Cowards, she thought, despite knowing there was not much anyone could do for her.
And her feelings toward Lord Ainsworth were so jumbled and new to her that she found herself at a loss until the moment he quit the room. Long after he was gone, her gaze remained steadfast on the doors.
Why did he drive her to both disdain and intrigue?
Ultimately, Augusta had no answers to the questions roaming in her mind, and she was more preoccupied by the question of what would happen once her ankle healed. She would not go home. Lord Ainsworth could turn her out, but she would just run away once he was back inside his manor.
Faking the injury after it was gone would not work to extend the time she had in which to plan. Lord Ainsworth was a physician, after all. Even if she purposefully ruined her ankle again, which was something she had considered, he would know that she had done it. She highly doubted that he would let her get away with the ruse and it would probably just infuriate him.
Interrupting her thoughts, Lady Jane poked her head between the double doors. “A good afternoon to you, Miss Brooke.”
Oh Lord, not that name again. She had only acquiesced to move Lord Ainsworth on in conversation. She did not want to be called “Brooke” when they should be calling her “Gussie” or at the very least, “Augusta”.
And not a soul had called her “Miss” in her entire life.
Lady Jane’s steps toward the chaise were spry, and there was a look of such pleasant gaiety upon her face that Augusta grinned at her.
Then she realized that she was growing tired of her own reticence.
When she was with her father, she was so afraid of his fists that she could scarcely utter a sound in his presence. She refused to live such a life now that she was away from him. Perhaps she could relent. She truly wished to ask questions – largely about Lord Ainsworth and his condition. She was not quite ready or willing to share her origins or her predicament.
She was still not sure if she trusted the duke enough.
But Lady Jane, though, seemed to be a hardy and sensible woman. More to the point, she did hold sway over Lord Ainsworth, which was a little comical given their wholly disparate appearances.
Augusta opened her mouth to speak to another human soul for the first time since she had entered the manor.
Chapter Four
Jane eyed William from her perch in the garden, confident that they were far enough away from any of the open windows in the manor for Miss Brooke not to overhear their conversation. She did not want to be seen as someone who might break confidences, and although she had not openly promised the young woman that she would hold her tongue about anything, Miss Brooke clearly did not have many people she could trust.
It was early morning, a strange time for her nephew to be out of doors, but he humored her all the same. His long hair was rumpled and his cravat was tied sloppily. It looked as though he had just been for a ride, but she knew he really couldn’t be bothered to rouse Marcus on such short notice. It mattered little. What mattered most was that he was here, now, and taking her seriously. “Has she said anything to you?” William asked.
“Yes, Nephew, that is what I have just told you. She has spoken to me.”
“You know what I meant.”
“Very well,” Jane said, with a small grin. “She has not said anything of import to me in the single conversation we had yesterday afternoon.” She sat back against the stone. “She was merely dealing in pleasantries. But I think she is very lonely.”
“That is of no use to me,” muttered William.
Stubborn lad, thought Jane. “It may take time for her to say anything you want her to, at all. If she does. She hasn’t breathed a word about where she is actually from, who her family is…”
“We need to know more about her now.”
“She is common,” said Jane in a thoughtful tone. “I can tell by her accent, never mind her hands. But she does seem to be educated.”
“Does her accent tell you where she’s from, then, oh wise Aunt?”
She shrugged and gave his question some pause. “She could be local, but as I said, I have never seen her in the village, and neither have you.”
William, as he was wont to do when he was vexed, began to pace. He took slow, deliberate steps between an ash tree and a rosebush blooming with delicate pink blossoms. “I should send Marcus down to make inquiries about a missing girl.”
“I wouldn’t do so just yet.”
“Why on earth not?”
“Even if we discover who she is, or where she is to be returned, she is in no state to be moved.”
“We could start asking in anticipation of her recovery.”
“And what if she is in danger? Could you live with that on your conscience? I couldn’t.”
William stared down at his recently-shined boots. “Of course I couldn’t.”
“She was running away,” said Jane. “I know not from what, or who. But I would stake my life on it.”
Jane conceded that she was sheltered, that she had not suffered many of life’s indignities or dangers. But she reckoned that she was old and astute enough to understand when a fellow person was suffering and desperate.
The resignation on William’s face was, despite his disfigurement, plain. Jane knew that he understood far better than she did that Miss Brooke was still invalided. Schooling her features, Jane tried not to look too smug.
Somewhere within the sad man before her, there was still her dear, compassionate William.
“Fine. But if I have angry villagers storming my gates, I shall have you to thank, and I shall hand you over to them without any compunctions.”
“You shall have no such thing. Who would raise such a fuss in Brookfield? Why, only the driver knew!”
“I don’t know,” said William. “This entire situation has me at a loss.”
“Perhaps it is good for you?”
He peered at her and stopped pacing for a spell. “You are truly enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Indeed, but surely you knew that already.”
“Why?”
“It is important to help when needed but, apart from that, it has been so long since I’ve seen you with any spark.”
