Chapter 22 #3
Dinner had gone cold on Amelia's plate, and she had not touched it.
The Baron watched her from across the table, his own fork set down some minutes ago, worry sitting plainly on his face though he had not yet found the words to voice it. He was on the verge of speaking when a maid appeared in the doorway.
"My lord. There is a woman at the door, asking to see Lady Amelia."
"Who is it?"
"The woman living next door, my lord."
Amelia's eyes came up sharply. "Show her in."
Her father did not argue.
Mrs. Miller entered a moment later, still in her travelling cloak, and inclined her head toward them both. "Thank you for receiving me at this hour." She crossed to Amelia and held out a sealed letter. "My lady. This is for you."
The Baron's gaze went to it at once. "Is it from Mr. Russell?"
"It is. He left some hours ago."
"He left?" Amelia was on her feet before she had decided to rise. "Where? Why?"
"Easy, my lady." Mrs. Miller's voice was gentle but firm. "He did it so that they would follow him instead of remaining here."
The Baron's jaw tightened, something working behind his eyes.
"He is using himself as bait. As a man ought to, to draw danger away from those he cares for.
" He paused. "Though I confess, part of me hopes he considers not returning at all.
Ashcombe has endured a great deal these past weeks.
Its people deserve peace, and they have grown unaccustomed to anything else. "
"With respect, my lord." Mrs. Miller said it evenly, without flinching. "He will return to his own home. And when he does, I have no doubt he will come and speak with you himself, in person, about what he intends going forward."
The Baron's eyes narrowed slightly, moving to his daughter, who had not looked up from the unopened letter in her hands.
"Until that time comes," he said finally, "I hope his plan succeeds."
"He will need your help for that, my lord.
" Mrs. Miller's tone sharpened with purpose.
"Please have it spread through the household, and through the village if it can be managed quickly, that he has left — that he was seen going east. Let those men hear it before he has gone too far to be followed.
It is the only way to draw them out after him properly. "
The Baron was silent a moment. Then he called for the maids and gave the instruction plainly, without further argument.
"Thank you, my lord." Mrs. Miller turned back to Amelia, her expression softening entirely. "Do not fret yourself too badly, my dear. Everything that has broken can be mended, in time. And you are always welcome to visit me, whenever you have a mind to."
"I believe I have put that off a great deal longer than I ought to have."
"Then perhaps you might go somewhere quiet now," Mrs. Miller said gently, "and read what he has written you."
Amelia looked at her a long moment. "You are right."
She rose, embraced Mrs. Miller briefly, and went up to her room alone.
When she reached her room, she closed the door and opened the letter.
My love,
I could think of no other way to end this suffering — for you, and for everyone else this has touched. I wish I had found the strength to act sooner, before they burned everything you hold dear.
I expect to be gone some months. Do not let them break you in my absence. You are stronger than you have ever believed yourself to be.
I love you. And when I return, I intend to marry you — one way or another.
Benjamin
She pressed the letter to her lips and closed her eyes, and stayed that way a long while before she finally rose and crossed to the balcony.
Below, in the ruin of her garden, the small green shoots Benjamin had planted in the ash had already begun to bloom — pale and defiant against all that grey.
Amelia went back downstairs.
Her father was still sitting where she had left him.
"Where is Frederick?"
"I do not know." He looked up, surprised. "What do you want of him?"
"I am finished looking at that black, ruined thing that used to be my garden." She lifted her chin. "It is time I began working on it instead."
Her father's eyes widened, and he was on his feet a moment later, pulling her into his arms.
"My girl. I thought I had lost you."
"You very nearly did." She held onto him, fierce and steady. "But there will be no more sitting idle. I have to repair what they destroyed."
Her father drew back to look at her properly. "We have to."
"We?"
"It was my garden as well, once." Something almost sheepish moved across his face. "Your mother's, before either of us."
Amelia's expression softened into something like disbelief. "You wish to help with the garden?"
"Naturally."
"And what will the village say, seeing you on your knees in the dirt? You do not know the first thing about growing anything."
He kissed her forehead, gentle and certain. "Then they shall see a father being taught by his own daughter how to care for the things that actually matter."
She smiled, properly, for the first time since the fire — and together they went to find Frederick.