Heiress on the Run

by Laura Martin

  A glimmer of hope appeared in her eyes.

  ‘It’s not?’

  ‘Your husband was a good man, a good worker, and it was a tragedy he lost his life so young. Believe me, I understand the suffering involved in losing one’s spouse, one’s life partner, and I have never had to worry about how I would provide for my family, too. I think you are an extremely brave and resourceful woman and I don’t want you ever have to worry about losing your home, not whilst I am your landlord.’

  ‘You don’t want us to move out?’

  ‘I don’t want you to move out.’

  ‘But we don’t pay any rent.’

  ‘Mrs Locke, if we can’t show a little kindness to others in this world then what is the point of living? I don’t want your money. I don’t want you to leave.’

  Mrs Locke threw herself at Edward and hugged him, encircling him with her skinny arms and sobbing like a child on his shoulder.

  Amelia motioned for him to reciprocate and awkwardly he patted her softly on the back.

  ‘Is there anything we can do to help, Mrs Locke?’ Amelia asked.

  The older woman released Edward and sniffled. ‘You’ve been so kind. When I saw you coming up the path I thought...’ She trailed off. ‘I thought we were for the workhouse.’

  ‘How old are your daughters?’ Amelia asked, looking at the two skinny girls standing by their mother.

  ‘Emily is fourteen and Ginny is ten. My eldest, Rebecca, is out at work. She’s a maid over at Twittle House.’

  Amelia glanced at Edward and tried to convey her idea with a flash of her eyes. He frowned at her.

  ‘It won’t be long until Emily is going out to work, too,’ Amelia prompted.

  ‘Oh, no, miss. As soon as we can find her a position she will be going into service.’

  ‘I’m sure it would be a comfort to you if she could find a position locally.’

  Understanding finally dawned on Edward’s face.

  ‘Mrs Henshaw, my esteemed housekeeper, is always telling me we need more staff at Beechwood Manor. I will have to check, but I can ask to see if she has a position for Emily.’

  ‘Truly, Sir Edward?’

  Edward retreated a little, as if expecting another hug, but managed a reassuring smile.

  ‘Truly. I will talk to her later today.’

  As they left the Lockes’s cottage Amelia took Edward’s arm and leaned in closer to him.

  ‘What you said back there, to Mrs Locke, I think that’s one of the kindest things I’ve ever heard.’ Amelia could see the hint of colour in Edward’s cheeks. ‘You’re a good man, Edward Gray.’

  He opened his mouth to reply, but Amelia pressed a finger to his lips. She knew what sort of man he was and no amount of protestation on his behalf would change her mind.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Stay right there,’ Edward instructed, frowning as Amelia started to sit up. ‘Don’t move.’

  ‘What...?’ The question trailed off as Edward dashed from the room and disappeared down the hallway. He was back within a few minutes, sketchbook and set of pencils in hand.

  ‘I want to draw you.’

  ‘Like this? I look a state.’

  ‘You look fine. Natural. Sit still.’

  She was reclining on a chaise longue she had found in some distant part of the house and moved to the sitting room. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon and they’d been stuck in the house all day. Edward could see Amelia was getting restless; she kept running her hands through her hair and fiddling with her dress, all which gave her a natural and dishevelled look. A look Edward just had to catch on paper.

  ‘Where should I look?’ she asked, fidgeting.

  ‘Just carry on reading your book and try to forget I’m even here.’

  She was so easy to draw and as Edward let his pencil glide over the paper he felt all his tension and worries melt away. In this moment all that mattered was capturing Amelia’s vitality, her sparkle, her aura of energy.

  ‘Have you finished yet?’

  ‘Be patient.’ Edward smiled to himself. Patience wasn’t one of Amelia’s virtues. He was counting the minutes until she sprung up off the chair and declared she couldn’t sit still for a moment longer.

  A curl of hair slipped from its pin on top of her head and cascaded down over her shoulder. Edward closed his eyes for a moment before forcing himself to focus. He had felt unbalanced and restless ever since their trip to visit his tenants, and he’d hoped drawing would have its usual soothing effect on him.

  ‘You’ve stopped drawing,’ Amelia said accusingly.

  ‘Just considering my next angle.’

  In truth it had felt good to do something normal, something he had done for years before his self-imposed seclusion. Visiting his tenants, taking an interest in their lives...that was something he had been brought up to do and he found that he had missed it. He missed running the estate and getting out to talk to people, and for that one afternoon he caught a glimpse of how life could be.

  In the moment he had thoroughly enjoyed himself, but ever since he’d been plagued by a nagging guilt. Before the fire he would have asked his wife to accompany him on tenant visits, or he would have taken Thomas out to explore the estate. Now he was taking enjoyment in the things they had done together when they would never get to do them again. Edward knew his entire life couldn’t be governed by his guilt at surviving when his family had not, at allowing himself to smile and laugh when they weren’t by his side, but he seemed unable to push through his regrets completely and leave them behind.

  ‘Can I see?’ Amelia asked, straining to catch a glimpse of her impromptu portrait.

  ‘It’s not finished. Sit still.’

