexed him, but she’d known he would never go throu
gh with it. To her not having at least some say in who she spent the rest of her life with was the worst possible scenario. Although she had to concede her judgement when it came to matters of the heart was maybe not as reliable as she had once thought. McNair’s face flashed before her eyes and for a moment Amelia felt the light-headed panicky sensation she always did when she thought of him. Focusing on Edward, she tried to push the building anxiety away.
‘So that’s what you did?’ Amelia asked.
‘When I came back from university we married as had always been planned.’
It wasn’t the most romantic of stories, but Amelia could sense there was more to come.
‘When did you fall in love?’
Edward looked at her strangely, then gave a low chuckle. ‘You know, no one has ever asked me that before.’ He paused as if thinking. ‘We weren’t in love when we married. I liked Jane, was very fond of her, but then I didn’t love her. I suppose it crept up on me slowly. I just remember when Thomas was born looking down at him in my arms and realising how much I loved the woman who shared him with me.’
Amelia felt the tears spring to her eyes. She wasn’t normally emotional. Sometimes her cousin Lizzie even said she was the least sentimental person in India, but she knew she could never hope for a love like Edward’s.
‘You must have been very happy.’
‘We were. I spent my days running the estate. Jane looked after Thomas and in the afternoons we would all come together.’
It sounded like the perfect little family. No wonder losing his wife and son had hit Edward so hard. It wasn’t as though he were an absentee husband or father, living it up in the city whilst his family festered on the country estate. They had been a proper family.
Edward closed his eyes as if remembering the good times and Amelia wondered if she had pushed him too far.
‘I’m sorry for rearranging the room without asking you first,’ she said softly.
Edward opened his eyes and looked at her for a long minute before nodding as if accepting her apology.
There was a rawness about his expression, something pained and resigned at the same time, and Amelia just wanted to smooth away the pain. Slowly she reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, running her fingers over the light stubble that was already growing after his morning shave. Their eyes met and for a long while they just sat, their bodies close together, Amelia’s hand on his face.
Amelia knew she should get up and walk away. Nothing good could come out of gazing into Edward’s eyes and wishing for something that he could never give her. He was a good man, probably the kindest man she had ever met. Part of her knew that she was still rebounding from her experience with McNair, looking for someone who was the polar opposite of that brutal, lying scoundrel, but deep down Amelia could acknowledge that wasn’t all that was going on here. Edward had rescued her, swept her away from danger and cocooned her in the safety of his protection. There was something rather intoxicating about that.
Against her better judgement Amelia felt her body sway forward. Her eyes were still locked on his and she thought she saw a mutual spark of desire and affection burning there. Maybe he wouldn’t reject her.
For a moment she thought there was a softness to Edward’s face and then his expression hardened into something more akin to disgust. He pushed himself back, away from her, and shot to his feet.
‘Edward?’ she said, hating the pleading tone in her voice.
‘Good day Amelia,’ he said stiffly, all the intimacy and closeness of just a few minutes ago gone from his voice.
As she watched him give a curt bow and leave the room she felt embarrassment and anger and shame. Her anger wasn’t directed towards Edward, he’d never given her a reason to think he wanted anything more than to do his civic duty and give her a safe place to stay. No, she was furious with herself.
Chapter Eleven
As she tossed and turned in bed Amelia realised she was full of regrets. Regret that she had ever trusted or cared for McNair, regret that she had so foolhardily followed his trail to Brighton, regret that she had confronted him over his lies and, of course, the climax of those events: picking up that letter opener to defend herself with.
However, her biggest regret of all didn’t centre around McNair, or the myriad of mistakes she’d made with him, it was about the events of yesterday morning with Edward.
She’d finally felt as though she were getting through to him; he’d opened up a little about his wife, showing her snippets of the life he had once lived. Slowly and surely Amelia had thought he was softening towards her. She’d learnt to ignore his gruff moments and his requests to be left alone and had thought she detected a blossoming of affection.
Well, that would be all gone now. Amelia closed her eyes and once again saw the look of disgust on his face as she’d swayed towards him. Yet again she had thrown herself at a man she barely knew and hadn’t considered the consequences.
