Forgotten Friend (Roselund Heights)

by Miranda D Nelson

  Joanna looked up at him with a glint of pleasure in her eyes. “You know me so well.”

  Alice kept hold of Coralyn’s arm on one side with cousin Dinah on the other, hanging onto every word Alice said. Whether from the exertion of the exercise or some other fate, after a short time Alice’s speeches lessened and Coralyn and Dinah were permitted inclusion to the conversation. Coralyn found herself enjoying the company of her female companions and the walk passed swiftly.

  As they walked down the beach, Coralyn turned her companions toward the sea.

  “What is your plan, dear friend? Do you mean for us to swim?” Alice said with a laugh.

  “Heavens, no! It’s far too cold for swimming. Although I find it a delightful pastime. Today I wish to find shells to bring home with me.”

  Dinah stopped. “I do not think I ought to walk so near the water. Mother will be angry if my skirts get wet.”

  Coralyn looked at her skeptically. “Your mother would not care at all. You are afraid, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve never been in the ocean.”

  Coralyn pulled them forward again. “I am not asking you to go in. Just come closer so we may find shells.”

  Alice seemed to hesitate before hurrying forward. “Oh, come on!”

  As fate would have it, as soon as they reached the water’s edge, a large wave roared toward them and only Coralyn managed to escape it entirely. Though the other girls suffered nothing but wet boots, they retreated to the safety of the higher shore, claiming their mothers would be angry. Coralyn didn’t doubt Lady Eversley would be displeased, though far less than her own mother would be.

  Coralyn returned nearer the water, searching the pebbled shore. She chose carefully from the shells she found, knowing she could only carry so many. As another wave approached, she hurried from its grasp, laughing to herself as she ran. As she looked up, she saw Christopher watching her, a look of curiosity on his face.

  “And you wonder why I still see you as a ten-year-old girl.”

  The accusation in his voice yesterday was there no longer, but the sting of his words remained.

  “If you are going to insist on saying things to make me angry, I would prefer you said nothing at all.”

  He watched her a moment longer before turning to walk further down the beach.

  Coralyn waited for the wave to return to the sea before continuing her quest. As she searched, she heard laugher and looked up.

  Miss Leighton and Mr. Aldridge walked arm in arm, so attentive to what the other was saying they paid no mind to another soul.

  That is what I want. Unlike Mother, Coralyn did not desire a title or social status. She wanted someone who loved her with such strength even strangers knew it was true.

  She could only hope she would find a husband of that caliber. As it was, none of her current acquaintance even began to fit the description. The men who had shown interest in her in London all sought connections and wealth, not a loving partner.

  Up until four days ago, she would have said Christopher was the kind to care more for the person than the connection. But he had changed too much, grown too much like the titled men she abhorred.

  She shifted her glance to see where he had gone off to. Before she could find him, a surge of cold water hit her legs, soaking through her skirts in an instant and sending her off balance. She had not been paying attention to the sea, and the wave crashed into her from behind. She might have been able to withstand the icy blow, but a second wave came on its heels, knocking her completely over. Before her head went below the surface, she heard a cry from up shore. Then all she heard was the rushing of the ocean around her.

  She tried to push herself out of reach of the swell, but just as her face broke the water, another wave tumbled over her, filling her mouth with salty brine.

  Two strong hands gripped her by the arms and lifted her from the churning tide. She sputtered and spat, trying to clear her lungs and mouth of the icy assault. The hands which had lifted her came around her waist and held her up as the wave retreated into the sea, struggling to pull her in. But the man beside her would not allow her movement. Without thought, she leaned against him, still fighting to control her breathing.

  The moment she ceased coughing, the man holding her said, in a low, angry voice, “What were you thinking?”

  Coralyn pulled her head away with a jolt and looked up into Christopher’s face. “I wasn’t,” she muttered absently, still trying to breathe regularly.

  “That is precisely the problem.” The anger in his eyes sent a chill down her, intensifying the bitter cold of her frigid clothes on her skin.

