Forgotten Friend (Roselund Heights)

by Miranda D Nelson

  “Are you being honest with me?”

  “Why would I lie about that? I hate London, I hate the London society, I hate the ostentatiousness of it all.”

  He leaned back, seeming overwhelmed and relieved.

  “I may have taken my freedom from Mother a bit too far in that sense, too. And my sarcasm does not always come across as it should.”

  He looked at her intently, his eyes dancing.

  “Why do you look at me so?”

  He shook his head. “This is the first time since we’ve been reunited that I actually believe you have not changed as much as I’d thought.”

  She glared at him, but allowed the smile that pressed her lips. “It is about time.”

  “I have been so confused by you. There have been times when you are simply a mature version of the girl I knew, but after the first few days, I was not sure if I could believe it.”

  Coralyn shook her head again and Christopher chuckled.

  “Do not be angry with me. I said I believe it now.”

  “Yes, but we’ve wasted so much valuable time.”

  He watched her again, and Coralyn felt her heart swell at the look in his eyes.

  “So much time, indeed.”

  The intensity in his gaze grew and a shiver ran down her spine.

  Somehow, she found her voice. “Will you promise me that we will not waste any more?”

  His voice was low and husky. “I will promise you anything you wish.” His smile was warm. “Beginning now.”

  He took up the reins again and urged the horses forward. They spent the next few hours wandering the grassy hills outside of Roselund and took the road that ran along the coast back to Lynwood Manor. Coralyn had never enjoyed herself more in all her life. There were no more moments of intensity, but such a comfort existed between her and Christopher that she felt she could sit with him for days on end, never tiring of his company.

  As they approached the house, Coralyn leaned forward to catch a view of the driveway. Lord Seton’s carriage was no longer out front and she breathed a sigh of relief.

  Christopher helped her from the gig and laced her hand through his arm as they went into the house, still laughing over their last memory of their time as children. They stopped in the entry hall, now beautifully decorated for the holiday.

  “I suppose I had better find your uncle and let him know we’ve come back. And thank him for the use of the gig,” Christopher said with a smile.

  “Shall I wait for you in the drawing room?”

  “I will join you as soon as I am able.”

  “Thank you for your rescue today, Christopher.”

  He unwound her hand from his arm, but kept it in his hand. “It was my pleasure, Miss Fairchild.” He lifted her hand to his lips and a tingle ran down Coralyn’s arm.

  He smiled at her, then turned to go up to the study. Coralyn drew in a deep breath. Grateful for a few minutes to herself to sort out her feelings, she went to the sofa in the drawing room, a smile still lingering on her face.

  “I am glad to see you so happy, Miss Fairchild.”

  A startled cry tore itself from Coralyn’s lips as she turned toward the voice. Lord Seton stood near the door, fury written in every line of his face.

  “Though I am much less than pleased, as I’m certain you may be aware.”

  Coralyn struggled for words. “Lord Seton. I… I did not realize you were here.”

  “No one told you I have been waiting all morning?” He glared at her. “I find that incredibly hard to believe.”

  “You have been waiting this whole time?”

  The fury in his gaze increased. “So you did know I was here earlier? Before you set out on your little jaunt with Lord Eversley.”

  Curses! Why did I not choose my words more carefully?

  “No, I only meant I was surprised to hear you had been waiting all morning.”

  He crossed the room with such speed Coralyn did not have time to prepare herself. Her hands raised to her face in surprise and she attempted to take a step back, but was prevented by the sofa. He grabbed hold of her wrist.

  “Do not lie to me, Miss Fairchild.”

  “I would not dream of such a thing.”

  His grip on her wrist increased and he pulled her toward him. “You are lying to me again.”

  She clutched at his fingers with her other hand. “Please, you are hurting me.”

  His grip tightened. “You will do well to learn not to test my patience, Miss Fairchild. I can assure you, you will not be pleased with the results.”

