Page 14 of The Wise Daughter

The pit of Aaron’s stomach tightened and swelled much more tumultuously with Nora by his side and her graceful hand lightly resting on his arm.

He was pleased to see his signet ring on her thumb.

The fit was loose, but it looked at home on her hand.

Now if he could somehow help Nora feel at home in the castle.

He was encouraged by their morning together thus far, excepting the fact that she had tried to avoid him to begin with.

He had watched her talking to herself for a few moments before interrupting her.

Sunlight streaming through windows had cast a warm glow around her, accentuating her pale, blonde hair and cream complexion.

Her playfulness as she talked to the paintings lightened his heart and reminded him of more carefree days.

He tried not to feel too discouraged with how quickly her reservations returned.

All he wanted was to restore that light in her.

He led her through the corridors, wide and narrow, long and short, with all his assumed confidence, but the truth was, his insides quivered.

Beyond his own apartments and study, he had hardly ventured deeper into the castle since his return, and it was still strange to wander the corridors knowing his father wasn’t somewhere nearby.

Thieves were.

And it was stranger yet to sometimes doubt his own sense of where he was going.

He knew this castle. He had explored every inch as a child, but returning to it after years of living abroad was like seeing a childhood friend as a grown adult, familiar but changed.

He could not count on everything being as it once was.

In his absence, someone had rearranged portraits and furniture, hung new curtains, and removed carpets.

Most unsettling were the signs of neglect.

There were small things that could easily be repaired or replaced, a loose banister in need of polishing, dusty shelves, or moth-eaten curtains, but as they wandered past older parts of the castle that had not been inhabited for several decades or more, he saw deeper, more concerning signs of neglect from broken windows to charred walls.

How had he lived there for three months and not known of these needs?

The light pressure of Nora’s hand tightened around his arm. “Your Grace, are you feeling all right? A tour of the castle can wait if you are still unwell.” Her eyes flitted to the bruise on his temple.

Was it silly for his heart to swell like that when she showed her concern for him?

Yes, he told himself. Her concern did not extend to deeper feelings.

He only saw the same kindness she would offer to anyone, else why was she insisting on addressing him so formally despite his requests that she use his name?

“No need to worry about me, Nora. I’m quite well. There’s one room I’m particularly looking forward to showing you.”

“You must not show me all the best places at once, Your Grace. Else, what shall we do tomorrow?”

“I promise, I have no lack of ideas.”

Unfamiliar heat raced across his face, making him look away and focus on maintaining a steady walking pace.

Aching ankle or no, he had been struck with an urgency to see the state of his mother’s music room.

Of all the rooms in the castle, that one must not change.

He hadn’t visited it since arriving back at the castle, convincing himself that he was too busy or uninterested, but now, as his heartbeat quickened along with his steps, he knew he had been deceiving himself.

His mother’s words echoed in his thoughts as he neared the music room.

You must learn to play the pianoforte, Aaron, so you may express what’s in your heart when words fail you.

He could hear the words as clearly as if she had instructed him yesterday. Well, words failed him often, but playing the pianoforte would never help with that.

When they arrived, the door gave a click and creaked open. He held the door open for Nora, then followed her in and…

“Is it your ankle, Your Grace? You do not look well.”

She was right. He wasn’t well. He felt as if the thieves had just pummeled their fists into his stomach again.

Where there had once been a beautiful room graced with his mother’s touch and filled with dazzling instruments was hardly anything worth mentioning.

Shelves once filled with books and sheet music were now sparse, littered by scraps and loose papers.

Sofas and chairs with cushions she had embroidered were replaced with a scratched wooden bench and two spindly chairs that belonged in the kitchens.

Where was the family portrait, the one Aaron had sat so still for all those hours as a child?

Where was his mother’s harp? Her violin?

Her cello and her flute? Where were the stands that held up the music and the ribbons she sometimes tied around them?

Where were her flowers? The room always had vases of her favorite flowers.

And where was the drawing he had given his mother of him and her together at the pianoforte?

Despite his clumsy lines, she had framed his childhood art and hung it here, in her favorite room, where she would see it often.

Now it was gone.

The only instrument that remained was the pianoforte in the corner that he avoided looking at. How could so much have disappeared? And why had no one told him about this?

“Your Grace? Come sit down.”

Nora gave a gentle tug toward the spindly chair, but he shook his head.

“No. I… I’m well enough.”

Her blue eyes wouldn’t leave him. He could feel them roving over him, searching for what he wasn’t telling her.

Her attention unnerved him. In such a short time, those breathtaking blue eyes had seen and discerned so much.

It shouldn’t have mattered that she sensed his dismay.

He was going to marry her, but this… This was an open wound.

He needed to wrap it up, cover it even from himself and push it far from his thoughts.

“Please, Your Grace…”

“Forgive me. I was caught off guard when we entered. This room is different than I remembered.” He took a few painful steps further in, cradling his wounds rather than worrying Nora by fleeing.

“This room used to be full of instruments. They were my mother’s joy.

She spent half her time here, whenever she wasn’t entertaining or accompanying my father somewhere.

” He examined the places on the walls where the portraits had once hung, the soft blue paint darker in those places like footprints.

He swallowed back a lump rising in his throat.

“I didn’t realize anything had changed until now. ”

Nora kept a light hold on his arm, matching his steps. “What happened to your mother, Your Grace?”

He knew this question was coming. How could she not be curious? But expecting her curiosity was not the same as being prepared for it.

“I haven’t been in contact with her since I was a child.” It wasn’t an answer, but it was all he could manage.

“I’m so sorry.”

Those words coming from anyone else might have felt hollow, but from Nora, they were genuine. He could hear it, her desire to comfort. He could even hear her curiosity, but she didn’t press him.

It was stupid of him to come here if he didn’t want to talk about his mother, but he hadn’t expected such a violation of her memory. This wasn’t the work of thieves or mere carelessness. Someone had removed everything. Why?

Nora was still observing him. He tested words in his thoughts in an attempt to form an explanation. I know my mother loved my father and me, but… No. Explaining would mean facing the gaping holes in his knowledge. All he could offer was a simpler truth.

“I wish I knew where she was.”

Nora didn’t say anything. Her other hand rose and gave his arm a gentle squeeze. All at once, the coldness inside him fled, not gone completely, but pushed back and held at bay by her unexpected warmth. How had she done that so efficiently?

The floor beneath him momentarily swayed as a light, sweet scent that reminded him of apple blossoms filled his breath.

Had he imagined it, or was this touch from Nora different than before?

He stared down at the curves of her arms, the gentle slope of her shoulders and neck, and the lovely way her hair twisted and fell around her face in soft curls.

He waited for her to look at him, eager to read her face and see if she was just as attuned to what he was feeling now, but when she finally met his eyes, she turned away, her face flushed. She raised a hand to her lips, then pulled her arm out of his.

She stood with her back to him, hugging herself. “You obviously have much on your mind, Your Grace. I’ll leave you with your thoughts.”

His memories must have weighed on him more than he realized. For, when he finally pushed away the fog enough to reach out–

“No, please don’t go–”

She was already gone.