  She was spared further answer by her uncle hurrying toward them, removing his cloak as he came. “Are you all right?” he called.

  “She is fine.” Christopher led her out of the reach of the waves, still holding her around the waist. She wished he wouldn’t, as she’d begun to shiver fiercely. Uncle Brickley met them and threw his cloak around her shoulders, rubbing her arms through the sturdy material.

  Aunt Agnes hurried over. “Oh, you poor dear. We must get you home and into dry clothes. Come along; the carriages are waiting at the top of the cliff.”

  Coralyn looked up the long road lying ahead of her. Her dress and pelisse weighed far more now that they were soaked through. Her teeth chattered against each other. She felt the eyes of all the others on her, and was immensely grateful most of them were family, though she was still certain she’d never been more embarrassed.

  Aunt Agnes turned to the others. “You are welcome to remain here longer if you would like. Please join us at the manor whenever you are ready; we’ll send the carriage back as soon as we can.”

  She stepped toward Coralyn, but Christopher pushed her forward before Aunt Agnes could assist her. Coralyn stumbled over the rocks beneath her feet.

  Christopher moved one hand from her waist at last, though he did not move it far. With one arm still surrounding her, he took her hand in his. “Come along,” he said, his tone softer, but still laced with agitation. He walked with her up the shore and up the trail, keeping hold of her the entire way to the carriage. Once there, he released her long enough to assist her aunt in, then helped her up. When Coralyn moved to sit beside her aunt, Aunt Agnes held up a blanket.

  “I mean no offense, dear, but perhaps you and Lord Eversley ought to sit on the same side. There’s no sense in dampening both seats.”

  Coralyn would have rather walked to Lynwood Manor than sit beside Christopher, but she had no choice.

  As the carriage began to move, Christopher muttered beneath his breath.

  Unable to ignore him, Coralyn said, “I’m sorry, Lord Eversley, but I’m afraid we could not hear you just now.”

  He turned and looked down at her, anger in his expression again. “What were you thinking, Miss Fairchild?”

  “I’ve already told you, I was not thinking. My mind was elsewhere. Believe me, I would not have chosen this fate for myself.”

  He shook his head. “You see, you are still the silly child you have always been.”

  “Christopher Eversley!” Aunt Agnes cried.

  Ignoring her, Coralyn spat back her own retort. “And you are colder than the sea.” She pulled the blanket tighter around her. “I ought to know.”

  There was a gleam in his eyes.

  Is he laughing? Have I really made him laugh?

  Before she could determine if it was true, Aunt Agnes exclaimed, “Coralyn Fairchild!”

  Coralyn glanced at her aunt, then back at Christopher, but any hint of laughter had passed. She turned back to her aunt. “Forgive me, Aunt.”

  “It is not I from whom you should beg forgiveness, either of you.” She looked between them. “I invited you both here this Christmas with the hopes that you might rekindle the friendship you shared. I have never seen a friendship like it since and I have been tortured the past eight years that you were not permitted to enjoy it. Now I have you here and all you have done is ignore each other and a
rgue. I’ll not stand it a moment longer.”

  Coralyn was surprised by the heat in her aunt’s voice. Aunt Agnes was mild tempered at her worst, but she was clearly angry now. “You will agree to be kinder to one another or I’ll terminate my invitation this very day.”

  Coralyn did not look at Christopher for a moment, but stared at the floor. Could she forgive him and be kind? Until last night, I do not think I have been unkind at all. So yes, I can be kind. But can he?

  Before the question was even considered, Christopher sighed. “I am sorry, Miss Fairchild.”

  She turned her gaze to his, expecting him to still look angry, but his expression had softened considerably.

  “I am, too.”

  “Good.” Aunt Agnes sounded like her usual self now, and the carriage pulled into the drive of Lynwood Manor. “Now, Coralyn, let us hurry you upstairs. I do not want you to catch cold. Lord Eversley, I’ll send a servant up to feed the fire in your room at once. You’re not quite as drenched as my niece, but you’re soggy enough as it is.”

