Heiress On The Run. Laura Martin
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since she had first arrived Amelia had felt the grief and heartache emanating from Edward, but she had felt something else as well. There was a power there, a sense of authority that made Amelia wish he would just fold her in his arms and keep her safe from the world.
Pausing, Amelia flopped down on a bench and closed her eyes. Here she went again, jumping to conclusions about people before she really knew them. With McNair she had been taken in by his good looks and easy charm. She’d fallen for him within ten minutes of meeting him and declared her undying love less than a week later. Her judgement when it came to men couldn’t be trusted. She didn’t know Edward, not really, and she wouldn’t allow herself to ever fall victim to a man ever again. From now on she wouldn’t pin her hopes on anyone but herself.
‘Good afternoon, miss.’
A voice startled Amelia from her reverie. She sprang to her feet, ready to flee if the need arose, and was confronted by a stout, portly man in his sixties. Slowly Amelia relaxed. If he did pose a threat she rather thought she would outpace him with nothing more than a brisk walk.
Forcing her racing pulse to slow, Amelia smiled warily at the newcomer.
‘Tobias Guthry at your service, miss, and what a pleasure it is to meet you.’
Amelia took his proffered hand, allowing his podgy fingers to enclose hers briefly.
‘I am Sir Edward’s steward, been summoned by the master himself. Sorry if I startled you at all.’
Mr Guthry was looking increasingly anxious and Amelia decided he was most likely harmless.
‘You must forgive me, Mr Guthry, I was miles away and I wasn’t expecting anyone.’
‘You gave me quite a surprise yourself, miss. In the past three years I’ve been working for the master I’ve not seen a single other person about the grounds.’
‘Yes, I understand Sir Edward is a very private person,’ Amelia said, wondering if this amiable little man might be willing to tell her any more about her host.
‘Oh, very private, miss, the most private a man could be.’
‘Tell me, has he always been this way?’
Mr Guthry gave her a sidelong look and his already pink complexion turned beetroot.
‘I wouldn’t like to speculate, miss, I’ve only known him since after the...er...the incident.’
He glanced at the fire-damaged portion of the building as he spoke.
So the fire had been the turning point in Edward’s life. She wondered if he’d been injured in it, or whether he’d lost someone he loved as she had first suspected. A slither of guilt slid into Amelia’s consciousness. After all he was doing for her she ought to know more about him and the reasons behind his peculiar choice of lifestyle. The worst thing was he’d probably dropped hints, even alluded to whatever terrible event had affected him so badly, but she had been too caught up in her own world to notice.
‘Do you come to see Sir Edward often?’ Amelia asked, changing tack.
‘Only every couple of months.’
She was surprised at this. Edward seemed the sort of man who liked to be in charge of things, completely in control. True, to manage an estate such as this, which must encompass land outside the boundaries of Beechwood Manor with tenants and farmers and livestock, you would have to not live in such reclusive circumstances, but all the same she couldn’t picture him giving up complete control.
‘Sir Edward must trust you very much, Mr Guthry.’
The portly man visibly swelled with pride at Amelia’s words.
‘Come inside and please make yourself comfortable, I will let Sir Edward know you are here.’
Amelia ushered him into the sitting room she’d entered the night before. It was the only room in the main part of the house vaguely suitable for guests. At least the chairs were no longer covered in dust sheets, but still there was rather a ghostly feel to the room.
She left Mr Guthry wiggling his ample backside into one of the armchairs and set off in search of Edward.
Cautiously she knocked on the door to his set of rooms in the West Wing, and when there was no answer after a few seconds she took a few steps inside. Edward’s sketches were scattered across the desk, with an open pad of paper resting on the windowsill, but there was no sign of Edward. Amelia knew he wasn’t outside or in the main portion of the house, which only left the fire-damaged East Wing.
Quickly Amelia padded along the landing, feeling like a rebellious child for even thinking about venturing into the East Wing. His warning never to enter that part of the house was ringing in her ears, but she couldn’t exactly leave Mr Guthry waiting indefinitely.
At the end of the landing another long corridor swept off at an angle to the main house, identical upstairs and down. Amelia paused before stepping over the threshold, a shiver travelling down her spine and making her glance back over her shoulder to check she was alone.
She took a step and then another. Already the fire damage was evident: blackened walls, the faint smell of smoke, damaged paintings hanging over the peeling wallpaper.
‘I told you not to enter the East Wing.’ Edward’s voice made Amelia jump with fright.
He emerged from the shadows like a phantom, taking Amelia firmly by the arm and guiding her quickly back to the main section of the house.
‘You are never to enter the East Wing.’
Amelia was about to protest, about to question why, but she saw the haunted look in Edward’s eyes and decided for once to keep her mouth securely shut. She waited for him to reprimand her further but he just continued to lead her away from the fire damaged corridor.
‘There’s a Mr Guthry waiting to see you,’ she said, once her heart had stopped pounding and she’d caught her breath.
The normality of her response, or the familiarity of Mr Guthry’s name, seemed to pull Edward back from whatever precipice he was teetering over. Slowly he regained his focus and Amelia was relieved to see the haunted look fade from his eyes.
‘Good,’ he grunted as they descended the main staircase, ‘He can find the proof all this murder business is nonsense and then you can be on your way.’
Normally Amelia would have bristled at his tone and his dismissive attitude towards her plight, but even she could recognise a man who had just confronted some past demon and deserved a little forgiveness for his sharp manner, so instead of making a withering retort she led Edward calmly to Mr Guthry, all the time wondering what it was in the East Wing that Edward didn’t want her to see.
* * *
With Edward and Mr Guthry ensconced in the sitting room Amelia wandered the house for a few minutes before finding herself back in the homely West Wing. Safe in the knowledge that Edward would be busy for at least the next half an hour Amelia ventured into his bedroom, the room they had both shared the night before, and made her way to the desk. Trying her hardest not to pry any further through his personal documents, she sat and rummaged through the drawers until she found a blank sheet of paper and a pen.
Amelia was not a keen writer of letters. Sitting and constructing beautifully worded, descriptive prose was not in her character, she much preferred to be outside doing something. Nevertheless today she would grit her teeth and get on with her task.
Dearest Lizzie,
How long it seems since I left you in London and how much has happened during that time. I hope you are faring better than I, and that my aunt has not discovered our deception and is treating you well.
Amelia paused, sucking on the end of the pen as she wondered how best to word the description of what had happened over the past few weeks. She did not want to trouble her cousin more than was necessary, but Lizzie was currently masquerading as Amelia Eastway and, if Edward was right