“Margaret!” Amelia gasped when the plump, brown-haired figure of her longtime maid appeared before her in her dressing room. “Whatever are you doing here? Why aren’t you still in London?” Amelia sank down into the chair in front of her vanity and regarded her maid with undisguised shock and curiosity.
The little maid smiled at her frazzled mistress and handed her the cup of hot tea she had brought in with her on a silver tray. “I left London the night you did, my lady, and was sent here to wait for you to come home with the master. Been at my sister’s visiting, since then, and would have been here upon your arrival, but she took ill and there was no one else to nurse her, so I had to stay. I’m so sorry, my lady, I wasn’t here when you arrived.”
Amelia drank the hot tea, its familiar taste easing her sudden surprise. She waved off her maid’s apology. “But how did you know where to find me? I don’t understand how you could be here, especially since when I left I didn’t even know this was where I would end up.”
“It’s an exciting story, my lady, at least exciting for me.” She turned Amelia around to face the mirror of her vanity. Picking up the hairbrush, Margaret began to work through the snarls Amelia had been unable to untangle herself, having refused to let anyone else in the household attend her hair. Margaret tugged on a stubborn knot and smiled in apology at Amelia’s sharp wince of pain. “I’d say it’s a good thing I came when I did, my lady, as it’s obvious you’re in need of a little caring after.”
“Your story, Margaret.” She set the teacup aside on the tray next to her. “If you please.”
“Right you are, my lady. It was the night of the ball, and I was awaiting your return in your dressing room. It were only an hour or so past midnight, but seeing as how you don’t like them balls, I knew you would be coming in soon to go to bed. Well, imagine my surprise when at half one the door opens and in comes Her Majesty Queen Bea and Clarisse!” She stopped her brushing to throw her hands over her chest.
Amelia smothered a frustrated sigh, knowing there was no hurrying Margaret, who would get around to telling her story in her own time. She might as well be comfortable while she waited. Grabbing a hot scone from her tea tray, Amelia devoured it while waiting for Margaret to continue.
“I says to them, ‘Where is my lady Amelia? Is she ill?’ Because, truth be told, both of them were acting a little queerly, and I thought for sure you had taken ill or maybe broken your leg, but then the Queen starts giving me orders, telling me, ‘Pack Amelia’s trunks and be quick about it.’ When I tried to ask where you were going, she just shooed me off and told me to hurry.”
“What happened then?” Amelia asked.
“The three of us packed your trunks. Cleaned out your room, we did. Then she says, ‘We must hurry. Help me move these across the hall to my room.’ So the three of us pushed and shoved those trunks across the hall and hid them in your sister’s old room. I thought it was all rather strange, but then something stranger still happened.” Margaret put down the brush and looked at Amelia through the mirror in wide-eyed excitement. “I was peeking out the door and saw your father come running up those stairs like the very devil himself was a-chasing him, and Mr. Jeremy hard on his heels. The two men stormed into your room, ripped the door right off its hinges, they did. I didn’t see anything more, but it was a good thing we were all over in the Queen Bea’s room, because from the sounds coming from yours, all holy hell was being unleashed.”
Amelia winced, knowing her father must have been uncommonly angry with her for having missed her appointment with Lord Stanton. She couldn’t even imagine how he must have felt when she failed to appear. And Jeremy? It wasn’t like they had an understanding or even affection between the two of them. She couldn’t imagine why he would be so upset by her leaving.
I hope Father will be pleased when he finds out everything worked out for the best.
“And when we went over there after everything had calmed down, it was like a storm had been unleashed in your room,” Margaret continued. “Someone had ripped apart your bed and torn apart your dressing table. All of your drawers were opened and some lay broken on the floor. Even your favorite rocking chair was mangled in a heap in the corner.”
“Oh, my!” Amelia pressed her hand over her mouth in patent disbelief. How could he have done something like that? What if she or Margaret had still been in the room? How would they have fared in the face of such anger?
