15. Chapter 15
A s it often did in the evening, the wind picked up as we made our way from the festival to Pickering Castle.
Ames glanced outside the carriage window into the dark night as Mrs. Danby spoke incessantly on the opposite bench about a new herbal remedy she’d discovered from a local healer.
She’d purchased ten bottles, claiming it cured everything from warts to rheumatism.
“I tried to convince the woman that I could patent this remedy and help her sell it in New York,” Mrs. Danby said as she held up one of the amber bottles. “But she insists she only wants to serve her little village. Why are the English so small-minded?”
Ames made a contemptuous grunt but said nothing.
“Perhaps,” Sarah said, sitting beside her mother, “the woman enjoys a quiet, simple life.”
“Pshaw,” Mrs. Danby said. “She’s simply scared of success.”
I had grown tired of Mrs. Danby’s opinions and forceful nature but chose to ignore her at moments like these.
The wind rocked the carriage as we followed the cliffside road toward Pickering Castle. Large whitecaps dotted the sea as swells of water rose and crashed. Thick, gray clouds hung low in the sky as the sunlight disappeared.
“My,” Mrs. Danby commented a few minutes later, “do you think it will rain?”
“No,” Ames said.
“Can you be so certain, Your Grace?” Mrs. Danby purred.
“I never speak unless I’m certain.” His mood had started to darken the closer we came to home—or perhaps it had nothing to do with Pickering Castle, and all to do with being forced into a carriage with Mrs. Danby.
Thankfully, Mrs. Danby remained silent the rest of the way.
The staff had returned to the castle a couple hours before the house party, so they were home to greet us when our carriages pulled up to the front door. The wind whipped at our hats and skirts as we made our way from the vehicles to the vestibule and entered the Great Hall.
“My,” Mrs. Danby said as she rearranged the folds of her skirt and tucked stray strands of hair into her updo. “I could get used to living in a castle, but I don’t think I’d ever get used to this infernal wind. How does one even hear themselves think?”
Ames pressed his lips together, but I could almost imagine what he wanted to say. He probably preferred the noise of the wind over her constant chatter.
I had been eager to speak to Molly since dancing with Brant, so I excused myself. I was nervous about what she might say, but if Brant wouldn’t listen to reason about getting married, perhaps I could speak some sense into Molly.
Ames escorted me past the dining room and up the stairwell to the hall outside our bedchambers. We stopped near my door. “I’d like to speak to you, once Molly leaves. May I come to your room?”
“Of course.” I smiled. “You need never ask permission, Ames.”
He returned my smile and then left me.
Molly was in my room, preparing my evening toilette when I entered. She’d been quieter lately, though she was still pleasant and efficient. The sparkle that had once made her brown eyes come alive had dimmed and it broke my heart.
“Did you have a good time?” she asked me, her Irish lilt a little deeper tonight than usual.
“I did, though I’m tired and eager to sleep.”
The house party had been more taxing than I’d anticipated, especially as I tried to write my novel.
I worked on it every spare minute I could find, but there were only a few weeks until my deadline and I was nowhere near finished.
But that wasn’t my biggest concern tonight as the wind rushed past the castle and Molly stepped forward to help me remove my gown.
“Molly?”
“Aye?” She worked with deft hands and soon had the bustle removed from the gown.
“Has Brant—” I paused, uncertain how to ask such a personal question.
She hesitated as she set aside the bustle and then rejoined me to unbutton the back of my dress.
“Has Brant asked you to marry him?”
Her hands stilled.
I turned to face her. “Has he?”
Molly lowered her gaze and nodded. “Aye.”
Though I’d been prepared for the answer, it was still alarming.
“And what have you told him?”
“That he’s a fool.”
Relief washed over me, though it was tinged with sadness. “Then you haven’t agreed?”
“How could I? He’d be disowned and ostracized, and though he tells me he doesn’t care about society, I do.
Me own people would be appalled and say I had overreached me place.
Not to mention the need for him to marry a wealthy woman who can help protect his future home in Hackness.
” She shook her head. “’Tis out of the question and he knows it. ”
“Have you continued to see him, in private?”
Molly picked up a pair of my gloves and absently folded them.
