Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

I f there was one bit of advice Alicia would take into action that day, it was Ms. Crawford’s suggestion to go horseback riding. Lucy led the pair down to the stables, beyond the garden where Renfield silently watched.

“I have no idea why Miss Ayles would say I chose to read in solitude,” Lucy was drawling over her shoulder to Alicia. “When have I ever?”

Alicia lifted her skirts as they waded through the grass. “What do you know about her,” she said, “before she became your governess?”

“Nothing of importance,” she replied with a shrug.

“Like?”

“Misfortune led her to petty work, like a governess position.”

Alicia bunched her eyebrows together in thought. “Misfortune,” she repeated under her breath. “What kind of?—”

Lucy stopped walking abruptly before turning to face Alicia. “I hope you’re not trying to pry knowledge from me again.”

“You make it sound so cruel,” Alicia said.

“I find gossip to be cruel.”

“That wasn’t what I was trying to do, Lucy,” she apologized with a sigh. “I was only curious as to who she is, and?—”

Lucy suddenly grabbed her hand. “I understand,” she whispered, “but maybe it is okay to not know things.”

“I don’t… ”

“Try it, Alicia,” the girl pleaded, her eyes wide and asking, “for me.”

Whether it was Lucy’s beckoning doe eyes or the need to be accepted in Garvey, Alicia nodded her head. “Of course,” she replied.

Lucy, satisfied and gleaming with pride, released her tight grip on Alicia and went back toward the shed, which was just about a meter away now. The musky smell of horses and hay got closer and closer.

“Do you ride often, Alicia?” Lucy called out as she skipped ahead.

“Not recently,” she replied. “When I was young, my father would take me to meet his horses, and we would ride together. The days leading up to his passing stopped me from finding joy in it again.”

Lucy slowed down till she walked beside her. “We will honor your father today, with a glorious ride into the sunset!”

“Perhaps not into the sunset, Lucy,” Alicia said with a laugh. “I believe you are enjoying your adventure books too much.”

“Never too much,” she said. “Not enough, is what I would say.”

Pulling the stable doors open, Lucy jumped inside with glee, running her hands along the wooden gates that secured the family’s horses. A young man worked inside, sweeping excess hay back into the horses’ little rooms. He lifted his head when they entered, and dove into an exaggerated bow.

“Your Grace,” he said, “and Lady Lucy, how are you this afternoon?”

Lucy hopped around him, dirt already staining her dress. “Yearning for a ride, Mr. Monroe.”

He tipped his cap at her. “Of course, my lady.”

As Alicia waded into the stable, looking around at the horses ranging from shades of chestnut brown to a pale white, she felt as though her father’s hand rested upon her shoulder. Almost instinctively, she reached and thought she could grasp his wrist and pull him back into the world of the living.

“Your Grace,” the stable hand said, “I am Julius Monroe, at your service.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Monroe,” she replied with a nod. “Is it just you working in the stables?”

“Yes, Your Grace. Renfield might try to lend a hand or two, but the horses are skittish creatures. They feel the safest around someone they see every day.”

Lucy whined. “They are fit for a ride, are they not?”

“Of course, my lady,” he said with a chuckle. “They are just finicky.”

Alicia walked through the stable. “How long have you been a stable hand, Mr. Monroe?”

“Since I could walk,” he replied, a little startled at the conversation, “I come from a family of animal-handlers.”

“And how long have you called Garvey home?”

Lucy gave Alicia a funny look as she squeezed her hand through one of the compartments to graze her fingertips across a horse’s mane.

“My family have lived in the duke’s duchy for generations, Your Grace,” he explained with pride lacing his voice. “And the duke has never failed to hire a member of my family to take care of his livestock.”

Alicia faced the young man. “So, you are familiar with the duke and his family?”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

“Did you know the late duchess?”

Lucy bristled beside her, irritation plain on her face. “I want to ride,” she snapped.

“Saddle up two horses, Mr. Monroe,” Alicia commanded.

The stable hand nodded, grabbing his tools and opening up some of the gates that led into the horse’s compartments.

“And,” Alicia called out, “you were saying, Mr. Monroe? Of the late duchess?”

“Yes, Your Grace,” he replied, talking louder now, “she visited the stables quite often in the earlier years when my father had me on as his apprentice. The late duchess was a lady of the outdoors, as my father would say.”

