Ravenstone (Book 1, The Ravenstone Chronicles) Read online

  “It’s fine, girls, don’t worry. Charles is just playing a game with me.”

  They studied her for a second before disappearing again under the table, but the chatter did not pick up again.

  “You feel guilty,” she said finally, keeping her voice calm and even.

  “Of course, I feel guilt. I should have –”

  “Should have what? Taken me with you?” she asked kindly. “We both know that was impossible and had you stayed he would have eventually turned you into the same as himself, as he had tried to do since you were a boy. You had no choice, Charles, and look at you,” she said. “You are returned a war hero despite the fact you left here with no money and no support. I am so proud of you, Charles. You did well. You are nothing like him. That is your victory, don’t you see? You have nothing to feel guilty about, and I am annoyed to discover that you think I cannot take care of myself.”

  “You were always the stronger one.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she smiled.

  They sat in silence for a moment, and then she asked, “How guilty do you feel?”

  He looked at her miserably. “Very.”

  “Good. Then when the time comes in the future, I will remind you of it. And you shall do exactly what it is I require of you to atone.”

  He smiled. This was the Georgiana he remembered.

  “Let us not speak about it anymore. It is in the past now,” she said and picked up her brush again and continued with her work. “I would much rather look ahead. What will you do now?”

  “Do?”

  “With your life. You cannot mean to return to the war?”

  “No. I have responsibilities here. I am to meet with father’s solicitors this afternoon to go over the estate. Tomorrow I have an appointment with a constable by the name of Jarvis.”

  “Another constable?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said and sighed. “I am afraid that I am duty-bound to enquire into the details of Father’s death. Lord Isaac Davenport is determined to make sure the murderer is found and hung, and he has asked me to help with the investigation. Now that Mother has managed to have that lunatic Marsh removed from the case, maybe we can finally find the real killer.”

  A knock on the door distracted him, or he would have seen her grow pale at his words. He turned to the door as a housemaid entered. “There is a Captain Markham to see you, sir.”

  “Ah, Nick. Would you show him up please?”

  “To the nursery, sir?” the maid questioned in surprise.

  “Yes, to the nursery,” he replied.

  “Very good, sir,” she said and left again.

  Charles smiled at his sister.

  ***

  Nicholas followed a footman up the stairs and along a hallway to find Charles and Georgiana seated around a table, painting, while two little girls stood beside them watching.

  “Nick, come in.” Charles said, not looking up.

  He was in the process of painting a flower in blue on the scenery while two small heads bent next to his, watching him closely as he concentrated. Only Georgiana turned to acknowledge Nick, and he stopped breathing as her eyes met his. Her brother had been right. She had grown into a young woman of remarkable beauty from which even the bruising could not detract. She smiled at him, and he bowed, again feeling his heart race. She had always been able to do that to him.

  “Miss Wyndham,” he said.

  “Captain Markham. You must forgive us for not meeting you downstairs in a more formal setting, but we have been quite busy repairing the stage in preparation for a puppet show.”

  “Not at all, Miss Wyndham, I have fond memories of this room.”

  The two little girls turned to inspect him, and again he was taken by surprise as two identical images of a young Georgiana watched him.

  “Captain, you’ve not had the opportunity to meet our newest family members. May I present our sisters, Miss Jane Wyndham and Miss Margaret Wyndham,” Georgiana said.

  He looked surprised but bowed to the little girls and they giggled.

  “Girls, this is Captain Markham. Say hello.” The girls curtsied, imitating the adults they had seen.

  “Do you like toads?” Jane asked.

  “Not in my soup, but in the garden they are quite pleasant,” he answered.

  Margaret laughed and went to fetch something, only to return with a large toad in her hand. “You can hold him,” she said. “But don’t put him in your soup. I don’t think he would like it if it was hot.”

  “Most clever,” he said and put his walking stick and hat down to accept the frog. He sat down in one of the small empty chairs and the girls followed him. “Did you find him in the garden?”

