LADY ARAMINA EMBRY BRUSHED her hair. Slow strokes that made her ginger hair thicker with every move. Then taking pins, and everything she had learnt of hair and how to style it, she fashioned a braided low bun in her hair. With slender fingers, she pulled out her bags and soft curls to frame her face. It seemed ridiculous to her now, all those hours in front of a looking glass with a maid designing her hair to look almost unreal. She had loved that though, adored all those looks that made her appear so regal— but she loved this too.
Running her hands over her skirts, Aramina exited Grandma Cass' room and walked out to the sitting room. Though the days in this house had been a blur, they were a blur of comfort. But Aramina still yearned for the faces she was used to. She yearned to see her cousin, his wife— people who wouldn't see her as this burden or a target on their backs.
It was an evil claim, for neither Philip nor his Grandma had ever motioned to such a bearing for her, but Aramina couldn't help her rapid thoughts and her anxious heart.
Philip was seated in the sitting room and he sensed her coming in as she did. His head lifted, grey irises met hers, and then immediately looked away, skittish, anxious.
He had healed completely now, aside from some solitary bandages on leftover cuts and bruises— on his arm, his face.
"How are you feeling?" Aramina managed, not knowing what to say to him or how to say what she wanted to him anymore. It was as though words were just mere leaves in the wind in front of him— and nobody cared for wandering leaves with no purpose.
"I— I feel fine," He answered with that slight initial stutter that plagued him whenever he spoke to her for the first time in a day.
Aramina wondered what went through his head when he looked at her, or talked to her. Did he get anxious like her? Did his heart beat erratically when they spoke? Did butterflies infiltrate his chest like they plagued hers? Would he say if she asked him?
"And you?" Philip swallowed, glancing at her elegantly standing physique.
She pressed her lips and looked away. Her letter to her cousin had seemingly not reached him, or she'd have an indication by now. She missed what was left of her family. She worried about them so much she'd toss and turn in Grandma Cass' room at night— pressing her palm at her mouth to stifle her sobs while her body rocked violently in anguish.
"I feel—," She broke off, willing composure, "I feel like surviving isn't enough for me anymore."
Philip looked at her, confusion twisting away at his features.
"When you first brought me here," She started, eyes pinned elsewhere, "I thought it was enough for me, that I should be glad for it."
"But it isn't," She spun to face him. "I'm forever grateful to you and your grandmother, but I've spent days that I refuse to count— away from the people I love the most in life."
"And it's ebbing away at me," Aramina choked on a sob, "It's eating me away and it's made me realize that I'm just not cut out for merely surviving. I want the people I had, the things I had, to live."
Philip got up, his grey eyes pinned to hers in understanding, patience.
"I know," She flinched away slightly, "I know how it sounds to you. I'm some prissy London high society girl who lives in a material world. But, its just the way I am. I am the crate I was born into, and it will always be my home."
He reached out a hand to her, and she looked at it with glassy eyes as he touched her elbow. Their eyes met.
"It's alright," Philip spoke, his rusty voice lower, trying to calm her down. "It's alright."
Footsteps sounded and Grandma Cass entered the sitting room, a smile on her face that caught for a second, before melting into an expression of bliss at the sight before her.
Philip instantly let his hand down, and Aramina cleared her throat, quickly rubbing off the tears that had become rogue and escaped her eyes.
"Good morning," Philip's grandmother spoke softly approaching them both. "Is everything alright, dears?
Philip glanced towards Aramina, as though he would rather do anything else than pretend to someone else that Aramina was alright when she wasn't.
"Yes," Aramina hastened, "I just— I'll be alright."
Grandma Cass gave her a soft pat at her back.
"You miss your people," The old woman spoke, "Anyone can see that."
"I do," Aramina nodded, voice barely above a whisper.
A pause followed then as Grandma Cass suddenly clapped her palms together.
"Then you will talk about them, my dear," She let out, "You sit here and you tell me all about them as if they were in the room. You introduce them to me, so we can miss them together until you are back in their arms."
Aramina Embry's lips parted slightly as she observed the old woman, she had already sat herself down on the sofa and patted the space next to her.
Aramina took it quietly.
"And you, Philip dear," The old woman looked to her standing grandson, "Get started on making breakfast, will you?"
"Yeah," Philip nodded, making his way to the close kitchen.
Grandma Cass turned to look at Aramina, an expecting expression on her face.
"I miss my aunt," Aramina started softly, though she was sure her voice could be heard by even the mice in the walls, seeing as this house was always so quiet.
"She's my father's sister. She's been in my life as long as I can remember."
The old woman smiled, encouraging Aramina to go on.
"She lives in Bakewell, and she believes only an earthquake of the monstrous kind would compel her move to anywhere else," Aramina giggled slightly, the image of her aunt scrunching her face at the mention of a London ball, Aramina had brought up in conversation one time.
"Though we were in London," Aramina continued.
"She often came to see us, sent me gifts for my birthdays, and for every holiday. After my mother left—" she broke off, not wanting to emphasize on that particular subject. "Aunt's attentions grew more desperate and fonder. She begged father to leave London behind and for us to come live with her, but father, as much as he loved her, always refused."
