by Laura Beers
“Three days?” Amelia laughed. “That is ridiculous. I couldn’t stay in bed for three days, even if I tried.”
“Why not just attempt to follow the doctor’s orders?”
Amelia rose and reached for the white wrapper that hung next to the bed. “I promise I will only walk to the duchess’s room and back.”
Frowning, her lady’s maid stepped over to the tray and picked it up. “I will see to your bath,” she said, “but I will expect to see you resting in bed when I return.”
“Yes, Leah,” Amelia replied with a smile.
Her lady’s maid shook her head as she walked over to the door. “Just be careful, miss,” she insisted before she departed from the room, leaving the door open.
Amelia walked with a slight limp towards the door. She glanced out into the hall to ensure it was empty before she headed towards the duchess’s room.
She lifted her hand and knocked on the door.
A moment later, it was opened, revealing the duke. His brown hair was tousled, his clothes were terribly wrinkled, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked dreadful.
The duke lifted his brow in surprise and asked, “What are you doing out of bed?”
“I came to see how your mother was faring.”
He opened the door wide and invited, “Come and see for yourself.”
Amelia stepped into the room and saw the duchess was sleeping. “She looks peaceful.”
“That she does,” he replied. “She cried out in her sleep a few times last night, but she seemed to calm herself down.”
“Did you stay with her all night?”
He nodded. “I was worried about her, and I found I couldn’t sleep.”
“That is admirable of you, Your Grace.”
“There is nothing admirable about it,” the duke replied. “Every time I closed my eyes, I thought about how close I had been to losing her, and it scared me.” He pointed towards the two upholstered chairs near the fireplace. “Would you care to sit for a moment?”
“I would.”
The duke waited for her to sit down before saying, “You are limping.”
“My right hip is rather banged up,” she admitted. “But I am grateful that it is not broken.”
“As am I,” he said as he sat across from her.
Amelia leaned back in her chair. “Last night, the doctor mentioned to me that your mother only sprained her ankle, and that it wasn’t broken.”
He bobbed his head. “Yes, that is right.”
“What wonderful news.”
“I would agree with you there,” he responded, his eyes straying towards the bed.
Amelia studied the duke’s disheveled appearance for a moment. “If it would ease your mind, I can sit with your mother while you go and rest,” she offered.
“I don’t dare leave her side.”
“You need to sleep.”
The duke scoffed. “Do I, Miss Blackmore?”
In a calm, collected voice, she replied, “Your mother wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out for her sake.”
His tired eyes met hers, and his shoulders slumped slightly. “Have you ever felt like you were on a sinking ship?”
“No,” Amelia replied with a shake of her head.
“I do, nearly every day,” he shared. “I see the water rising, and I can’t help but wonder how much longer before the ship will be completely underwater.”
She remained silent, unsure of what to say.
The duke let out a deep sigh. “At times, I even hope that I go down with the ship.”
Amelia could hear the raw vulnerability in his voice and compassion stirred deep inside of her for him. “You need rest, Your Grace,” she urged.
“Maybe I do, but it won’t change anything.”
Amelia moved to sit on the edge of her chair. “You’re allowed to be angry, you’re allowed to be scared, but do not give up.”
The duke’s gaze left hers and turned his attention towards the crackling fire in the hearth. “That is easy for you to say, Miss Blackmore.”
“It may be, but it makes it no less true.”
“When I was younger, I was foolish enough to believe my future would be radically different than it is now.”
“How exactly did you envision your future?”
His brows knitted together into a frown as he murmured, “I thought I would be happy.”
Amelia felt tears prick behind her eyes at his admission. It was evident the duke was hurting deeply, and she was not sure how she could help him.
“It is not too late to be happy, Your Grace,” she attempted.
He closed his eyes, but not before she saw them moist with tears. “It is for me, Miss Blackmore. Some people are destined to have a miserable life.”
“I don’t believe that to be true.”
“Then you are naïve and foolish,” he remarked dismissively.
“Maybe I am,” she replied, “but I choose to believe that happiness is a choice. It is something that we have to choose every day and keep on choosing.”
“It is not that simple. I have done too many horrible things in my life to even…” His words stopped abruptly. “Perhaps it might be best if I retire to my bedchamber for a few hours of sleep.”
Amelia leaned back in her chair. “I shall ensure that your mother is not left unattended, for any length of time.”
Rising, he said, “Thank you, Miss Blackmore.”
“You are welcome, but I am only doing my job as a dutiful companion.” She smiled, hoping to lighten the mood.
The duke shook his head. “I am referring to you listening to me grumble.”
“You are always welcome to speak freely around me, Your Grace,” she said. “I may not always know the right thing to say, but I will keep whatever you say in the strictest confidence.”
“I appreciate that.” The duke stood there for a moment, watching her closely. Finally, he said, “I believe I may have misjudged you, Miss Blackmore.”
Amelia didn’t have time to respond before he headed towards the door. He departed from the room, closing the door behind him.
She had just turned her attention towards the fire when she heard the duchess declare, “My poor boy is hurting deeply, and we must help him.”
