by Tuft, Karen
He needed fresh air. He needed to walk.
He needed to get away from Elizabeth to think more clearly, for he was beginning to forget Alex in his yearning for Elizabeth, and he couldn’t do that.
Not after what Kit had done.
***
“Goodness,” Aunt Margaret said after Kit abruptly left them in the dining room. “I wonder what is going on with him. He has seemed rather more quiet than usual. Not his normal self.”
“We are all under some strain, Aunt Margaret,” Elizabeth said. It felt nice to call her that. “He and Anthony grew up together, and I’m sure he is as worried as either of us for Amelia and the baby.”
“Oh dear, my poor Amelia! Happiness cannot be snatched so soon after I have found her. Perhaps I should have stayed at Ashworth Park when they invited me, but they needed time to get to know each other better. They certainly didn’t need an old woman about, getting in the way. And now I wonder if I will regret it.”
“You are a dear lady and would have been welcome with them, I’m sure, and would not have gotten in the way. But I am glad you chose to return to London, for if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have come to Surrey, and I wouldn’t be here with you now, and I cannot be sorry for that. I have grown to love you. All will be well with Amelia and her baby, you’ll see.”
“I pray you are right, my dear. Oh, how I pray! But I was not speaking of that when I referred to Lord Cantwell’s bad humor. He has been in grumpy spirits for a while—just witness how he behaved toward you at Lady Bledsoe’s musicale. I have never seen anything but amiability from the man, and yet, there he was, making unflattering remarks that reflected on you and Lady Bledsoe and on the Duke of Aylesham. No, I tell you, something else is troubling him.”
Elizabeth recalled the moment she’d awakened in the coach. Kit had been the first thing she’d seen when she’d opened her eyes, and he had been looking directly at her. But his gaze had been so impenetrable she’d had to look away.
“Perhaps I should go see if he is well,” Aunt Margaret said, attempting to rise from her chair.
“Oh, no, you mustn’t!” Elizabeth said. “You need to rest. Amelia will need to see you appearing healthy and happy and looking forward to the birth of her baby. You need your strength for that. I shall go inquire after Kit.” She hoped she sounded reassuring, despite questioning the idea of searching for Kit when he was being so aloof. He obviously wished to be alone.
“If you really think so; I would appreciate it a great deal. He’s a dear boy, you know,” Aunt Margaret said. “But I am rather tired, even after that little nap in the coach this afternoon. Probably all the jostling about has unsettled my bones. I am looking forward to sleeping somewhere that doesn’t bounce.”
“I will walk with you to your room,” Elizabeth said.
“Thank you, dear.”
She assisted Aunt Margaret up the stairs to her room and kissed her on the cheek. “Sleep well, Aunt Margaret.”
“I shall certainly try,” she said. “And when I am not sleeping, I will be praying.”
“As will we all,” Elizabeth said.
When the door closed behind Aunt Margaret, Elizabeth went to Kit’s room. She knocked.
There was no answer.
“Kit?” she called in a quiet voice so as not to disturb any other guests.
Still no answer.
She returned to the main floor of the inn. She looked first in the public dining area, but he wasn’t there; then she quickly peeked into the taproom. He was not there either.
It was dark outside, and if Kit had left the inn, she would have no idea where he would have gone. She’d never spent any time in High Wycombe before, so she wasn’t sure what to do next. It wasn’t as though it was a good idea for her to roam the streets of High Wycombe at this time of night. And Kit was a grown man, fully capable of taking care of himself.
And yet she’d assured Aunt Margaret that she would look for him.
She stepped outside. Torches were lit around the courtyard so she could see a bit in each direction, but not very far. A mail coach drove into the courtyard while she stood there, and several passengers began climbing out of it and scrambling off the top of it; people appeared to be in every nook and cranny of the vehicle. Men young and old, women carrying swaddled babes and dragging sleepy children by the hand, made their way toward the entrance of the inn. The horses snorted and shook their heads, while the coachmen shouted back and forth with the stablehands.
Elizabeth left the commotion behind and wandered toward the edge of the inn property adjacent the road. It was nearly too dark to see anything this far from the torches, and she squinted as she looked down the road, trying to help her eyes adjust to the lack of light, but her search revealed nothing.
She walked the length of the property in another direction, toward a road that led away from the high street. It was even darker here, with large shrubs that cast even blacker shadows into the darkness. She shivered. She’d never been allowed alone like this in her entire life, except for the few times she’d slipped out of the house at Marwood Manor this past summer. But it had been Marwood, and she’d known it well and had known she was alone.
She began to feel uneasy, startling at the merest rustlings in the bushes. And she did not see Kit anywhere.
She had tried, and she gave herself credit for venturing beyond what had felt appropriate for a young lady of her upbringing. This went beyond propriety to safety, and Elizabeth wasn’t foolish. She would return to the inn. She could wait there in the public room for Kit to return while the other passengers dealt with their business; there was safety in numbers.
As she made her way back to the inn, she heard a sound behind her. “Ye lookin’ fer somethin’, miss?” a coarse voice asked.
She turned to see a greasy-looking man leering at her.