  It was only then that Coralyn realized how soaked Christopher had become in his effort to save her. His boots had prevented the water from wetting more than a few inches of his trousers, but his arms were drenched, as was his front where she had leaned on him.

  He stepped from the carriage and as he lowered her to the ground, she held onto his hand a moment longer. “Thank you, Christopher, for saving me.”

  His gaze searched hers for a moment. “You are welcome, Miss Fairchild.” He dipped his head as he released her hand.

  Without the carriage walls to shield the breeze, Coralyn shuddered as a chill ran down her body.

  “Inside with you now, Coralyn,” Aunt Agnes said as she came from the carriage.

  Once thoroughly dried and dressed in her warmest nightgown, Coralyn climbed into her bed beneath the heavy quilt, relishing its warmth.

  “You’ll stay up here tonight,” Aunt Agnes informed her. “I’ll have your maid bring your dinner up later.” She handed her a cup of tea. “Drink this. It will help.”

  “Thank you, Aunt.”

  While Coralyn was more than happy to remain in the comfort of her warm room, she was disappointed not to spend the evening with company. She was ever so curious to see how Christopher would hold up his end of the promise to be more agreeable.

  The next morning, the men left early for a hunt, leaving the women to entertain themselves. As several friends from town came to call, this was not a difficult task. Coralyn sat in the drawing room near the fire, still feeling chilled from her dip in the sea. As she attended to her embroidery, her mind kept returning to Christopher. It was not until Rose visited that Coralyn participated much in the conversation. Rose sat near the fire with her, settling into the comfortable chair.

  “I heard you had a little swim yesterday, Coralyn.” She had a smile on her face that made her teasing evident.

  “It was an unfortunate incident.”

  Alice hurried over. “Oh, are you finally talking about what happened yesterday?” Without hesitating she dropped into the seat with Coralyn, forcing her to move to the side. “It was the most dramatic moment I’ve witnessed in my life! I looked one moment and she was collecting her shells; the next, she was beneath the water. I have never seen Christopher run so fast in his life. He was in the water before I even had a chance to call for help.”

  Coralyn turned to her with surprise. “He came that quickly?”

  “Yes, of course. The moment the first wave hit you, he hurried toward you. But when you went under, he positively flew.” She looked back to Rose. “It was very heroic.”

  Coralyn felt her cheeks begin to burn. As she’d been indisposed at the time, she hadn’t known how the scene on the beach had played out. She was touched that Christopher had been so concerned about her. Perhaps he does still care.

  Rose and Alice spoke for another half an hour, exchanging stories from London. But Coralyn’s thoughts were too involved with Christopher to do much else than idly listen.

  Between the guests who continued to call into the early afternoon and her mixed emotions regarding Christopher, Coralyn felt exhausted. She cried off as politely as she could when Alice, Dinah, and Jane asked her to join them shopping in Roselund. Instead, she took to her room, hoping to rest some before dinner, but she found she could not sleep. After thirty minutes of staring at the ceiling, she took her spencer from the closet and left the house. There was one place she was certain she could find relief. In a matter of minutes she entered the clearing in the trees.

  She sat in her favorite spot on the fallen tree and leaned back, looking up into the sky. She closed her eyes, letting the peace of the place wash over her. A few moments later, she heard footsteps approaching along the path. She only had time to stand before Christopher came around the bend in the trees.

  He looked at her, a slightly dismayed expression on his countenance. “Pardon me.”

  He turned back the way he had come and had almost reached the trees again before Coralyn called out to him.

  “Christopher, wait!”

  He stopped, and looked over his shoulder, but did not turn.

  “Please, come talk with me.”

  He scoffed, shook his head, and rubbed his fingers against his palm.

  “You did promise my aunt,” she said with a smile.

  Now he turned and met her gaze, but did not return her smile. “Very well, Miss Fairchild. What do you wish to say to me?”

