Page 52 of Aurelia

The woman I have been caring for is very ill. I have agreed with her daughter to remain in Balcrewe until I am no longer needed. I am not sure when that will be, but I suspect I shall be leaving to join my sisters in London sometime near the end of the year. I am free on Tuesdays every week, so if you find yourself on the mainland on any Tuesday, please do call on me.

With respect and gratitude,

Larissa Clifford

She folded the letter and looked up to find Arthur watching her. Sometimes the man was so quiet and self-effacing that she forgot he was even in the room.

“Good news?” he said.

“Hmm?”

He gestured to the letter. “You looked tired before reading that. Now you are smiling.”

“I do feel better,” she said, and then added, “I think I will go to the mainland today. Do you think Charles or one of the other footmen might row me over? I don’t feel confident enough in my abilities to try it yet,” she explained, feeling a bit guilty for pulling one of the footmen away from the castle just to row her across.

“I have a few errands myself. I can row you over if you like.”

“That is very kind of you, thank you.”

“It is my pleasure, Aurelia.” The bright red spots that always seemed to mark his pale cheeks darkened and spread at her words. What a gentle soul he was—especially when compared to his cousin. They might share similar coloring and builds, but the two men honestly had nothing but a mutual interest in nature in common.

“Would an hour be too long to wait?” he asked. “I have a few things I need to see to.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He turned to his rather bland breakfast of boiled potatoes and sheep’s milk. He ate the same breakfast every day and avoided most of the richer dishes at dinner.

Aurelia studied him in the bright light of the breakfast room. The color in his cheeks appeared feverish rather than healthy, making her think, yet again, that he must be ailing from something. Or perhaps his odd coloring was the result of his awful diet. She had read somewhere that Lord Byron ate similar food to slim himself. Surely Arthur could not be doing that as he was already too slender?

Whatever the reason for his diet, she doubted he would welcome any prying from her.

Instead, she said, “I don’t suppose you know where a woman named Miss Clifford lives?”

His handsome face creased into a look of disapproval. “You must be talking about the women who have been staying with Judith Pomeroy just outside the village, but I’d heard they’d all left.” He fixed her with a stern look. “They are the former Earl of Daventry’s daughters. Were you aware of that?”

“I know who they are.”

“What do you want with them?”

She recoiled at his hostile tone. “I wanted to visit Miss Larissa Clifford before she leaves to join her sisters.”

“Why?”

Aurelia frowned.

Instantly, his expression lightened. “I am sorry if that sounded abrupt.”

She wanted to tell him that her reasons for the visit were none of his affair, but it seemed churlish, so she settled for saying, “This letter is from her. She has asked me to call and I think she must have assumed I knew where she lived.”

“I know you are an independent sort of young woman, Aurelia,” he said, using a gently chiding tone more suitable for speaking to a puppy that has just made a mess on the carpet. “But while you are our guest, I feel that we are responsible for you. To that end, I should point out that it is unwise to associate with such women.”

Aurelia’s temper, which was slow to rouse, reared its head at his condescending tone. “I am honored by your concern,” she lied. “But I’m afraid I fail to see the danger in visiting a single woman.”

“Any association with those females can only damage your standing in our small community.”

“You do know that they were not accused of treason. It was their father who was guilty.”

“Such rottenness in a family is not dissimilar to sickness in a tree. Sometimes pruning the branches is not sufficient to stop the disease. Sometimes the tree itself must be destroyed. All the way down to the roots.”