  Amelia flopped back into position, the neckline of her dress slipping a little with the movement and revealing a triangle of velvety skin underneath. Edward found himself not able to look away as she leisurely rearranged her dress, a hot wave of desire flooding through his body.

  Forcing himself to return his attention to his sketch, Edward repeated the mantra that had become part of his daily ritual these past few days. I do not desire Amelia, he told himself, not risking another glance in her direction in case she could read his pained expression. I will not desire Amelia.

  Every bone in his body wanted to cross over to the chaise longue and grip the hem of her dress that was currently carefully arranged to cover her legs. He wanted to gently lift her hem until the tops of her stockings were revealed, resting on those slender thighs. Now that would make a wonderful work of art.

  I do not desire Amelia. I will not desire Amelia.

  ‘I can’t sit still for a moment longer,’ Amelia declared, jumping up from her seat and gliding over to where Edward was still sketching. He liked her like this, animated and in motion. He wished there was some way to capture the essence of her movements on paper, but he had to make do with still portraits, not very realistic when you considered how much of the time Amelia spent moving about. Clearing his throat, Edward quickly made an effort to banish his inappropriate thoughts from his mind before she came into his personal space.

  She leaned over the back of the chair and angled his sketch pad up towards her. Edward found himself holding his breath. He wanted her to like it. He hadn’t shared his drawings with many people in his life and suddenly he felt nervous.

  ‘Is that how you see me?’ Amelia asked, her voice a little strained.

  Edward glanced at the drawing. He couldn’t quite tell if Amelia was upset or not, but something wasn’t quite right.

  Cautiously he nodded.

  ‘You’ve made me beautiful.’

  He mumbled something incomprehensible.

  ‘Will you teach me?’

  Edward blinked in surprise. He’d never expected her to ask that of him.
Amelia was a restless, active person. Drawing took patience and serenity.

  ‘What would you like to draw?’

  ‘You.’

  ‘Maybe we can start with something a little easier. That vase of flowers?’

  Amelia shook her head. ‘I’ve got no interest in those flowers. I want to draw you.’

  Edward shrugged, laid out a pencil and paper for her and resumed his seat.

  ‘No, no, no,’ Amelia said, tapping the pencil on her lip. ‘Something’s not right.’

  Edward raised an eyebrow, but shifted slightly.

  ‘Maybe if you stand.’

  He stood.

  ‘Look out into the distance. Like a conquering hero.’

  Edward looked, but kept his expression of mild irritation.

  Amelia sketched, every so often pausing to pop the end of the pencil into her mouth and regard him for some minutes.

  ‘This isn’t going well,’ she admitted eventually.

  ‘Come here,’ Edward instructed, pulling her to the floor to sit beside him.

  He grimaced as he looked at her rudimentary pencil strokes and harsh lines. The perspective was all wrong, his body was out of proportion to his head and there were scribbles and dark lines where Amelia had obviously got frustrated.

  ‘Let’s go back to basics,’ he said, picking up a clean sheet of paper and handing Amelia a fresh pencil. ‘First of all, relax your grip. The pencil is an extension of your hand, allow the drawing to flow from you.’

  Amelia giggled as she flopped her hand around a little, brandishing the pencil more like a weapon than an artistic instrument.

  ‘Here.’ Edward took her hand in his and adjusted her grip, his skin feeling rough against her satiny-smooth fingers. ‘Press gently, allow yourself to relax and try long, smooth strokes.’

  Carefully he guided her hand across the paper, showing her the ideal amount of pressure and control. She was sitting close to him, her body almost tucked into his chest, and Edward was acutely aware of her proximity. As Amelia tilted her head he felt his pulse quicken. A curl of her hair fell backwards and tickled Edward’s neck and they were so close he could hear the soft intake of breath as she concentrated on her drawing.

  After a long few minutes of torture Edward couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer and reached out to trail a finger down the soft skin of the nape of her neck. Only at the last minute did he catch himself and stop, finger poised in mid-air.

  He couldn’t do that to her, she didn’t deserve to be toyed with, subjected to a tormented man’s uncontrolled desires and moods. It wouldn’t be fair on her and it would only cause him further heartache.

  Amelia turned and caught the haunted expression on his face.

  ‘Do you think...?’ Amelia began, but let the question trail off.

  ‘What?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘Ask it.’

  ‘Do you think you will ever be free?’

  ‘Free?’

  ‘From the guilt and the regret? Free to start building a normal life again?’

  Edward saw the pity in her eyes and felt the squeeze in his chest as his heart constricted. Three years he had been in mourning, three years of pain and punishment and self-inflicted exile from the world. It would never be enough to make up for the guilt he felt at surviving when those he loved, those he should have protected, had perished.

  ‘You wouldn’t understand,’ he said harshly.

  He couldn’t stand the sympathy and compassion in her eyes and suddenly he had the urge to push her away, to strike out with his words and wound her. Anything would be better than continuing to receive her pity. He didn’t deserve it.

  ‘Help me understand.’

  ‘You’ll never understand. How could you?’ He hated the harsh tone of his voice and the hurt expression on Amelia’s face as though he’d physically slapped her, but somewhere deep down Edward knew that was all he deserved.

