Page 3 of Mischief and Manors (Change of Heart #1)

CHAPTER 3

I insisted that we leave at dawn, horrified at the thought of arriving at Kellaway Manor after dark, potentially unannounced.

With Aunt Ruth nearly pushing us out the door, we made our way across the path and down the hill leading out to the carriage. Peter and Charles ran as fast as their legs could carry them, tugging on the carriage door as they waited for me. A light breeze whipped at my hair and skirts as I ran to catch up to them. An unexpected laugh bubbled within me. I felt giddy with hope and excitement. It was as if I had sprouted wings overnight, and I might soar off with the wind.

Stepping inside the carriage, my spirits dropped slightly. The cushions were pink. I sighed as I sat down, shunning the admiration I felt at seeing the color. It never failed to stir up the memories I tried hardest to avoid. My brothers giggled with anticipation as the carriage began to roll forward. I turned my gaze out my window, watching Oak Cottage until it was out of sight, assuring myself that it was true—that we were really leaving it behind. My brothers pressed their faces against the glass of their windows, watching the passing landscape.

The first half of the ride passed comfortably enough, and we stopped to stretch our legs and eat lunch at midday.

Settling back into the carriage for the second half, I sat back and willed myself to relax. My mind wandered to Mrs. Kellaway’s letter, and the guilt she had expressed. I would have to put her at ease immediately. How could she possibly blame herself? My heart ached, swirling with guilt of my own. I, too, had found reasons that my parents’ accident could have been prevented if I had made different decisions. It haunted me often, just like our final goodbye, just like Mama’s kind eyes and Papa’s strong, tight hugs. Just like the color of the carriage cushions.

I was desperate to make a good impression on Mrs. Kellaway. She was so fond of our parents, so she likely had high expectations for us. I had worn my finest white day dress and my bonnet with blue ribbons. The best I could do would be to graciously explain our sudden arrival without revealing Aunt Ruth’s intentions and threats surrounding our visit. Nervousness crept into my stomach. There was no need to fret about that just yet. We still had hours ahead of us.

I watched with amusement the complete thrill that my brothers were exhibiting. Apparently they were enjoying the ride every bit as much as I expected.

Satisfied, I slipped lower in my seat. My eyelids were heavy. My rest the previous night had not been near sufficient, so I lay my head back on the plush cushions and before long, I had fallen into a deep sleep.

I awoke to Peter shaking my arm. “Annette! Annette!” His voice carried a hint of panic.

I sat up quickly, the steady sway of the carriage throwing me off-balance. How long had I slept? One hour? Two? My half-sleeping gaze darted around frantically, not finding the problem. “What is it? What’s the matter?”

Before Peter could answer my question, I caught sight of Charles on his hands and knees on the floor of the carriage just in front of me, his complexion pale. He was leaning over a puddle of vomit.

I jumped from my seat and kneeled beside him. “Charles!” I touched his forehead, smoothing back his blond curls. His skin was cold and sweaty. His shaking hands pressed against the floor. Dread and worry dropped in my stomach at once. The motion of the carriage must have made him ill. I took him by the arm. “Can you stand?”

“I don’t know.” His voice wavered.

“Let us try.”

He nodded and I pulled up on his arm gently. The moment he stood, his face paled. He doubled over and vomited again, this time all over the front of my dress. He slumped back down to the floor, his chin quivering; it always did that when he was in pain but trying to be strong.

I sat down beside him. Resting my back against the seats, I held his head in my lap. “You will be just fine, Charles.” I stroked my fingers across his forehead. He closed his eyes. “You are being so brave,” I said in a whisper. And it was true. Charles knew what it was to be afraid, to clutch onto his strength with firm hands. So that was why today, he didn’t cry. That was why everyday I didn’t cry.

Once I concluded that it was indeed the carriage that was making Charles ill, I alerted the coachman to stop driving. What Charles needed was fresh air and steady, motionless ground.

After we took a long walk through a meadow beside the road, we stepped back into the carriage. My gown and the floor were still covered in vomit when we started moving again, but what mattered was the flush of color returning to Charles’s cheeks. I hoped it would last.