“No,” she said in as loud a voice as she could muster and hurried back inside the inn and, from there, to her room.
Kit’s whereabouts would have to remain a mystery until tomorrow, despite her assurances to Aunt Margaret.
***
Kit had been standing next to the trees at the edge of the property when Elizabeth had exited the inn. He’d been surprised to see her and had moved deeper into the shadows; he hadn’t wanted to talk to her, but he’d also wanted to keep an eye on her. When she’d hurried back into the inn, Kit had been able to breathe again.
Now he walked. Sometimes that was what a man had to do—take the next step forward, not knowing where it was taking him but knowing he must keep going. So he kept walking, hoping the fresh air would cleanse his soul and the darkness would cloak his thoughts. Clouds shrouded the bare sliver of a waxing moon and allowed only a few stars to peek out, leaving the sky a blank, gray canvas.
He put one foot in front of the other, trying to outpace memories of the past.
“You can’t avoid it forever, you know,” Kit said after reining in his horse. “Sooner or later, you know you must set a date and wed her.”
“That’s easy enough for you to say,” Alex said, staring off into the distance. “It’s not the rest of your life being sacrificed here. Oh, the chit is agreeable enough, pretty to look at and all that, I suppose. No doubt we would rub together reasonably well—many arranged marriages do, if that were all that was at stake; although there’s no vitality about her anymore. No, the problem is that I become shackled to the parents, too, who are utterly repugnant creatures, both of them. And that I absolutely cannot do.”
“They can’t be as bad as all that,” Kit said, recalling the times he’d seen the Duke of Marwood in Town. He was pompous, but he was a duke, so one expected that sort of thing.
“Your memory is lacking if you can’t remember Elizabeth in her youth, when she still had some semblance of life about her. She is little more than a puppet now, with her papa working the strings to enhance his lofty positi
on. He views me as a means to an end and is only waiting for the vows to be spoken before he attempts to control me as well. I can’t bear the thought. I would rather die than have that happen.”
“Don’t say such things,” Kit said, alarmed. “It isn’t like you at all, Alex. Surely something can be done.”
“After all this time? You really think so?” Alex laughed bitterly. “Do you not imagine that I have expressed my feelings on the matter before? ‘Love will grow,’ my parents always reply. They mean well, I’m sure. It worked for them, after all. But they have not seen firsthand what I have seen of the Duke of Marwood, nor had I until the original arrangements had been drawn up and I began spending more time in their company with their daughter. You cannot know how hard I have already endeavored to delay these marriage vows, Kit.
“There is also the honor of the Ashworth name, you know. My father worked long and hard to restore it after my grandfather nearly destroyed it. I didn’t know how to refuse the marriage when I was younger, and I certainly can’t say no to it now. I cannot be the cause of any dishonor to my father. I love him and my mother too much. Avoiding the actual marriage has distressed them; I know it. And yet—”
Alex’s mount was as agitated as his master.
Kit wasn’t sure what to say. He’d always been one who was more comfortable taking action than finding words. “Come, Alex, let’s put these thoughts to rest. We are here to ride. Let’s ride.”
Alex shrugged his shoulders. “You’re right. Here and now, we are free—so we shall ride. Oh, that we could ride until we truly were free.” He nudged his horse into a trot and then swiftly into a gallop. Kit urged his own mount to follow.
They galloped across the fields of Ashworth Park and then beyond, through the fields, the wind in their faces, the sun beating down on their backs. Alex maintained the lead, and Kit raced after him, at first exhilarated, and then . . .
And then he realized Alex was going too fast for the terrain, driving his horse too hard, and the ground beneath them was too soft. And then Kit watched as Alex commanded his horse to leap over what appeared to be a small incline, and Kit heard the horse scream.
And then there was only silence.
Kit continued on, but despite his best efforts, the grief and guilt engulfed him again, as it had on many other occasions. So he kept walking until the tears dried and his fatigue drove him back to the inn and, hopefully, to a dreamless slumber.
Chapter 15
They awoke early the next morning, and after a nourishing breakfast provided by Mrs. Hallam to guests and servants alike, they were quickly on their way.
It portended to be a journey with little conversation, just as their journey had been the afternoon before. Once Kit was inside the coach, he propped himself in the corner, planted his feet firmly on the floor, and pushed the brim of his hat over his eyes, feigning sleep. Elizabeth and Aunt Margaret shared a glance; apparently his bad humor was going to continue on for a while longer.
Aunt Margaret still spent a great deal of time watching the countryside roll by, but she seemed less agitated this morning than she had been yesterday, which reassured Elizabeth, who assumed it was because they would be at Ashworth Park within a few hours and Aunt Margaret would have the news that she was desperate to hear about Amelia and the baby.
Eventually, Elizabeth could hear muffled snores coming from under the brim of Kit’s hat, and Aunt Margaret herself had been lulled into a doze by the rumbling of the carriage wheels. Elizabeth was left truly to her own thoughts, which had been plentiful.
She could not, in good conscience, stay at Ashworth Park. She would have to rely upon their good will for a night or two, perhaps, but she had already decided sometime during the night that she would write to the Duke of Aylesham and take him up on his offer of assistance.
