Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

A lthough he did not feel like eating, he went to the breakfast room and had a small meal, but he didn't stay inside for long. He needed to be back outside to get rid of the extra energy that was inside of him.

Daniel stepped out onto the estate grounds, his boots crunching on the gravel. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the fresh air that seemed to cleanse his lungs of the stale heaviness that had lingered within him since returning home. The vibrant green hues of the sprawling lawn and the faint rustling of leaves in the breeze provided a stark contrast to the darkness he carried within. Though the flower beds were easier to see in the broad daylight, still he did not wish to try his hand at the garden. He was no good at it, as Miss Montrose had pointed out.

"Beautiful day, isn't it, Captain Blackwood?" a passing servant remarked, tipping his hat with a warm smile .

"Indeed it is," Daniel replied, forcing a cordial nod before turning his gaze back to the scene before him. As much as he yearned to embrace the tranquility of his surroundings, the ghosts of war continued to haunt him, casting shadows over even the sunniest of days.

As he stood there, Daniel wrestled with the conflicting desires that pulled at him from all directions. Part of him wished to retreat further into his own solitude, to lock away the pain and memories that threatened to overwhelm him. Yet another part of him longed to find solace in the peace and beauty that nature offered, to rediscover the joys of life that had once been so familiar.

He contemplated the letters he had read earlier, their words echoing in his mind like the distant drumbeats of war. "We are brothers in arms, united in our triumphs and our heartaches," one had said, reminding him that he was not alone in his suffering. But could he truly share his burden with others? Could he bear to relive the horrors he had witnessed, or to expose the raw wounds that still bled beneath the surface?

"Captain Blackwood, sir?" a timid voice broke through his reverie. It was the young stable boy, holding a bridle with care. "Would you care for a ride this afternoon?"

"Thank you, but not today," Daniel replied after a brief pause. The prospect of feeling the wind in his hair and the powerful muscles of the horse beneath him was tempting, but he knew he was not yet ready to face the world outside the protective walls of his estate .

"Of course, sir," the boy said with a slight bow, leading the mare back toward the stables.

Daniel glanced over the hedge, toward Miss Montrose's garden, but did not see her in sight. He took his time admiring her meticulous garden. She'd described her garden as a sanctuary and a place of peace. He envied that she had created such a place. In many ways, his grounds were a reflection of him—and none of it reflected peace, except for the few bushes and flower beds that Miss Montrose had worked on. He worked his jaw back and forth. He'd tried to create that this morning, and it had worked. Until Miss Montrose had pointed out his failings. Yet it wasn't her fault that he was no good at pulling weeds.

He needed to apologize to her properly. He couldn't bear to have her help him when the memories of his unkindness might still hang between them. Soon enough, he would go over to Miss Montrose's home and apologize to her. But for now, he needed something more calming than his grounds. He headed to the back of his estate. He needed the sea. He climbed down the steep rocks that separated his property from the water. Soon his boots hit the sand, sinking into it and creating an uneven walk.

As a boy, he'd run up and down this stretch of sand without shoes. But today was not a day for such carefree living. He found a large boulder in the middle of the beach and sat on it, keeping his gaze on the water and the horizon for a long moment .

He pulled out a small brass compass from his pocket. "Ah, my old friend," he said, reading the engraving on the back. ‘To Captain Blackwood—For Always Finding Your Way Home'. He held the compass close, the familiar weight in his hand was a comfort to him. The rhythmic waves rolled in and out in a regular pattern.

After a while, Daniel grew restless on the boulder. He stood and walked along the stretch of sand. He was lost in thought as he focused on the ocean, the sound of the waves soothing his troubled mind.

In the distance he spotted a figure, bending down to move pieces of driftwood aside.

Curiosity piqued, Daniel approached, his footsteps silent on the sand. "Miss Montrose," he called out, his voice carrying over the sound of the waves.

Miss Montrose looked up, surprise evident in her eyes as she straightened up to face him. "Captain Blackwood," she said, nodding at him. She turned back to the driftwood and dragged it up the small incline to the top, where there was a growing pile. Beyond them, he could see more piles of driftwood in the same manner.

"What are you doing?" he asked her.

She raised her eyebrows. "Is it not obvious? I am moving this driftwood."

"I suppose the better question is why?"

She blinked. "To improve the shoreline, of course."

"Would you allow me to help?" he asked, pointing to a piece of driftwood that looked heavier than the one she had been moving.

She eyed him warily. "I should hate for you to get your hands dirty. I know you have more important things to do."

He groaned. This woman and her ability to remember every offense struck a chord with him. Yet, he deserved the words. "I am sorry for what I said. I should like to help, if you would allow me."

"Very well." She dusted her hands off and picked up one end of the driftwood, allowing him to take the other end of it. Together, they moved the driftwood next to the others. Then he moved a few more, though his shoulder started to ache from the movement.

After moving a few more in the same manner, he looked down toward the shore. "Do you feel the constant need to improve everything around you?"

