Angel of Ash (19 page)

Maria and Ethan shared looks; already Angel had fully settled herself into their hearts.

The trip to her aunt’s home was spent in companionable silence as Angel’s mind wandered towards the pain of last night, the pain still upon her today. Remembering her cries, she bit her lip, wandering as to why Asher, how he could be so callous. Hunter’s words hunted Angel. But yet, she had not wanted to believe them. In such a short time she had fallen head over heels in love with a man who thought nothing of her.

The very thought distressed her already badly abused heart. But yet, she could not rest the blame fully in Asher’s court because somehow, the fault must lay within her own body. There was something inside her that Asher had found little use of or for.

The sounds of the carriage played havoc, the lumber of the wheels seemed to echo the words, ‘love lost’ repeatedly until Angel wanted to scream, to silence their mocking cry with hands placed firmly over her shell like ears.

Frowning, fidgeting, she tightened already tightly laced fingers, closed already clenched eyes, bit an already red lip.

“Angel, dear, whatever is amiss?” A voice asked from the depths of her misery.

Shaking her head, she frowned. She truly did feel ill, her head hurt, there was intense pain behind her eyes, she felt at once hot and cold, as sweat propped above her eyebrows. However, Angel, brave, unwilling to place any blame upon another, least of all the man she had given her heart to, pretended to feel well, pretended for pretension’s sake when inside she felt aloft, adrift, floating aimlessly upon a sea of dark reckoning, he was not to love her, it was not her time to be young, in love…to be happy.

“My lady, forgive my long, dark silences, I fear I have grown weary of traveling, why, I have traveled more in the past few months than my entire life. I shall soon get over it,” she discreetly brought her kerchief to her forehead, blotting away the sweat, blotting away the all to recent memories of being rebuffed, rejected.

Neither Ethan nor Maria, parents of too long, believed her lies, barely visible perhaps, were a smidgen on truth. The parents shared a look which spoke volumes, Maria would speak to her, once alone and then inform Angel’s aunt of her troubles, whatever they may be.

They pretended to accept her excuse and spoke quietly amongst their selves for the remaining trip, until, at last, with utter relief from Angel, the carriage encircled the driveway before stopping in front, people waiting for the visitors.

She would know her aunt because Angel saw her father in her aunt’s kind face, her own lips and narrow nose. She hesitantly smiled as Ethan escorted the two ladies out, her aunt uncommonly kind for doing such a thing. Someone as high in the society as a duchess never waited upon others, others waited upon her.

Next to her aunt Angel, the elder, was her husband, a duke, a middle aged, slightly portly, with a high, receding hair line but with kind brown eyes and a warm and welcoming smile. Next to him, were his sons, two, one Angel’s own age, the other, two years younger, twenty one, the heir and spare.

They made their way with all due diligence, as her aunt Angel presented the greetings. She had met Ethan and Maria before, as had her husband. She welcomed them before turning her eyes towards her namesake, this beautiful exotic woman with her father’s feature and kind but sad eyes.

“My dear, Angel,” she spoke, smiling, showing teeth, one incisor slightly crooked, her lips as full as her niece. Wrapping her in warm arms, she hugged her fiercely, before letting her go, turning towards her husband.

“This is the Duke of York,” she stated. “And his two sons: Lord Henry and Lord Devlin,” she said as Angel circumspectly curtseyed before the gentleman as Harry decided that they could and would acquaint inside their large, warm and hospitable manor home, as the servants stood in docile in a neat and orderly line, bowing or curtsying as Angel, Maria and Ethan passed.

“I so have longed to see my dear niece,” Aunt Angel said, once they had ensconced their selves in a semi-formal drawing room, she immediately ringing for refreshments as everyone sat down.

Aunt Angel and her husband, Henry sat on each side of Angel, upon a drawing couch, while Maria and Ethan sat immediately across and Henry and Devlin sat on either side of the couch.

Angel felt apprehensive among these people; they were extremely formal, even though her aunt did grace Angel with a kind smile.