“You were awake?” Amelia asked, bringing her gaze towards the bed.
The duchess moved to sit up. “I was,” she revealed. “I woke up right before you arrived, but I didn’t dare interrupt your conversation with my son. I haven’t heard him open up like that since before Alice died.”
Rising, Amelia approached the bed. “His Grace is in a considerable amount of pain.”
“That he is,” Ellen agreed. “That is why we need to ensure he is matched with a suitable bride. One who will help him with the burdens of his past.”
“His troubles are great.”
The duchess bobbed her head. “You must continue to learn as much as you can about him, especially now that he is beginning to trust you.”
“I will try,” she promised.
Ellen looked pleased by her response. “Now, will you ring the bell?” she asked. “I need some more ice for my ankle.”
“Of course, Your Grace.”
“I am not an invalid!” his mother exclaimed.
Edmund let out a frustrated huff. “I never said you were.”
“You are by asking me to sit in one of those contraptions.”
Placing his hands on the back of the chair, Edmund attempted to keep his voice steady as he explained, “It is called a Bath chair, and I thought you might enjoy using it to tour the gardens this afternoon.”
His mother lay on a sofa in the drawing room, her left foot elevated by a pillow. She had a look of disdain on her face as she stared at the three-wheeled chair.
“I won’t do it,” she declared. “I would look foolish and weak if I sat in one of those contraptions.”
“Will you not at least try, Mother?” he asked. “I had this chair delivered all the way from
Bath for you.”
Ellen turned her attention towards Miss Blackmore, who was sitting in a chair next to her. “What do you think, Amelia?”
Miss Blackmore smiled as she lowered the book in her hand. “I think it is a sweet gesture by His Grace.”
“You do?” Ellen asked.
“I do, especially since it has been nearly three days since we have ventured outside,” Miss Blackmore said. “It might be nice to take a stroll through the gardens.”
“I suppose it would.”
Edmund rolled the Bath chair closer to his mother. “I purchased the finest model for you,” he shared. “It has the plushest seat and a folding hood to keep out the sun.”
“It is large and obnoxious,” Ellen sighed as her eyes perused the length of it.
“The doctor said for you to remain off your foot for at least two weeks.”
His mother waved her hand in front of her. “The doctor is a quack,” she replied. “I shall be up and walking long before then.”
“I would prefer it if you followed the doctor’s orders,” he remarked sternly.
The duchess sat up on the settee and ran her hand along the back of the Bath chair. “The material is rather soft,” she muttered, “and it does appear to be a lovely day to tour the gardens.” She turned back towards Miss Blackmore. “Are you quite sure you are feeling up to going outside today?”
“I am,” Miss Blackmore replied. “I must admit that I am tired of being cooped up indoors.”
“But what of your hip? Is it still causing you pain?”
Miss Blackmore shook her head. “My hip is feeling much better, and I am walking without a limp now.”
His mother smiled tenderly at her. “That pleases me immensely.”
Edmund interjected, “So, you will go, Mother?”
Ellen nodded. “I believe I shall, but only if you accompany us.”
“I’m afraid that is impossible,” he replied. “I have correspondences that I must see to and meetings I must attend.”
His mother crossed her arms over her chest. “I refuse to have a footman push me around the gardens,” she said. “If you don’t accompany us, then I won’t go.”
Edmund pursed his lips together as he stared at her. He knew she was in earnest because she could be just as stubborn as he was. “As you wish, Mother,” he conceded, “but we mustn’t dillydally.”
A bright, victorious smile came to her face. “Thank you, Edmund.”
A short time later, Edmund was pushing his mother on the east lawn. Miss Blackmore was walking next to them, a blue bonnet shading her face.
“Where would you like to go, Mother?” he asked.
She turned towards her companion. “Which gardens would you care to see?”
“The secret garden,” Miss Blackmore promptly replied.
“That sounds like a fine idea,” his mother agreed.
Edmund headed towards the secret garden in the rear of the manor and paused outside of the wooden gate to unlatch it.
As he pushed his mother through the gate and into the garden, he heard Miss Blackmore gasp from behind him.
“It is lovely in here,” she commented.
His eyes scanned the garden with pride, admiring the brightly-colored flowers planted along the serpentine paths. “It is,” he agreed. “This is most assuredly my favorite spot on my estate.”
“I can see why,” Miss Blackmore said, her eyes roaming the grounds. “The flowers are exquisite.”
“My great-grandfather commissioned the secret garden for his wife,” he shared. “He wanted to give her something special and unique for their wedding day.”
“What a wonderful gift,” Miss Blackmore gushed.
He pointed towards a flourishing rowan tree near the center of the gardens. “They even carved their initials onto that tree.”
Edmund watched as Miss Blackmore walked over to the tree and ran her hand over the initials in the bark. “How romantic,” he heard her say.
Miss Blackmore turned back to face them with a wistful expression on her face. “What a lovely legacy of love.”
His mother spoke up. “My grandparents loved each other fiercely, as did my own parents,” she said. “I was blessed to be raised in a home filled with love and laughter.”