Mr. Monroe began to lead a spotted horse out of its little home.

Lucy clapped and almost jumped with excitement.

“This was her horse, Periwinkle,” he said.

The spotted mare trotted in place, shaking her head and huffing. Mr. Monroe threw the saddle over her, tightening it beneath her belly. When he was satisfied, he turned to the compartment that was beside Periwinkle’s, and disappeared inside.

“Did you speak to the late duchess often, Mr. Monroe?” Alicia loudly asked.

“As much as I was allowed, Your Grace,” he replied as he led another horse out into the open. “This is Ginger, Periwinkle’s firstborn. The late duchess came here often when the duke was still a babe. She cared for the beasts as much as a stable hand would.”

Alicia smiled. “How kind,” she mused. When she turned to look at Lucy, the girl stared down at the ground angrily. “I’m sure you and the late duchess were close with how much she came down here, Mr. Monroe.”

The stable hand frowned and fidgeted. “I–I wouldn’t go that far as to say that, Your Grace.”

“Why not?”

He seemed to grow uncomfortable under her stare. “The duchess only came down here for a year or two when I took over my father’s position.”

“Did something happen then?”

Mr. Monroe glanced skittishly at Lucy. “Nothing I could possibly speak on, Your Grace.”

“What does that mean?”

Lucy grabbed onto Ginger’s reins and began to steer the smaller horse out the shed. She stuck her tongue out at Alicia. “I’m going to go riding,” she said, “and you two can stay here chatting.”

“Lucy,” Alicia called out after her with a laugh.

Mr. Monroe handed her Periwinkle’s reins. “Your Grace,” he began as though there was something more for him to say.

“What is it, Mr. Monroe?”

“I—” he glanced at the swinging barn door, through which Lucy had disappeared.

Alicia tilted her head expectantly. “If there’s nothing else?”

“Perhaps it is not wise to pry,” he finally said in a rush.

“Not wise?”

“I am no one here at Garvey,” he explained. “But… what has happened in its halls has touched everyone in some kind of way. I cannot speak for the other staff here, but we don’t speak of it.”

Alicia sighed. “I am well aware of how none of you speak of it, Mr. Monroe,” she said, pulling the horse toward the exit. “Whatever it even is,” she added under her breath.

“Did you ever think about why, Your Grace?”

“Why what?”

“Why it isn’t spoken.”

She paused at the threshold.

Mr. Monroe stepped closer. “Once, when I was very young, my older brother dropped me.”

Alicia scoffed. “Mr. Monroe.”

“He dropped me right on my forehead,” he hurriedly continued, lifting his cap to show a scar that stretched across his skin. “And my brother, poor boy, thought the fall might’ve changed me. Made me into one of those lame children who couldn’t catch a ball even if they tried. But I felt right enough, and I could stand straight like before. If employers like the late duke knew he’d hired a stable hand who might have an… incident with his livestock, they wouldn’t have hired me in the first place.”

“I’d be lying if I said I understood why you told me this, Mr. Monroe.”

He sighed. “We never told anyone, Your Grace.”

“What does that change? You still fell.”

“But no one knows it,” he said. “It is about respect, Your Grace. What sort of respect would I have had if they knew? If they knew Monroe’s boy was a lame?”

Alicia narrowed her eyes at him. “So,” she spoke slowly, “you’re telling me that whatever happened during the duke’s youth here at Garvey remains unspoken out of… respect.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“Respect for whom?”

Suddenly, the doors to the barn swung open as Lucy poked her head in.

“Didn’t we come out here to ride, Alicia?” she whined loudly.

“Of course,” she called back. “Go ahead, Lucy, I’ll be right behind you.”

The girl slunk back outside as Alicia turned to meet Mr. Monroe’s gaze once more.

The stable hand smiled nervously. “Enjoy your ride, Your Grace.”

Before she could manage another word, the stable hand disappeared out of the barn’s other side, going off to continue his daily chores. Alicia, with Periwinkle’s reins wrapped around her palm, left the barn to follow after Lucy.

Lucy struggled with the small Ginger, who neighed and stomped her hooves against the ground noisily. “I don’t think she quite likes me!”

“Pet her, Lucy,” Alicia said, standing next to the calm Periwinkle.