That seemed to stun William. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, causing the curls to become even more disordered. “Perhaps I don’t want a spark,” he mumbled.
*
“How pleasant it is to spend an evening this way!” said Lady Jane. “I must declare, Miss Brooke, that reading a book in turns is my favorite way to pass the time. I am delighted to find you well-read, my dear.” She paused. “What a pity that my nephew has not graced us with his presence. Yet again. I even chose the second parlor, which he prefers.”
“Perhaps he is simply busy,” Augusta said. She did not think it was really the case, but she wanted to be polite to the woman who had shown her such warmth over the last week.
“He is simply sulking.”
Augusta bit down a laugh. “That would be his right. As the duke.”
“He really is good company,” said Lady Jane. She appeared wistful. “Or he was. He still can be, when he chooses.”
Augusta smiled at Lady Jane, who was seated opposite her on the crimson sofa, wondering how anyone could possibly enjoy Lord Ainsworth’s company when he was so unpredictable. Her smile conveyed none of her skepticism. Although their time together had not been long, Augusta had begun to feel a sense of attachment and affection toward the duke’s aunt and did not want to wound her.
Lady Jane spent the bulk of her day with Augusta, and she was beginning to feel badly for withholding her true name from the kind woman. Unlike Lord Ainsworth, however, she did not seem to take this as a slight or an inconvenience. She treated Augusta with courtesy and respect, extending hospitality as though she were the one running the manor.
“I quite enjoy reading,” said Augusta, mostly to change the subject. “My mother insisted that I become more than proficient.”
She thought back to hazy memories of Mama bringing home tattered books that had been discarded from the houses she cleaned, and of reading the family Bible over and over again. It was a long book, after all, and full of vocabulary to learn. The Bible was a resource that they couldn’t exhaust because it was always present and her father did not disapprove of her reading it. On the other hand, more secular books proved a challenge to his patience. So did newspapers. He did not like many of them, and could not see the point in Augusta learning to read well as a girl child.
It was not until Mama explained that if she could read, she could write—or learn to write, which Augusta had, of course—and therefore, she could help with practical household matters like the budget. That seemed to sway Father enough to quell his grumbling about wasted time.
Rich, coming from a gambler.
Back in those days, he had not beaten anybody that she knew of, though if Augusta looked hard enough, she could see the seeds of his later, more aggressive behavior.
“As well she should have,” said Lady Jane. “We are past the days when women should be considered inferior in intellect.”
If Lady Jane wanted to learn more about Augusta in that moment, she did not speak of it. But Augusta could tell that her host was curious to know more about her, the slight, young woman with the callused hands and broad-voweled accent, which Augusta knew contrasted somewhat with her literacy and way of speaking. All these traits were not necessarily incompatible, but Brookfield was not the sort of place where everyone learned how to read and write. It simply didn’t have the resources or the right social attitudes.
And I stumble over some of the words. I wonder if she notices or surmises that it is because I have only ever read them to myself, not aloud, thought Augusta.
She was not ashamed, but if Lady Jane was clever enough, which she was, she could make the connection.
“Sometimes it does not feel like it,” said Augusta, and it was her turn to be wistful.
Lady Jane peered at her. “You know, as much as I have enjoyed you being here, I cannot wait for you to be healed properly. The gardens are simply lovely and you have yet to take a turn in them.”
Torn, Augusta worried her lower lip with her teeth, hardly aware she was doing so. “I would like to see them. I’m going mad being so confined,” she admitted. “If it were not for you, I don’t know what I would have done.”
“Remained silent and driven William into a frenzy, most likely,” said Lady Jane slyly.
“Lord Ainsworth would have cast me out well before then.”
“You say so, but I think you have roused a side of him that has been dormant for months.”
Unsure of what to say to that, Augusta blinked and glanced down at the books that sat between them.
“Either way… I am thankful for your kindness in keeping me company.”
“I shudder to imagine being confined from properly moving for a week.” Lady Jane shook her head. “Entertaining you was the least I could do. You deserve a special commendation for bearing it all so mildly. I have no children and have also been fortunate in my health, so in my later years I have not had to bear any sort of confinement.” She smiled widely. “But when I was twelve, I became very ill with some kind of fever and the physicians advised my parents to keep me isolated, as well as in bed.
“By the third day I was so restless and wriggly that both my mother and father came to chide me about it, and by the fifth, I was shouting abuses at my governess. She did not resign, but she took it in turns with a maid and my tutor to watch over me because once a full week had passed, I was tossing my bowls of porridge at their heads.”
Augusta laughed at the very idea. Somehow, it was not difficult to relate the impetuous child with the lively lady. Lady Jane was a wonderful blend of virtue and eccentricity, and Augusta wished she herself had had such a relative. Now, it was just her and her father. Before her mother had passed, family on either side was sparse, and they were the only Copperwelds left that she knew of.