“As was I,” Miss Blackmore remarked, turning her attention back to the tree. “I see more initials on the tree. Whom do they belong to?”
“My parents carved their initials on their wedding day,” Ellen explained, “and my Charles and I followed the tradition.”
Miss Blackmore turned her questioning gaze towards his. “Did you not carve your initials, Your Grace?”
“No,” he replied gruffly. “I did not.”
“I see.” Amelia turned her attention towards the old chapel she’d spotted in the corner. “May I go explore the chapel?”
His mother glanced up at him. “Why don’t you escort Miss Blackmore into the chapel, and I will remain here under the shade of the tree?”
“Miss Blackmore is perfectly capable of exploring the chapel on her own,” he argued.
“Then I shall go with her,” his mother said as she started to rise.
Edmund placed his hand on her shoulder and gently pushed her back down onto the Bath chair. “You stay here, and I will accompany her,” he ordered.
“If you insist,” his mother replied.
Edmund approached Miss Blackmore. “Apparently, my mother is insistent on me giving you a tour of the small, dilapidated chapel.”
“Well, I thank you for accompanying me,” Miss Blackmore remarked graciously.
They walked side by side the short distance, neither one of them speaking. When they arrived at the chapel, Miss Blackmore ran her hand along the uneven stones. “If I recall correctly, this chapel dates back to the 1200s.”
“That is correct.”
“How fascinating is it that I am touching something that was built so very long ago.”
“I suppose it is.”
Miss Blackmore walked over to the door and opened it. It squeaked on its hinges, but it eventually gave way. She stepped through the doorway and he followed her inside. She came to a stop in the center of the one room structure. The sound of mice scurrying away on the dilapidated wood floor could be heard, but Miss Blackmore didn’t seem to pay it any heed.
She turned back to face him with a timid smile. “I hope I did not offend you with my question about the initials, Your Grace.”
“You did not.”
“I am relieved to hear that,” she said before she looked up at the rafters.
Edmund clasped his hands behind his back. “Truth be told, I wanted to carve my initials on the tree, but Alice and I never got around to it.”
“Is that so?”
“Sadly, Alice didn’t find the same solace in the secret garden that I do,” he admitted.
“I am sorry to hear that. This garden is spectacular.”
Edmund nodded. “I concur, but Alice and I disagreed on many things.”
“That is most unfortunate.”
“It was,” he replied. “We didn’t find out how vastly different we were until we wed. As our differences became more apparent, it drove a wedge between us.”
She glanced over at him. “I am sorry to hear that, Your Grace.”
Edmund watched as Miss Blackmore approached the small window and stared at it intently. “What do you find so captivating about that broken window?” he found himself asking.
Miss Blackmore spoke over her shoulder. “Everything has a story behind it. I’m trying to imagine what it must have been like to be sitting inside of this chapel, listening to a sermon, and staring out this very window.”
“I haven’t ever considered that before.”
“That is my favorite part about touring ruins,” she admitted. “It fills me with a sense of wonder, and I feel like I am transported to another time, another place.”
Edmund smirked. “I just see stone walls, a leaky roof, broken furniture a
nd animal droppings in the corner.”
“Most people do, and I don’t fault them for that.”
Unclasping his hands, he said, “You are welcome to come to the chapel whenever you would like, but I urge you to use some caution. The stones can become rather slippery after it rains.”
“You need not concern yourself with me, Your Grace,” Miss Blackmore responded as she headed towards the open door. “I do not wish to tarry and make your mother wait for any longer than she has to.”
Edmund watched as Miss Blackmore ducked under the doorway and stepped outside. For some reason, he did find himself worrying about her. He was beginning to feel responsible for her, probably out of a sense of duty. Yes, that had to be it. After all, she had saved his mother from being trampled to death by a runaway horse and cart.
8
Dressed in her grey riding habit, Amelia stepped out of her bedchamber and walked down the hall towards the duchess’s chamber. She had just lifted her hand to knock on the door when she heard the sound of a child giggle from within.
Did I just imagine that, she wondered.
She knocked softly on the door and the noise stopped.
A pause. “Who’s there?” she heard the duchess ask.
“It’s me, Amelia,” she replied.
A long moment later, the door was opened, and Jane peeked her head out of the door. “Is anyone with you, Miss Blackmore?”
She shook her head. “As you can see, I am alone.”
Jane frowned as she opened the door wide enough to usher her in. “Come in, then, and make it quick.”
As she stepped into the room, Jane closed the door and locked it. She then deposited the key into the pocket of her apron.
Amelia turned her curious gaze towards the duchess, who was resting in the bed, her back up against the wall. “Did I hear a child giggling in here?”
Ellen nodded. “You did.” She leaned over the side of the bed and said, “You can come out now, my dear.”
A young girl with dark blonde hair jumped up onto the bed. She sat down next to the duchess. “Is it safe now, Grandmother?”
“It is,” Ellen replied as she smiled tenderly down at the child. “This woman is my friend.” She turned her attention towards Amelia. “Allow me to introduce you to my granddaughter, Lady Sybil.”