Reaching up with a nervous hand, Lucy grazed her fingertips against Ginger’s mane, and the young horse responded with more anxious kicks.

“I can’t!” Lucy screamed.

“Calm down,” Alicia called out, trying to keep her voice level. “She can sense your nerves, Lucy.”

The girl snapped over to her, eyebrows bunched together angrily. “I don’t have any nerves! The horse just hates me!”

“Don’t be naive!”

“Naive?” Lucy repeated. “You have the most well-mannered horse in all of England!”

Alicia couldn’t stop the laugh from flying out. “Periwinkle is a mother, Lucy, she can’t help but be patient.”

“How can I ride when she won’t even calm down?”

“Relax,” Alicia cooed, “and try again. More calmly, this time.”

Lucy shot her a glare, but reached again, her fingertips just grazing Ginger’s snout before she huffed and neighed irritated. “You see,” Lucy said, “she just doesn’t like me.” She turned, eyeing Alicia’s horse. “Why don’t we have a trade?”

“Ginger is more your size, Lucy.”

“I can handle her!”

“When was the last time you rode a horse of this size?”

Lucy pouted her lips. “It won’t be any fun if I can’t settle my horse!”

“Ginger is too small for me.”

“She is not,” the girl argued. “It’ll be just like when you went riding as a child!”

Alicia smiled, a warmth filling her chest. “That is sweet, Lucy, even though I know you’re just trying to convince me of a trade.”

Lucy wiggled, a grin pulling on her lips. “Is it working?”

“I think it might be,” Alicia laughed. “Just this once, all right? But the moment you can’t handle a horse this size?—”

“I will tell you right away!” Lucy finished.

As Alicia went to take Ginger’s reins, the horse kept up her skittish attitude, slightly pulling towards the barn. She kept her hand on the horse’s neck, cooing and humming a melody to try and calm her down. While it seemed to work for a moment, as she climbed onto the horse, Ginger scooted and neighed impatiently.

“Well,” Alicia said through gritted teeth once she was firmly on, “I believe Ginger might not have been the best choice for a light walk around the estate.”

Lucy giggled gleefully as she easily saddled onto Periwinkle, her long locks flowing in the wind behind her. “Periwinkle is perfect, isn’t she?”

Alicia gave her a look.

“Thank you for switching, Alicia,” she said with a sweet smile. “Ginger doesn’t seem to be the worst.”

“You would’ve been complaining, I’m sure,” Alicia responded with a laugh as their horses walked beside each other. “And it looks as though Periwinkle’s presence eases her daughter.”

“Did you ever have your own horse?”

“No,” Alicia replied. “We had a few, ones for the carriage, and my father’s personal steed.”

“You can have your own here! I’m sure your papa would be so happy for you.”

Alicia sadly smiled. “I hope he would be.”

“What was it like? Growing up in Egerton?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Alicia said.

“Except it was .”

Alicia looked over at her. “Why would you say that?”

“Because of what Miss Ayles said the other day,” she explained. “Your parents were an anomaly.”

“What a splendid word, Lucy,” Alicia said with a chuckle. “Anomaly.”

“Well, it’s true!”

Alicia shrugged. “I believe your governess has a way with words.”

“How so?”

“She is very good at stretching the truth.”

Lucy eyed her. “Did you parents not love each other?”

“Of course they did.”

“Then how did she stretch the truth?”

Alicia hesitated. “My parents were lucky in the fact that time was on their side.”

“Time?” Lucy repeated, confusion written all over her face. “What has time got to do with anything?”

“Look at the duke and me,” Alicia said. “He did not court me. I am twenty, well over the age a young woman normally debuts in society. When my father began to seek my mother’s hand in marriage, she had just turned eighteen, and he twenty-four. They spent time together on promenades, and trips into the city. The duke and I were married within a week.”

“So,” Lucy said, “they fell in love.”

“Yes, they did.”

Lucy leaned her head back to look at the sky. “If I could only be so lucky.”

“Do not fret yet, Lucy. There is still plenty of time for you.”

“I fear I will never be at the standard gentlemen of the ton expect,” Lucy muttered. “I will never be at the standard your mother was if she was able to make a gentleman fall in love with her.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Alicia said. “It was a mutual courtship.”

“And—” she hesitated, chewing on her lips.