The Duke of Aylesham, as one of the most powerful men in the country, undoubtedly had extensive connections. Now that Aunt Margaret would be with her niece, her true family, she would be content. Elizabeth could already envision the sweet lady bouncing a chubby baby on her knee.
Elizabeth needed to find a new place to live and a means of providing an income for herself. It would be best for everyone.
Kit shifted in his seat and pushed his hat up, blinking. Elizabeth put her finger to her lips and gestured with her head toward Aunt Margaret. His eyes followed, and he nodded. He straightened up and tried to stretch a bit in the limited space of the coach.
“I am creating a new list,” she whispered to Kit.
“Mm,” he said. It was all he said.
“Yes,” she replied, hoping to sound cheerful, despite being anything but. “It is a list of things I do not like. I have realized that if there are things I like, then the opposite must be true. There are probably things about which I am indifferent and, therefore, do not deserve a list. But things I do not like deserve one, I think. Would you care to know what is on that list so far?”
“It is not the most appealing of lists, but I see the merit since discerning such things has been one of your goals,” he replied in a low voice.
“I will take that as a yes,” Elizabeth said. She would begin with a few easy items. “I have realized that I do not like beetroot, for example.”
“It isn’t one of my favorite foods, either, but I tolerate it,” Kit said.
At least it was a response that sounded more like a conversation between acquaintances rather than the indifferent discourse that occurred between strangers. “I do not like briar bushes, although I suppose they protect little animals from predators.”
“Like vermin, you mean.” He yawned.
“They are not all vermin, you know,” she said. “But back to my list: I do not like mean dogs. I do not like bullies.”
“They are much the same,” Kit said.
“True. I find I do not like the unknown. At least, I am not comfortable with it. After last year, I have discovered that not knowing can be a curse.” She had not known just how far in debt they were, for example, or how desperate her father had been for her to marry Lord Halford and have access to his money and connections until her entire world had collapsed.
Kit was actually looking at her now, so she continued. “I do not like that my father contracted a marriage for me when I was at an age not to question his decision. I do not like that I have spent most of my life with a certain expectation for my future only to have that future stripped away from me more than once.” She could tell that her voice was getting louder as she spoke, so she stopped herself and took a deep breath. “I do not like that I am traveling to a household that cannot welcome me, shouldn’t welcome me, and yet I will present myself on the doorstep and hope for graciousness.”
“Elizabeth,” he said.
She had his full attention now. “And I do not like the fact that you have been distant, even estranged, from me—from us—the past few days. I thought we were friends.”
“We are—”
“I have few enough friends,” she said. The tip of her nose was beginning to tingle, and she could feel tears creeping up her throat. “I thought you were one of them. You insisted I wear boy’s clothes. You taught me to fence. You dressed as a commoner with me, and we danced.”
“I can’t explain right now—” He looked over at Aunt Margaret, although it seemed to Elizabeth that she was still sound asleep.
“You don’t have to. I think I already know the reasons for it. You have loyalties to others. I understand it, but I don’t like it. I don’t think I have to like it, even if I do understand. So they are going on my list as well.”
“I am your friend, Lizzie; of that you can have no doubt,” he said earnestly.
“But I do doubt it,” she told him bluntly, sadly. “You are a man of action, Kit, not of words, and your actions speak what you are apparently unwilling to say.”
“Goodness,” Aunt Margaret said suddenly, y
awning and stretching her arms out in front of her. “Did I doze off? I must have. Oh, look! We are not far from our destination now. I recognize these surroundings. You will allow me to apologize for being a terrible companion who has been short on conversation this morning. My mind is so preoccupied with thoughts of Amelia that I can scarce think of anything else. I attribute my drowsiness to my poor head’s inability to cope with all those thoughts.”
“Quiet can be a good thing,” Elizabeth said. “And so can sleep.”
“You certainly dozed off quickly, Cantwell,” Aunt Margaret said. “You were sound asleep before the horses had taken their first steps.”
“My apologies, Lady Walmsley,” Kit said. “I had a rather sleepless night, but I would speculate that all of us suffered from that affliction, considering the reason for our journey.”
“It was certainly my reason,” Aunt Margaret said. “Was it yours, then, too?”
It was a pointed question, and for a moment, Kit looked like a fox cornered by a hound. “I am concerned for the health of Lady Halford and her child,” he replied.
“Of course you are,” Lady Walmsley said. She heaved a big sigh and settled her hands in her lap, then peered out the window. “Well, we shall have our answers soon enough. The private lane to Ashworth Park is up ahead.”
Elizabeth leaned over to peer out Aunt Margaret’s window. The gate for Ashworth Park was indeed in sight. As she straightened, she noticed Kit watching her. She wished she understood what his eyes were trying to tell her.
He broke his gaze and turned to stare out his own window.
And Elizabeth’s heart broke a little, for his actions once again told her truths that were contrary to the words he’d said to her just moments before.
***
The coaches turned onto the private road leading to Ashworth Park and made their way down the drive to the manor house. By the time the coaches rolled to a stop, stablehands from the livery were already there, as were footmen from within the house, ready to assist, to collect luggage, and see to the needs of everyone who had arrived.