by Laura Martin
‘I thought I’d get some air,’ Amelia said, the words catching in her throat.
‘At this time in the morning? You’ll catch a deadly chill. Come and sit in the kitchen and I’ll make you a nice warm glass of milk.’
‘No,’ Amelia said, more forcefully than she meant to. ‘I really need to go outside.’
Goody looked at her appraisingly and then led her firmly towards the kitchen.
‘There isn’t a problem in the world that can’t be sorted by a bellyful of warm milk and a seat by a newly lit fire.’
Amelia allowed herself to be led into the kitchen, all the time wondering if she should just break away and run. If Goody said one more kind thing to her, she might just break down and cry and then her resolve would waver.
‘You sit there, ducky, and I’ll be right back.’
Amelia watched as Goody bustled around the kitchen and before long a cup of warm milk and a plate of biscuits had been set down in front of her. Not knowing when her next meal might be, Amelia tucked in.
‘You’re thinking of leaving,’ Goody said as she pulled out a stool and sat down opposite Amelia.
Amelia froze, mid-bite of a biscuit. The woman was a mind-reader.
‘I...’
‘Don’t worry, my dear, it’s not my place to talk you out of going.’
Amelia found herself a little disappointed. Maybe she did want someone to talk her out of fleeing the only place she had felt safe in the last few weeks.
‘Now, I don’t know what’s happened to prompt this change and I’m sure you’ve already thought through all the consequences, but I couldn’t have you leaving on an empty stomach.’
Amelia looked down into the frothy cup of milk and wondered if she had considered all the consequences. She had still killed a man, there would still be people out there looking for her, that hadn’t changed just because she had foolishly developed feelings for Edward that could never be reciprocated.
‘Have you thought through all the consequences?’ Goody prompted softly.
‘All my life I’ve put myself first,’ Amelia said softly. ‘Do you know I begged my cousin to swap identities with me so I could chase after Captain McNair? I didn’t even consider the difficulties she would face, the lies she would have to tell, all for me.’
‘She agreed?’ Goody asked.
Amelia smiled. ‘Lizzie is the kindest, most generous person I know. She’d do anything for me.’ She paused, feeling a lump building in her throat. She wished Lizzie was here now, her cousin would know what to do, what to say, how to make everything right again. ‘I guess I want to be more like her.’
‘We are who we are,’ Goody said quietly. ‘It’s no use wishing to change.’
‘But I can be kinder, more thoughtful. I can put others’ needs before my own.’
Goody looked at her thoughtfully. ‘You’re worried about the master.’
Amelia couldn’t meet the older woman’s eye. Goody had known Edward when his wife was alive, she’d run his household when it had been inhabited by a happy, living family. She wouldn’t approve of Amelia pining after Edward, of her sullying the memory of his marriage.
‘I don’t know what has passed between you and it’s not my place to know, but I do want to say this: Master Edward has been barely surviving these past three years. He has shut himself away from the world, retreated into his rooms and refused to move on. Now I understand grief, truly I do, but what he was doing was not healthy.’ Goody leaned forward and took Amelia’s hand. ‘It has been good for him to have someone else to think about, to worry about. It’s reminded him what it is to be human, to be alive. You’ve done more for him in a week than anyone has been able to do in three years.’
‘But I haven’t done anything.’
‘Maybe nothing out of the ordinary. But you’ve showed him how to care again, how to break free from the constant cycle of grief and guilt and think of something else for a while. Don’t underestimate the value of that. So whatever it is you think you’ve done wrong, just remember the good you’ve achieved by being in his life.’
Goody gave her one last pat on the hand, then got up and bustled out of the room, leaving Amelia to her thoughts. She wanted to believe Goody’s words, wanted to think maybe she could make a difference to Edward’s life. Even if she could bring him just a moment of happiness that would be worth a lot of sacrifice, but then she thought of the look on his face as she’d swayed towards him and she knew she couldn’t stay. Far from easing his grief she had only made it more acute, reminded him how much he missed his family. She couldn’t have his pain on her conscience along with everything else.
Nevertheless deep down she wanted to stay—in fact, she couldn’t think of anywhere she would rather be. Even the rolling hills of Bombay didn’t hold the same appeal as staying here with Edward where she felt safe.
Amelia almost surrendered to her desires, but something held her back. She thought of Lizzie, her kind and selfless cousin, and wondered what she would do. Lizzie always put others first, considered their needs long before her own. And if Amelia was honest with herself she knew Lizzie would leave. She would unobtrusively walk away and let Edward carry on with his new lease of life unhindered by her own emotional baggage.
Slipping out of the kitchen, Amelia felt the tears start to run down her face. Although she’d only been here just over a week it felt like home and she would be sad to leave Beechwood Manor and the people in it. Before she could change her mind Amelia pushed open the heavy wooden door and left the house, wondering what the next stage of her life would hold.
Chapter Twelve
Edward prowled round the house like a wounded bear, growling at any staff that crossed his path. He had barely slept and now something didn’t feel right. The house felt empty, deserted, despite there being the maids and other servants present that Mrs Henshaw had hired. He had spent the time since he’d woken up alternating between wanting to seek Amelia out and wanting to avoid her at all costs.