“I try to avoid him, just like you told me. Today was hard, seeing him with Miss Danby, but I’ve told him he needs to open his heart to—” Her voice cracked and she bit her upper lip as she regained her composure.
“He needs to forget about me and focus on her. She has the money he needs, and she’s sweet, too.
Miss Danby has been very kind to me and all the other staff, and that’s how I know she’s a good person.
Not everyone treats us well.” Molly set the gloves aside and clasped her hands together with resolve before returning to work on the buttons at my back.
“More importantly, she seems to like him.”
I wanted her to know how I felt. “If there was a way—”
“I know, Your Grace. But there’s none, and if Brant had not been raised so far removed from society, he would better understand what you and I know about the world.
Well-to-do people are not kind to aristocrats marrying beneath themselves, and the lower classes are not accepting of their own kind marrying up.
The scandal would be detrimental to both our families, and some would even claim it wasn’t legal.
I once heard of an earl who married a butcher’s daughter and his earldom was contested in the House of Lords.
’Twould not be worth all the pain and hardship.
I could not knowingly do that to him. He says he does not care, but one day, when he realizes what he’s done, he will care and he’ll regret marrying me.
I could not live with meself if he did.”
“I’m sorry, Molly.”
“It matters not.” She sniffed and paused to swipe at her cheek, then helped me remove the bodice of my gown. “Knowing I have you on me side to talk some sense into him gives me hope.”
Molly wanted me to talk sense into Brant, Brant wanted me to talk sense into Ames, and Ames wanted me to talk sense into Molly. If Brant would accept his lot in life, I would not need to speak to any of them about this issue.
“I will do the best I can,” I promised her.
“Thank you.”
A part of me wanted to tell Ames what had transpired, but it felt wiser to keep it quiet for now. I didn’t need him to get involved—at least now that I knew Molly understood the dire circumstances and would not go along with Brant’s wishes.
Perhaps keeping it to myself would work out as I hoped.
I stayed in my room for quite some time after Molly left, working on my manuscript, but Ames did not come to me as he’d said he would. The wind howled with ferocity outside the castle, and before long, the low, moaning noise began. Did that mean the smugglers were using the cave?
As the noise quieted, I realized Ames wasn’t playing the piano tonight. Frowning, I tucked the manuscript into my desk and pulled my shawl closer to my shoulders. I stood for a moment to listen for the sound of the piano, but it did not come.
Stepping into the dark hallway, the only noise I could hear was the wind and the occasional creaking from the passageway.
Where was Ames?
I returned to my room and took a candelabra off my desk, then made my way across the hall to his bedchamber.
It was close to the same size as mine, but it was decorated in a more masculine style, with dark, rich wood, oversized furniture, and blue curtains at the windows.
A fire had been laid in the hearth, but the room was empty and there was no sign of him.
Curiosity got the better of me, and I walked down the stairs toward the music room. Ever since I’d moved into the castle, I had known where Ames was every night, even on the evenings he was not with me. He was either in his bedchamber or the music room.
But as I drew close to the music room, it was evident that no one was in there. The room was dark, just like the hallway. The only light around me came from the candelabra I held.
Frowning, I continued to the library. He only used the space during the day, but perhaps he had some work to get done.
The library was just as dark as the music room.
Where could he be? He’d told me he would come to my room after Molly left. Surely he knew she’d be long gone by now, and I would be curious about him.
An uneasy feeling settled into the pit of my stomach, especially with the information Ames had shared with me earlier that day.
Was his life at risk from the smugglers, as his grandfather and great-grandfather’s lives had been?
After everything we’d discussed, would Ames confront the smugglers, knowing how dangerous they were?
I used the candelabra and checked several other places in the castle, just to be sure. He wasn’t in any of the drawing rooms or places that made the most sense. Was he in my study?
There was no reason he would be there, but I went to my study anyway.
Before I turned the doorknob, I heard a man’s voice, muted through the door. A moment later, a woman’s flirtatious tone filtered out into the hall. Whatever she said made them both laugh.
My stomach became sick and my cheeks burned. Was this Ames? Was he meeting with another woman? I didn’t want to open the door to find out, yet how could I not confront him—and why would he use my study of all places?
With a shaking hand, I turned the doorknob—but what I found was almost more alarming than my own fears.
“Everett! Martha!”