“This is a nightmare of the worst sort, the kind that nags at one’s heart and torments them to prevent any hope of forgetting!” Beatrix cried as she climbed onto the bed and settled her arms around a pillow.
From the bed, Beatrix could see out one of the tall windows that overlooked the wide courtyard to the rear of the house. Her heart sank when she took notice of Callum, who paced the courtyard with his eyes downcast, his hands nervously wringing in front of him. How could she have been so stupid as to be played for a fool by one such as he?
There was a knock at the door, and after looking to the window once again to be certain it wasn’t Callum, she bade the person enter.
“I brought you something to eat, miss,” Birdie said as she and Greta entered with a tray and water to wash with. “I didna hear you come back and I knew ya wasn’t here for a meal earlier… why, whatever’s the matter?”
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Beatrix said, sitting up and wiping her eyes. She attempted to appear more pleasant, but only succeeded in making herself cry harder. “I cannot say, it’s too awful.”
“There, there miss!” Greta said, coming to Beatrix’s side and putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. “Whatever it is, it cannaw be so bad as all that!”
“But it can!” Beatrix cried. “I just need to be away from here, I need to go home to my family!”
Greta and Birdie exchanged a worried look, seemingly worried that there could be some trick on the young lady’s part to engage their services in aiding her escape. But surely she’d had so many opportunities to flee, she would not have needed to wait until now.
“We’ll help ya, miss!” Birdie finally said proudly. “Dontcha worry, we’ll find a way to get ya out and on yer way again!”
“What?” Beatrix asked, looking hopeful. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. Yer a kind sort, and I cannaw believe what other folks say ya done. You’ve been good to Greta and me, and we’ll help ya get outta here.”
“I don’t even rightly know where I am, nor which direction I must travel,” Beatrix admitted. “Where are we?”
“I’ll have to inquire downstairs where you might be heading, miss. I’ll look to see where ya should go and when it may be safe to sneak out,” Greta added helpfully.
“But don’t trouble yourself on my account,” Beatrix cried. “Please do not put yourselves in danger of losing your positions for me.”
“We shall not, don’t ya worry,” Birdie said. “If we can find a way, we will help ya, ‘tis the least we can do!”
* * *
Callum retired to his chambers, much confused about the afternoon ride. How had it taken such a strange turn? It had been a rather pleasant experience, despite their constant quarrel over their views of wealth and privilege. Only he had ruined it. He had been so enamored of Beatrix that he knew not what he was doing, he had simply acted without thinking.
But unless he imagined it from the pure longing he’d succumbed to, she had kissed him back as well. He could never expect her to return even a measure of the affection he felt for her, not with the manner in which he had treated her thus far. His mind reeled with the memory of her hands clutching at his jacket, though, clinging to him unexpectedly.
“There is no hope that she might desire me,” he argued softly.
“Who, My Lord?” his valet asked, stepping out from behind the wardrobe.
“Oh, Barclay! I’m sorry, I did not know you were here,” Callum muttered, his face growing hot.
“Apologies, My Lord. I was returning your articles of clothing from the laundress. Is everything all right?”
“Yes, yes. It’s no matter,” Callum said wistfully. “Just something I was thinking of from earlier.”
He waited awkwardly for Barclay to finish and leave, then sat down and fretted. He had surely scared the poor woman away with his untoward advances, and she was most likely at this very moment plotting her departure. Not that he could blame her, of course, as he wished to be anywhere other than here at the moment himself.
All thoughts of shame dissipated under the memory of Beatrix’s touch. The softness of her lips, her hands when he’d held them, all reminded him of how innocent she seemed. He could no longer believe she had any part in the crime against him, even if she knew those who had.
“Barclay?” Callum called out. He waited a moment for his valet to appear at the door. “Oh good, you’re still here. Please inquire as to whether my guest is otherwise occupied. She may not be in good spirits, but I must speak with her.”
“Very good, My Lord,” Barclay said before hurrying to comply.
Please let her listen to reason, he thought, unable to think why she would. After all, it would be miraculous if she would even speak with him, considering the look on her face when she’d run from him earlier.
“My Lord, your guest is available but… I’m afraid she reports that she is not receiving visitors at this time,” the valet said awkwardly, avoiding looking at Callum. He sensed that Barclay had heard more than that from Beatrix.
“Of course. Would you please take her this letter then?” Callum replied. He reached for his pen and drew a sheet of paper from his drawer. He forced himself to write slowly and deliberately, the words pulled from his thoughts slowly.
