Page 77 of Waking Roslyn

Several hours passed before I convinced myself to leave the women to their work and return to Bridgefield, walking through the woods as usual.

When I reached the back of the manor, I crossed the veranda and entered the house, still feeling like I was wrapped in the comfort of the Sutton kitchen. I never would have expected to find such a sense of belonging among strangers, yet part of me wasn’t surprised. My mother would have fit perfectly among them. She had been one of them. No wonder they felt so familiar.

When the time for dinner rolled around, I found myself less angry with Edmund. Perhaps that was some of the goodwill from the Sutton women rubbing off on me, but I could also admit that he’d been trying lately. Ever since he’d slapped me, his behavior toward Lisette had improved. I wanted to believe it would last.

Dinner went off without any explosive arguments or snide remarks, so I counted it a success.

Before going up to my room, I stopped in the library to find a book. I lingered for quite some time, reading the beginning of several books because I was unable to settle on one. I had just started yet another book when an uncomfortable feeling settled between my shoulders.

I turned to find one of Edmund’s guards standing just inside the door, his gaze fixed on my feet and then slowly making its way up my body until it landed on my face. Then one side of his mouth curled up. “Miss Rose,” he said.

Flashes of alarm were pulsing through me. Everything about him screamed danger, leaving me frozen in place. I just stared.

Then he took a step forward and I unfroze. I turned to face him, raising my chin even as I clutched the book to my chest like a shield. “Did you need something?”

He paused, likely because of my chilly tone. Then he rubbed one thumb over his bottom lip as he thought for several moments. “I just wondered if you’d like some company.”

His eyes raked over me again, making my muscles clench tighter. I didn’t understand exactly what he was suggesting, but it made my insides writhe with discomfort. “Company? Why would I need company?” I lifted a haughty brow and tried to make it sound as ridiculous as possible, somehow knowing that anything resembling even a morsel of encouragement would be detrimental.

He paused yet again, and I wanted to crawl out of my skin. I wanted very much to feel like I was in control of this situation, but I did not. Not at all.

“I’ve uh…seen the company you keep.”

“The company I—” My voice choked off as his insinuations suddenly made horrible sense. He’d seen me with John. Going off into the woods. Going into the stables. Disappearing without any sort of proper escort. Despite the terror ripping through me as he stood there looking very powerful and horribly hungry, I made my voice hard as I responded with narrowed eyes. “I assure you that any company I keep is entirely professional, and I welcome no other offers of company. And if any such offers ever come from you again, I would be obliged to inform my cousin that one of her husband’s trusted guards is not to be trusted at all. Have I made myself clear?” The last question rang with strength and finality. So much so that the guard looked unsure and backed up several steps.

A small flash of anger lit his eyes, but then he bowed. “I meant nothing by it, miss. Forgive me for speaking poorly.” He bent low and left the room.

I stood there, stiff and trembling for several interminable moments before I let out a heaving breath and doubled over, having to catch myself on the back of a nearby chair so I wouldn’t fall to my knees. I hadn’t realized I’d had it in me. The past several years had been dedicated to blending into the background, but when I had needed it, all of my noble training had come rearing back and I’d made myself heard. Oh how grateful I was for it.

John

I laughed at Gretchen’s antics, content to sit in the warmth of the fire crackling in the corner. Mum had finished repairing Gretchen’s skirt, and instead of putting it on the normal way, Gretchen had draped it over her head and was walking around as if she had long, luxurious hair. We often spent our evenings here in the room just off the kitchen. Whether we were finishing work or just able to take an hour to relax, it had become our gathering place.

When the knock sounded on the kitchen door, it startled me. The three of us looked at one another for a moment. If a servant needed something, they would have just walked in. The kitchen wasn’t off-limits to anyone. Who would knock?

Another knock sounded, and I got to my feet. I went into the kitchen and crossed to the door on the other side, opening it. Rose stood there, her face glowing ghostly white in the light of the lantern that she held. “Rose,” I said, and pulled the door wider.

Her lip trembled and she swallowed. “I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” And then her face crumpled and she started to cry.

I thought about pulling her into the kitchen and having her join my mother and Gretchen, but I selfishly joined her in the hall instead, closing the door behind us and immediately pulling her into my arms. “What happened?” I asked, taking the lantern from her and setting it on the ground.

She tried to talk several times, but her sobs kept getting in the way. I wanted to offer her a seat, but there were none in the hallway, so I pulled open the door to my right that led to Bridgefield’s stillroom.

I brought the lamp in with us and turned up the wick so it burned brighter. I guided Rose over to the one sturdy chair that sat in the corner and encouraged her to sit down. She immediately buried her face in her hands, making it so that I could see nothing but the top of her head, so I dropped to my knees in front of her. “Hey,” I said, trying to pull her hands away from her face. “Tell me what’s wrong. Are you hurt?” If Rockwell had hurt her again…

She shook her head as she continued to try to rein in her crying, swiping at the tears on her cheeks with frustration.

Good, she wasn’t hurt. I furrowed my brow as I looked at her. Not physically hurt, anyway.

She looked me in the eye, and for a moment I thought she was going to bury her face back in her hands. Instead, she leaned forward and buried it in my shoulder, threading her arms under mine and around my back.

I didn’t hesitate to put my arms around her, and I was content to let her cry for several minutes more. Once she had quieted, I didn’t break the silence, choosing instead to wait on her.

She turned her head a little so that her forehead rested against my neck, and when she spoke, her breath brushed across my collarbone.

“One of Edmund’s guards found me in the library,” she said in a very small voice.

I waited a moment, wondering and worried about where this story was going, but she didn’t continue, so I just said, “All right?” in the hopes that it would prompt her to continue.