Chapter 12

Soon after their argument, William wished to speak to Miss Staunton.

He did not wish to apologize, for he was quite certain that he was right to have the opinions that he did. He did, however, wish to explain why he felt the way he did. He was not angry that she would be courted by his brother for any reason but the fact that his brother was unfit to be the husband of anyone, even someone he disliked.

That wasn't quite right. He didn't dislike the girl. He only thought that she was positively impossible to be around without being driven mad, and that she was causing his mother to do things that she would not normally dream of doing. Perhaps that could be seen as dislike, but he wasn't sure of that. After all, if he did truly dislike her then she wouldn't be in his home.

"Miss Staunton?" He asked, knocking on her door, "Do you have a moment?"

But there was silence. He knocked again, then waited to see if she would answer the door, but there was nothing.

"I understand that you are angry, but there is no reason to ignore me completely. I do not wish to argue with you."

But still, there was no response.

"You know, Miss Staunton, this is my home and I therefore have the ability to enter any room I please. You have no right to hide away in here and think that I will not come in regardless."

When there was no reaction to this, he felt the anger rising within him once more. There was no apology, but then there was no argument either. She was not on the other side of the door making comments to him, sparking a debate as to whether or not the room was hers to begin with. She wasn't trying to make him pity her either. She simply was not responding at all.

William wondered if she was sleeping. After all, she had received a lot of news all at once. It wasn't impossible for her to be overcome with tiredness. Against his better judgment, he cracked open the door slightly, expecting to see her scowling at him for walking in, but again there was nothing.

"Miss Staunton?"

He pushed the door open, but even when he was standing in the room it was quite clear that she was not there at all. He knew in an instant that this was very bad indeed. Pulling the door closed, he ran downstairs to the garden.

"Is she here?" He asked, though his voice was rather louder than he would have liked.

"Do you mean Olivia?" The gardener asked, "Because if you do, then no. I have not seen her at all today, actually. She was rather occupied."

"Believe me, I know," William grimaced, "Well, if she is not with you, where else might she be?"

"With your mother, perhaps?"

This was not impossible, of course, but he couldn't imagine that Miss Staunton had any interest in aiding his mother with her letter to Scott. He had been surprised enough when she did not outright refuse to marry him. Another attempt to irritate him, he supposed.

Not that he could work out for the life of him why he would be irritated by such a thing.

"Mother, have you seen Miss Staunton?" He asked from the doorway.

"No, dearest, but I have finished the letter to Scott. Would you like to read it?"

"Not particularly."

"That is quite a shame. You always were so good at fixing my writing."

"I do not have time at the moment. I must find Miss Staunton."

"So that you might apologize, I hope," she nodded, "Well, feel free to send an apology my way, too, once you are done."

"I do not plan to apologize. What the two of you did was reckless and I hope to never see it again."

"Then next time, avert your eyes."

"When did this happen to you, Mother?" He asked, shaking his head in bewilderment.

"Around the time that I realized I would not be getting any younger. I missed so much of my life because your father wanted me to be as miserable as he was, and now I have the opportunity to live the rest of it as I please. I am going to do so."

"But-"

"You do not wish to apologize," she interrupted, "Which is very well. Nor do I wish to. Now we can both be content. I hope you find Olivia and bring her back, especially because it will be dark soon. She is likely unaware of the time."

"Bring her back?" He echoed, "From where?"

"Ah, you would like for me to tell you so that you can forbid her from going there too, is that it?"

"No, I would like to ensure her safety."

"Her safety is not your concern. It is mine."

"Then why are you not worried for her?"

"Because I am more than aware that she is capable of going for a walk and returning unscathed. It might do you well to remember that yourself."

"Of course I know that."

"Then allow her to come home when she is ready."

But he couldn't. He refused to. If anything were to happen to her, it would be on his shoulders and he couldn't allow that to happen. Not because he cared for her, of course, but because he had a duty to her as she was his mother's friend. That was all.

He dressed himself to leave, and that was when he heard the first rumble of thunder. He didn't like the sound of it, and he hated storms, but it made him even more determined to find Miss Staunton. He knew that his mother was right, and that she would return when she was ready, but he couldn't trust that. All he knew was that she was missing, and he had to find her, especially in such conditions.

It was cold outside, and wet. He couldn't see perfectly well given the darkness, but it was possible to look far enough in front of him to walk with ease. It wouldn't be easy to find her, but it would be possible, particularly as he was certain he would hear her before seeing her.

But he didn't. He walked around the estate, but there was no sign of her. He walked the streets, but she was not there either. He worried that he would walk one way, and she would walk down another street entirely and he would miss her. He hated the idea of her wandering aimlessly, or even being lost completely. His mother seemed to think she had done this before, but he couldn't bring himself to believe it. She liked the household too much. She would never have had reason to leave it under such circumstances.