  “Oh, no, we are not allowed out,” said Jane. “We found him here in that glass jar,” Margaret said pointing to it.

  He noticed Charles lift his head from his work to glance at Georgiana, a frown on his face. She ignored him and continued with her own painting.

  Nicholas talked to the girls about the toad, explaining about where it lived and what it ate. He glanced at Charles to see him frowning and wondered if he perhaps shared his concern at the unexpected scene. He could not imagine Charles would have kept the news of new siblings from him. It meant Charles had not known either.

  Charles stood after a while and smiled at him.

  “You are just in time, Nicholas,” he said.

  “For what?” the girls asked.

  “We shall all go explore the garden.”

  Both girls moved to Georgiana’s side, clinging to her. It was not the reaction Charles had expected, but he seemed to take it in his stride.

  He kneeled down beside them. “What’s the matter? Don’t you girls want to play in the sunshine?”

  “We are not allowed outside,” Margaret said softly.

  “We will get into trouble,” Jane added, ready to dissolve into tears.

  Nicholas watched Georgiana closely. Her full mouth was drawn in a thin line as she placed a protective arm around both girls and held them close, turning her face away from him.

  “You will not get into trouble anymore,” Charles said.

  “Father will come back and find us outside and be ever so mad,” Jane said and began to cry.

  “Father is gone, Jane,” Charles said, reaching for her to put her on his lap. He wiped her tears with his handkerchief.

  Jane looked at Georgiana, and she nodded. “It’s true, my pet,” Georgiana said.

  “He will never come again. I promise.”

  “Can Georgy come with us too?” asked Margaret.

  “Of course, she will come,” Charles said and gave her a look Nicholas did not understand.

  “Will you?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes. I will come too.”

  “Good, then it is settled,” Charles said. “Can we bring toad?” Jane asked, and wiggling off Charles’ lap, walked toward Nicholas and took the toad from him to hold up to Charles.

  “Yes,” Charles smiled. Then he picked up one girl in each arm, and to Nicholas said, “Bring Georgiana.”

  ***

  Georgiana studied Nicholas as he carried her down the long staircase. He had one arm under her legs and the other behind her back while she held onto his neck. He smelled fresh, like the outdoors, she thought, as he concentrated on their descent. He had long eyelashes for a man, and his eyes were not quite as brown as she remembered. They had flecks of gold in them and some green. His hair was combed forward and cut short, not like the style of the day, which was for longer hair like her brother wore. Nicholas did not seem to care for fashion.

  His lips were well formed enough, she thought, not really knowing what she herself meant by that. His lower lip was fuller than his upper, almost giving him a pout. Just then, he smiled and glanced at her, one eyebrow raised.

  “Well,” he asked.

  “Well, what?”

  “How do you find me, Miss Wyndham?”

  She smiled. “You have caught me, Captain. Very well
, I shall tell you. I find you quite grown into a handsome man with extraordinary long eyelashes and a fine physique.”

  He laughed and continued down the stairs and out into the garden where Charles was showing the girls a caterpillar. He placed her on a bench near them and glanced up to find Lady Wyndham watching the scene from the window of the drawing room.

  “She does not look happy,” Georgiana said, noticing his glance.

  “I imagine you would know why.”

  He sat down next to her, and turned his face up to the sun his eyes closed, giving her a moment to become comfortable in his presence. Still, if she knew the reason for her mother’s weariness she did not share it with him. Instead he could feel her again studying him and he wanted to know her thoughts.

  “You have been hurt?” she asked.

  He opened his eyes to look at her and smiled. “Yes and no. They are somewhat self-inflicted, I fear. I like boxing but it does not like me overly much.”

  His eyes moved to her face where the traces of her own bruises could still be seen.

  “What happened to your face?” he asked softly.