Miss Montrose's lips twitched as she brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Is it such a crime to want to make things better, Captain? Surely you can appreciate a walk along the beach much better if there are not pieces of driftwood in your path." Her eyes met his, the color of the sea—a mixture of beauty and danger in one.

He was surprised when he chuckled at her response without first checking himself. Her bold answer shouldn't have caught him off guard. She was unlike any woman he had ever met—bold, surprising, and unafraid to speak her mind. Part of him admired her for it, but another part found her forwardness unsettling. "Indeed, I can. But sometimes, Miss Montrose, it's best to let things be. Not everything needs to be fixed. This stretch of shore was not deficient for having a few pieces of driftwood scattered across it."

Miss Montrose raised an eyebrow, her gaze meeting his with a challenge. "Perhaps. Is that what you've come all this way to say to me?"

He shook his head. "No, I was simply curious about what you were doing out here."

"And now you know."

He scuffed his boot on the sand. "I—I also owe you an apology."

Her smile disappeared. "I believe you already gave one of those last night."

He winced. "It was hardly the apology I had planned to give."

Miss Montrose's eyebrows softened. "What had you planned to say?"

Daniel flexed his hand next to his side. Though he had practiced the words even before he'd seen her at the dance, it was still difficult to form them coherently.

"My behavior was inexcusable yesterday. I should not have handled things as I did in the garden, and then again at the Assembly. I should not have spoken to you as I did. My reasons will only sound like excuses, and I do not wish for them to further offend. But I am sorry."

She gave him a tentative smile. "I appreciate you coming here to say that," she replied evenly. "I realize that just because I have an interest in gardens and the well-being of flowers doesn't mean that everyone shares my passion."

He ran his hand through his hair. "I did not mean to imply that it was wrong to have such a passion. My own life experience of late has caused me to rethink many things, but it does not mean that I should take joy away from others."

She nodded. "Thank you, Captain. I accept your apology."

"You do?" he asked, surprised at her willingness to overlook the offenses so quickly.

She nodded and stretched her hand toward him. "I do wish for peaceful relations between neighbors."

"Peace comes at a price."

Her eyebrows shot up at his response. "And what would that price be?"

He let out a long breath. "It depends on the circumstance. But in this case, it has been a long time since I've had a neighbor. I shouldn't like to disrupt your way of living."

She looked down for a moment, her hair falling into her face. She looked up at him and then brushed the wind-blown hair out of her eyes. "I also apologize. I am sorry that I overstepped where it wasn't wanted."

"I know that Mr. Barnaby gave you permission. And as I said before, I will be taking measured steps to make sure that the unsightly gardens on my estate do not interfere with your garden. I am still learning. Clearly, I failed at trying to do anything in my garden this morning. But I should like to learn, if you are still willing to help me."

"I thought you had better things to do than play in the dirt."

He gave her a small smile. "You forgot that I also said play in the dirt as a child ."

Before she could answer, he held up his hands in a sign of surrender. "But truly, I think you have convinced me that I should change my mind."

"Why should you want to?"

"You speak of peace and tranquility when you speak of your garden. I could use both in my life, and although I executed the job poorly today, still I caught a glimpse of what you had been speaking of when I was … pulling up flowers instead of weeds." He shrugged. There was no way to repair that damage. "Will you help me?"

Her eyes were kind. "I am … still happy to be a resource, should you like some help."

"Thank you."

"You are welcome." She gestured around them at the sand, free from driftwood. "I've always believed that with a little effort, anything is possible, and life can be improved."

"In my estimation, sometimes improvement in certain areas can lead to neglect in others."

She pursed her lips. "And what is it you think I am neglecting?" Dangerous sparks in her eyes seemed to challenge him.

The sea breeze blew, causing Miss Montrose's hair to blow around. He admired her beauty, then just as sharply looked away. Why had she not considered wearing a bonnet this morning? Clearly, she was neglecting the proper way young ladies acted if she would go about letting her hair dance in the wind in such a delightful manner. He should not notice such things.

He cleared his throat. "I did not mean you specifically. I gave it as a general statement." She was not going to bait him into giving more information.

Her shoulders relaxed from the fight she had prepared for. She was a feisty foe, he could tell that much about her. "Then generally, I believe that I disagree. While it is true that when one focuses on a particular task, others may not get done. But that does not mean those other things are being neglected. I find that focusing on the beauty of one's surroundings helps a myriad of things to the betterment—not the neglect—of oneself." Eliza moved another small piece of wood into her growing pile. "And I'm perfectly content with my own life choices, I can assure you."

Daniel blinked. Clearly, he'd hit upon a wound in his neighbor. "I should never think otherwise."

She raised an eyebrow. "Do you not? You might be the first, then." She shook her head, but her lips formed in a smile. "Imagine you being the only one who doesn't judge me for my choices. What an ironic situation. "

"I do not have the pleasure of understanding what you allude to." He took a step closer.

She rubbed her forehead and then looked up at him. "Perhaps that is not a bad thing, Captain." She rubbed her forehead again.