"Miss Staunton?" He called out eventually, hoping she would come towards his voice if she heard it rather than running away, "Where are you?"

He continued searching, trying to stay near houses as he was sure she was not dim enough to stray from them.

Then he turned a corner, and a lady crashed directly into him.

Who else could it be?

"It's you!" He exclaimed, "Oh, thank God I found you!"

"Oh, lovely. It begins," she huffed, "Alright. Go on ahead and chastise me for going out alone, unchaperoned."

"I do not think I need to," he smirked, "You seem to have learned your lesson well enough as it is."

"I do not find you amusing."

"I do not try to be. Come along, now."

"I am not a dog, Your Grace."

"And not once did I say you were. Regardless, it is raining and I do not wish to fall ill because you felt like getting lost."

"I was not lost!"

"Oh? Then tell me, where are we right now?"

"We are… we are in Bolton."

He raised an eyebrow at her, and she must have seen him do it even in the darkness because she laughed softly.

"Oh, alright then. I suppose I was lost, but only a little. I would have been perfectly fine without you."

"To be sure."

"So you really are not angry with me?"

"Not particularly, no. I am simply glad that you are safe."

"Why?"

He didn't know how to answer that. He was glad she was safe for many reasons; he could go home into the warmth, and finally have dinner, and go to bed knowing all in his household was as well as it could be, but he was also glad she was safe simply because she was safe. It made him calm.

"My mother," he stammered instead, "She says you do this all the time and that there was no need for me to look for you, and now I have proved her wrong."

"So you are still angry with us."

"About the soirée? Oh I am furious, but it is over with now, and soon enough I will be far too occupied with my unruly brother to notice your endeavors. Not that my rules will be changing of course, and I shall expect you to adhere to them all the same."

"And I will do my best to do so, though I make no promises."

Somehow, he believed that.

"So…" she said after a while, "Is he alright?"

"Who?"

"Your brother. I only ask because you did not seem thrilled with your mother's idea."

"That is because I am not thrilled with it. My brother is not the sort I like to associate with. He is quite the wild one, and in case you haven't noticed that is not my style."

"I may or may not have seen that, yes."

"He shall be a good match for you, though. You can both run off into the sunset and ruin my family name to your heart"s content. It doesn't matter anymore, in all honesty."

"You do not think that. Your name and reputation is everything to you."

"That's the thing; it isn't. I could not care less about all of that."

"Then why do you talk about it so much?"

"Because it is the easiest way to…"

"To get what you want?" She suggested.

"To keep some semblance of order in my life," he sighed, "All of my life, I have been unable to keep a hold on what happens around me. My father liked to be the one in control. Nobody could tell him anything other than exactly what he wanted to hear. I swore I'd never be like him, and I want to think I'm not, but sometimes I say or do something and it is as though he is behind me, nodding along."

"Would he be proud of you, do you think?" She asked him as they reached the front door.

It was raining harder than ever, and her voice was so soft as she asked that he almost did not hear it, but he did.

"I… I don't think that man was ever proud of anyone until the day he passed. Not even of himself. People like that rarely ever are."

"And what of you, Your Grace? Are you proud of others? Of yourself?"

Was he?

To be sure, he had come a long way from that sad and scared boy that he had been, and somewhere along the way he had become someone stronger, something to be proud of, but he had also become bitter and self-righteous. He was not the man that his mother had hoped to raise, that much was certain, and the same could be said for his brother.

He was proud of his mother, though. Whether he liked it or not, she had become her own person since losing her husband. She was new; fun and bright just like she might have been once before. She wasn't afraid to be herself now, and whether that was good for the family name or not he had to admit that it was good for her, and that was what truly mattered.

And then there was Miss Staunton. She was loud and brash, but against all odds and in spite of all that had happened to her, here she was smiling faintly in the moonlight, just outside of a stranger's household that she had been determined to make her home.

Was that something to be proud of?

"You're thinking," she whispered, "But it is cold, and it is as you said. We do not need to catch an illness, especially not due to my recklessness."

"Please do not do this again."

"Well," she giggled softly, "Since you said please."

They went inside, immediately feeling much warmer.

"Goodnight, Your Grace," she said quietly with a smile before escaping upstairs.

"Goodnight, Miss Staunton," he whispered, unsure of whether or not he wanted her to hear him.

"You found her then," his mother smirked, entering the hallway.

He had found her, or she had found him. Either way, she was safe and he was happy and that was enough.

Because it made his mother happy, of course.