Chapter 10
Alaric was already enjoying the day when he realized that it was set to improve significantly. And while he might not have admitted truthfully to himself why that might be, he knew the reason in his heart.
It was on account of Miss Kavanagh.
He had just returned from the local village, his mind set to make his way into his office to continue in his work. But as he crossed through the back garden that sprang from the castle, he spied Miss Kavanagh.
He stopped short when he saw her, smiling without meaning to do so. Was it relief? The fact that she looked to be back in good health? Or was it that he enjoyed her company such that he always felt better about himself after having spoken to her …
She was speaking to one of the gardeners when he saw her, and stacked around them both were tables and chairs.
While the garden was mostly made of hedges and flowerbeds, a large verdant lawn opened at its center like a flower in bloom.
There, Miss Kavanagh stood as she spoke with animation and command, pointing from the tables to the lawn.
“I suppose that were I to suggest that you take it easy, you would not listen,” Alaric said as he approached Miss Kavanagh.
Her eyes widened when she heard him, and Alaric expected a smile to curve up her face because he liked to believe that she would be pleased to see him. Strangely, the smile never came, and when she dared to look at him, it was done with a sense of distance.
“Lord Thornwyck.” She straightened. “I did not see you there.”
“No doubt.” He held his smile as if to disarm her. “You were far too busy chastising the workers.”
“Mr. Carrow asked that I assist in the arrangement of seating for the late Lady Thornwyck’s memorial service. And while I know you asked that I not exert myself, I assure you that I am being careful.”
“Oh, I am sure that you are.” He kept the humor in his tone. “But do not let me catch you trying to lift these tables yourself.”
“Of course not.”
There was no warmth in Miss Kavanagh’s tone, no smile in her eyes, and not the slightest sense that she was glad to see him. In fact, she hardly looked at him at all, almost as if she wished he was not there.
Alaric blinked with surprise … a moment where he felt strangely out of place, as if he was interrupting something.
“How are you feeling?” he attempted next.
“Perfectly well, thank you,” she said simply.
Something was wrong, and where Alaric might have said it was on account of her health, he knew that to be a lie.
In fact, she looked as hale as ever: those rosy cheeks, that porcelain skin that glimmered in the light, strength personified in her as she directed the gardener. Well, that was until Alaric appeared.
Has something happened? Is she upset with me?
He could not imagine why that was. Nor could he explain why he should care. But he did care. He wanted to know what was wrong. He just did not want it to seem as if he did.
“Miss Kavanagh,” he began carefully. “Is something –”
“And just when I believed the day could not get any better!” Peregrine swept down the path and jostled toward them both.
As always, his smile was one that matched the sun, and he could not have looked more pleased.
“Two of my favorite people.” He looked between them both.
“Well, one. As for the other …” He looked flatly at Alaric.
“I suppose I do not mind you either, Alaric.”
Alaric scoffed. “Remind me why I allowed you to stay here again.”
“Because you are a glutton for self-punishment.” His friend chuckled. “And Miss Kavanagh, how are we feeling today? I confess, I have been flush with worry since that incident two days ago.”
Finally, Miss Kavanagh came to life. The smile found her lips, the light found her eyes, and she laughed along with Peregrine. “Oh, do not lie, Mr. Loxley. I doubt you have thought about me at all.”
“Erroneous!” Peregrine cried.
Miss Kavanagh laughed along with Peregrine, and Alaric found himself glaring at his best friend as if the man had done something wrong.
Why was she so comfortable and friendly with Peregrine, but so cold to Alaric? Alaric must have done something, but he could not fathom what that might have been.
“I hope I am not interrupting?” Peregrine continued as he looked between them both.
“Not at all.” Miss Kavanagh stopped smiling, and she seemed to purposefully not look at Alaric.
“I was just about to head inside. But it was nice to see you, Mr. Loxley. And Lord Thornwyck.” Her curtsey was stiff and awkward, and not once did she meet his eyes before turning and hurrying down the path and out of sight.
Alaric watched her go, his frown one of deeply creased lines, his lips pushed together in a pout of frustration.
He ought not to have cared about Miss Kavanagh. She was a housekeeper. An imposition, if anything! And yet … why does she make me feel this way? Why am I so … so upset by it?
Beside him, he felt Peregrine watching, and when Alaric turned, he saw the knowing smirk on his friend’s lips.
“What?” Alaric snapped.
“Did I say anything?” Peregrine said aghast.
Alaric narrowed his eyes. “Best that you keep it that way.”
***
It was no surprise that Alaric’s mood plummeted after seeing Miss Kavanagh. He just could not fathom why she had behaved so strangely.
So, when he finally slunk into his office, determined to put her out of his mind, it brought him little joy to find Verity sitting at his desk and waiting for him.
Wonderful …
“Ah, Alaric. Good.”
“Verity …” Alaric sighed as he closed the door and then made for his chair. “Whatever this is, please, can it wait? I am not in the mood.”
“I wish that it could,” his sister said with a deep sigh. “Alas, rarely in life do we get what we want. And this is something that we must discuss now.”