He looked at her for a moment. There was something that seemed slightly off from her energetic self. "Miss Montrose, are you unwell?"

She gazed out to the sea, biting her lip. She turned back to him, but her smile felt forced. "I'm well enough, Captain. But I believe I will sit down for a moment." She gathered her skirts about her and sat next to the pile of driftwood in the grass and sand.

As he sat next to her on the sand, she said, "What about yourself? Are you well?"

"Well enough," he said, repeating her own words back to her.

Her pink lips twitched, forming a smirk and completely captivating him. "Well enough, Captain? I do not think I believe you in the slightest."

"Nor I you, Miss Montrose."

The wind caught her hair. "That is most ungenerous of you, Captain," she said, tucking her wild curls behind her ears. The moment she let go of her hair, it was back to dancing in the wind again, refusing to stay put.

Daniel watched the movement, wondering if her hair was as soft as it looked. "The sea has a way of extracting troubles from us. Shall I guess your troubles? "

Her eyes widened, like she was a frightened animal being hunted.

He smiled, hoping to calm her. He knew that look of terror in her eyes. It was the same he had seen so many times. There was an air of bravery around Miss Montrose; but when she was cornered, that bravery fell quickly. Levity would be his friend at this moment, though it felt unfamiliar to him. "Your troubles revolve around indecision."

"I do not understand," she said quickly.

He watched her, wondering how close he would be able to guess the truth. She'd revealed much of herself already, probably without her being aware of it. It was in the tone of her voice, and the choice of her words. If she called him out as the only person to not judge her for her choices, then she carried judgment around with her as if it was lifeblood.

The wind caught her hair again, and he found his opening. "Why, simply the indecision on which bonnet to put on with your dress. I imagine it is quite the quandary. And you have managed to avoid the decision altogether. Perhaps that is the judgment you speak of."

She tilted her head back and laughed, tension visibly falling from her shoulders. "I do often find bonnets to be a most difficult choice."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. She was laughing with him. He didn't mind that she didn't wear bonnets, no matter how improper. Her hair was beautiful the way it whipped around her face. "I often have the same trouble."

She eyed his top hat. "You have trouble picking out which top hat to wear?"

"Those are easy. They are all the same. I meant choosing out a bonnet." He laughed.

She rolled her eyes. "Then you are absolutely no help at all to me in my problem."

He enjoyed the momentary lightness between them, and the way Miss Montrose's light blue eyes sparked to life when she was responding to him. "Ah, but I think your problem is solved quite easily."

"And why is that?"

"Because any bonnet you wore would be perfect." And he didn't object to her without a bonnet either.

She smiled, but shook her head. "If that is what you think, I'm afraid you do not know much about bonnets, Captain."

"Perhaps you are right."

"But you have helped me to feel better. I thank you for that."

"I've done nothing," he said, shrugging off her praise, and suddenly feeling quite vulnerable with her blue eyes focusing so acutely on him.

She leaned toward him. "I disagree. You made me laugh."

And she had made him smile yet again, but he caught himself before he admitted that aloud to her. "I am glad you are feeling better."

"Now, what about you, Captain?"

"What about me?"

"What troubles are you here to tell the sea about?"

"Nothing so trivial as a bonnet," he said, his eyes widening as he realized just how offensive those words could be.

She smiled. "I'm not offended."

He nodded. "I fear I am not accustomed to concerning myself about offending others."

Miss Montrose studied him for a long moment. "I believe that explains a lot, Captain. I shall exercise forbearance and not go looking for offense from you," she said, her tone softening. "What troubles ail you? I certainly cannot guess beyond the image of indecisions about bonnets."

He gave her a small smile, enjoying the less hostile conversation between them. Perhaps things were smoothed out from their first meeting. He would be careful in the way he spoke, and she was going to give him the benefit of the doubt, knowing he did not mean to offend. But talking about his troubles would take away the levity that he had been enjoying with his neighbor. It wasn't worth it. He shook his head, not ready to talk about the nightmares that haunted him. "The sea has always called to me, since I was little. I am happy to be back next to it again. "

"Yes, only a few months in Brighton, and I can't imagine living anywhere else. It really is such a beautiful place, especially so close to the water. I never want to leave."

He understood the sentiment, but he didn't fully agree with her. This sea also held hard memories, not just pleasant ones. There was a time in his life when he thought he'd never return. But here he was, back at Blackwood Manor.

He looked down at the driftwood, realizing for the first time that Miss Montrose's movement of the driftwood might have a pattern. "It looks as if you have a plan with some of this driftwood?"

"Eventually, it would be nice to use them as a stairway, but there are not enough pieces to make that a reality right now. In the meantime, just moving them is enough."

Without another word, Daniel stood and moved the remaining pieces of driftwood. How Miss Montrose would manage to make any kind of suitable walkway with so much unsuitable wood remained a mystery. But he had helped her in her quest to make this stretch of sand free from the debris of the driftwood. He inwardly applauded himself that he was only distracted by her windswept hair three times in the process, and only once had he seriously considered tucking those taunting curls behind her ears.