  He shoved her backward and she fell onto the sofa. He turned without another word and stormed from the drawing room. He barked orders to bring his carriage ‘round to the front of the house. She was grateful for the timeliness of the stable hands when she watched him drive away through the drawing room window only a few moments later.

  She had not moved from the sofa, afraid that he might come back. Now that he was gone, she sat up, cradling her wrist. Tears began to fall down her cheeks and a red bruise began to show on her skin.

  Christopher came in, his brows knit together. “Was that Lord Seton who just rode off? He was not here the entire time we were gone, was he?”

  Coralyn attempted to discreetly wipe away her tears while covering her wrist with her other hand, but was unsuccessful.

  “Are you crying?” Christopher asked as he came closer. He sat down beside her. “Good heavens, what did he say to you?”

  Coralyn met his gaze and the concern in his eyes drove more tears from her own. She did not want to tell him what had happened, but after the progress they’d made, she could not lie to him. And she feared Lord Seton now more than ever before.

  She lowered the hand covering her wrist. The redness had expanded.

  Christopher took her hand gently in his own. “He did this to you?”

  Coralyn nodded through her tears.

  Christopher swore and stood abruptly. Coralyn was startled by the anger in his eyes.

  “Where is he staying?” he growled.

  Coralyn shook her head and grabbed his hand with her uninjured one. “No, Christopher, please. Do not go after him.”

  “You want to protect him?” he nearly shouted.

  She shook her head, tears in her eyes again. “No! But I do not want you to leave. I want you to stay and protect me.”

  The anger seemed to melt from his body as he visibly relaxed, but fury still tinted his eyes. He sat down again and took her injured hand in his again. “Of course,” he said in a much gentler tone. He spent a moment examining her wrist. “I think it should heal fine, but we ought to call the doctor.”

  “No, please. I do not want the family to know.”

  “Coralyn—”

  “Tomorrow is Christmas. I do not want them worrying over me or being concerned about Lord Seton.”

  Christopher rolled his shoulders. “If you insist. But Coralyn,” he met her gaze and the anger came alive in his eyes again, “if he dares to touch you again…”

  Coralyn nodded but felt a jolt of fear at the possibilities. “Then you may do whatever you feel necessary to keep me safe.”

  Christmas morning dawned bright and though Coralyn woke with pain in her wrist, she was excited for the day ahead. She was also very grateful for the new fashion of long sleeves as they covered the darkening bruises. At breakfast, she sat between Alice, who chattered tirelessly about the pleasures of the holiday, and Aunt Agnes. Christopher sat across from her and she caught him watching her on more than one occasion. Her aunt must have noticed as well, for once Christopher left the table, she leaned toward her and said in a lowered voice. “Have you thought any more about your feelings, Coralyn?”

  Coralyn’s gaze darted around, wanting to be certain no one would overhear the conversation. Alice was reminiscing with her mother about some Christmas past and no one else was close enough to hear their quiet words.

  “I have.”

  “And?”

  “And I am
still uncertain. There are times when he makes me feel things no man has ever led me to feel before.” She blushed at admitting such a thing to her aunt, and at the breakfast table, no less! “But I feel such comfort and familiarity with him, which feels more like fast friendship than romance.”

  “Must the two be exclusive?” she asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have you considered that he can be your closest friend and the man you love?”

  Coralyn stared at her aunt. Could it be so simple? Could Christoper be both?

  “I had not considered that.”

  “I hope you will. Again, not that I would wish to pressure your feelings.”

  Coralyn gave her a smirk. “No, of course not.”

  Church that morning was pleasant, more so since Coralyn did not see Lord Seton in attendance. As they left the chapel after services, she was even more pleased to hear from more than one soul that he had returned to London the previous afternoon. Coralyn felt she could at last be at peace. She hoped he would not return.

