“There is truly nothing like being home is there?” she asked me then, breaking the comfortable silence we had fallen into.
I thought of this place and the memories it held. Emma was changing those with her existence, but there was a lifetime of pain and loneliness within these walls. I wasn’t sure when it would feel like home. That revelation wasn’t one I wanted to have with Miss Bathurst so soon, however. Instead, I replied, “Indeed. Do you miss your home terribly?
She was silent for a moment then she turned her head to glance up at me before speaking. “Whitney is my home,” she said. “I miss the country, but here we are soaking it in. I haven’t anything to miss now.”
Her words were simple yet spoke more than an in-depth conversation. Miriam had a mother who was alive, yet she said nothing of missing her. I understood all too well the lack of love or even mere affection between a child and their parent. I too suffered from that my entire life.
Whitney was very important to her and she seemed bent on protecting her younger sister at all cost. I admired her dedication. The degree of love it took for one to care as deeply as she obviously did for her sister said much about her character. More so than I could find out in time spent with her. Although, I hoped to have much of that too in the future.
“Your sister is lucky to have you,” I said.
“Oh, it is I who am lucky. Whitney brought love and joy into my life. I could not imagine a life without her in it. I dare not even try.”
Again. So many things spoken in so few words.
“Ashington! You’re here!” Emma exclaimed with glee as I walked inside the cottage.
I held open my arms just in time for her small body to slam against me. “I told you I wouldn’t be long,” I reminded her as I returned her embrace.
“It’s perfect, isn’t it?” she asked me as she let me go and stood back to hold her arms out wide.
I looked around the cottage that I hadn’t been in myself since I was a boy. “I do believe it is,” I agreed.
Emma spun in a circle. “I feel as if I am living in a storybook.”
“Storybook or not, you will finish your written assignment before you go back outside tomorrow,” Alice replied as she entered the main living area. “Good Evening, Lord Ashington.”
“Hello, Alice,” I replied, standing back up. “I see things are the same. Nothing new.”
Alice sighed. “Just the same.”
I turned my attention back to Emma. “Tomorrow, I will be expected to entertain my guests. However, if you do all your assignments then we may go on a walk together before sunset. How does that sound?” I asked, hoping to inspire Emma.
Emma thought for only a moment then nodded her head vigorously. “Yes! I shall do all that horrible writing if we can go for a walk.”
I looked back at Alice who appeared grateful for some assistance. “Very well then it is settled. You do all the work Alice gives you and I will take you on an adventure walk.”
“To see the horses? I have missed them, you know.” Emma sounded mournful.
I thought about the chances of someone seeing us and if it was just before sunset, we should be safe enough. “Of course. I am sure Buttercup has missed you as well. Be sure to bring her carrots. She will expect that from her very best friend.”
Emma beamed brightly. “Oh, I shall! “
Alice stepped forward then. “I promised you could remain awake until Lord Ashington stopped by to visit. Now it is late and you must get ready for bed. Tomorrow is a full day.”
Emma’s smile fell and she looked ready to sulk.
“Sleep is required for princesses and those who live in storybook cottages,” I told her.
She paused then finally nodded reluctantly. “I suppose it is. Goodnight, Ashington.”
“Goodnight, Emma,” I replied.
I waited until Alice took Emma’s hand and they disappeared into the back bedroom before seeing myself out. The evening sky was clear and the stars were on full display. I missed this when in London. Walking under the starlight, I headed back toward Chatwick Hall. Wellington had been an easy guest. Two cups of port and he was ready to turn in for the night. I’d been free to go check on Emma.
I hadn’t stopped by the parlor to see if the ladies were still awake. I knew Emma’s bedtime was near and I didn’t want her to be kept up on my account. She was expecting me today and there was no power on Earth that could have gotten her in that bed until she saw me. Smiling, I turned the corner and came out of the wooded path that led to the cottage and into the clearing.
Chatwick Hall stood majestic and lit up in the night. I saw what others did when they looked upon this place and I understood its impressive grandness. However, it held memories for me that couldn’t be changed. To me, this place had always been more imposing than it had been grand.
Crossing the backside of the garden, I glanced up at the window that I believed to be Miriam’s. The room was aglow with light. Either she was awake or she was yet to enter her room for the evening. Perhaps she was still visiting with her aunt and sister. Thoughts of finding her in the parlor caused my pace to pick up as I made my way to the house. However, just as I made it to the gardens, I saw movement.
Stopping, I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness and saw the pale blue of Miriam’s gown shimmer against the moonlight. She turned then and saw me at the arched entrance to the gardens. I couldn’t see her face clearly in the shadows, but I knew I had surprised her by my appearance.
“Lord Ashington,” she replied.
“Try again,” I said, taking a few steps in her direction so that I may see her clearly.
She paused but for a moment then I heard a small sigh before she said, “Ashington, then. I didn’t realize you were out tonight. I needed fresh air. I do hope that it is okay.”
It was more than okay. She had given me exactly what I had sought. Time with her alone, again. This afternoon had been much too brief.
“I want you to be comfortable here. You may do as you please. There is never any reason to ask,” I assured her.
Her head tilted to the side and long red hair spilled over one shoulder. “Did you also need some fresh country air?” she asked.
I nodded once. “Indeed. It is hard to ignore the gentle call of the night whilst in the countryside.”
“I thought the gardens were lovely in the daylight, but there is something magical about them tonight with only the full moon to illuminate their beauty.”
Today I had led her to the gardens on our walk to continue our conversation I had hoped to deepen. Miriam was so taken with the flowers she had been distracted and I had, in return, enjoyed watching her enjoyment.
“I am told my mother loved these gardens. After her death, they remained the same. My father never had them changed. My stepmother hated it out here, however.” I stopped then. This was not information that I needed to share with Miriam. Perhaps my future wife but Miriam was not that just yet.
“They must be very special to you,” she said simply.
“They are the thing I love most about this place,” I replied. For that was the truth. Here was something that had been my mother’s. Something my father hadn’t changed.
Miriam was silent, staring off into the darkness for a moment, and I watched her. The delicate line of her chin and soft plump form of her lips were quite near perfect. Did she realize that? She didn’t seem the sort of female that understood her physical beauty and the power it wielded. Or was that an act? There was so much I didn’t know about Miriam Bathurst.