Chapter 12
“You are quite committed to dying in an undignified ditch, I see.”
Duncan’s voice reached them before his lantern light did, and he stepped out from the shadow of the postern arch.
Augusta and Matilda froze in response, looking at each other with a sort of dread that could not be faked. They were like little children who had been caught doing something wayward, which… Duncan supposed that is exactly what they were.
It took only another second for the younger one to start screaming. Duncan jerked so sharply that the lantern swung and flung light up the stonework, brightening the gate. Matilda screamed again, clapping her hands over her ears as if she might muffle her own terror.
He forced his shoulders down, forced his face into something less like a threat. They’re scared of you.
“Stop that,” he said, then immediately regretted it when Matilda screamed louder.
Augusta yanked her sister behind her and squared her stance.
“Oh, I would be careful, Your Grace,” Augusta muttered, scrunching up her nose. “I do not wish for you to speak to my sister.”
“It is a bit too late for what you might want or might not want,” Duncan’s gaze flicked to the sack she was carrying. “You are leaving?” he said.
“It is none of your business.”
“Alright then.”
Duncan could sense that she was rather annoyed at having been caught, and perhaps they might have gotten away with it as well if Duncan had not been in his study.
He had spotted them from the window, escaping the premises of the estate like scared little cats. It only took a few moments for him to catch up to them after that.
“What do you think your sister might think if she knows you’re sneaking away like this?” Duncan asked her.
“Oh, who is to say?” Augusta said, narrowing her eyes. “I do not wish for you to speak to my sister, so I suppose I do not wish for you to find out either.”
Duncan stared at her for a heartbeat, then let out a slow breath through his nose. He reminded himself, again, that she was a girl who did not know better. If it had been anyone else, Duncan would not have tolerated such disrespect.
“A remarkable hour to start issuing wishes,” he said, keeping his tone mild on purpose. “You chose to sneak out at this hour, and then somehow think that the action will not yield any sort of consequence? I am not sure if you are thinking properly, let alone thinking at all.”
He glanced over at what they were carrying. The tops of some vegetables and bread peeked out from the sack they were carrying, and Duncan shook his head at the sight. Their youth was showing, and it could not be clearer that they did not know what they were doing.
“You have packed provisions as though you intend to cross a continent. Do you even know which direction you are heading?” he said after a moment.
“That is none of your concern,” Augusta snapped, though her fingers tightened around Matilda’s wrist. “We are leaving, and you cannot stop us.”
Matilda sniffled behind her sister’s skirts, peeking at him with wide, wet eyes. The sight did something deeply uncomfortable in his chest.
“I am not certain I wish to stop you,” Duncan replied after a moment.
Augusta blinked, startled. Yes, that was the reaction that he was hoping to receive.
“What?” she asked after a moment.
“If you are determined to wander into the dark with a sack of bread, I can only disapprove but I will not go as far as stopping you.” He lifted the lantern slightly. “I will escort you.”
There was complete silence after his remark, and he wanted to smirk at how predictable they were. Even though Duncan much preferred to keep to himself, he understood how people worked. It was all rather predictable, he thought to himself.
“You…” Augusta frowned suspiciously. “Escort us? Why would you do that?”
“Aye.” He inclined his head toward the path leading away from the castle. “Lead on.”
They stared at him as though he had grown a second head. Then, slowly, Augusta turned. She pulled Matilda with her and began walking down the narrow road that wound away from Blackstone. Duncan followed at a measured distance, lantern swinging at his side.
For several minutes, there was only the sound of gravel beneath small boots and the whisper of wind over the moors.
He watched them carefully.
Augusta walked stiffly, chin high, and Matilda clutched the sack of provisions with both arms now, occasionally stumbling over stones. Both of them… well, he knew that Charity was right to be concerned about them. They were too young, but the dangerous kind. Especially Augusta.
At her age, youth makes one believe that one is invincible, and that is precisely why she must be protected. But Duncan was not in the business of giving out sermons, so instead, he was going to let them arrive at their own conclusions.
They reached the first fork in the road, and it was the first time that Augusta hesitated. It was subtle, but Duncan saw it.
She looked left, then right. Then left again.
“Well?” he asked mildly.
She squared her shoulders and chose the right, and they walked another ten minutes before the road began to narrow.
Matilda’s steps slowed, but Duncan merely observed what was happening.
“Augusta…” Matilda whispered.
“Hush,” Augusta muttered, stubbornly. It was clear to Duncan that she was not going to give up without a solid fight. Duncan’s lantern light caught the uncertainty creeping into the older girl’s expression. Her pace faltered again at a second split in the path.
“Are we nearly there?” Matilda asked in a small voice.
“Nearly where?” Duncan asked.
“Do not mock us!” Augusta stopped abruptly and spun around.
“I am not mocking you,” he said calmly. “I am asking a practical question. Where are you going? You seem not to have answered that for me, and I am sure that your sister would like to know it as well.”
“I do not know!” she burst out. Her composure had finally cracked, and Matilda began crying softly again.
“This is your fault!” Augusta whirled on him, fury blazing in her eyes.
“My fault?” he repeated, mildly amused now but wanting to hear what was on the young girl's mind.
“Yes! If you had not dragged us to this wretched, cold place….if you had not…” Her voice trembled. “Charity would not have changed.”
“Changed how?” Duncan grew concerned. He knew that there was more to what was being let on, and he intended to find out if he was ever to solve this issue.
“She keeps things from us,” Augusta said, her voice breaking between anger and hurt. “And I can hardly piece together what is right. It was not always like this, and she used to be more honest with us. But since she has met you, she has begun to treat us like children.”
