Heiress On The Run

Straightening her back and lifting her chin, Amelia looked Edward directly in the eye and smiled shyly at him.

‘If I stay we could get to know one another better,’ she said, trailing a finger up his arm.

Edward stood completely still, his eyes following the progress of her finger. The heat began to rise in Amelia’s cheeks, but she knew she had to give this her best shot. Humiliation and ruin was nothing compared to being found guilty of murder.

‘I promise I’m very good company.’ She didn’t even really know what that meant, but she’d overheard some of the less virtuous women use the phrase at a regimental party a few years ago.

Edward took her hand, removed it from his arm and let go, allowing it to drop back to her side. His face was stony and devoid of expression and his movements almost stiff. Amelia felt the flood of shame wash over her. In a way it would have been better if he’d laughed, at least then she would have known he wasn’t disgusted by her proposition.

‘It must get lonely, living here all by yourself,’ Amelia said, giving it one last try. She was desperate and she knew she sounded desperate, but she didn’t care. Self-preservation was at the top of her list of priorities, she would have time for embarrassment and regret when she was safe.

‘Come on, otherwise we will miss the stagecoach.’ Edward said, ignoring her last few comments. He didn’t sound angry or disgusted, just tired and worn down, and for a moment Amelia wondered why he was so keen to get rid of her.

Amelia dawdled a little longer, wasting as much time as possible fiddling with the laces on the boots he’d found her and adjusting the bodice of her dress.

Eventually Edward sighed, gripped her arm and led her firmly out of the front door.

It was a cool day, clear and crisp after the storm of the night before. Amelia huddled into the cloak draped around her shoulders and reluctantly allowed Edward to lead her down the sweeping driveway.

‘I could tidy up your garden,’ Amelia said without much hope as they passed another overgrown flowerbed.

‘I like it this way.’

‘No, you don’t.’ No one could. The garden had potential, great potential, and Amelia could see a few years ago it would have looked much different. Someone had lovingly planned and planted, landscaped and tended, but it had fallen into ruin along with the rest of the house.

Edward shrugged again, that infuriating movement he seemed to favour when she challenged him about anything, and continued his steady pace down the driveway. Amelia glanced back at the house and found her heart sinking. Every step they took resulted in her being further away from the place that she’d hoped would be her sanctuary for a few days. She felt like turning and running back inside, slamming the door and locking it shut.

‘The village is only twenty minutes away,’ Edward said as they reached the wrought-iron gates Amelia had squeezed through the night before. ‘If you don’t walk at the pace of a lethargic snail,’ he added under his breath as she lagged behind, dragging her feet.

She watched as he tore some of the overgrown vegetation from the bars of the gates, frowning thoughtfully as he did so. Amelia wondered if he saw the house and gardens as she did, with all the cracks and faults, or if when he looked around he saw the place as it used to be.

As Edward pushed open the gates Amelia felt an icy stab of panic jolt through her body. Inside the estate grounds she felt peculiarly safe and now she was being asked to step over the threshold. Out here, in the wider world, who knew what awaited her.

As if sensing her reticence to step through the gates, Edward paused for a moment and looked at her with his searching brown eyes.

‘The road is clear,’ he said, ‘So unless there’s any further reasons you can’t possibly leave shall we be on our way?’

For a second she almost blurted it all out. It would be a relief to share what had happened with someone, to tell the whole sordid tale. She wondered how Edward would react, if he would respond kindly and calmly, or push her away. Maybe he would let her stay, take pity on her and agree to shelter her from the world. Or maybe he would turn her over to whoever was hunting her down.

Unconsciously she raised a hand to her throat, rubbing the skin of her neck at the thought of a noose tightening around her throat.

‘Nothing,’ she replied eventually. She would be safer if no one else knew what she had done.

‘The coach runs to London in one direction and Brighton the other,’ Edward said, disturbing Amelia from her thoughts.

She nodded absentmindedly.

‘Would you prefer to go to Brighton or London?’

Dear Lord, not Brighton, Amelia thought.