  After church, the Brickley family and their guests gathered in the drawing room, sitting around the Yule Log fire that had been lit the night before. They took it in turns to share stories of their favorite Christmas memories while baby Ruth tended to the doll she’d been given by her parents.

  Uncle Brickley told of the Christmas he proposed to his lovely wife and she’d agreed to marry him. Aunt Agnes remembered a Christmas when all her children were younger, and the joy that was had as they enjoyed their Christmas gifts. John Jr. told of the best Christmas hunt he could remember, and his wife tearfully said that this Christmas with little Ruth was the best in her memory. Rupert and Helen both cherished a Christmas they’d spent in Paris. Dinah reminisced on the Christmas she had been given her horse. Lady Eversley recalled the last holiday she’d had with her husband and Alice told a long tale of a Christmas she’d spent in London as a younger girl.

  “What say you, Coralyn?” Aunt Agnes asked when Alice had ceased speaking. “What is your favorite Christmas memory?”

  “It is hard to say. This Christmas has been quite special.” She could not help herself from looking at Christopher, who gave her an encouraging smile. “But I think my most cherished would be the last Christmas I spent here, eight years ago. I’ve held on to those memories for so long, clinging to them for happiness.” Coralyn gazed into the fire. “Those memories have carried me forward, and the lesson I learned that year has been invaluable.”

  “What lesson did you learn?” Uncle Brickley asked.

  “I learned that it is important to take notice of the small, pleasant moments.” She looked at Christopher. “You taught me that on my last morning here and I have held tightly to that reminder ever since.”

  His smile of admiration warmed her more than the blazing fire.

  “You have not shared your favorite Christmas, Christopher,” Lady Eversley said.

  Christopher took his gaze from Coralyn and glanced around the room as he thought. “I have not been able to decide. There have been many wonderful holidays.” His eyes locked on Coralyn’s once more. “I suppose more than anything, I hope this Christmas will be one I can someday call my favorite.”

  A flutter arose in Coralyn’s stomach and her cheeks flushed as she realized every eye in the room was turned on her. A moment passed before she could formulate a coherent thought. “I’m sure we all hope each Christmas will bring new joys that we will remember for years to come.”

  A few in the room muttered their agreement, and Christopher smiled at her with fondness.

  More Christmas memories were shared, as were tales of the years the younger people had all spent as children at Lynwood Manor. Eventually the time came to change for dinner and Helen walked beside Coralyn as they made their way up the stairs.

  “What a wonderful afternoon,” she said.

  “It was wonderful to hear everyone’s memories,” Coralyn agreed.

  “What do you think Lord Eversley meant by his comment?”

  Coralyn willed herself not to blush, but felt it was of little use. “I really cannot say.”

  “Hmm. Well, whatever he may have been thinking, he seems to be quite attached to you.”

  Coralyn smiled. “He is my dearest friend.”

  Helen smiled in her own soft way. “That is the best place to begin.”

  They had arrived at Helen’s room and Coralyn was not obliged to ask for clarification as Helen nodded in farewell before slipping within.

  Feeling festive, Coralyn wore her favorite green dress to dinner. It was a simple gown her mother detested, but its simplicity reminded Coralyn of her younger years, and she cherished it.

  When they left the drawing room for dinner, Christopher extended his arm to her as he had so often before, but she noticed the delicacy with which he handled her injured wrist. The food must have been particularly delightful, for those who usually commandeered the conversation spoke with less frequency than usual, leaving ample opportunity for everyone to participate.

  During a lull, Christopher looked over at Coralyn. “I did not realize my advice to you that day in the clearing left such an impression on you.”

  Coralyn smiled. “It has provided me relief in times of trial and laughter in times of excessive boredom.”

  He returned her smile and looked at her fondly. “I am pleased to hear it. Unfortunately, I have failed to take my own recommendation into consideration these past years.”

  “You ought to repent of that.”

  “I assure you, I will.”

  “You could begin now. Surely Christmas is a time bursting with pleasant moments to choose from.”