“Thank you, my grace,” Angel returned, offering her own smile.

They were interrupted by servants a second later whom escorted refreshments of tea, scones, fruit and cookies.

Conversation was kept among impersonal subjects, the men more than dominating the small tete a tet, Henry, the elder, seemingly decided that if it wasn’t his opinion than no one’s was important.

“Well, yes,” Henry blustered, his face slightly flushing at the talk. “It would well seem to me as if the America’s could use more of England’s good exports. That blasted colony, by far, has turned its’ very people upon its’ ear.”

Angel bit her lip; it would not do for her to argue with her aunt’s husband, no matter how wrong he may be.

“Oh, do, Henry, let us speak of more light subjects, please, sir,” Aunt Angel returned, pouring her niece another cup of tea. “Do remember that you promised me a turn in London, during the Season and to be our escort.”

“And when did I promise you such a horrid thing?” Henry returned horridly as his sons pretended ignorance.

“Why this very morning once I reminded you of Angel’s visit. You cannot expect such a young, beautiful lady to stay cooped inside this great monstrosity of a home with us old folks, do you? And, your sons are returning to school, tomorrow, what is she to do during her time here, if not go to the London Season.”

Henry wanted to argue, Angel could see, harrumphing to himself, but he could not, without looking unkind. “Yes, yes, well, I guess that will be alright. A short visit,” he stated.

“You promised one month.”

“One month!” Henry exclaimed. “In the horrid London city, my dear, you must simiply-”

Aunt Angel interrupted, glancing at her husband. “Please, dear?” She asked, smiling at him, a truly beautiful woman. Henry was lost; he knew that and finally, nodded, losing himself in her eyes.

“One month, then, my dear Angel, and not a moment longer.”

“Well, then it’s settled. We can leave with the boys in two days, since they also travel to London. Oh, what a ball we shall have, Angel, the first thing to do is to see a dressmaker to have you outfitted in the latest designs.”

Maria and Ethan took this time to excuse their selves, standing up. “Well, than it is settled. However, you must excuse us, my lord and lady, my wife and I must return to our daughter and our new born grandson, quickly, before it becomes late.”

Everyone stood, nodding at Ethan’s words. “Yes, of course, Lord Hawthorne,” Henry said. “And thank you, for bringing my wife’s niece to us. And how is your daughter, does she and the child fair well?”

It was Maria who nodded. “Splendidly, and thank you for your concern, your grace, but please, we must be off.”

Aunt Angel fluttered about, smiling, warm, speaking of the regret upon their departure so soon after their arrival. She found herself pulled to the side by Maria, who whispered quickly in her ear, as everyone else walked towards the front doors.

“My lady, please, do watch over the young Angel. Something is amiss with her and she has not confided in me, nor either my daughter, Hunter. I worry about her…I am sure she is homesick.”

The elder Angel nodded, patting Maria’s arm reassuringly. “Rest assured, my lady, I shall see over her as if she was my own child.”

Maria nodded, smiling. “Thank you and perhaps I shall see you soon?”

“
Of course.”

After their leaving, Angel was escorted into the drawing room with her aunt and her husband, the two young men, making excuses as to their packing, leaving her alone.

“Dear Angel,” her aunt started, sitting down and motioning for Angel to. “Please, how does your father fare?” She began.

“Oh, wonderful,” Angel begin, even though she still felt sick, still felt horrid on the inside. “He sends his love, my grace,” she said, smiling softly and smoothing imaginary wrinkles in her clothing.

“I have missed him dreadfully,” she exclaimed, staring off into space for a moment, her eyes unfocused. “Our youth was so fun, truly it was, and we ran wild in the country. I have long resigned myself to adulthood, but every once and again, a pang of what I had long since left pulls upon my heartstrings.”

“Oh, do, dear, really, you have been well out of your youth for quite some time.” Henry said, slightly sarcastic before turning towards Angel. “Excuse your aunt; she grows more and more sentimental.”

Angel noticed the pained look her aunt shot her husband.