Alaric did not know what his sister wanted, but he could take a guess. And while he considered dissuading her further, another look at her stern face and rigid posture told him that would not be possible. She really could be stubborn.
“Very well.” He collapsed in his chair. “What is it that simply could not wait?”
She folded her hands on her lap and looked pointedly at him. “I have been doing some thinking since the incident the other day, the one that saw Miss Kavanagh embarrass herself, turning a most important moment into one that became all about her.”
“Verity …” Alaric groaned. “You know that is not what happened. She collapsed. It is a miracle that she was not hurt.”
“Which I am sure would have suited her just fine,” Verity pressed. “Anything to become the center of attention.”
“Is that really what you think she is doing?”
“That is my exact point,” Verity said. “I do not know her. You do not know her. She is a stranger in this place, and her presence continues to be an unwelcome one.”
“She has been here for three weeks, Verity,” Alaric said. “And so far, you are the only one who has had anything bad to say about her.”
“And that is where you are wrong.”
That had Alaric sitting up. He might have thought that his sister was being dramatic, but she maintained her cool, yet fierce, expression.
“What … what does that mean?”
“The villagers are talking, Alaric. They have said …” She hesitated, almost unsure if she should speak. “She is not from here, a Catholic of all things. You know how uncomfortable that makes people.”
Alaric shook his head. “I am not going to persecute Miss Kavanagh on account of her religion.”
“Perhaps you should,” she said sharply. “Did you know that she has been seen walking alone at night? As she has been seen by Lady Honora’s grave … praying … or speaking as if to the dead. I told you already of the rosary she carried with her.”
“Of which I have seen no evidence.”
“And she has been noticed in the library reading books that no young woman ought to read. Dark books with darker themes …” She raised an eyebrow. “The villagers have noticed her oddities, as have some of the staff.” She shivered as if cold.
“They are hardly oddities,” Alaric said.
“She is not of this place,” Verity insisted. “I do not wish to spread rumors, and you know I am not one to panic when there is no cause. But some believe her to be a …” She lowered her voice. “A witch.”
Alaric laughed in his sister’s face.
He had not meant to. But it was so absurd! Oh sure, he knew how strong religious superstition could be, as he knew how people in places like this did not welcome that which they did not know. But witchcraft?
“Verity …” He shook his head. “Do you hear yourself?”
“I am just repeating what I have been told.”
“You are encouraging it,” he corrected. “And while I know that you are not a fan of Miss Kavanagh’s, I would ask that you be reasonable. As far as I see, she has done nothing to earn your ire, and I would expect you to know better.”
What was his sister playing at? Alaric looked at her with confusion, truly beyond capable of understanding why Miss Kavanagh upset her so. There had to be a reason, one that went beyond whispers and silly rumors.
Not that Verity would ever tell me the truth of it.
“Oh, I am sure that you, of all people, are only too eager to rush to her defense.” She looked at him plainly.
Alaric blinked. “What does that mean?”
“I did not wish to say it, Alaric, but you have left me no choice. While at first I assumed that you were just being welcoming, I see now the true reason you are so fond of Miss Kavanagh.”
Alaric’s pulse quickened.
“Admit it, Alaric. She reminds you of Aisling.”
“What?” Alaric blurted in surprise. “That is … that is absurd!” He laughed as if it was a joke. He waved his sister down. He shook his head, laughed again, and did whatever he could to dismiss her comments.
But deep down … is it true? Is that why I find myself so drawn to her?
“There is a likeness there that cannot be denied,” Verity continued. “I see it when she speaks. I see it in the way that she holds herself. Most of all, I see it in the way that you look at her.”
Alaric straightened and fixed a glare upon his sister. “I warn you, Verity. This is not a road you should be wanting to walk.”
“Nor do I wish to walk it, Alaric. But I feel that I must. And with Aisling’s memorial approaching, memories of her everywhere, I worry that you are latching onto this girl for no other reason than you feel that you must.” She then looked pleadingly at Alaric.
“We all miss her, Alaric, but this is not the way to remember your wife. Please, do not mistake your feelings for anything other than misguided emotions better used to mourn Aisling.”
Alaric stared blankly at his sister, trying to dismiss her claims, while finding it hard to do.
“I will go now.” Verity stood quickly. “But think on what I have said. There is something not right about Miss Kavanagh, and I urge you to see it.” A final pleading look, and Verity left him alone.
Is it true? Is Miss Kavanagh that much like Aisling? And is that why …
Again, Alaric tried to dismiss the absurdity of those claims.
They looked nothing alike! Not their hair. Not their faces. They were not similar at all. But then again, the more he considered it, the more Alaric realized the subtlety of those similarities … feelings that found Alaric when he was with Miss Kavanagh that had made no sense but now did.
Was that why he felt so comfortable around her? Was that why he felt as if he knew her so well?
Worst of all, was this all his subconscious’ way of moving on from his guilt because the love he felt for his wife was not nearly what it should have been? Was he using Miss Kavanagh to make himself feel better?
They were questions with no clear answers, and they were the final hammer on the nail that was this day. It had started so well, but it ended with Alaric in a most sullen mood from which he could not free himself.
Nor did he think that he should try.