In the hours that followed, Charles slowly lost color again, and whatever remained of his lunch found a home on my boots. The road was awfully uneven, and it made me dread the ride back to Oak Cottage at the end of the summer even more. Perhaps a tiny part of me dared to wish that it would stay bumpy forever, perhaps even become too bumpy to travel by.

“Is that it?” Peter asked from beside me, peering out the window with wide eyes.

I craned my neck to look over his shoulder. It was Kellaway Manor. I could see the house now, rising ahead of us beside the road. “Yes,” I answered with a wave of nerves. Why must I be covered in vomit? This was not the presentation I had wanted to make, but Charles needed help.

Dozens of windows covered the golden facade of the house, with lush green grass stretching wide in front of it. It had been ten years, but I still remembered the smell of flowers and sunshine and secrets. We had only stayed for a short time, and everything had been perfect.

Well, except for one thing, or person , rather . . .

I didn’t remember how many children Mrs. Kellaway had, but in her letter, she had said that three of them would be away for most of the summer. That was a comfort, considering how dreadful I had found one of them to be.

The carriage slowed as it turned up the drive, coming to a gradual halt. Without waiting for assistance from the coachman, I pulled Charles into my arms, jumped down, and hurried across the neatly trimmed lawn. The wind blew my hair into my face, and my hands were occupied with Charles, so I struggled to see in front of me. When we approached the front doors, I placed Charles on his feet and pushed my hair away from my eyes, bringing the beauty of the house into full, unobscured view.

It was more sizeable than I remembered, but the color of the stone was the same. It reminded me of a loaf of golden brown bread, fresh from the oven. It stood large and grand among the flourishing gardens surrounding it. A small burst of excitement fluttered in my stomach as I recalled the day I had walked to this very door on my father’s arm. My nerves soon replaced it. I was a child then, and now I was supposed to be a lady.

What a disappointing impression I was about to make.

Not only that, but the task of turning my brothers into perfectly behaved children was following me more closely than my own shadow across the grass. I couldn’t forget my task, no matter how distracting all the beautiful things at the estate were.

I walked up the front steps, taking a deep breath. My heart pounded. Before I could lose my nerve, I took hold of the brass knocker and hit it three times—much more forcefully than I intended—against the strike plate. I cringed at the echo the sound created. Relax, I commanded myself. These are Mama’s and Papa’s friends. They must be kind.

We waited in silence for several seconds. When I heard the turn of a lock, my heart threatened to burst through my chest. Not a second later, the door swung open at the hands of the butler. A furrow appeared in his brow as he spotted Charles moaning with discomfort beside me. A woman appeared quickly beside the butler, a confused look clouding her delicate features.

“Mrs. Kellaway?” I stammered. Her hair was a striking, thick auburn, not easily forgotten.

“Yes,” she answered, the concern on her face growing.

I froze. Why did she look so confused? “I must apologize for the unexpected visit, but our aunt just gave me your letter yesterday. She said she had written to accept your invitation, but…” I watched carefully for her reaction. Her brow lifted with shock as her gaze settled on Charles.

“Oh! And Charles became ill on the drive here,” I added, glancing again at her expression.

She gasped, bringing a hand to her lips. “Miss Downing? Good heavens, is it really you?”

I nodded, uncomfortable under her searching gaze. I was so very daft. I should have given our introductions first.

Her eyes clouded with moisture. “Please, come in! I will find my son to attend to Charles.”

Her son?

I shook myself of my confusion. “Thank you,” I said, feeling a heavy weight fall from my shoulders. Something about her genteel air seemed to make all my worry melt away.

“I didn’t think you would come! This is such a pleasant surprise, indeed.” Her smile grew as we stepped into the house. I noticed how her top lip nearly disappeared when she smiled, and her nose wrinkled on the bridge. She had a very friendly face, the details of which I had forgotten.

“I’m very sorry that it’s a surprise at all,” I said. “Our aunt insisted that we come today, and I fear she did not give you enough notice.”

Mrs. Kellaway gave a light laugh. “No notice at all, but that is quite all right. My housekeeper will see to the arrangements at once.”

So Aunt Ruth’s letter had not reached her. It wouldn’t have surprised me if she hadn’t even sent one.