‘London. Definitely London.’

‘Do you have any family there?’

Amelia shook her head. It was a lie, but a necessary one. It wasn’t as though she could turn up on her aunt’s doorstep, it would be the first place a magistrate would look for her.

‘How about friends?’

Again Amelia shook her head.

‘Where are your family?’

She sensed Edward was starting to feel a modicum of responsibility for her. He might not want to let her stay in his strange house, but he wanted to make sure she was safe all the same.

‘India.’

‘Ah. I see.’ He paused for a few seconds. ‘Surely you didn’t come over here on your own?’

Amelia stopped walking and waited for Edward to turn.

‘I’m out of your house and soon I’ll be out of your life,’ she said coolly. ‘After today you will never have to think of me again. I have no friends or family in this country, but as you have made clear, that is not your concern.’

She saw the flicker of hurt in Edward’s eyes and for a moment she felt remorse. Her cousin Lizzie always said she had a sharp tongue and Amelia knew she often spoke before she’d had chance to think through what impact her words might have. Edward was kind, for all his brusque manner, and he had taken her in for the night when others might have thrown her out. It wasn’t his fault she was in such a mess, but she was just wishing for a reprieve, a few days to decide what to do with her life, and Edward couldn’t give that to her.

‘Come on,’ he said stiffly and began walking again.

Amelia watched his back for a few seconds before hurrying to catch up. He was a tall man, with broad shoulders, a strong man. He emanated power and Amelia found herself wishing to be enveloped in his arms, pressed up against his chest and kept safe.

Trying to suppress the thought as she drew level with him, Amelia risked a sidelong glance. In his own way he was handsome, she supposed, although not in the same way McNair had been handsome. Edward had strong features and kind eyes, but he had a slightly wild look about him with his tousled hair and creased shirts. McNair had always been beautifully presented, but thinking back there was a coldness about him, a calculating, detached look on his perfectly symmetrical face.

* * *

After ten minutes they reached the outskirts of the village, with a few simple cottages appearing on either side of the lane. Amelia felt herself instinctively hunch her shoulders, trying to appear less conspicuous. Although there wasn’t anyone around at the moment, she felt nervous and frightened all at the same time.

The small cottages gave way to bigger dwellings once they reached the village proper and as they turned on to the high street Amelia froze. People were milling about, women walking arm in arm and talking, men going about their business with purpose. Beside her Amelia felt Edward go still at the same moment she did and she wondered fleetingly how long it had been since he’d visited the village.

All thoughts about Edward’s lifestyle were swept away as he took her arm and guided her down the high street. People were looking at them strangely, a couple of women actually pointed and stared, and Amelia knew it would only be a matter of seconds until some officer of the law clamped his hand on her shoulder and hauled her off to face the consequences of her crime.

As they reached the clock tower that stood proudly in the middle of the village square Amelia caught a glimpse of a smartly dressed man coming out of a small shop. He looked out of place in this small village, his clothes were too well tailored, his hair too well groomed. It was obvious from a single glance he was an outsider.

With a pounding heart Amelia grasped Edward’s arm and pulled him behind the clock tower, squeezing her eyes shut as she did so, wishing she could just will the well-groomed man away.

‘Amelia?’ Edward asked, his voice a mixture of concern and irritation. He probably thought she was just trying to waste more time.

‘Shh,’ she hissed.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Everyone’s looking at us.’

Edward chuckled, the first real laugh Amelia had heard him utter.

‘Do you think it might be because you’re acting so strangely?’

Amelia opened her eyes and looked up into Edward’s face, frowning.

‘They’re looking at me,’ she insisted.

He shook his head, a self-deprecating little smile playing on his lips.

‘I think they’re probably looking at me. I am rather notorious. The recluse of Beechwood Manor.’

Amelia paused and glanced out from behind the clock tower. No one was coming for her—in fact, everyone had just returned their attention to whatever it was they’d been doing. Maybe Edward was right, maybe it was him they had all been staring at.

