CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Nadia say at the side of the ride, her gown a mess of dirt and dust, admiring the other skill her love appeared to have spent quite a great deal of time practicing - tying knots. More specifically, incapacitated with rope each of the scoundrels who'd survived the battle, wrists bound tightly together and ankles to follow. Groaning in anguish, three of them lay half-conscious and muttering curses at the dutiful duke as he leashed their comrades; she smiled in quiet awe at him, having shown a side she had never yet seen.
"You'll pay for 'is! The other mates'll be 'ere to finish you and yer little harlot off!" one of the wrapped-up bandits angrily protested; Lord Beckham rolled his eyes, quite confidently and unconcernedly striding back to the carriage, grasping the weapon leaned against it, and bashing the rather angry, odious little man in the cheek with the butt of the gun.
"I'd be delighted to see them - I need the exercise, after all," Lord Beckham quipped, exhaling sharply and tossing the weapon to the ground beside him. "Harlot - what sort of language is that for a proper gentleman?" he scoffed jokingly. He threw a glance to his 'harlot', who grinned brightly, her heart full of warmth - but her mind, and her face, wracked with confusion.
"Marshall, it's certainly... pleasant, to discover so many secret talents, of yours," she quipped, her breath still quavering, body still wracked with excitement and fear and bafflement at this precarious turn of events. "Though, I must admit the talent of yours that most entices me in just this moment is your rather mystical power of precognition," she added lackadaisically. Shadow stood at Nadia's side, whinnying and clopping her hooves on the roadway in agreement; Nadia gently tugged on her loyal steed's reins to calm the beast, her heart racing nearly as fast as Nadia's was.
"And just what are you implying of me, Lady Havenshire?" he asked playfully, a bandit groaning as the dutiful duke tugged the ropes binding the scoundrel up tight.
"Nothing, m'lord, simply that I find it rather fortuitous for you to happen upon my predicament, having been traveling the same road, at the same time as I," Nadia coyly murmured, her cheeks blossoming a slight tone of rose. She thought to continue her sheepish little line of curious questions, when she heard a bristling from the brush behind her and nearly leapt in a panic. Glancing to her rear she saw a suit-wearing man wrestling with a tangle of thorny brush, emerging from the forested fields dotting the side of the roadway. Though she kept her guard up at first, she sighed a hefty breath of relief when she recognized the man as James, Lord Beckham's loyal butler.
"M'lord, m'lord, I heard gunfire! Gunfire, and shouts, and, I know you told me to stay hidden in the brush, but—" James blinked as he came upon the rather righteous carnage strewn about the roadway, his master tying down the criminals one-by-one. "—Oh," he murmured in shock, gulping. "I didn't know your fighting skills had come such a long way, m'lord. You must've been practicing." He at once took notice of Lady Havenshire and jumped out of his skin at the sight, shock on his face, followed swiftly by pleasant surprise. "Oh- oh! Lady Havenshire, what a fortunate set of circumstances that we happened upon you at so critical a time," he said. A loud thunderclap echoed through the sky and the winds began to whip quicker and wilder. "Oh, blast it, just my luck," the butler grumbled. "Blast the weather on these miserable moors. Not a day can pass peaceful without thunder grousing on about it."
"Yes, a critical time, just the sort of question I had meant to ask your master," Lady Havenshire said.
"Well, I had need of traveling a quick route back to the Emerys estate, and James suggested this side path," Lord Beckham murmured innocently, hoisting a groggy criminal onto his feet, dragging the man to the carriage and throwing him unceremoniously inside. "James spied a group of roustabouts harassing a young lady, rather roughly, and when I saw them carrying dangerous weapons, I felt it necessary to act," the duke recalled, a hint of the precocious gleaming in the little smile working its way through his steely expression. "Fortunately, the bandits around these parts have far more courage when it comes to harassing lone women, than they do skills with those sabers and pistols they carry," Marshall scoffed.
"You bloody ambushed us, you coward!" one of the bandits grumpily groaned, before receiving a swift kick to the sides by Marshall, who hoisted him up next and threw him into the cabin of the carriage along with his lowlife brethren.
"Ambushed, coward," he joked. "Not, of course, that I wanted you to think I thought you incapable of saving yourself, of course, m'lady," Lord Beckham added playfully. "I'm certain if you'd had the same advantages I had in position, you'd have dealt with them quite as handily as I did. I simply wanted to offer some assistance."
"Your assistance is appreciated, though you glossed over a rather important bit in your explanation, m'lord," Nadia said, breathing deep.
"Did I?" Lord Beckham crossed the road with concern in his face.
"You mentioned that a matter of some importance drove you to seek a faster path to the Emerys estate... or did I imagine that part?" Lady Havenshire asked, her cheeks burning bright pink.
"You did in fact hear correctly," Lord Beckham said, his voice rattled; he could tackle a dozen bandits, but the matters of their affair still shook him to his core. She smiled. She could certainly appreciate that sort of humility in a man.