As I glanced around the entry hall, I immediately felt myself shrink. The ceiling stretched up and up, ending in a dome. The floor was checkered, with a wide staircase to the left. Several footmen, maids, the butler, and the housekeeper discreetly stepped into position. They had obviously not been expecting guests.

I swallowed and gripped my skirts. The inside of Kellaway Manor seemed much larger and grander than I recalled. My eyes returned to Mrs. Kellaway. Her dismayed gaze was focused on my gown. Oh, yes. The vomit. My cheeks burned.

On the other hand, her presentation was flawless. Not a hair was out of place on her head, and her deep blue gown lacked even the smallest wrinkle. “Did you travel with a maid, my dear?”

My embarrassment deepened. “No, I did not. My aunt could not spare one.”

Mrs. Kellaway’s eyes widened before she corrected her expression. “That is quite all right. I will assign one of my maids to your care during your stay. For now, I will have your trunks brought in and send the housekeeper to prepare your rooms.” She gestured to the doorway at the left. “Have a seat in the drawing room. I shall return shortly.” She smiled again and disappeared around the corner.

Exhaling a sigh of relief, I guided my brothers under the golden archway that led to the drawing room. I lifted Charles onto the settee beside me and removed my bonnet, placing it on the nearby cushion. The sapphire blue velvet was soft and clean, and I was struck with the fear that Charles would vomit all over it. I held my breath as he nestled against my arm. I arranged my skirts so none of the soiled parts touched the settee.

The chandelier hanging at the center of the room shone brilliantly in the afternoon sunlight. A tea table sat just in front of us with a variety of books resting atop it. I picked one up and examined the cover. I flipped through the pages to distract me from my nervousness as we awaited Mrs. Kellaway’s return.

After a few minutes, she strode into the room. I set the book down as she stepped closer. “How are you feeling, dear boy?” she asked Charles.

He shook his head in silent response, his face still pale.

“Poor dear.” She frowned, moving her gaze to me. “My son is a physician. He recently completed his education and has been in practice for several months now.”

It struck me as odd that a young man bred in such a grand home would have opted for a medical profession rather than the military or clergy. But the fact that he had an occupation at all meant that he must have been a younger son, not the heir of Kellaway Manor. I tried to recall which of her children I had met all those years ago, and which order they were born in.

“Oh, I thought your children were away for the summer,” I said in a curious voice.

“Three of them are, yes. Edmund, Alice, and Simon.”

My stomach dropped. That left just one.

“You have met my son, Owen, I believe, when you visited years ago.” She paused with a laugh, as if remembering the same thing I was. “His behavior has mended itself since then, I assure you. Little Charles is in quite capable hands. Owen will be here shortly to assist him. Would you like me to show you and Peter to your rooms so you might—er—change into something more suitable?” Her smile faltered as she glanced at the vomit covering the front of my skirts.

What was the proper reply? I hesitated to leave Charles alone in this place that was so unfamiliar to him. Not only that, but I wasn’t certain I wanted to leave him under the care of that odious boy—Mrs. Kellaway’s son—who I had met ten years before. A memory pricked my mind with distaste. “I would prefer to stay until I see that Charles is feeling well again, if that is all right.”

“Yes, of course.” Mrs. Kellaway’s lips curled into a smile. “I am truly honored that you came to visit. The last time I saw you, you were so very small. You have become such a lovely young lady. You resemble your mother.” Her eyes flickered over my face with a hint of sadness, but her smile quickly returned. “We shall speak more later, but for now I must meet with my housekeeper.”

“Thank you,” I said as she retreated to the door.

After she took her leave, I stared at the empty doorway for several seconds before pulling my gaze back to Charles. His complexion was already much improved, and he was no longer moaning in discomfort. He didn’t seem to need attention from a physician at all—especially not Mrs. Kellaway’s son.

Owen.

He had been a most disagreeable boy. I could still envision his mischievous smile and infuriating words and . . .

Just then the door opened again, and Owen Kellaway stepped into the room. He wore a navy blue jacket and white cravat, tan trousers and shiny black boots. My gaze landed on his face.

He looked precisely the same…except for the fact that he was no longer a boy.