‘What are you afraid of, Amelia?’ Edward asked.

He reached out and touched her gently on the arm and Amelia found herself looking up into his concerned face. Edward had been generous to her, she couldn’t deny it. He’d allowed her to stay and ensured she was warm and dry for the night, but until now she hadn’t really caught more than the occasional glimpse of his kind side. His outward demeanour had always been stern and distant, but right now there was warmth in his eyes, genuine concern and compassion. She sensed this was the man he really was, his true nature, and the gruffness was a wall he erected to keep everyone at bay.

For a moment the rest of the world disappeared, the noise of the villagers going about their daily lives faded into the background and it was just the two of them, hidden in their own little world behind the clock tower. Amelia wondered what it would be like to raise herself up on her toes and kiss Edward, to allow him to fold her in his strong arms and protect her from the world. She felt her body sway slightly, her lips part with anticipation, but just as she began to lean in McNair’s face flashed before her eyes.

The last time she’d kissed a man it had ended in tragedy. She wouldn’t allow it to happen again. She couldn’t be trusted, her instincts had been proven to be wrong before and just the fact that she felt attracted to Edward should be enough to tell her to stay well away.

* * *

Edward saw the moment Amelia’s eyes glazed over and her lips parted. He had been without female company for a long time, but in his youth he’d experienced enough to know when a woman wanted to kiss him. She’d even began to lean in, swaying towards him, but then something had happened. Amelia had stiffened, a look of horror had passed over her face and now she’d backed away to a more respectable distance.

He found himself a little disappointed. He shouldn’t want to kiss this enigmatic little minx, but the idea of tasting her lips, just once, was rather enticing. Before he could stop the thought it had taken hold and all the guilt and feelings of betrayal it conjured up were right there with it. Quickly he balled both his hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms to try to distract himself. He knew his wife was dead and gone, nothing would ever bring her back, but he owed it to her to honour her memory.

‘Shall we find the stagecoach?’ Amelia said formally once she’d recovered some of her composure.

Edward stepped out from behind the clock tower and waited for Amelia to follow. Before she ventured out into the open square, she checked each direction, her head swivelling this way and that like a skittish horse.

‘There’s no one poised and waiting to attack you,’ Edward said impatiently as she eventually stepped out into the square.

She gave him a withering look, still checking each direction every few seconds. He wondered what she was afraid of. There was an air of innocence about Amelia, the demeanour of someone who hadn’t experienced much of the world on their own, so he couldn’t imagine she’d got mixed up in anything too heinous, although maybe the bloodstains on her clothes were evidence against that opinion.

Edward gently took her hand and placed it in the crook of his arm and guided her further along the high street to the point where the stagecoach stopped to pick up passengers. Now they were nearing the point of farewell Edward felt a great weight being lifted from his shoulders. He had found it difficult sharing his home even just for one short night and was quite looking forward to getting back to the peace and quiet of an empty house. For a second he felt a pang of sadness. Once, long ago, he had enjoyed noise and company and laughter. With a sideways glance at Amelia he rallied. Now was not the time to waver in his resolution to put this troubled young woman on a stagecoach and wave her on her way.

If Jane were here, standing beside him and giving advice in that calm and sensible way of hers, she’d tell him to start living, to stop stagnating. She’d probably convince him to take pity on Amelia, shelter her from whatever trouble she was running from and learn once again to tolerate the company of others. Edward knew one day he would have to pick up the reins of his life again, to do more than spend his time sketching and reading, but with living came memories and he wasn’t sure he was ready to confront those yet.

‘You’re looking rather serious,’ Amelia said as they slowed to a stop at the side of the road.

‘Do you need any money?’ Edward asked, knowing he was avoiding Amelia’s comment.

She bit her bottom lip and fidgeted a little. It was the curse of the human race not to be able to ask for monetary help when they needed it.

‘Maybe just a little something to help you on your way,’ he said, placing a hand into his coat pocket.

One second he was standing at the side of the road, reaching for his coin purse, the next he was lying in some rather prickly bushes with Amelia on top of him.