“What is it, Lucy?”

The girl barely turned to look at Alicia, as though she could not bring herself to meet her gaze. “You grew up…happy?”

Alicia tightened her hold on Ginger’s reins till she stopped moving. “Lucy, still your horse.”

A look of embarrassment flashed by Lucy’s face as she pulled on the older mare’s reins. “I did not mean to offend you,” she whispered with a lowered head.

“Look at me, Lucy.”

The girl raised her glassy eyes.

“I am not upset with you at all,” Alicia said softly. “I only wanted to look you in the eyes while we spoke of something that clings to your soul.”

Lucy laughed. “It does not cling to me.”

“Did you grow up happy, Lucy?”

“I don’t think so,” she replied with a frown.

Alicia pressed her lips together. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she whispered. “We are not all like you.”

“Lucy, my childhood was blessed in ways I will forever be grateful for… but being a happy child does not have to do with my parents loving one another.” She reached for the girl’s cold hands. “It helps, in a way, but I had my brother. He made my childhood happy. I was never alone. I had a guardian always looking over my shoulder. Like you had.”

“Me?”

“Well, of course,” Alicia said with an airy chuckle. “With Matthew.”

Lucy seemed to become pale. “I–I do not wish to speak of this anymore.”

“Why not, Lucy?”

“I do not wish to think of the life I could have had.”

“Talk to me,” Alicia whispered, “let me be?—”

“My mother?”

Alicia gaped at her. “Lucy, that’s not?—”

“I do not wish to speak of this anymore,” Lucy repeated in a small voice.

Alicia pulled her hands away from the girl and watched as she moved her horse on ahead of Ginger. There was a sinking sensation in her gut, as though bad tidings clung onto them close by. Before she could gather enough courage to speak, Lucy was a little ways ahead, her hair flowing in the wind once more.

“Let’s race,” the girl suddenly called out over her shoulder.

Alicia frowned. “Lucy?—”

Turning to look at her, Lucy looked entirely different. Flushed cheeks and a wild smile appeared on her lips. She grinned and giggled. “Let’s race, Alicia! To the back of the manor! Beside the garden! Renfield can judge.”

“I–I don’t even know if Renfield is there, Lucy!”

“Where else might the groundskeeper be?” she shouted with a laugh. “Race me, Alicia!”

Alicia sighed, not seeing any future in which she could beat the wild girl in an argument or a race. Besides, it had been years since her last horseback expedition, and she barely could cling onto Ginger’s rowdy self without giving the horse her full concentration.

“Go on ahead, Lucy,” Alicia shouted.

The girl laughed and shouted before urging Periwinkle on into a fast trot. The horse gave way to her commands easily, and then they were off to start the race. Alicia clung behind, not bothering to push Ginger out of her limits. They trotted slowly behind.

Alicia watched as Lucy raced ahead as though she were a professional rider, the determination even visible from behind her. Alicia smiled and felt at ease, hearing the birds talk and the wind coaxing its way through her hair.

Lucy wasn’t too far ahead when something triggered the instinct in Alicia’s stomach, this unbreakable tug that told her danger lurked around the corner. Alicia looked around, not seeing anything out of the ordinary in Garvey. There was only the manor in front of them, and the bar behind. And Lucy was right. Alicia could see Renfield’s tall self skulking in between the garden’s flowerbeds.

But then her eyes snapped to Lucy’s horse, and her heart almost stopped.

“ Lucy! ” she screamed.

The girl was too far gone to hear, too far gone to notice how her saddle grew looser and looser with each kick of Periwinkle’s legs.

“Wait! Lucy!” Alicia yelled again, but to no avail. She dug her heel into Ginger’s backside and urged her to push forward at a quicker pace. “Lucy!”

Snap!

The saddle broke in the back, near the horse’s behind, and Lucy’s grip slipped on the reins. Periwinkle, a trained horse who would notice the slightest change in her rider, reared on her back legs. The sudden stop forced the mare to rise in the front, kicking her legs off the ground to prevent her from falling over.

Despite the maneuvers meant to reduce any injury, the broken saddle, combined with Lucy’s small frame, sent her flying off the back of the horse till she slammed into the ground. Lucy’s sharp yell rang through the air as though an animal had been shot.

“ Lucy!”

Adrenaline rushed through Alicia’s veins.