“As for you, my young lady, as my wife has since reminded me, we are to be off in two days hence, so I see no reason for you to unpack your many suitcases. And have no need of your clothing, you will be dressed in the best finery, I will not have your father say that I have treated his daughter horridly upon her visitation in my home. However, I will not contain the slightest hint of disobedience, or impropriety, young ms. You are to treat yourself with the decorum due to this family. Is that understood?”

Angel nodded. “Yes, my lord,” she said forcefully, “of course.”

Henry immediately turned towards his wife. “Now, my love, are you happy, we shall go to that blasted London, to show your niece around.”

“And I do thank you, my lord,” she said.

“All shall fare well,” Henry replied. “I see that you are a respectful young lady, no matter an American. You may have your aunt show you your rooms, ms.”

They nodded, the ladies stood, while Angel was escorted from the room. The walk upstairs was in silence before her aunt finally spoke, once at Angel’s door. “You must do understand my husband, he is a very fine man, I could not ask for a wonderful husband. Slightly stern, but underneath it absolutely wonderful. But do, for now, rest, you look quite tired and put out, my niece, would you like a respite sent to your room, everyone will understand if you are excused from supper.”

Angel nodded. “Yes, please, my lady.”

Patting Angel on the hand, her aunt offered a small smile. “I do hope you enjoy your stay here, my niece, I shall have maids up for a bath. England is far different from America…and yet, also the same. We are all bound by rules…laws…societal norms. You are a beauty; you look so much like your mother. We were all so young and wild once upon a time ago…so many years ago. Although I am saddened by her death, it is a joyous occasion that she still lives on in you. She was my closest friend. I wished that her and Michael, your father, had a regular life. They deserved it more than any other. I have never encountered a love such as theirs…and I do believe I will not witness such again.”

Angel was taken aback by her aunt’s kind words and hugged her impetuously; it had been so long since she’d had motherly attention. Her aunt returned the hug, holding aunt for long moments before slowly pulling away, holding on to her arms and staring into her beautiful gray eyes. “I so want you to enjoy yourself. I owe your mother as such. You are my family, Angel.”

“
Thank you,” Angel returned, before stepping into her room, her aunt kissing her on the forehead before escorting Angel into her rooms. When they finished the tour, her aunt once again hugged her closely before leaving Angel alone.

Closing her eyes wearily, Angel leaned against the door, yawning, she wanted so badly to crawl underneath the covers and did not understand why she was so fatigued.

The pain from Asher’s rejection still ate away at her…it hurt; it seemed, to try to smile, to speak to others, when inside of her mind, body and heart everything was torn asunder. Angel had never felt so overwhelmed by such dark emotions in her entire life...this pain bordered upon the pain she had at her mother’s death, the fear of never knowing her father, the hatred she had for Lair.

Placing her hand wearily against her head, she sat heavily in the chair nearest the door, ignoring her trunks. Tears escaped her eyes, remembering the scene from last night, how Asher had walked away from her, how he had ignored her cries, ignored her pain, ignored her love.

Trying to stifle the sobs that drew out of her mouth uncontrollably, Angel barely managed to run to the basin where she threw up, her skin was clammy, she felt horrible. She knew that she was sick and would not be able to stay awake for the maids. Sinking into the bed, she placed a cool towel over her face and fell into a dark and frightening sleep.

Waking with a gasp, Angel sat up in bed, sweat pouring down her body. It was unbearably hot as Angel noticed a fire burning in the grill. However, she did not feel as sick as she had and heard the tell-tale chime of a clock downstairs. It was late, well after two in the morning. One of her trunks had been unpacked, the other two sat neatly next to the door.

She had not heard anyone enter or leave her room and frowned that someone, more than likely a maid, had been in there without her knowledge. Sighing, she braced herself before standing a wave of dizziness erupting over her body before retreating back into nothingness. Her first trip was to the windows which she opened wide, a small balcony outside her room which she stepped off. It was quiet and dark outside, not too far away, a storm was gathering, the sky cloudy and thunder heard from the distant west.