Page 51 of The Wise Daughter
“Surely, His Former Grace has something here for me to peruse that is not so tiresome.”
She feared they would all be uninteresting and unhelpful until she found a letter from Aaron.
Dear Father,
It’s been three months, and I don’t like it here at all. The boys all look at me as if I belong in another country, which I might be offended at, but they’re right. I do! If my last letter wasn’t clear enough, I’m saying so again. I want to come home! The teachers are stern. German tangles up my tongue. I want Miss Bloom’s scones, and I miss the rivers and the sea and making sandcastles with you and listening to Mother’s stories.
On the letter went, begging, giving reasons why he should return.
“Poor little Aaron, yearning for home.” Nora’s heart swelled with pity for the young boy who had been sent away. “You don’t sound very grown up here at all.”
Judging by the date at the top of the letter, she guessed he had been maybe ten or eleven. There were several letters penned in his young hand, but as the dates grew closer to present times, the fewer letters there were.
“I wonder why your father kept you away. For your education? For his own privacy?” She could think of any number of reasons. It wasn’t unusual for these great men to send their boys off to school. “But why send you so very far away, I wonder.”
The next letter she read was terse but left a sour taste in her mouth and gave her much to think about.
Derricott,
I want you to know that I’ve burned that stupid letter you sent. How dare you suggest I’ve taken advantage of you! You know what sort of man I am. An agreement is an agreement whether or not brandy was in our veins. I’m not responsible for promises you made under its influence. You don’t need more time. You need to exercise authority over your son. Find a way to make him cooperate. I never forget a debt, and I won’t let you forget either.
I trust you’ll see reason.
Bilford
So some awful agreement had been made over too many drinks, and it involved Aaron. Nora needed to learn more about that agreement.
The next letter was from the late duke’s wife. It began as a love letter. Nora nearly put it back in the desk out of respect when a few lines leapt out from the rest.
I am so sorry I could not be the wife you needed me to be. Please understand how much I tried. I am not fit for this life. I simply cannot live up to the expectations that smother me every day, and I cannot bear the thought that I bring shame to you.
Nora’s heart dropped. Poor woman. “Why did you feel so inadequate, my dear duchess?” Despite Nora’s tendency to believe she could accomplish whatever she set her mind to, the duchess’s letter was like a whisper giving voice to newly hatching worries.
What if I bring shame? What if I cannot bear the expectations?
What will Aaron think of me if I fail?
Nora lowered the letter and closed her eyes. A soft flurry of scuffles sounded across the room similar to those she had heard while walking in the hidden passageway. Deciding she wasn’t in the mood to be discovered by mice or thieves or any other middle of the night wanderers, she stuffed the letters into her robe to peruse later and began traversing back through the long corridors.
The layers of night that covered the castle confused Nora on the way back, sending her into more wrong turns than she cared to admit. Her nerves bristled with uncertainty, and before long, she stopped caring about trying to be quiet. Her blood began to rush through her, sending her down the corridors as quickly as she could go without snuffing out her candle, which was nearly spent.
The relief she felt when she began to recognize the grim faces in portraits was enough to make her ignore their judgments. Deep, slow breaths calmed her as she reached the stairs that would lead her to her bedchamber, but her breathing refused to calm entirely. The air was growing strange. A soft buzz of noise she had attributed to her crowded thoughts grew louder. Cries echoed down the staircase and through the corridor, commands and clipped words becoming clearer the closer she drew. Dozens of thudding feet stomped, making the floors groan. Three sweat-streaked men ran past her carrying buckets. The air, she realized, smelled of burnt things.
Her heart leapt into a sprint.
“What has happened?” she cried, as another servant rushed past. “What is happening?”
A footman Nora recognized stopped mid-run when he saw her. “She’s here! Your Grace, she’s here!” Her candle was down to a nub, but she didn’t need the light to know who was rushing toward her.
In his nightclothes, abandoning all sense of propriety, Aaron threw his arms around her and pulled her into a crushing embrace.
“Nora! Oh, Nora!” He pressed his cheek against her head, her hair strands snagging in his jaw’s stubble. The scent of smoke clung heavilyto him. He was damp with sweat. After several breaths, he took her shoulders and stepped back to look her over. “You’re all right? No burns, no injuries?”
“Burns? Injuries?” Her voice quivered. “Why would I have any? What has happened, Aaron?”
“Fire. In your room.” Breathless, he hugged her to his chest again before pulling back and looking her over. “We’ve all been working to put out the fire, but I’ve been fearing the worst.”
“A fire,” she whispered, her thoughts catching up with the words.In my room.