“Oh, too right, my lady. It was then I knew something was going on, so I turn to the Queen and demand, ‘Where is my lady? What has happened to her?’ I thought for sure she was going to tell me you had died, or maybe been kidnapped.” Margaret paused and contemplated this sad fate with a hint of maudlin glee in her deep brown eyes. Amelia stifled a laugh. She loved her maid dearly, had done so since she ceased being her nurse and took the post of maid when Amelia turned fourteen, but oh, she was bloodthirsty.
Margaret shook her head and smiled at Amelia. “Then an amazing thing happened. Bea smiles, a real smile, not one of those fake society things she plasters on her face most of the time, mind you, and she tells me, ‘Amelia has eloped with Lord Stanton.’ ”
“What? Beatrice said those exact words?” Amelia demanded of her maid.
“I remember it clearly because of how happy I was for you, my lady, to have finally found someone you cared for so much that you would run away with him.”
How did she know? Amelia hadn’t even known until right before their wedding, so what did Bea know that evening that she didn’t?
“And then your sister says to me, ‘You must go and wait for her in her new home. It isn’t safe for you to be here when Father is still so upset.’ While I can tell you I didn’t much enjoy the thought of leaving London, I knew it was probably for the best. Just in case.” She winked at Amelia and resumed brushing Amelia’s hair.
“And so?”
“And so what, my lady?”
“And so how did you get here, Margaret? That can’t be the end of it!”
“Your sister left and hired a carriage to take me and your trunks to Lord Stanton’s house. We sneaked everything out of the house, and I was out of London before the sun rose. I stopped by my sister’s, like I told you, and here I am.”
“Bea left nothing for me? No note or a message from her to me?” Amelia thought for sure that if her sister had already been aware of who she was running away with, she would have at least sent a letter along with her maid.
“So she did, my lady, so she did.”
“Margaret!” Amelia yelled. “Where is it?”
“Are you wanting to read it now, then, my lady? I thought perhaps you would be wanting to take a nap, since I can see as how you got some real dark circles under your eyes like you haven’t been sleeping all that well.” Margaret winked at Amelia, who blushed at the insinuation. If only. But Amelia knew the real reason she hadn’t been sleeping was due to her husband’s sudden distance.
Amelia allowed Margaret to help her out of her dress and into her familiar dressing robe and slippers. Once settled onto the chaise with a warm blanket wrapped about her legs, she closed her eyes, though sleep eluded her. Too much had happened in the last three weeks, and while most of it was wonderful, this last week had been eye-opening for her. Where once she was convinced she had done the right thing in eloping with Tavis, his cool reticence had her worrying whether perhaps she had moved too hastily.
Because now we are actually married and settled, he seems to want nothing to do with me!
Silent tears flowed down her cheeks, and Amelia covered her sobs with her hands, hoping Margaret wouldn’t notice.
Margaret, though, had keen eyes and even keener ears. “What’s this, my lady?” She bustled over from the vanity to Amelia and offered her a handkerchief.
Knowing there was no use trying to hide anything from Margaret, Amelia took the handkerchief to wipe her face and said, “I…I think I made a mistake in marrying Lord Stanton.”
Margaret’s eyes narrowed to two
dark little slits of vexation. “Has he hurt you, my lady? Is that it?”
“No, no,” she rushed to reassure, “nothing like that. But ever since we’ve arrived at Ballywith, he’s been so very distant and cool. I don’t know what happened, Margaret. He doesn’t seem to want me anymore. When we arrived, he introduced me to the servants, and then he…he left me in the hallway soon after. He didn’t even bother showing me to my rooms.” Amelia wiped at her eyes again. “Said he had business to attend to. Every day since then has been the same. I’ve barely seen him, and I don’t know what I did!” Amelia started sobbing in earnest into the comforting arms of Margaret.
