While it was true that the tragic death of their parents five years prior had made them both grow up prematurely, she still felt as if he were just a little boy who didn’t know anything of the world yet, and she had to protect him. Now, at one and twenty, shefelt as if she were at least twice as old as that, but only her mind showed that maturity.
“We were at… Montford Manor.”
Rose shuddered at the name as she locked gazes with her aunt. Neither of them said anything, so the boy continued.
“There were a few of us there, Henry, too,” he spoke slowly, reminiscing. “We were just playing around, having a look at the grounds, since there’s almost never anyone around,” he explained.
Rose could understand the fascination. After all, the stories that circulated about that place were three quarters of legend and only one quarter of the truth. For boys Henry’s age, such forbidden places were like magnet.
“Then suddenly, that scary duke appeared in one of the windows, shouting at us, yelling for us to get away,” he divulged. “He… he threw rocks at us,” he added, gently patting the back of his neck where the aftermath of their encounter with the duke lay. “And one of them hit me.”
“The duke threw rocks at you?” Rose gasped incredulously.
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. How could a grown man try to harm children over mere curiosity? It was unheard of.
“Well, they do say he’s a monster,” Timothy reminded her.
“There are no such things as monsters,” she corrected him.
However, Timothy was right. Everyone in the village had used that term at least once to describe that man, and the children had simply accepted the literal meaning of the word. She did not know the man nor seen him since his return from the war.
The villagers who had the opportunity said that he was horribly disfigured, that the entire right side of his face was terribly scarred. So that, in combination with the fact that he had fired more than half of the staff in his mansion upon his return, had earned him the nickname monster.
Still, this was ridiculous. Throwing rocks at boys? Someone needed to go over there and speak to him before someone got badly hurt.
“Timothy, listen to me now,” she said tenderly, but with complete determination in her voice. “You and the boys are not to return there; do you hear me? It is not safe. Until someone from the village goes over there and talks to that man, you shouldn’t even go near his property.”
Cora suddenly added. “Not that I am making excuses for the man, but I also wouldn’t want a bunch of lads trampling mygrounds whenever they feel like it. That gate is there for a reason.”
Rose turned to her aunt. While her aunt was right, it still didn’t give the man an excuse to throw rocks. “That is a good point, Aunt,” Rose acknowledged. “But you know how boys are.”
“I know,” her aunt frowned. “They need more discipline.”
Rose turned to Timothy. “Run along now. And tell Henry I expect him home on time today.”
“I will… and thank you,” Timothy nodded, getting up from his chair. He hesitated before asking. “You won’t tell my mother I was there?”
Rose inhaled deeply, as if that brought her actual physical pain. “A promise is a promise. But I won’t be on your side anymore if I find out that you boys went there again.”
“We won’t,” he hastily shook his head. “Promise.”
“All right then,” Rose said, gesturing at him to go.
“Goodbye,” he waved, closing the door behind him.
Rose walked over to her aunt, joining her in sorting out the clothes. She was thinking with some exasperation that she had to speak to her brother about following his even sillier friends into dangerous situations.
“Can you imagine that?” Rose asked, still incredulous at what she had just heard. “Throwing stones, as if the boys were a pack of wild dogs.”
“Some boys are wild dogs, Rose,” her aunt said, “especially at that age. And even older.” She stopped sorting, tilting her head a little. “Speaking of which, when are you going to acknowledge that nice young man from Willow’s Peak who has been bringing his clothes all the way here, to a different village, when I’m sure there are perfectly decent seamstresses over there?”
Rose chuckled. “I’m sure I don’t know who you mean, Aunt.”
“Oh, you most certainly do,” her aunt chuckled. “Because he is certainly not coming here for me.”
“Why not?” Rose teased. “Just look at you, still as lovely as ever.”
“Hardly!” her aunt exclaimed playfully, although it made both women chuckle.