  ‘Maybe I couldn’t,’ Amelia said softly.

  Sadly she reached up and placed a hand on Edward’s cheek, tears springing to her eyes. She looked at him long and hard, as if committing his face to her memory, and then stood and left the room, leaving Edward wondering if he had lost the one thing which could bring him back to life.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I do not know what you said or what you did, but for the love of everything that you hold dear, please make amends,’ Goody was saying.

  Amelia paused outside the door, intrigued by what was going on in the room. She heard Edward grunt and through the crack between the door and frame saw Goody level him with a look of despair.

  ‘What makes you think I’ve done something?’ Edward asked eventually.

  ‘Sir Edward, I’ve known you since you were trawling the ponds for tadpoles. I know when you’ve done something wrong.’

  Amelia knew she should leave, or at the very least make her presence known, but something held her in place. In the two weeks since she had pressed Edward about moving on with his life as they sat in the sitting room with him teaching her to draw, Amelia had barely laid eyes on him. Oh, they still dined together and occasionally passed each other on the stairs, and Edward still rescued her from her nightmares almost every night, but she hadn’t properly talked to him. Not since she’d asked that question and ruined everything.

  It was her impulsive nature that was to blame, of course. Most women would have just kept quiet and enjoyed his company, especially as Amelia suspected she was falling rather deeply in love with Edward, but of course she had to spoil everything. She’d pushed too hard, asked too much of him. Who was she to say when he should stop mourning his family? When he should move on and resume a more normal life? If only she’d kept quiet.

  ‘You should do something nice to make up for it,’ Goody suggested.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘You’re a grown man. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you what a young lady might enjoy by way of a treat. Maybe a little excursion, or a shopping trip. Miss Amelia strikes me as a young woman who follows fashion.’

  Edward didn’t answer and Amelia could see he was tracing patterns in some spilt flour on the kitchen table.

  ‘Or maybe take her somewhere on those horses you two love so much. It doesn’t really matter what you do, as long as you do something. Let her know you’re sorry. Let her see you enjoy spending time with her.’

  Amelia found she was holding her breath whilst waiting for Edward’s response. Would he deny he wanted to spend time with her?

  Goody’s tone changed and her voice became much softer. ‘I know it’s hard, Sir Edward. I know these past three years have been the hardest challenge any person has to endure, but you have survived. I’m so proud of you.’

  Goody’s voice cracked and Amelia saw the older woman brushing tears from her cheeks.

  ‘You’ve survived. Now it’s time to start living.’

  Amelia felt a lump form in her throat and quietly she turned and walked away. She shouldn’t intrude on their private moment and if she entered the kitchen now she was likely to cry as soon as she saw Edward.

  Flopping down into a chair, Amelia stared out the window morosely. It had been raining for the past four days, but today was dry at least. Every so often Amelia could even see a patch of blue in the sky. As she looked up she realised Goody was right; she would like a trip out. It wouldn’t have to be anywhere special, but just to get out of the house, to see a bit more of the world than Beechwood Estate, would be wonderful. It might also stop her from worrying about the lack of news from Mr Guthry’s man in London about her cousin. Lizzie should have received her letters by now and sent a reply, but there had been no word. Every day Amelia felt her levels of concern growing.

  ‘Amelia,’ Edward said as he entered the room, ‘I ha
ve something to ask you.’

  Amelia sat up quickly, rearranging her skirts and correcting her posture. She looked hopefully up at Edward.

  ‘Do you fancy a trip to the seaside?’

  The question threw her so completely Amelia sat with her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

  ‘The seaside?’

  ‘Well, not Brighton, of course, and probably not anywhere too populated. I was thinking a quiet little cove not too far away.’

  He was nervous, Amelia realised. Normally so blunt and to the point, Edward was nervous about asking her to accompany him on a trip out.

  She hesitated, thinking of all the reasons she should refuse, make up an excuse and let Edward go back to avoiding her.

  ‘I’d love to,’ she said after a few seconds’ pause.

  Edward smiled then, a genuine smile of happiness and relief, and Amelia saw the man he had once been, the carefree young man before his life had been destroyed by the fire.

  ‘Mrs Henshaw is packing us a picnic. Shall we meet in the barn in an hour’s time?’ Edward suggested.

  Amelia nodded and watched as Edward strode out, no doubt to gather his pencils and paper. She doubted he would go for such an excursion without them.

  * * *

  Two hours later and they were riding across the Downs in a bracing but warm breeze.

  ‘Race you to the top of the hill,’ Amelia shouted as she spurred her horse forward into a gallop. Behind her she heard Edward laugh and take up her challenge, hot on her heels as they mounted the top of the hill. ‘Look at that view.’

  They slowed for a minutes, regarding the rolling green hills before them with the sparkle of the sea in the distance.

  ‘I love this part of the country,’ Edward said. ‘I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.’

  ‘There’s something captivating about it, isn’t there?’

  For a while they let the horses set the pace, plodding along whilst they enjoyed the scenery. It felt to Amelia that the further they got from Beechwood Manor the more Edward seemed to relax. It was as though out here he could become his own man again, not tied down by the painful memories of his past.