Margaret clucked and patted Amelia on the back. “Let me tell you something about menfolk, Amelia. They get scared real easy when it comes to women and marriage. Don’t even try to get them to talk about their feelings, because more than likely they won’t know the difference between a tender emotion like love or indigestion from eating too quickly.” Margaret chuckled to herself at her own wit and shook her head. “Probably your man got a little scared about bringing home a new wife, especially when he hasn’t figured out for himself that he cares for you.”
“He doesn’t care for me,” Amelia protested. “How can you even think that or even know that? You just arrived.” Nonetheless, she was helpless to stop the nervous hope fluttering about in her belly.
“Because you haven’t talked to the servants and heard what I’ve heard about how his eyes fairly glowed with pride and affection when he introduced you to the staff. Everyone saw and was so happy for the master finding someone he obviously cared for. That man has got tender feelings for you, Amelia. He’s just terrified, poor man, because he’s been caught, and he doesn’t know what to do about it.”
“Really?”
“You mark my words, my lady. That man is smitten. Why, when he left you in the hall, the servants saw him steal a glance at you over his shoulder. They said he looked like a dying man, and you were his only chance at salvation. Looked right sorrowful, he did, when he finally turned away and marched down that hall, his shoulders all slumped over. Kind of like you did when I found you in here, moping about, looking all sad.” Margaret unstopped a bottle of lavender water and applied it to the back of Amelia’s neck and behind her ears.
“There, now,” she said as she re-stopped the bottle. “That’ll help you relax some so you can get some sleep. Don’t you worry any about that man of yours. He’ll come around. Give him some time.”
With a final pat on Amelia’s back, Margaret left Amelia, who fell into a fitful slumber.
****
Amelia awoke with a start and looked around her dressing room. Since she had lain down for her nap the afternoon sun had disappeared beyond the horizon, plunging the dressing room into muted twilight. The fire had long since died, and deep shadows hugged the walls, giving Amelia the vague, uneasy feeling someone else was in the room with her.
Peering into the darkness, she demanded, “Who’s there? Is that you, Margaret?”
Instead of her maid, though, the tall, handsome figure of her husband stepped away from the doorway and into the waning light from the window. “It’s just me, Amelia,” he said, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to awaken you.”
The thudding of Amelia’s heart sped up at the appearance of her husband. “Oh,” she said and fiddled with the edges of her blanket. “It’s you.”
Tavis walked to the fireplace and stoked the fire. Soon a warm blaze crackled in the hearth and illuminated the room. Amelia watched with wide curious eyes as he proceeded to light several candles on the mantelpiece. When he was done, the room was alight with a soft glow, and Tavis stood to the side, almost as if he were unsure of his welcome.
Amelia wasn’t sure, either. After the events of the previous week, she didn’t know how to talk to her husband anymore. “What do you want, Tavis?” she asked in a meaner tone than she had intended.
His face fell, and Amelia felt horrible. “I wanted to see you,” he stammered, “and to talk to you, if you weren’t busy.” He shuffled his feet and turned to leave. “But I see I’ve interrupted you, so I will leave.”
That’s when she realized this was as hard for him as it was for her. Whatever had happened between them to cause such tension, she knew they could not continue living in the same house under these circumstances.
“Wait, Tavis,” she implored. “I’d like to talk to you, too.”
He hesitated at the door, and Amelia knew he was hurt. If he was as scared as Margaret had said he was, she needed to meet him more than half way. Jumping up from the settee, she crossed the room to stop his departure. “Please, Tavis. Stay.”
He turned and stood, gathering her hands in his. “As you wish, my lady wife.”
She led him by the hand to her settee and patted the seat next to her. He sat down and leaned onto the seat back, looking tired and worn. They sat there holding hands while the fire filled in the silence with its crackles and pops.
“I’m sorry, Amelia,” he said after a lengthy silence. “I’ve been a complete ass this week.”
He glanced at her, but she held her tongue.
“Aren’t you going to say something?”
“Yes, Tavis.”
“Yes, Tavis, what?”
“Yes, Tavis, you have been a complete ass this week.”