‘What...?’ he began, but Amelia pressed a finger against his lips.

He tried to speak again, but was silenced by the look of pure terror in Amelia’s eyes. For almost a minute they lay there, Amelia frozen by fear and he trapped under her body. They were half-hidden from the road, but if anyone walked passed they would have a lot of explaining to do.

When another minute had passed without Amelia explaining or letting him up Edward began to feel the damp from the ground soaking into his trousers.

‘Will you tell me what’s going on, woman?’ he asked, quietly but firmly.

Amelia’s eyes widened with shock and fear and immediately Edward regretted his tone of voice.

‘Come, let’s stand up,’ he said more softly.

Amelia allowed him to help her to her feet, although he noticed she did not step back out on to the road, and her restraining hand on his arm stopped him from doing so too. For an instant Edward missed the warmth of her body as it had been pressed against his, but soon the feeling was replaced by irritation. The woman was crazy. First darting behind the clock tower and now wrestling him to the ground whilst they waited for the stagecoach.

‘Is he still there?’ Amelia hissed.

‘Who?’

She didn’t answer so Edward stepped forward and looked up and down the lane. It was completely empty. Maybe there was something not quite right in Amelia’s head. She seemed normal, if not conventional, most of the time, but then she went and did things like this. Then he remembered the blood-soaked clothes and the state Amelia had been in the night before and softened slightly. Something bad had occurred in Amelia’s life recently. That must be what was driving this fear.

‘There’s no one there.’ Edward wondered if this was another of Amelia’s time-wasting ploys, but the terror in her eyes convinced him otherwise.

Warily Amelia edged forward, peering out from the bushes until she was satisfied they were alone.

‘I think you should tell me what’s going on,’ Edward said, in a voice that brooked no argument.

Amelia shook her head, tears forming in her eyes and spilling out to roll down her cheeks. Edward almost reached out to brush them away, but he stopped himself. It was an intimate gesture, too intimate. He couldn’t believe he’d even contemplated it.

‘Who did you think you saw?’

Again Amelia shook her head, still glancing furtively up and down the road.

Edward ran his hands through his hair and studied the young woman who stood before him. She was petrified, that much was clear. He didn’t know if her demons were real or imaginary, but he did have experience with living with events he’d rather forget.

His brain screamed to let her go, to get back to his reclusive existence, but his heart recognised another wounded soul. He wanted to leave, to walk off down the road without as much as a backwards glance, but something was holding him back. Edward even tried placing one foot in front of another, but his body just wouldn’t obey his commands. Something sparked inside him, something that he thought was long dead and buried. He wasn’t sure if it was compassion or pity, but he realised he didn’t have it in him to abandon Amelia here in such a state of dread. For years he might have suppressed his humanity through lack of interaction, but he’d been brought up to be kind and chivalrous and there were a few strands of those characteristics that refused to leave him despite years of disuse.

‘Amelia, look at me.’ He grasped her by the arms and turned her to face him. She looked distractedly around her. ‘I will make you a bargain,’ he said.

This caught her attention.

‘You tell me exactly what is going on, what trouble you’re in, and I promise to help you as much as I can.’

She shook her head, ‘I can’t.’

‘Then you’re on your own.’

Edward had only taken two steps before he felt her clutching at his sleeve.

‘Please don’t leave me here.’

It would be so easy to give in to her beseeching eyes, but Edward knew he had to stand strong.

‘Then tell me what has you so scared.’

‘I’ve done something terrible,’ Amelia said quietly.

He looked at her youthful, innocent face, and wondered what it was she could have done that was making her quite so worried.

‘What?’

He watched as her whole body began to tremble. With difficulty she rallied, squeezing her eyes tight for a few seconds before looking up at him with an expression full of pain and regret.

‘I’ve killed a man.’

Chapter Four

Amelia sank back into the comfortable, worn armchair and closed her eyes for a few seconds. She felt exhausted, even though it wasn’t yet midday. For the duration of the trip out to the village she had been petrified, in a state of high alert, seeing danger where there was none and ready to flee at the slightest provocation.

