Page 63 of A Lady Igniting Wicked Passions
“Very well. I will allow you to send me away. But I will insist on daily correspondence. And the second I do not receive a letter I shall be riding to London on the first horse I can get hold of.”
Chapter 37
The cottage belonging to Victoria and Julian Waverley was nestled in a fold of hills overlooking the English Channel. In the distance, a few miles away, was the town of Hove, with Brighton next to it further along the coast. But on this stretch, there was only green grass, gently waving copses of trees, and livestock. Dry stone walls climbed the hills and fenced in meadows in which sheep placidly munched.
Brown and white cows poked their heads through hedgerows close to the road to get at tall grass growing by the roadside. The sound of seabirds raucously calling to each other was the dominant sound, alongside the twittering of their cousins, abiding within the tall birch and oaks that dotted the hillside.
Arabella had always felt a sense of peace and contentment when visiting Aunt Victoria in the past. Now, though, she couldn’t seem to rid herself of the feeling that she might not see Aaron again.
A promise had been extracted from her that she would not ride to London if the worry got too much. Daily correspondence hardly seemed sufficient. She did not know what her husband intended to do but she did know that he could not pay the debt that was owned.
“He seems a competent fellow and resourceful. I believe he has a plan,” Victoria said as they alighted from the carriage in front of the cottage.
“It’s just the not knowing that is driving me mad,” Arabella said with frustration. “And while I sit here safe and sound, he walks into danger.”
“Free of worry for your safety and able to focus his mind on the problem at hand. When Julian is worrying at a problem I do not get in his way. I occupy myself and he is free to resolve it. All men revert to the most primitive savages at times, beating their chests and wanting to do everything themselves.”
A tall man emerged from the front door of the cottage. He wore a broad-brimmed straw hat and was barefoot. His clothes resembled those of a farmer, a coarse cloth shirt without a collar, and trousers held up by string tied about his waist. He waved enthusiastically, hurrying to them along a path almost overgrown by beds of wildflowers, most towering over his head. Arabella smiled as he called out a joyous greeting.
“Arabella! It has been far too long!” Julian Waverley said, reaching her and embracing her.
Arabella allowed her uncle-by-marriage to embrace her for a long moment, enjoying the fatherly affection that she doubted she would ever receive again from her own father.
“You received my letter, dear,” Victoria said, also receiving a hug from Julian.
“I did and all is prepared,” he said.
Victoria tapped the side of her nose and winked at him. Arabella looked from one to the other in confusion.
“Am I missing something?” She asked.
“Doubtless. Victoria’s mind moves far too quickly for me most of the time. Leaving me in her wake,” Julian said, threading his arm through Arabella’s and beginning to almost march her up the path towards the house.
“And what do you have planned, this time, Aunt Victoria?” Arabella asked.
“I will tell you but only after I have extracted some promises of my own from you. I’m sure you have every intention of keeping your sworn oath to your husband but when I tell you what I have in mind…” Victoria teased.
Julian laughed gaily. They entered the front door which led directly into a wide room with a low ceiling. A small fire burned in a stone fireplace flanked by two chairs with faded upholstery, which nevertheless gave an air of supreme comfort. An easel stood before the window, a canvas upon it.
Blank canvases were stacked in a corner and numerous paintings in various stages of completion were positioned throughout the room. Where the paintings stopped, books belonging to Victoria began. The overall impression was of controlled chaos.
Without a great deal of control. Julian moved a stack of books from a chair that did not match the other two and shifted it from the corner of the room in which it had been positioned to a place between the other two.
“I shall fetch it. Make yourself at home, Arabella,” he said, bustling from the room before she could argue.
Victoria calmly sat, moving a piece of knitting from the cushion of the seat, and placing it on the floor. Arabella sat, folding her hands in her lap, and fixing her eccentric Aunt with a direct stare.
“Are you going to tell me what plan you are hatching? Does everyone in my family feel a need to keep secrets from me?”
“Only for your own good. You are and always have been dangerously impulsive. When we can trust you to have the sense you were born with, perhaps we will be more open with you,” Victoria replied, levelly.
Arabella pressed her lips together. “Well, that was plain speaking. I think Aaron may have the same thoughts.”
“You know him better than I. However, save your ire for a moment. You will have no need of it,” Victoria replied.
Arabella sat back in her chair, feeling exasperated, confused, and wondering if she should be excited, concerned or just impatient. Julian was audible in another room of the house, shifting furniture, by the noise he was making. Then came curses following a bang of something heavy hitting the floor.
Each sound made Arabella twitch so that when the door through which he had gone was suddenly flung open, she jumped in her seat. Her heart was racing, and every muscle felt tense. She could not bear much more of the suspense or the separation from Aaron.