"And what purpose, might I ask..." she broached the question calm and coyly. "...would you have, being present at Emerys manor, m’lord?" He approached her cautiously, slipping his hand into his jacket and retrieving a piece of paper - crumpled, crushed, and ripped, with ink stained in swirling circles along its surface. He unfolded the parchment and revealed it to be the contract - the one she had thrown at him, had trod angrily upon. She breathed a sigh of displeasure, looking away.
"You haven't signed this contract, m'lady." Suddenly she felt strong hands upon her; grasping her chin, cupping it close, turning her face back in his direction; she resisted, tears welling up again, shivering as another wind pressed along her back.
She winced as she heard the slow sound of him tearing the contract in half. He did it again, and again, until only tiny pieces fluttering in the kicking winds remained. And when he opened his palms he threw the shreds into the air, letting the wet whirlwinds carry them off across the treetops. She exhaled shakily, the hand on her chin feeling so strong; so divine. And he needn't say another word; trancelike and wanting she rose to her feet, her legs wobbling and rubbery; but she felt strength fill her anew when their lips met again, the fire sparked fresh; the desire renewed.
"I had to away to Emerys to ensure that you never signed it," he said, their noses touching; their hearts beating together, their souls afire. "Because I don't want a loveless marriage. I don't want convenience, I don't want any of that - what I want, what I've wanted since that night we sat together, since the night we made one another smile - is you. It's all I've wanted, Nadia. And if you tell me that I can't have that, that I've ruined that with my stubbornness, with my self-loathing, with my dedication to failing, then I will leave here and never speak with you again. But I will never forget you, or the time we shared, or the love that I let die in my heart."
"I don't want to let that feeling go. Since I saw you, I knew you were different," she admitted tearfully, grasping onto his waist with all her strength, her spine shivering as the leaves whipped up around them. "I've wanted freedom my whole life, but it's only with you I've learned freedom doesn't preclude the touch... the love, of a man," she admitted with a shudder. "In fact, I... I think... it's only with you at my side... I'd ever truly feel free." Their lips met again with all the passion and power in the world; not even in their most passionate moment together had they known this sort of full and freed desire. He swept her into his strong arms, holding her close and warm against the batter of the breeze; and as a cloak of red-orange autumn leaves swirled around them, their lips embraced and their bodies surrendered and they became one another. A sound of soft sobbing interrupted them, their kiss breaking as they looked to roadside to see old James, his suit muddied and lopsided, crying his eyes out at the sight of the two of them embraced and exchanging words of passion.
"She's broken that spell you've been under for so long," James sobbed, the old man's face ruddy. "Ms. Cauthfield and I've wanted nothing more than your happiness for so long, m'lord. To hear those words come from your lips, and to hear them so lovingly reciprocated, from someone so deserving of your affection..." he blubbered. "I can scarcely contain the joy, m'lord."
"James, has Ms. Cauthfield left our service yet?" Marshall asked pensively.
"Oh, come now, m'lord, you know that old witch couldn't ever leave us," James said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Try as you might, m'lord, you'll never be rid of the two of us. She'd never have it, and she certainly will be brimming in pride to take credit for having forced you to confront yourself and realize you needed to make right with Lady Havenshire."
"I'm certain she'll badger me until the end of times about that," Lord Beckham sighed wistfully. His arm slung around his love, he looked down to Nadia, who herself had begun to cry streams of joy.
"I've never truly felt freer, Marshall, than you've helped me be," she admitted.
"Unfortunately, we've some more detritus to attend to, haven't we," Marshall grinned; a single bandit remained knotted down on the side of the road, groaning in pain. Lord Beckham approached the lawless cretin, hoisting him to his feet; as he dragged the man to the carriage, Nadia followed along with an impish smile.
"You've been practicing your fighting and shooting techniques, I would assume," Lady Havenshire teased, "...have you perhaps been practicing your riding techniques, as well?"
"M'lady, Ms. Cauthfield often enjoyed reminding me that love and relationships are about a great many things, one of which is sacrifice and giving to your lover," Lord Beckham responded facetiously, tossing the groaning criminal into the carriage and slamming the door shut, sealing it by placing his rifle across the latches to the door. "Unfortunately, there's one sacrifice I won't make - even for a woman as amazing and as beautiful, as talented and intelligent, and as free as you," he teased.
"Come now, m'lord, was Pierre certainly that difficult a horse to get along with?" Lady Havenshire laughed. "I could teach you, you know. It's not quite too difficult a task. Particularly, I would imagine, for a man capable of trouncing an entire half-dozen bandits with only a long stick to help him."
"A half a dozen bandits couldn't dare stand up to the stubbornness of old Pierre," Lord Beckham grumbled. "I think I'll be riding at the head of the carriage instead. James?" The loyal butler mounted the front bench of the carriage, still wiping tears from his eyes; her smile absolutely infectious, Lady Havenshire hopped upon Shadow's back, sighing in satisfaction as her steed clopped to life excitedly.
"Are we making our way back to the Emerys estate, m'lord?" Nadia asked excitedly.
"No, unfortunately - I feel we have a few stops to make first," Lord Beckham responded.
"Where to, then, m'lord?" James asked, so full of pride at seeing his master broken from the stupor that had afflicted him for so long.
"Well, I'm certain the local sheriff would have quite an earful for these criminals we're hauling, don't you think James?" Lord Beckham asked.
"I think he'd have quite a few things to say to them, indeed," James agreed.
"To the sheriff's then?" Lady Havenshire asked.
"And I think a second stop off - at the church? It's quite lovely for weddings this time of year," Lord Beckham added with a grin. A crack of lightning flashed and thunder followed - the sound of rain striking distant leaves filled the air, and a conspiratorial smirk covered Nadia's face quick.
"I'll race you there," Lady Havenshire responded happily.
"I'm certain you'll win," Marshall quipped.
"As long as we have love, Marshall, we both win," Nadia said.
EPILOGUE
"My love," Lord Beckham said, voice full of concern. He tended to the fire in the Berrewithe Manor study; its warmth radiated out calmly, blanketing the refuge of knowledge, books lined along the walls, a familiar couch set opposite the roaring flames - the couch from the gamekeeper’s cabin, the couch he had spent his first intimate moments with Lady Havenshire upon. After Lord Havenshire passed, Nadia had the cabin demolished - but she could never part with that couch, or the memories of it, and had it carried forthwith to the Berrewithe estate, where she could appreciate it lovingly forever.
"Is something troubling you, Marshall?" Nadia queried, tilting her head in his direction as she lay upon the couch, enjoying the flicker and crackle of the dried-out logs set aflame.
"A great many things trouble me, love, though not necessarily all at once. I miss your father," he recalled painfully as he sat next to her, the old couch creaking beneath them. Reflexively he reached for his lover's stomach, rubbing it gently - he felt the roundness, the firmness beginning to show.
"I miss him, too, my love... but he'd be overjoyed to know soon he'll have a grandchild to carry on the family name... perhaps, if it's a boy, we could even name him for my father," Nadia added, smiling. "...that certainly can't be the only thought troubling you."
"I thought, the other day, on words you shared to me, before we married... of how our marriage, you thought, was meant to relieve my guilt over my... my sister," Marshall admitted painfully. "Perhaps it bore some measure of truth... that is, before I fell in love with you, perhaps, I hoped I could... do a little good, for this world. But I don't know. I don't know if I'll ever live a life worth earning my sister's forgiveness," Lord Beckham lamented, watching the flames of the fireplace leap and lick as his dearest love curled up next to him.
"When I said those things, I didn't quite mean them - or, I did, but I had the wrong ideas about you, m'lord. About your past," she soothed him. "I don't think I'm simply... a tool for you, not anymore."
"No, of course not, but... there's some truth to your words, nonetheless. I've overcome so much from the past, with your help, love," Marshall breathed deeply, that contemplative brooding taking him again, his expression deep and stormy; the way Nadia remembered it being that first night they met. "I broke from hating myself - something I very well may have done for the very rest of my days, if you hadn't come to help me. And for that I can never express anything except endless gratitude."
"I love you, Marshall - of course I wanted to help you find joy, and break the cycle you'd found yourself in," she confided. "Do you feel you haven't gotten past the... terrible things that happened to your sister, because of this world we live in?"
"I just... I miss her, Nadia," Marshall said, sighing deeply. "I've set so much right about this world and this life I live, but... Leah is still somewhere, hurting; hating our family, our name, because of what happened to her. I don't know that that can ever be fixed. If I can ever do anything to earn her love again." A quiet knock on the door interrupted Lord Beckham's introspection; he lofted a brow as loyal James entered the study, speaking in a hushed tone.
"M'lord, I beg your pardon for the interruption, but... well, someone has come to see you..." Lord Beckham looked to Nadia, whose smile brimmed bright and wide.
"Who is it, James?" Lord Beckham asked.
"I think that's something you ought to see for yourself," James grinned, giving a coy wink to Lady Beckham.
"What manner of plot have you concocted between the two of you?" Marshall questioned harshly.
"You expressed angst over whether or not you'll ever have made up to your sister for what happened, hadn't you?" Nadia asked.
"Well... y-yes," Lord Beckham responded, dumbfounded.
"I've spent my time alone sending letters... asking questions to friends of mine, of ours. Looking for names, sending more letters, and..." Nadia reclined on the couch, yawning. "...if you want to know whether your sister has forgiven you, or if she still loves you... perhaps you should ask her yourself." Marshall's eyes widened.
"Wh... what?" Confused, the duke raced down through the hall, down the stairs, and into the foyer, where the doors sat open, light pouring through. The duke at first thought her a dream; a sight he had never expected to see again. Dressed quaintly, in a simple white gown with a blue apron atop it, her blonde hair long and shimmering in the sunlight. Marshall collected himself as best he could; he'd recognize that woman anywhere.
"Hello, Marshall," Leah said, her face bearing a warm smile. "I've missed you."
"Leah," he said, his voice cracking with joy. "...I've missed you too, sister. So much."
"I heard I'll soon be an aunt?" Leah asked embracing her brother, whose eyes filled with tears of joy.
"Yes, Leah, soon," he answered.
"I can't wait."