Indeed, Lady Jane’s only apparent weakness was her love for Lord Ainsworth. And it is not a weakness, Augusta reminded herself. Only a blind spot. She still did not despise him, but his elusive manner since he had last tended to her ankle wounded her.
It was silly, but she was hurt by his seeming reluctance to spend any time with her.
You didn’t exactly encourage it, though. And he was a duke, for pity’s sake.
She was probably not that interesting to him, and he’d made it clear that she was a burden in his estimation.
“I’d never,” said Augusta. “It would be most ungrateful of me to behave badly toward your servants when they have been most kind and helpful, and I certainly would not throw a thing at Lord Ainsworth.” I might imagine doing so, now, just to pass the time. “I’d be out of the manor quicker than a spider caught by Marcus.”
Lady Jane chuckled. She mirrored Augusta’s playful thoughts. “I daresay that I shall imagine you throwing a bowl at him. What a sight it would be to see William dodging a flying bowl of porridge.”
She delivered the words in such a droll fashion that Augusta laughed, then smiled sheepishly and nodded.
The duke was so serious, but she felt that even that would jar him from his stoicism.
When she had calmed herself, Lady Jane said, “I am glad we found you at the brook.”
“As am I,” Augusta said quietly, after some reflection. She was unable to prevent a measure of gratitude from entering her tone. For when she considered it rationally and without fear for the near future, she was grateful. There had been moments when she had preferred the thought of death to another beating, but now she was not sure that she would rather have died that night. Whatever stroke of luck had brought the duke and his aunt to her rescue, perhaps it would continue. If ever she became too anxious, she would think on that pleasant idea.
And despite his grumpiness, I really do owe Lord Ainsworth my thanks, she thought.
As though she could divine what Augusta was thinking, Lady Jane said, “My nephew really is a good sort, you know. He is not as bad as he would have you think.”
Disconcerted by the uncanny assertions, Augusta glanced around the lovely second parlor. It was, perhaps, the finest room she had ever been in, including the room with her chaise, which she had discovered was the first parlor. Imagine having a house this big. No… a manor this big. I can barely get my head around the size of this place.
Or the money that it had taken to build it. Maintain it. Decorate it.
Augusta wondered if she looked shabby within its walls. Probably.
She slowly realized that Lady Jane was waiting for her to respond. “I do not think badly of him, my lady.”
Lady Jane’s green eyes fixed upon Augusta with enough intensity to make her squirm minutely. Then the woman said, “I do not think that you think ill of him, but are you afraid of him?”
“No,” said Augusta. That, at least, was not a half-truth.
“You are too sweet, or too cautious, to speak of this. But I am well aware of my nephew’s failings,” said Lady Jane gently. “He is struggling with ideas of right and wrong. But he is not a monster.”
“I assure you, Lady Jane, that I do not believe he is.” Augusta had to look away from her again and she studied the very intricately carved mantel. It was some kind of marble, and she had read about how such pieces had to be imported.
“And I make no such assumption. But he has behaved rather coolly toward you… leaving aside the fact that he has tended to your health. I wouldn’t blame you for judging him harshly, but do not do it because of what you might have heard, if you are local, or because of his face, which as you can see, has been ravaged.”
“Was it your idea to bring me to the manor?”
“No. It was his.” Lady Jane was smiling; Augusta could hear it in her voice. “I did not want to leave you, but I was rather concerned for your reputation should it be discovered that Lord Ainsworth, Duke of Ravenwood, had absconded wi
th you in the dead of night. That is the narrative I feared gossip would favor.” She took a breath. “I was overcautious. I do not think you will face any problems because of your residence here.”
Lord Ainsworth wanted her to be brought here? Augusta’s mind struggled with the concept.
Lady Jane could see the fight on her face, despite it being in profile to her. She was patient as Augusta found the words to express herself.
“Then… why does he want me to be gone? Why… is he ignoring me?”
“He is endeavoring to simplify what is undoubtedly a complex matter. He… has not been himself since he came home from Salamanca.”
That explained his marred visage. It was a war wound.
“What do you mean? That I am a complex matter?”
“Perhaps not exactly,” said Lady Jane. “But you pose a challenge to his carefully ordered world. He has tried to control everything that comes into his manor. His life. You were not within his control, yet seeing you inspired him to act as he has not in months. He was an excellent physician because he genuinely cared about his patients, and his summons to arms was not the same as it was for a man who might be a soldier or a commander. He went to heal others and came back in need of healing, himself.” Augusta was unsure of what her own expression was doing as she tried to take all of this in without marked amazement, because Lady Jane halted herself and said, “I am sorry. This must not make much sense to you, and it might be that I shouldn’t divulge too many of what he believes to be his private concerns.”
“No, you are being… very cogent, my lady. I think I am following. And I should be more openly grateful toward both you and Lord Ainsworth.”
“He can be an off-putting man, but it was not always so,” said Lady Jane. She waved her hand dismissively as though to say, Don’t concern yourself. “I understand why you have not been more open.”
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