“You don’t need to so readily agree, Amelia.”
She smiled sweetly at him, enjoying the sight of him squirming just a bit. “My mother told me to never contradict my husband, and so if you say you are an ass, then an ass you shall be.”
“Amelia!” he thundered. “You’re not making this any easier on me!”
Her own temper pricked, her sweet smile turned into a frown as she yelled, “And why should I make it any easier on you when you’ve been nothing but beastly to me this whole week? It’s bad enough you abandoned me on our first night here, but I’ve scarcely seen you since we arrived. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Tavis started to speak, but Amelia was much too angry to let him interrupt her. “I’ll tell you how it feels, Tavis McGuire! It feels awful!” Her voice began to wobble, and Amelia knew she was close to losing her composure, so she jumped up from the settee and moved to the window to hide her face from him. Staring out through the glass panes at the deepening night, she whispered her deepest fear to the silent grounds below. “It feels like I made a mistake in coming here with you, that you never wanted me in the first place.”
“No!” Tavis shouted in dismay. Tavis’s strong arms enfolded her. “Don’t ever think that, Amelia. Marrying you was the best thing I have ever done.”
She looked up into his dear eyes, wanting to believe him, yet years of rejection and hurt made it difficult to do. “I want to believe you, Tavis, but what am I to think when you shut me out of your life and ignore me? I can’t continue in this manner.”
He buried his head in the hollow of her neck before saying, “I was scared.”
So Margaret was right after all! Does this mean he cares for me? She ran her fingers through his hair, petting him much like a mother with a small, fractious child, attempting to soothe him. “Scared of what, Tavis?”
“I don’t know. We came home and I…panicked.” He lifted his head from her shoulder and regarded her with intense focus. “I had never thought to marry, Amelia. Not that I regret the decision, but it was something I had never dreamed of for myself. Bringing you here, to our home, made everything that had happened very real to me, and I reacted poorly.”
She resisted the urge to sigh. He had not said he loved her. “I forgive you, Tavis, as long as you promise to not keep me out of your life again.”
“I promise, Amelia. Never again.”
Tavis led her back to the settee and settled her on his lap so he could wrap his arms about her waist. Nestling her into the crook of his arm, he sighed in contentment and rested his head against hers.
Soon she heard deep, even breathing from him, and a gentle snore. She tr
ied to extricate herself from his embrace, but as soon as she moved, he tightened his hold on her so it was impossible to move.
Poor Tavis. He’s never had anyone to love. Yet she knew he cared for her. Perhaps he didn’t recognize it, but it didn’t mean he was incapable of loving.
It was up to her to show him how.
Chapter 15
It was early morning still, and the sun had not made an appearance above the horizon, yet Tavis was awake and trying to dress without disturbing Amelia. Unlike the last week, this time he wanted to stay and linger in bed with her, which is why he had his back to the bed while he pulled on his shirt and gathered his pants, all the while consciously fighting the urge to glance back at the bed where his wife lay in delightful dishevelment.
With a firm push, he set aside all thoughts of their passionate night together. After awakening refreshed in body and spirit from his nap, he had led Amelia to their bed and spent the rest of the evening showing his wife how grateful he was to her for being so forgiving and understanding. It was one of the best nights of his life, even rivaling the night he’d made Amelia his.
Put it out of your mind, Tavis! There is work to do this morning.
Hastily donning his boots lest she awaken before he could leave, he crept out of the room and down the stairs. This early in the morning, not many servants were about, so he passed unnoticed through the house. Tavis snuck out of the back door, walked down past the stables, and entered a small hunting shack he had stumbled upon in his explorations of the grounds. He allowed his eyes to adjust to the dim interior.
“I didn’t think you were coming,” a dry voice said from the shadows.
“Jesus, Wickes!” Tavis exclaimed, looking at his friend and supervisor emerging from a corner. “I wasn’t expecting you for another twenty minutes at least.”
Little White Lies Page 13