  She smiled and looked away from him, breaking the contact. “Quite self-inflicted as well. I am rather clumsy these days. Being a cripple can be frustrating and I am not always willing to wait for someone to help me get about.”

  Charles was right. She trusted no one. She had no reason to trust him, he knew. But it hurt nonetheless. What had he expected? The truth was it wasn’t so much what he expected, more what had he hoped for. He had hoped she would come to love him but the love he saw in her eyes and face now was not for him but for the two little girls she watched so closely.

  ***

  She turned away from his probing eyes, and watched Jane and Margaret smelling a yellow rose. Charles showed them a bird’s nest in a tree, lifting them up to get closer. It was the first time in a long while that they had been outside and Georgiana couldn’t take her eyes off their faces as they explored the garden in wonder.

  Her mother had forbidden them to leave the house. It was a cruelty designed not only to hide a secret, but also to punish Georgiana. Watching them now run along the garden path, chasing a butterfly, was overwhelming, and she could feel her tightly controlled emotions slipping. She knew Nicholas was watching her closely and she could not afford to show any emotion. She had learned her best defense was always attack and so she did.

  “I know why Charles returned to England before the end of the war, but what about you, Captain?”

  “One gets weary of war, I suppose.”

  “Is that truly the reason?”

  He looked away and she almost felt ashamed, but forged ahead anyway.

  “Are you still in love with me?” she asked, smiling.

  He leaned forward, his arms on his knees, his head between his hands. “It was rather obvious, wasn’t it?” he said, running a hand through his hair.

  “You used to follow me around when you were a boy. You left flowers in my room and I know it was you that brought back my pony when he ran off. How long did it take you to find him?”

  “Two days.”

  “Two days! What did your father have to say about that?”

  “He thrashed me,” he said and, sitting back, smiled at her. “It was worth it. You loved that silly pony even though it must have thrown you a dozen times.”

  She nodded, remembering how distraught she had been to find it had escaped.

  “I was nine when I asked you to marry me,” he said watching her. “Do you remember?”

  “Quite well. I was ten, a much older woman even then and rather annoyed by your following me about. Then one day you went down on one knee in the garden and asked me to marry you. It was on a day much like this, I think. I gave you a bloody nose for your trouble.”

  “I was heartbroken,” he said, placing his hand over his heart, and falling back on the bench, his face turned to the sky.

  She smiled as he pantomimed the small boy he had been, her brother’s pesky little friend who had watched her with adoration from under his long eyelashes.

  “Why did you never tell me it was you who found my pony and brought him back?”

  He shrugged. “Would you have accepted my marriage proposal then?”

  She laughed, surprised to find she still could. “Probably not,” she admitted. “I had my mind set on a career as a pirate.”

  This time he laughed, the sound traveling to Charles who turned to them and waved, then returned his attention to playing with the girls. “I thought you wanted to be a highwayman.”

  “At first, yes, but I soon realized there was more adventure on the high seas than waiting beside the road. Hiding in the countryside could become rather monotonous after a while, I should think.”

  Nicholas reached up and traced the bruise on her face. She let him because to pull away would only emphasize her discomfort. She cursed herself because her little ruse hadn’t worked, after all.

  “Won’t you tell me what happened?” he asked again.

  “I fell out of bed,” she said, smiling, knowing he would not be put off. “I told you I am clumsy.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said and lightly touched the bump on her nose. “Someone broke your nose.”

  She turned away from him, but he took her hand. She inhaled deeply, trying to calm herself, and turned to watch Jane as she rode on Charles’s shoulders. Margaret begged for a ride next, and she smiled at the picture they made. She turned her face up to the sun, conscious of her hand in Nicholas’ as he rubbed his thumb over her palm. Nicholas had always been observant, especially when it came to her. “We aren’t children anymore,” she said, pulling her hand from his and turned to look at him. “You can’t fix everything like you used to.”

  “Why don’t you let me try?”