He didn’t blame her for the moment they shared the morning before. He had told her things he’d never told anyone else and a closeness, an intimacy, had followed. That in itself wasn’t a problem, it was his reaction to her that had caused him to toss and turn all night.
Edward pictured her eyes fluttering closed, the delicate eyelashes resting on her cheeks, and her swaying towards him. His body reacted instantly to the memory, a coil tightening inside him and a surge of desire flowing all the way to his very core.
This was what disgusted him. He was still mourning the deaths of his wife and son. They would never laugh or cry or shout with joy again and here he was sullying their memory with a fantasy about the first pretty young woman who came along. Every day since the fire Edward had wished it had been him who had been taken and not them. He knew his retreat from the world had partially been from grief, but also stemmed from a need to punish himself. Then Amelia had crashed into his life and everything had changed. Yesterday wasn’t the first time he’d felt the hot burn of desire for his houseguest and he didn’t know how to cope with it.
Most of him wanted to retreat further, to punish himself for the betrayal of his wife and son’s memories, but a small rebellious part kept asking what he was so disgusted with himself about. Jane wouldn’t want him to live like this, she’d much rather he enjoyed the company of others, but that didn’t mean he had permission to lust after Amelia.
‘Good morning, sir,’ Mrs Henshaw said as she bustled out of the kitchen.
‘Good morning.’
‘Would it be too bold to venture that you’re looking for Miss Amelia, sir?’
Edward tried not to let the surprise show on his face as his housekeeper asked the question.
‘Has she said something?’ he asked abruptly.
‘Nothing at all, sir, and it’s not my place to pry.’
Edward saw the knowing glint in Mrs Henshaw’s eyes and wondered if there were any goings on in his household she wasn’t aware of.
‘It’s just Miss Amelia left early this morning. I thought you might like to know.’
Edward froze, every muscle in his body seizing up at once.
‘She left?’
‘Yes, sir. At about half past seven. She wasn’t to be swayed from her decision to leave.’
Edward let out a growl of frustration. He’d driven her away.
‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ Edward said quietly. He couldn’t quite bring himself to believe his own words, though. Amelia was out there on her own, scared and vulnerable, at the mercy of strangers. All because of him. He’d seen the expression in her eyes as he’d backed away from her, the hurt and confusion. He should have uttered a few words of comfort.
‘Maybe it is, sir. As long as that scoundrel doesn’t find her, of course. Or the law doesn’t catch up with her. Or she doesn’t starve or freeze to death.’
Edward was too caught up in his own thoughts to reply immediately. McNair, the villainous cad who had seduced Amelia, struck her and provoked her into self-defence, was most likely somewhere out there. Either that or someone would be looking for Amelia for his murder. Whichever scenario was true, things were grim for Amelia and he’d just pushed her away from the one place she’d felt safe.
‘Of course you could go and get her back,’ Mrs Henshaw said nonchalantly. ‘The first coach doesn’t leave until noon and, unless she plans on walking to London, I doubt she’s got further than the village.’
Part of Edward wondered if it would be easier just to let her go. Then he wouldn’t have to deal with the maelstrom of feelings building inside him. If Amelia was out of his life he could go back to just feeling guilty about the fire and his lack of ability to protect those he cared most about. Edward snorted. He knew this was no way to live, but the guilt had been part of his life for so long he didn’t know how to live without it.
He loved his late wife, he missed her every day, but now he had agreed to help Amelia he felt a modicum of responsibility for her. If she was put in danger because of him, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself.
‘I’ll just check she’s not wanting for anything,’ Edward said, half to himself, as he pulled on his overcoat and strode towards the door.
‘I’ll make lunch for two, then, shall I?’ he heard Mrs Henshaw shout cheerily after him before the heavy wooden door closed behind him.
As he hurried through the estate towards the village Edward felt a knot of tension building in his stomach. He was worried about her safety, but that wasn’t all that was troubling him. After all, how much trouble could one young woman get into in a couple of hours? No, he realised he was also worrying that she might refuse to return to Beechwood Manor with him.
He didn’t want to admit it but he had got used to having Amelia around the house. Where a week ago he was irritated by her soft voice humming as he tried to focus on his accounts or her incessant chatter over dinner, now he quite looked forward to meeting her in the hallway or watching her as she strolled through the gardens.
* * *
Within fifteen minutes he was on the outskirts of the village and he slowed his pace a little so as not to attract any undue attention. Already he knew the whole village was gossiping about how he’d finally been seen out and about and how he’d opened the house up once again, employing staff and allowing the gardens to be tended. He didn’t need any additional gossip about him dashing through the narrow streets like a madman.
Keeping vigilant for anyone who looked out of place, Edward made his way to the village square, wondering if Amelia would be waiting for the coach or if she had resumed her journey across the Downs by foot. A momentary wave of panic engulfed him as he pictured her caught in another storm, drenched to the bone and shivering in a ditch somewhere, and he decided not to examine the depth of his concern in too much detail.