  Coralyn withheld her curt remark. I am making an effort. The least he could do is try.

  “Did you enjoy your hunt?”

  He raised his brow. “You wish to talk about hunting?”

  “Why not? It is an interest of yours.”

  “But not of yours.”

  “And you think I must insist on speaking of things which I myself find interesting?” She only somewhat regretted the curtness in her voice.

  He sighed. “My apologies.”

  Try as she might, Coralyn knew she was not well hiding her pleasure at being the victor. “So, will you tell me about your hunting party?”

  “It was successful. We shot many birds.”

  Coralyn nodded. “You do not sound pleased, though. Did you not enjoy yourself?”

  He turned his gaze on her directly. Coralyn was alarmed by the hostility she saw there. “I most certainly did not.”

  “Are you blaming me?”

  “I am.”

  Coralyn looked around, attempting to reason out how she could be to blame. She met his gaze again, uncertainly. “I am sorry, but I do not know how I could possibly be at fault.”

  “I blame you, Miss Fairchild, because you were constantly in my thoughts.”

  Coralyn could do no more than stare at him.

  “It made for a rather distracting day.”

  “I…” Coralyn could still think of naught to say.

  Christopher began pacing the clearing. “Try as I might, all I could think about was yesterday on the beach.” He paused. “I could not forget the sight of you falling into the sea.” His voice lowered, smooth and husky. “I could not forget what I felt seeing you go beneath the water.”

  Coralyn felt an unfamiliar rush of emotions rise in her chest. Her first instinct was to hide what she felt, as her mother would have instructed. But something inside urged her to allow them their freedom. She felt tears threatening her eyes.

  She retook her seat on the log. “You do still care for me?”

  He stepped toward her. “Of course I do. How can you doubt that?”

  “Your anger yesterday certainly did a fine of job of concealing any concern you might have had.”

  He sighed again and sat beside her. “I know, and I am sorry. My fear led me to anger before I could truly explore my feelings. Once I had a chance to, I wished I had acted differently.”

  A few tears fell down Coralyn’s cheeks and she brushed them away with the back of her hand.

  Christopher leaned forward and peered
into her face. “Do these tears mean you still care for me as well?”

  She was surprised to see such hope in his eyes. “I do, Christopher. I always have. One of my greatest hopes in coming to Lynwood was that I might see you again. I was so delighted to find you here.”

  He smiled softly. “I’m afraid you’ve been disappointed in that regard, as have I.”

  Coralyn nodded with a sardonic smile. “Indeed I have.”

  Christopher leaned back and closed his eyes. “Then what shall we do about it?”

  Coralyn surveyed him, remembering that last morning in the clearing, eight years ago. The way they had talked, so comfortably, and how much she longed for that familiarity again. She thought back on all they had done in that time together.

  “Would you teach me to ride?”

  “You already know how to ride,” he said lazily.

  “I used to know how to ride.”

  He sat up and stared at her. She hadn’t felt embarrassed about not remembering how to ride until he looked at her with such an incredulous gaze.

  “When I left, my mother never let me ride again. She said it was not a talent worth my time.”

  Christopher turned away and Coralyn could not read his expression. When he faced her again, she could sense the control he held over his emotions. “If you wish to learn to ride, I would be happy to teach you.”

  Coralyn smiled. “I would like that very much. There is one problem — I do not own a riding habit.”

  Christopher arched one brow. “You never used to wear a riding habit.”

  She laughed. “True, and I would not be fully against riding without one, except my clothes are much finer than they used to be. I’m afraid the ride would mar them beyond repair.” She smiled as she said this, intending to remain light, but a shadow crept into Christopher’s expression.

  He leaned back again, looking across the clearing. “I am certain my mother or sister could lend you one. Or either of the young Mrs. Brickleys. When would you like to begin?”

  Coralyn watched him for a moment, wondering at the sudden change in his mood. “Tomorrow?”

  He looked at her then, and studied her in a way that seemed to search her soul. “Tomorrow it is.”