Roses and Flames

Chapter 4

Patrick was coming home!

These four simple words could put her heart in such a scandalous overdrive, Ambrosia would have never thought so. Ambrosia put a hand over her heart and then feeling its frenzied beat at the thought of his name. How long had she been waiting for his return? Very nearly six years now. He had gone to Edinburgh when she was still in schoolroom and she had been planning for this day ever since then.

Ambrosia had been sure that after finishing his education he was nearly going to come for her sake. He would come back for her some day. Some day she would be able to hear his light running step on the front boards on the hallway. He would shout a welcome to Jenkins, their butler like he always did when he would come back home and make a joyful enquiry about her father. Here would be certainly an answering welcome call at the head of the stairs for her father would be eager to know what had his ward made of himself, just like she was eager to know that.

With Anastasia leaving with her millionaire American even before she had gone out in the season at the ton, it was bound to make ripples. And Father had not waited to make sure that she had her name linked with that of the Duke of Mayburry this year. It was two years since Anastasia had gone. It was the most exciting story that was discussed in the ton. That the diamond of first water of the season was gone and had been snatched away by a millionaire even before she was out in the society.

It was a shame that Anastasia had been widowed so soon after her marriage even before she had a child and that she was now coming back home. Ambrosia sighed at the thought, even though it was saddening she knew that she was glad to see her twin come back home. And she was almost certain that this time she was not going to have to take any older lady, especially Lady Lisbeth, their unmarried aunt to the balls.

A lot had changed in the past couple of years. Their Mother dearest, the Lady of the house had suddenly fallen ill one day and she had been shifted to the country manor as soon as the doctor had confirmed that she had consumption. She had suffered and paled within the month and then Mother was nothing like she had been earlier. She had started coughing up blood and the doctor had pronounced that her days were numbered.

She had died within a few night after that. Ambrosia sighed at the thought of her mother suffering this fate. And her sister getting widowed at twenty-one. Death plagued their family like a pair of blood hounds. But that was not what she should be thinking about now.

After the greetings were done, things would return to the same way that they always had been. They would sit in the parlour together and in the garden and she would force him to accompany her to all the parties and balls and routs, which would be less tedious if Patrick was there to talk to, to dance with and protect from the marital ambitions of other girls and their ambitious mamas. Of course until now she had only seen this from afar as a younger one since her parents were invited to every single one of the parties.

When they were younger it was Anastasia who was more interested in talking to all people and played dolls and house with friends and while Ambrosia was the one who had more interest in keeping her nose buried in the books and literature. And now it has become completely opposite altogether. She was the one who had to become the Lady of the house. And another sigh escaped her throat.

Her thoughts swum back to Patrick. At the end of the season he would return with them to the country. There, they would walk in the orchard and run down the path to the little pond to watch the birds and the animals and lying down on the rugs that he was going to carry while she would carry the picnic baskets which she would pack with her own hands, not trusting the cook to reserve her choicest morsels for a man who was truly not theirs.

As if to reinforce the thought, Mrs. Locker cleared her throat from the doorway behind her.” Lady Ambrosia, would you not be more comfortable in the morning room? There is a chill down the hall. If there are guests then…”

“It would be more seemly to be found there?” Ambrosia said with a sigh.

“If his Grace were to come…”

“But he is not the one who is expected, Lockheed, as you know fully well.”

The housekeeper gave a slight sniff of disapproval.

Ambrosia turned to her, putting aside her girlish excitement. Though on twenty, she was the mistress of the house and she was going to be obeyed. “I shall hear none of that from you or from any other staff of the house. Doctor Thorne is as much as member of the family as I am or as Anastasia is. Perhaps more so. Father took him from the foundling home full three years before I or Ana was even born. He has been a member of the house since the very first day and since my first memory and will continue to be so.. he is the only brother that I shall have.”

Of course it has been quite some time while she had considered Patrick her brother. Without even thinking she touched her lips. Locker’s eyes slightly narrowed as she noticed the gesture. For a moment Ambrosia considered making a diplomatic retreat from the living room. Her behavior would be then less obvious to the servants. But what message would it send to Patrick if he were to be treated by her like an ordinary guest??

She bowed her head as though she had considered the wisdom of her housekeeper’s suggestion and then acceded. She said,” You are right. There is a draught. If you could bring me a shawl then I shall be fine. And I shall not pace about before the window. For it will be a lot more comfortable on the bench beneath the stairs.” From there she could see the front door quite well, yet be invisible to the one who entered. Her appearance would be a sudden and pleasant surprise.

As she passed it, she glanced at the hallway mirror straightening her hair and her gown, smoothing her curls and fluffling her ruffles. Would Patrick find her pretty? OR the fact that she was now no longer the little girl that he had seen the last time he was here. That she was now a grown up woman. The Duke of Mayburry had proclaimed her as the most beautiful one at the Alstair’s and a diamond of the first water. It was the title which was reserved for her sister, but since she was not here, it was Ambrosia who had received all that compliments.

But he was so easy with his compliments that she sometimes doubted the fact if he was even sincere. His manners would have required him to say as such, once he had set his sights upon her.

In the same situation, of course, Patrick would have offered no false flattery. He might have pronounced her as attractive. If she had begged for him to be more loose with his compliments then he would have accused her of being vain and then named several young women he found a lot more prettier than her.

Then he would have eased the sting by telling her that she was fair enough and that too for a humble man. He would say that for a humble man like himself, she was like a vision from heaven. Then he would smile at her to prove that they both understood each other. And his compliment would make all other suitors look pale and unworthy. Even the handsome Duke of Mayburry.

But he had no chance to make such observations, because he had not come back for her first season. He had gone straight from the university to the Navy. It had been several years since. She had spent ages scoring the newspapers for information about his ship and taking care of the sort of woman that she had grown into. She had crossed the days of the calendar and told herself each December that next year the wait would be over.

He would come home and she would be ready for him.

But the only contact from Patrick in all these years had been a terse letter for her father that he had outlined his plans to take position on Marianna.

And he had written not a word to her since the day that he had left. She had not even heard of his appointment as a ship’s surgeon until after he had set sail. There had been no chance to reason him to a safer plan. He was gone and that was that.

Two years of dragging her feet had kept her in the marriage mart. The first year had been too odd for her to accept any proposals since it was the year her mother left them and everyone understood her grief and let her be. Just like she wished. Even father did not tell her to get married but he said that this year when he got the news of the death of his first son in law, he could not wait any longer for her to get married.

And like she always had, she told that she would accept his offer when the time came. When he got down on one knee, she would not refuse.

And Ambrosia knew that she died a little on the inside.