  “You brought Charles back,” she said. “It’s more than enough.”

  “Charles can take care of himself.”

  It was her turn to study him. “Can he? Then why did you join the Royal Navy?”

  He shrugged. “For the adventure on the high seas.”

  “Nicholas, all you ever talked about was going to Oxford. You hated fighting. Guns frightened you. When your father forced you to kill your first rabbit, you cried for days. You refused to learn to hunt with him, no matter how he threatened you. You would not have joined the Navy unless you had a good reason to do so.”

  “Is that so?” he smiled. “You should never remind a man of his shortcomings, Miss Wyndham. And besides, as I recall you were rather good at killing rabbits.”

  He was trying to change the subject and she wouldn’t let him. “You brought Charles back just like you brought my beloved pony back all those years ago. You kept him safe because you knew how much he means to me.”

  “Then you’ll have to marry me now, won’t you?” he smiled and, removing her white glove, kissed her palm. She wanted to withdraw her hand from his but she knew to struggle would only draw unnecessary attention. Thankfully, her long sleeves hid the scars at her wrist.

  She laughed, not knowing if he was in earnest. “You are too young to get married, Nicholas, especially to an old cripple like me. You can rest assured I will not hold you to your proposal of twelve years ago. You may rely on my level-headedness.”

  “And if I refuse to take ‘no’ for an answer?”

  “You leave me no choice but to give you a bloody nose again.”

  He laughed. “I have missed you, Georgiana.”

  “What’s this?” Charles asked as he walked over and sat down next to her on the bench, loosening his cravat in the midday heat. “Are you proposing to my sister again, Nick?”

  “You have found me out, Charles, but, alas, she has refused me again.”

  “Dear Lord, count yourself fortunate. Last time she drew far more blood from you. Do you remember, Georgiana,” Charles said wistfully, “our days at Evansgate Hall? You would come up with great adventures for us. Like the time you wanted us to hide the fox in Lady As
hbury’s bedroom.”

  Nicholas laughed. “The hounds followed its scent right to the front door, much to the butler’s surprise. The hounds bounded through the salon where the ladies were gathered and up the grand staircase to Lady Ashbury’s bedroom, where they jumped on the bed because the fox was hiding under the covers with a very surprised Lady Ashbury. I still don’t know how you managed to tame that scoundrel.”

  Georgiana smiled at the memory and felt relieved the conversation had turned away from her. Nicholas’s interest in her made her uncomfortable. She had grown used to no one paying her any attention and had found strength in being almost invisible to all those around her. To suddenly be the single focus of her brother was disconcerting, but to be the sole interest of Nicholas was frightening.

  He could be relentless, at least the Nicholas she remembered. Her brother saw her the way most males in her society saw her, a helpless female in need of protection. Nicholas saw through her. Even as children, he had known her bravery and defiance was a mask for the real terror she had felt.

  He had found her crying after a visit from her father. She had hidden in a dark stairwell in a wing of his parents’ massive country house where no one ever went, and he had still found her. He tried to comfort her and she had pushed him for his effort, and roared at him to never touch her. So he sat with her for hours, while she cried in the dark. When he set his mind to something, no one could change it. She remembered his silent form beside her, not touching her in that dark stairwell but refusing to abandon her.

  She listened while they talked about their shared childhood, and watched the girls play on the lawn. They placed their carefully picked flowers in pretty arrangements on the grass. She knew that her mother still stood at the window, watching them. Georgiana also knew that later she would pay a price for this moment of pure happiness, but she didn’t care. Charles and Nicholas were alive and back home, and the girls were finally playing in the sunshine. It was enough.

  6

  The clock chimed the hour in the stillness of the drawing room where Georgiana sat occupied with her needlework. Her mother glanced up from the letter she was writing to smile at her before returning to her work. Georgiana frowned. She had come to hate the scene of women occupying themselves with the gentle activities of needlework and letter writing. It was expected.