When she’d leaped into the bushes at the side of the road, taking Edward with her, she really had thought someone was looking for her. A tall, serious man with an official-looking uniform had started walking down the lane towards them and Amelia had been convinced this man had tracked her across the South Downs and was here to take her away to face justice. When she’d pointed him out to Edward on their return dash through the village he’d actually laughed before telling her he was the local postman.

After her confession Edward had gone quiet, studied her for some time, then started to lead her back through the village.

‘We’ll talk back at the house,’ he’d said and hardly uttered a word after that.

Amelia wondered if she should be scared. He might be summoning the local magistrate right now, eager to hand over the murderer sitting in his cosy armchair and be done with the drama she had brought into his life. Although she hardly knew the man, Amelia couldn’t find it in herself to be overly worried. He seemed fair and honourable, and she thought he would at least give her the chance to explain the circumstances before deciding what to do with her.

‘Whisky,’ Edward said as he entered the room, ‘and biscuits, it’s been quite a morning.’

Amelia watched as he poured out two glasses of whisky and handed her one. Cautiously she sniffed the rich, caramel-coloured liquid before taking a gulp.

‘Careful,’ he cautioned.

She felt the wonderful burn in her throat followed by a warm sensation in her stomach and felt herself relax a little.

‘Not the first time you’ve had whisky?’

She shook her head. ‘Back home in India the soldiers were always happy to share.’

‘So you actually did grow up in India?’

‘I’ve lived there my whole life. Until I disembarked the ship a week ago I’d never been to England before.’

‘I think you should start at the beginning,’ Edward said quietly. ‘Tell me everything and then we will decide what is to be done.’

Amelia felt herself complying with his order and bristled. She didn’t like being told what to do and especially not by a man who she barely knew, but there was something authoritative about his tone, something that promised to sort things out, that made her relax back into the chair and do as he suggested.

She wasn’t quite sure where the beginning was. In all honesty she probably would have to start far back in her childhood to make complete sense, but she felt Edward might lose patience if she began recalling the details of her mother’s death and the emptiness that followed. He wasn’t a man to hide his irritation.

‘Two years ago I met a man out in India. My father is a retired colonel and he still has much to do with the army and the officers stationed in India. He hosted a ball and it was there I met Captain McNair.’

Amelia didn’t confess how she’d been swept off her feet immediately by his easygoing manner and charming façade. She had been bored, tired of the same routine day in and day out, and she’d been ripe for a seduction.

‘We met in secret, in the months following the ball, and after a few meetings McNair professed his love for me.’

‘Why the secrecy?’ Edward asked, getting to the point in that calm, shrewd, way of his.

Amelia felt her cheeks start to colour with the shame of her naivety. At the time she’d believed McNair’s wishy-washy excuses to keep their relationship a secret; his desire to gain a promotion before approaching her father, not wanting to conduct their courtship under his commanding officer’s watchful eye. Amelia had believed him because she’d wanted to believe him. At first she’d even kept the relationship secret from her cousin Lizzie, her closest confidant.

‘I was young and naive and I thought he wanted to marry me,’ Amelia said simply.

He had wanted to marry her, of course—most men in India did when they discovered she was the wealthiest heiress in the subcontinent.

‘We courted in secret for almost eight months, snatching precious moments whenever we could, and then suddenly he disappeared. I waited for him, searched for him and eventually found out he had been sent back to England. I even wrote to his commanding officer for information, but his reply was a curt note telling me to forget about Captain McNair.’

Amelia glanced at Edward sitting across from her. It felt strange to be admitting all this to a virtual stranger, especially when she hadn’t even told her nearest and dearest the truth.

‘Can I surmise you didn’t take the commanding officer’s advice?’

Amelia shook her head. ‘I couldn’t forget about him. I thought we were meant to be together.’

It was galling, really, when she thought of how much time and energy she had wasted trying to track McNair down.