  “Shall I list them for you?”

  She lifted one shoulder, feigning a nonchalance she did not feel. “If you like.”

  “Hearing everyone’s stories around the Yule Fire this afternoon was quite a pleasure.”

  Coralyn nodded. “It certainly was.”

  “Watching Ruth play with her doll was delightful.”

  “She is a darling girl.”

  “Sitting here with you now is surely pleasant.” He lowered his voice. “As was seeing your beauty when you came into the drawing room.”

  Coralyn laughed despite the warm tingle that spread inside her. “Listen to you talk.”

  His gaze held hers. “I hope we have not seen the end of our Christmas pleasures.”

  “As do I.”

  Coralyn was both grateful and sorry when Aunt Agnes stood and led the women from the dining room a moment later. They settled themselves into the drawing room and chatted while waiting for the men to join them.

  Coralyn chose a seat on the sofa near the fireplace. Aunt Agnes sat beside her and they enjoyed the quiet crackle of the fire together. Coralyn stared at the flames, again pondering her feelings toward Christopher. She had never thought of love as anything less than essentially swooning at every moment. Though the more she thought of it, the less plausible that seemed. She chuckled at the thought of continual swoons and how tiresome that might get.

  Someone approached and without even looking up, Coralyn knew it was Christopher.

  “Might I speak to you a moment, Miss Fairchild?”

  Her gaze went to his and there was such joy in his expression, she felt joyful just looking at him. She nodded and stood, following him to stand beside the fireplace. She was more than aware that half the people in the room were watching them while attempting to be discreet.

  His expression turned concerned and he leaned close and asked quietly, “How is your wrist?”

  “It is sore, but I am managing. Thank you for asking.”

  “Good.” The joy returned to his eyes. “I have a gift for you.”

  “A gift?” she asked.

  He nodded.

  “I thought we had established that I am no longer a child,” she smirked.

  “We most certainly have.” A flash of intensity crossed his gaze and she felt her cheeks start to color. “However, I thought pe
rhaps we could make an exception.”

  He lifted a small, dark brown box from the mantel and held it out to her. It was intricately carved with ivy and hellebore flowers.

  She ran her finger along one of the ivy vines. “Oh, Christopher, it is beautiful.”

  “You haven’t even opened it yet.”

  She glanced up at him before lifting the lid. It was lined with dark green velvet on the interior and the combination of that and the wood reminded her of her favorite trees in the clearing. Inside the box was a small collection of shells.

  She smiled up at him. “You found shells for me?”

  He nodded, obviously pleased with himself. “I noticed you lost the ones you had gathered when you took your little swim.” His eyes held a teasing gleam. “I went back when the tide was lower and found a few replacements. I hope they meet your satisfaction.”

  She turned each one over in her hand. “They are perfect.” She picked up a small shell, conch-shaped and pure white. A thin gold chain ran through a small hole on the top. Her gaze flew to his.

  “That is so you may carry a bit of Roselund Heights with you wherever you go.” His eyes were filled with admiration and his smile full of delight. “Perhaps this can remind you of those joys you find here.”

  He set the box on the mantel again and held out his hand. “May I?”

  She nodded and handed him the necklace before turning her back to him. He lowered the chain around her neck and his fingers brushed her skin as he closed the clasp. Her skin burned where he’d touched her.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “It suits you.”

  She fingered the shell and smiled up at him. “Thank you, Christopher.”

  Alice’s voice carried across the room. “Don’t look now, but you’ve managed to find the mistletoe again, Christopher.”

  Coralyn looked upward. Surely, nestled into the evergreen boughs surrounding the mirror above the fireplace, was a bundle of mistletoe.

  Christopher looked down at her as he had the night of the Christmas ball. The same intensity filled the air between them. But this time there was no hesitation. His hand came up from her shoulder to cradle her cheek and his lips came down gently onto hers.