As though Ginger could sense the danger, Alicia barely needed to push the horse to kick off in a run toward the girl. Alicia was already jumping off before the horse had a chance to come to a full stop, landing hard on the ground. She bundled up her skirts and fell to the grassy floor beside Lucy’s writhing figure.

Tears and dirt streamed down the girl’s pale face. “It hurts,” she moaned, forcing the words out behind gritted teeth.

“Shh, now,” Alicia cooed, pushing the wild curls out of Lucy’s face. “Stay still.”

Patches of red showed on the girl’s legs, likely where she had landed on the ground. They would probably bruise, Alicia ascertained, recognizing the color and the slight heat that radiated off them. But it was her wrist, swiftly growing a dark shade of purple, that frightened her the most.

“Lucy,” Alicia whispered.

The girl cried and writhed, trying to grab her wrist. “It hurts!”

“I know,” she said, “I know and you are going to hurt some more.”

Lucy wailed, and a few birds scattered in the distance.

“Listen, Lucy. I need you to be strong.” Alicia tucked her arms beneath the girl’s small frame, one hooking under her knees and the other under her back. “Cradle your wrist like a baby, Lucy. Cradle it when I lift you.”

“Lift?” the girl repeated in between loud sniffs. “You can’t!”

“I need to get you inside,” Alicia said, “and I can’t wait for someone.” Before she put her strength into lifting the girl, she met her eyes. “Can you trust me, Lucy? Trust that I will protect you?”

Lucy couldn’t stop the cries from falling from her lips. “Yes,” she whined, burying her face in Alicia’s neck.

Alicia breathed deeply, and stood, keeping her arms beneath the girl. She lifted her swiftly, and before she could marvel at her own inner strength, Alicia began to hurry. She could hear the horses neighing behind her, but they were the least of her concern at this point.

As they got closer to the manor, Alicia scoured the garden for Renfield. The odd-looking man rose from bushes to see Alicia moving towards the stairs.

“Renfield!” she shouted. “Renfield!”

The groundskeeper took long strides. “Your Grace!” He pointed at Lucy. “My lady?—”

“The physician, Renfield!” Alicia called out. “Run, Renfield! Run!”

Without a moment to lose, Renfield was galloping out of the gardens, his outlandishly long legs sending him soaring around the manor till he disappeared from sight.

Alicia exhaled and trudged up the stairs, feeling her adrenaline beginning to wane and the need to release Lucy grow. She plowed through the manor, passing by gasping servants and shocked gasps. On the way to Lucy’s room, Ms. Crawford appeared, and suddenly the older woman’s footsteps sounded up the stairs behind her.

In the same drawing room as before, Miss Ayles appeared in its doorway at the commotion storming up the hall.

The governess scoffed. “What on earth is going on?”

“Fetch Renfield once he has the physician,” Alicia called over her shoulder as she kept moving.

Miss Ayles followed instead. “Is Lady Lucy injured? What were you doing?”

“Not now, Miss Ayles!”

“What kind of supervision is this?” the governess continued, practically yelling to be heard over the racket. “And look at you, the Duchess of Garvey, carrying a girl of four-and-ten! Once the duke hears of this?—”

Alicia slammed her foot against the floor before she turned to meet the governess’s gaze. Miss Ayles looked surprised, and a flash of fear rushed against her face before she turned sour once more.

“Once the duke hears of this—” Miss Ayles repeated, as though Alicia hadn’t heard her the first time.

“You dare threaten me with the wrath of my husband?” Alicia snapped. “Where were you, Miss Ayles, when the girl you are supposed to be looking after is flying off a horse outside? Where were you, besides sulking in a room, thinking the entirety of Garvey was against you?” Alicia breathed heavily from exhaustion and anger. “I’d think more about what the duke might say when I tell him of you. ”

Alicia spun around on her heel and continued marching toward the bedroom, leaving Miss Ayles alone in the hall.

At Lucy’s bedroom, Alicia jumped inside, gingerly setting the crying girl down on her bed. Ms. Crawford ran to the girl’s side within a second, more and more servants filtering in and out of the room. Alicia collapsed into a bedside chair, her arms aching and swollen from the weight they carried.

The housekeeper finally met her eyes. “You are a bloody miracle.”

Alicia’s eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion.