Ava
Chapter 1
Bampshire, Telliva
“Papa!” I called. Seated at his massive oak desk, I looked over the inventory reports and bills I’d received this morning. I cringed inwardly at the amount of paper I had to review as I sipped my coffee. Papa’s trading business, Barlow’s Barters, had been booming so rapidly lately that I was certain we’d need more help.
Papa walked through the study door, carrying a sandwich in one hand and a glass of lemonade in the other. He was chewing and grinning at me as he took a seat in one of the empty chairs before me, making it squeak.
“I see you’ve been sweet talking Mrs. Reynolds...again,” I said, quirking a brow.
“That woman is a marvel in the kitchen,” Papa replied with a chuckle. “She will bring you lunch in a moment.”
“Thank you,” I murmured, frowning down at the paper I held. “Papa, a trader from Corteneza is charging us way too much on sugarcane; it’s preposterous. We can find someone in Burkmore, or at least someone else in Corteneza.”
“We’ve been dealing with them for nearly two years, Ava. I can’t break long-term relationships so suddenly.” He took another bite of his sandwich.
“Then we renegotiate. This is a competitive business.”
He nodded. “As you wish, my dear. Draw up new terms, and we’ll skim through them together.”
“I’ll also consider some other traders, just as a back-up,” I added.
He raised his glass. “You never go without a back-up, my dear, in anything.”
I nodded. Papa was right. After being sent to the orphanage without a say, I had a need to control what I could.
Our butler entered the room, carrying a large box. “Lady Ava, the item you requested from the attic.”
“Wonderful, thank you, Brooks,” I replied, moving papers aside for him to set it down.
“Would there be anything else, my Lady?” Brooks drawled in a monotone voice.
I shook my head. “No, that’ll be it, thank you.”
Wiping the box of dust, I sighed. It had been three years since I'd been detained in the orphanage, and despite spending four years there, everything from that time was right before me, wrapped in worn cardboard and years of dust. Mixed memories filled this box, happy and glum; the doleful ones were the reason I hid them away in the attic. I didn’t want to reminisce and needed closure.
“Why did you have the box brought down, my dear?” Papa asked.
“Henry and Sarah asked me to bring some of the stories I wrote for them today,” I replied.
I’d seen to it the twelve children from the orphanage came with me to Bampshire. They lived in a newly-furnished orphanage, thanks to Papa’s pocketbook, where I could appraise their well-being and schooling. The idea of deserting them had made me anxious when I was sent back home.
“Tell the little lads I’ll bring them fishing next week if they have a mind to go,” Papa commented.
I skimmed through stacks of miscellaneous papers and peered up at him. “Then you better be ready because you already know they’ll all have a mind to go.” I laughed, returning my focus to my belongings. Old stories, drawings of stick people with families. I smiled as every single one brought back a recollection of each child. Each one so unique, each one wanting something different.
Opening up another piece of paper, I stiffened. Waves of nostalgia filtered through my memory, and I reclined in the chair. I’d read and studied this letter so many times, I knew it by heart. The message sent me into despair and confusion. I reread it like it was the first time I’d seen it.
Lady Ava,
This letter is to inform you that the agreed terms of our engagement have been annulled. You may return home to live your life as you please. Best wishes.
Sincerely,
His Royal Highness, George Brandon
While the world saw our engagement, George and I had a confidence of our own. We’d arranged to break our betrothal when I turned eighteen, to save us both. Our agreement had protected me from a loveless and selfish marriage, and George from the opportunist, Lady Natalie Dawson, who was fourteen years his senior.
I glanced up and provided a weak smile. “I found George’s letter.”
Papa sat quietly for a moment, setting down his plate. “You kept it?” I nodded, folding the letter back up. “He didn’t do it to hurt your feelings,” Papa assured me. “It was to keep you from harm.”
I know why he created the note, but it didn’t make the soreness of my emotions go away. The foreign way George spoke to me in that letter had taken me aback. It was as though I’d imagined it all.
“I know now, Papa,” I replied.
Papa leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Yet you still look rattled from it, three years later.”
“No.”
“You are; it’s written all over your face,” Papa indicated.
I brought a hand to my cheek, as if it would wipe away any inkling that Papa was right. I had every right to be rattled by it. My best friend hadn’t contacted me for seven years, save for this letter.
“Papa, I’m fine,” I said firmly. “I promise. It’s not as though I haven’t any friends here.” I stood up, keeping a few stories on the desk and closing the box. “And speaking of friends, Eve is meeting me at the orphanage, so I must be off. Please tell Mrs. Reynolds there’s no need to bring me lunch.” I rounded the desk and placed a small kiss on Papa’s shiny head. “See you at dinner.”
I walked toward the door, then immediately turned around when I realized that I’d forgotten the stories. Reaching over Papa, I retrieved them and planted another kiss on his head.
“Have a good day, Papa!” I called, walking out into the foyer. Taking my lavender shawl off the coat rack, I wrapped it snug around my shoulders. I put the stories in my dress pocket and made for the door.
Warm spring air brushed my skin as I hopped down the four steps to the sideway. The familiar sounds of birds singing and wheels rattling off cobblestone streets filtered through the breeze. I put my hand in my dress pocket, feeling for the crisp edges of the letter; the one from George. It may have brought back sour memories, but it created some comfort for me because it was still the last piece of him I had left.
∞∞∞
“He does it on purpose, Ava,” Eve growled as we left the orphanage. “He tries to vex me every chance he gets. When I say ‘draw,’ he makes paper swans. When I say ‘Henry, we need to read,’ he pretends to forget the words. Are you sure you didn’t mean to leave him back at the other orphanage?”
I let out a soft gasp, placing my hand on my chest. “Why, Evelyn Pratt, that is the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say!”
Eve raised a brow and rolled her eyes. “Don’t over-exaggerate, first of all. Secondly, that’s not the meanest thing you’ve heard me say. Why, I remember saying, just last week, that Lady Josephine better start glancing in a mirror from time to time, lest men identify her as a man with that mustache she’s displaying.”
I burst into fits of laughter and held my stomach to try and control them.
“You’re truly horrible,” I told her. “When Henry acts up, he wants attention. That means he likes you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “He makes me feel blessed that I am an only child.”
We passed the only bakery in town and my stomach growled, making me regret not eating lunch.
“I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “The girls love you. Harriet loves when you sing to her, and Sarah says she wants to be you when she grows up.” I noticed Eve smile. “I couldn’t teach them all by myself, so thank you.”
Eve patted me on the back. “No, thank Femme Fatale for me, because she gave me the patience to deal with the little…darlings.”
I chuckled. “Oh yes, I thank my lucky constellations for you every day, Eve. Who else would have taught me how to summon a man with a fan?”
“You’re an ungrateful brat, Ava Barlow,” Eve grumbled with a smirk. “I heard that Madame Gray’s boutique has new colored fabric and patterns. I think we should stop there first.”
I groaned. “So she can charge us a horse and carriage for something we could easily buy at Mr. Ryan’s shop?”
“She makes sophisticated gowns and lingerie for ladies of our—”
“Just because her name has ‘Madame’ in front of it,” I interrupted, “doesn’t mean her dresses are exclusive. They are expensive.”
Eve huffed and pushed a strand of golden hair behind her ear. “Fine, we’ll go to Mr. Ryan’s.” She scoffed. “But I warn you, I will complain the whole time if he doesn’t have what I need.”
“Who are you trying to impress so much?” I probed. If Eve were interested in someone of the opposite sex, it would be a miracle. She was beyond the word picky.
“Sadly, none,” she admitted. “Every man in Bampshire is an absolute bore.” She hushed and tugged on my sleeve. “Speaking of a bore, but a handsome one, look who’s coming our way.”
I glanced up to see Lord Owen Ashton walking across the narrow street toward us, his young daughter, Emma, in tow. I inhaled a sharp breath, bracing myself for an awkward conversation. Lord Ashton didn’t know how to hold a two-sided discussion very well.
“Ladies!” he greeted. “Good morning to you both. I hope we aren’t interrupting your outing, but Emma wanted to see you, Lady Ava.”
“Morning, Lord Ashton,” Eve replied. “And to you, little Miss Emma.” Emma curtsied in her soft yellow dress, blonde curls encompassing her face.
I crouched myself to Emma’s level. “How are you today, my Lady?”
Emma smiled, opening her mouth. “I lost a tooth, Lady Ava,” she said proudly.
“You sure did.” I grinned. “How did you lose it?”
“I tripped,” she said nonchalantly.
I muffled a laugh and looked up at Lord Ashton. “You must wrap her up in something soft, so she doesn’t scuff up her pretty face, my Lord.”
Lord Ashton chuckled deeply and nodded. “Very fine advice. The little thing didn’t come with an instruction booklet, so I’m afraid I’ve been learning everything by trial and error.”
“You are doing a fine job, Lord Ashton,” Eve reassured as she evaluated Emma. “Are you attending the LaRou’s anniversary party, my Lord?” she continued sweetly as I inwardly cringed. He looked down at Emma for a moment, and I stood, pinching my traitorous friend’s arm. Her squeal brought Ashton’s attention back, moving his chin length hair from his face.
“I am,” he finally said. “Will the both of you be in attendance?”
“We are on our way to Mr. Ryan’s shop right now to pick out a gown,” Eve noted. Lord Ashton directed his attention at me again, and I gave him a tight smile.
“Then I won’t keep you ladies from your shopping,” he concluded, holding his hand out for Emma to take.
“But Pa, I want to go with Lady Ava,” Emma pleaded.
Lord Ashton looked down at his daughter. “Maybe another time. Lady Ava and Lady Evelyn have plenty to do today. We must not keep them.”
Emma pouted, and I remembered doing the same thing when I wanted to change Papa’s mind.
“I promise, another time,” I told Emma. She gave me a tiny smile and nodded.
“Have a fun time, ladies,” Lord Ashton said, his brown eyes falling on me. I watched him walk away, and when he was out of earshot, I rounded on Eve.
“You don’t need to set me up, Eve. I think I’m perfectly capable of finding myself a husband.”
“You need a little push,” she stated with no remorse.
“You practically threw us together,” I accused.
Eve shot an annoyed glance over her shoulder as she started back down the sidewalk. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Are you going to propose for him too?”
“If it will get you out of your house, then absolutely. Start living your life, Ava. You were cooped up in that blasted orphanage for four years. Flirt, be reckless. We have to have fun before our looks fade and no man glances our way.”
“I’m not getting married anytime soon,” I grumbled. “I was ‘engaged’ most of my childhood.”
Eve sent me a mischievous look. “Who said anything about getting married?”
“That seems to be your diabolical plan.”
“You misunderstand me,” Eve went on, touching my forearm. “I want you to have fun. Do you know what that is, fun? It’s when you have a good time, talk to people, and laugh. You must leave your past behind. It’s over.”
Those words repeated in my mind throughout the day. It was over. I was nineteen years old and in the prime of my life. This was a new chapter. I had a new beginning. This time, I would write my own story.
∞∞∞
Eve and I arrived back home, after hours of Eve trying on dresses. My feet hurt, and my stomach growled with hunger. Mr. Brooks opened the door for us on cue, wearing his emotionless façade. He had been in our family since before I was born, and I’d never seen him crack a smile, despite my efforts.
“Oh Brooks, would you be so kind as to ask Mrs. Reynolds to make us some lunch?” Eve asked with a sweetened tone, handing him her pink shawl.
“Stay for dinner,” I told her. “Mrs. Reynolds serves it around six.”
Eve grumbled. “I can’t wait that long.”
I rolled my eyes. “Brooks, what time is it?”
He pulled out a pocket watch, glancing down briefly at it. “Half past four, my Lady,” he replied stonily.
“I can’t wait that long,” Eve repeated.
I scowled. “You can wait,” I replied, starting up the glossy oak staircase on my way to my room. “Let’s go figure out how we’ll wear our hair.”
Eve mumbled. “You’d just let your best friend starve to death. You’re cold, Barlow.”
“There is a gentleman in Lord Barlow’s study that is here to see you, my Lady,” Brooks announced. I stopped mid-step, almost to the top of the stairs, and turned around.
“Who?” I inquired.
“I am unaware. However, your father is with him now.”
“A gentleman?” Eve replied with a smirk. I shrugged and descended the stairs.
“You couldn’t have said anything prior to me climbing the stairs, Brooks?” I teased. Brooks stood there, emotionless. “Or not.”
“Who did you invite?” Eve asked, excitement in her voice.
“I didn’t invite anyone.” I headed for the door, placing my ear against it.
“Does the other voice sound familiar to you?” Eve whispered.
“Can’t hear through this thick door,” I mumbled.
“One way to find out.”
I placed my hand on the knob and pushed the door open. Locating Papa immediately, I saw him behind his desk holding a glass of brandy, and his apprehensive eyes locked with mine. A man sat casually in front of him, slim build, sandy blond hair, and tattered clothes. He had his leg propped on one of his knees while he slouched in the chair.
“Papa,” I coaxed, walking deeper into the room. Judging by the look in Papa’s eyes, something wasn’t right, and my defenses went up. Papa’s mouth opened slightly, but he closed it when the stranger stood, towering over me. He turned to walk in my direction, and I clenched my fists. My guard was certainly up, and I blamed it all on that night at the orphanage.
The man stepped closer. He looked tired, displaying a few days’ growth of beard beneath a pointed nose. My gaze travelled up, noticing lake blue eyes and that’s when I saw it—a pale scar hovered over his left eyebrow.
I stilled. I remembered that scar. I was the one who had caused that familiar mark, over a decade ago. It was impossible. There was no way he could be here. He wouldn’t just show up, unannounced or without warning.
Yes, he would.
I forced myself to not daze off into memories. The man, who now stood only feet away from me, smiled, and my eyes narrowed.
“George?” I choked out in a low voice.