She felt disappointed in herself. Ever since the moment in McNair’s study she had vowed to be more careful and considered. She couldn’t take back how she had acted with McNair, but she could learn from it. For a long time she had allowed her attraction to the Captain to cloud her judgement, refusing to see him for what he really was. It was only when she was presented with indisputable proof McNair was a scoundrel that she had believed it.
Amelia sighed, not that she thought Edward was a scoundrel, far from it. His behaviour over the past week had been beyond reproach. He’d allowed her, a complete stranger, to stay in his house at her moment of need and had acted like a gentleman, albeit an aloof one, for the entire time.
With a dramatic groan Amelia sat up and threw off the sheets. She’d never been very good at lying and mulling over her problems. She was an impulsive person, someone more likely to cause a scene than to quietly think through a solution, but tonight something was holding her back.
It was Edward, Amelia realised, kind, gruff Edward. The man of few words who had opened up to her about his wife and son. She didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to add to his already substantial pain. He had suffered the ultimate loss, the loss of a beloved wife and child. It didn’t matter it had been three years, Amelia rather suspected it could be thirty years and the pain would still be acute. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks as she relived the moment of embarrassment she’d felt before Edward had left the sitting room yesterday morning. How could she even begin to think she would be good enough to occupy a place in his heart alongside his treasured late wife and son?
She was a murderess, a wanted woman. He was the type of man to mourn his family for three years and to take in a desperate stranger; a good man, a kind man. In reality there was no comparison between them and Amelia found a bubble of hysterical laughter fighting to escape as she realised how ridiculous it had been to think Edward would ever want her.
The funny thing was Amelia had found herself imagining all kinds of domestic situations, situations she had no right to want. It had surprised her as she had never really thought about settling down. With McNair she had been dazzled by the promise of adventure and glamour, but yesterday morning as she’d sat in the sitting room with Edward she’d found herself wondering what a life of quiet domesticity would be if Edward was by her side.
Amelia snorted. That was something she certainly had no right dreaming about. Her circumstances meant she had no right to even fantasise about a life like that—besides, Edward would never love her. He’d not once given her any indication that he might be interested in her romantically, but still Amelia had found herself wishing for something that could never be.
He still loved his wife and probably thought one love in a lifetime was more than many people got to experience, he wouldn’t be looking for a second. And if he was it certainly wouldn’t be with a foolish murderess as his mate.
Amelia pulled a shawl arou
nd her shoulders and paced gloomily to the window and then back to the bed. She felt the tears begin to prick at her eyes and knew she would struggle to face Edward again. He was a gentleman and wouldn’t bring up the moment they had shared in the sitting room, but it would always be hanging quietly there between them.
Maybe she should just leave. It would pre-empt any awkwardness and she would no longer be a burden to the man who has treated her so well. The idea of fending for herself again in a strange country made her stomach flip over with nerves and for a moment she almost threw herself back under the bedsheets. She knew Edward would struggle to look at her in the same way again, he’d probably wonder when she would next throw herself at him. His love for his late wife was all-encompassing, but even so Amelia knew he would never blame her, he was too good, too self-condemning. Edward would probably find a way to punish himself for her moment of weakness.
Amelia wandered back over to the window and leant on the sill, looking out at the garden she had tried to desecrate, and suddenly she realised what she must do. For once in her life she had to put someone else first.
Edward would not ever want her, he wasn’t gaining anything from this arrangement. Amelia might want to stay, to hide in the sanctuary of Beechwood Manor and enjoy Edward’s company, but for once she would not put herself first. It would be a hard step to take, but after all he had done for her Edward deserved it. Besides, she knew if she stayed her feeling for Edward might develop into something more and Amelia didn’t know if she could bear to experience any more heartache. Finding out what sort of man McNair really was had almost broken her. Her heart wasn’t strong enough to be rejected again.
Her decision made, Amelia gathered up her paltry belongings and swept out of the room before she could change her mind.
‘You’re up early, ducky, are the bad dreams troubling you again?’ Goody bustled along the hallway as Amelia crept downstairs.