“You are children,” he said quietly, and she flinched as if struck.
“Lovely, just lovely,” she hissed, “that is exactly how you see us.”
Duncan exhaled slowly through his nose.
“I still do not see how that is reason enough to leave,” Duncan replied calmly.
“It is enough if a reason,” Augusta fired back. “If we do not know what is truly going on, then it would be wiser to make our exit.”
Duncan wanted to sigh loudly, but he tried to keep his expression placid. “Have you wondered, even for a moment, that Charity is behaving in this manner because she is trying to protect you from things?”
“Protect us, why?” Augusta said, gritting her teeth. “She was not the only one whose parents were lost, and we share this grief together. I believe that we can be together in this.”
“She kept things from you because she believes it is her duty to carry them alone,” he said at last. That was his assessment of things, and it made him think of Charity in quite a favorable light.
“You do not know my sister,” Augusta scoffed.
“I know enough,” he stepped closer, lowering the lantern so its light fell gently rather than harshly. “Your cousin drugged her, and that is why she had disappeared.”
Both girls froze.
“What?” Augusta whispered.
“She woke in the woods, alone, poisoned with henbane. Had we not found her, she might have died.” His voice remained steady.
“Your uncle has sent threats since, and I do not think that he is going to give up easily. He is a dangerous man, considering what he did to Charity alone. I suppose they would not have minded much if she ended up dead in the process.”
Matilda’s crying stopped entirely while Augusta’s face drained of color.
“That is not true,” Augusta began to shake her head, “surely, Charity would have said something if this was truly the case. That is far too… well… no, it cannot be true.”
“It is.” His gaze did not waver. “She did not tell you because she wished to spare you the fear.”
“No… Robert would not…” Augusta shook her head.
“He would,” Duncan replied. “Whether by his father’s command or his own weakness, he would.”
Silence pressed in around them, and Matilda took a small step toward him instead of away. At least he was earning the trust of one of them.
“She was going to send us away,” Augusta said faintly, still trying to come to grips with whatever that she was being told.
“To protect you,” he corrected.
Augusta’s anger flared again, but it was thinner now.
“She should have trusted us,” she sighed. Duncan wondered what Charity was going to say when she found out that he had dished out the entire truth to her sisters, but he knew that such a thing was necessary.
“She trusts you with her heart,” Duncan said. “But she does not trust the world with you.”
There was more silence that filled the space in between them.
“If we return,” she said carefully, “you will not send us away?”
“I will not,” he answered. “Not without her agreement. And not unless it is necessary for your safety.”
“And you swear you will protect her?” Augusta demanded.
“And you?” Matilda added, stepping forward.
Duncan looked between them.
“I swear,” he said simply.
Something shifted then, and the terror in their eyes dulled into an uncertain acceptance. Augusta drew a slow breath.
“…We should go back,” she said at last. Matilda nodded vigorously. Duncan could only bask in the triumph.
Had he tried to convince them right away, it would only have prolonged the whole thing. But now he had achieved what he wanted, and they turned toward the castle. This time, they did not walk ahead of him as though fleeing a monster.
They walked beside him.
Halfway back, Matilda’s hand slipped into his free one, and he nearly dropped the lantern.
“Um,” Augusta said, and it was the first time her voice had sounded uncertain rather than sharp, “are you going to… lie for us? She will be very angry if she finds out that we tried to escape.”
Duncan slowed, then stopped altogether. The lantern hung at his side, its light pooling on the path and catching the damp hems of their skirts. He looked at Augusta properly and then considered it for a moment.
Ahead, Blackstone rose dark and broad against the sky, where a few windows held faint light. Someone was awake and searching.
Charity.
Duncan’s gaze flicked toward the castle, then returned to Augusta.
“If I tell her the truth the moment we step inside,” he said, “she’ll worry twice as much. First over what you did, then over what she thinks it means about her.”
“She should worry, as she should have told us what was happening,” Augusta’s eyes narrowed.
“Aye,” Duncan said, and the agreement came out plain, “but I do not wish to burden her, tonight at the very least.”
Augusta’s throat worked as she glanced down at Matilda, who had gone quiet from exhaustion.
“So, you will cover for us?” Augusta said, slower now.
“I’ll say we went for a walk.” Duncan nodded once.
Augusta blinked, relieved.
“Oh,” she said, and her voice came out smaller. “All right.”
Duncan started walking again, and Augusta followed, keeping Matilda close, the sack thumping lightly against her side with each step. The cold air pushed at them, insistent. The path back to the castle felt longer now that the rush was gone.
Matilda shivered hard, and Duncan noticed it immediately and stopped without meaning to.
Augusta looked back, instantly wary. “What now?”
Duncan didn’t answer her and offered his coat to the little girl. Matilda stared at the coat as if it were a miracle. “For me?”
“For you.”
Matilda didn’t hesitate as she took it with both hands and wrapped it around herself so eagerly that she nearly tangled in it.
Finally. He did not want the young child to be cold.
He turned away and started walking again. Augusta followed, slower this time, studying him openly. Duncan could feel her gaze like a hand on the back of his neck.
After several steps, she said, guarded, “I haven’t figured you out fully yet.”
“Don’t worry,” he replied. “That’s not something you need to think about.”
“It is if my sister is marrying you….”
His stride didn’t change.
“Your sister is alive, and that matters more.”
Duncan lifted the lantern slightly. The postern gate was closed. Beyond it, the castle walls rose, black stone against the sky.
They had finally arrived.