As he caught sight of the clock tower Edward saw a familiar flash of light blue fabric rounding a corner at the end of the street. Amelia came into view and Edward found himself suffused with relief. He’d found her. She wasn’t injured in a ditch or halfway to London or in the hands of the evil scoundrel who had seduced her. Within a few minutes they would be on their way back home and he could ensure she was safe once again.
Just as he was about to raise his hand to catch her attention a man in a bright blue jacket and crisp white shirt caught his eye. The man was young, handsome and very well presented. As he walked through the village Edward could see some of the young women surreptitiously following his movements and glancing in his direction.
Suddenly Edward knew this man was McNair. He knew it as surely as if they’d been introduced. There was an arrogant air about him, an irritating swagger, and Edward could see innocent young women would be taken in by his easy charm and good looks. Simmering underneath all of that was a restrained anger and a sense of purpose and Edward knew this was a man he had to protect Amelia from at all costs.
With a spurt of speed Edward strode past the man he thought to be McNair and hurried towards Amelia. She was unaware of either man approaching yet, distracted by something in a shop window, and Edward just hoped he could get to her before she spotted the man she thought she’d murdered. Knowing Amelia, she would make a scene.
He reached her just as she turned away from the shop window, threw an arm around her waist and barrelled her into a small alleyway.
‘Edward,’ Amelia exclaimed, with a loud exhalation, her body shaking with the shock of being manhandled and taken by surprise.
His body had pressed up against hers in an entirely inappropriate way and for a few seconds Edward lost the ability to speak. She was soft and warm and every curve of her body seemed to fit his perfectly. Rousing himself, he pulled away a little, but only as far as to maintain an appropriate distance between their bodies whilst still being able to talk quietly to her.
‘He’s here,’ he said quietly, hearing the strain in his own voice.
Amelia understood immediately and the colour drained from her face.
‘He can’t be. He’s dead. I killed him.’ There was a slight note of hysteria in her voice and Edward saw her begin to panic. ‘You must be mistaken, you don’t know what he looks like.’
‘Amelia, he’s here. I need you to keep calm.’
She writhed, pressing herself away from the wall and against him, seemingly unaware of the contact between their bodies. Edward forced himself to focus, waiting until she collapsed back against the bricks, her body going limp. Edward knew he had a limited amount of time before she either dashed out into the street or made such a fuss other people would come to investigate.
‘Amelia, you need to take a look and tell me if it’s him or not,’ Edward said. ‘But you need to do it carefully.’
‘He’s dead.’
‘Well, let’s reassess that after you’ve looked at this man.’
‘He’s dead.’
Edward leaned forward and gently cupped her chin with his hand, his large fingers feeling oversized and clumsy against her delicate features. He waited until her eyes met his and until the panic had subsided.
‘Whoever this man is, I won’t let him hurt you. I just need you to have a look.’
He watched as she regained control of herself, noting her squared shoulder, straightened back and raised chin. She was ready.
‘When I last saw him he was heading towards the clock tower on this side of the street,’ Edward said.
Amelia edged towards the end of the alleyway and cautiously peered out. She looked left and right, her entire body tense as if ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger. Slowly Edward could see her relax as she studied the people in the village square and along the shopfronts without seeing anyone she recognised. Then she stiffened. Edward
heard a sharp intake of breath and quickly pulled her back towards him. She allowed him to scoop her in to his chest and as he held her body against his Edward could feel her shuddering.
‘He was dead,’ she whispered.
Although Amelia was in shock now, Edward knew seeing McNair would be a good thing in the long run. Here was the proof she needed to know she hadn’t killed a man. For days Edward had watched her as she suffered, not knowing how to ease the guilt and regret she was living with. Now, although they had to worry about McNair seeking revenge, Amelia would at least be able to move on with her life.
And move on from you, a rebellious little voice said inside Edward’s head. He squashed it down, but the seed had been planted. She could move on from Beechwood Manor now. He would get what he’d wished for on numerous occasions in the past week: his house back to himself and a life of solitude again.
‘What do we do?’ Amelia asked, turning her beseeching blue eyes up towards him.
‘Let’s get you home,’ Edward said, taking charge of the situation. ‘He hasn’t seen you and no one knows you’re here. There should be no reason for him to tarry in the village for more than a day. We’ll keep you hidden until he’s passed through.’
He could see his words were having a soothing effect on Amelia and was relieved when she nodded in agreement.
‘Come with me.’ Edward took her hand and led her further down the alleyway between the shops and round the corner at the back. They had to scramble over some old crates, but after a few minutes they were out of the village and on the path back to Beechwood Manor.
‘Why is he here?’ Amelia asked as they walked. Every few seconds she would turn and glance over her shoulder as if checking if they were being followed.
Edward shrugged. ‘It’s the logical place to start looking for you, a village on the route to London. You’d have to pass through if you took the stagecoach. He’s probably trying to trace your movements.’
Amelia fell silent. As she moved closer in towards Edward, taking his arm as she stepped across a puddle, Edward felt inordinately pleased at the implied trust in her gesture. She wanted him close, she wanted him to be the one to protect her. He’d forgotten quite how intoxicating being needed could feel.