"Then my father— died. And then left alone, there was nothing more I wanted then to run to Bakewell to be with her. But the situation with my mother's brother restricted me. I didn't want to trouble my aunt with my issues. So I went to Jack."
Grandma Cass placed her delicate and veiny hand on top of Aramina's, and the warmth of it was like a balm to her soul.
"I miss witnessing my aunt's enthusiasm for life. She's so bright. She thinks she is the most wisest woman in England, and sometimes, I like to believe that she is. I miss the love in her eyes, I miss the way she spoils me with her attention and affection. I miss how she arranges for stewed prunes at every ball she hosts even though none of the guests ever touch them."
Grandma Cass chuckled slightly, as Aramina paused briefly, a fond smile on her lips.
"And Jack?" She continued, "He is the only hero after my father that I've ever had in life. When I went to him, he was bent on protecting me. He'd do anything for me, just like I for him. I miss that about him. I miss his protectiveness over me. I miss how when he and my aunt are in the same room with me, I feel like if I were to follow my father, I'd leave the world in so much bliss."
A tear had streaked down Lady Aramina Embry's cheek and she only realized it as Grandma Cass' finger reached to gently wipe it away. She pulled her in a hug, and Aramina obliged, shutting her eyes tight and feeling her comfort wash over herself though her heart writhed in anguish.
She opened her eyes to see Philip standing there with a dish in his hands. He had made an omelette, though how quick he had made it and how long he had been standing there was unclear to Aramina.
She hadn't ever really opened up to Philip about her aunt or Jack, or her father, for that matter. She didn't believe she could, because conversing with his grandmother was much easier than speaking to him.
Suddenly, heavy pounding sounded on the door and everyone paused, scared eyes flashing to the door.
As if struck by lightening, Philip quickly tossed the plate of omelette on the sitting room table and made his way to the door to listen in.
The pounding continued, small pauses that led to heavier fists slamming against the wood door. Aramina's heart skipped beats she couldn't keep track of, she gripped Grandma Cass' hand, squeezing it slightly. The voices outside were of men, angry and annoyed, impatient and sly. And Lady Aramina Embry didn't have to look at their faces or ask them why they were here to know that she had been found out. Her mind offered no comfort, thoughts rushed like wind, yet she didn't see a way out of this.
Philip came back in, his eyes mildly panicked, his stance light and steps calm. He looked at his grandmother and then his eyes found Aramina's.
"We have to get out of here," He spoke, and the floor seemed to tilt beneath Aramina's feet.
They got up, and Philip motioned to the kitchen. "Hide in there with grandma. I'll reel them in and we escape behind their backs."
"Where do we go?" Aramina whispered.
He stilled slightly, eyes still bearing into hers. "I will find somewhere."
And she knew he would. She believed him enough to hide when he asked her to and run when he suggested it.
Nodding softly, Aramina grabbed two coats and took Grandma Cass' hand, leading the old woman into the kitchen. They pressed themselves against a wall, away from the view of the sitting room. She could hear Philip search for something, he threw a drawer open, or maybe several. When he found what he was looking for he made his way to the pounding door and opened it. Aramina heard it being shoved open with force that was enough to knock over the vase Grandma Cass kept at the entrance. She heard it shatter, she heard the stampede of footsteps barge in.
"Philip," A gravelly male voice spoke then, "You coward, where are you hiding the heiress?"
Philip didn't respond. The voices moved into the sitting room, sounding so close that Aramina was afraid she'd take one sharp breath and be found out instantly. From the footsteps, she could tell there were four of them against Philip.
"You thought you could betray the master just like that," The same voice added, the sly smirk in his voice so evident. "What, you intended to keep the woman's money for yourself?"
"No," Philip finally answered. His voice smaller, but still firm.
"I think you will find that your word holds no credibility with us anymore," The man mused with a scoff.
"Besides," The man hummed, "We know she is here. Why, you ask? She wrote to us herself."
Aramina had to press her palm to her mouth to stifle her gasp. Her letter to Jack had been intercepted. She had handed out her whereabouts to the enemy. She had plunged Philip and Grandma Cass into danger with her own hands this time.
Philip didn't say anything, and Aramina found her eyes twinge with the onslaught of tears.
"Men, search the rooms," The man ordered, "Start with the bedrooms."
Feet scurried off quickly and Philip waited until they had entered the bedrooms before he jumped on the man giving orders. Aramina heard the scuffle, and an immediate loud plunk as Philip brought down something hard on the man's head and the man dropped to the floor.
"Aramina, grandma," Philip quickly called, "Now."
On the cue, Aramina and Grandma Cass ran out of the kitchen towards the open door, Philip hot on their heels. The men searching the bedrooms had noticed what had happened, and as they filed into the sitting room to inspect their unconscious leader, Philip had locked the door from outside, shoving the keys into his pockets as they all made their way away from the house.
Aramina found herself glancing back anxiously.
"The door will hold for a while," Philip spoke, his tone calm and firm.
Outside, the sun was shining on the cold below. The carpet of snow underneath everyone's feet looked like a combination of clouds, with the golden sheen of the sun coating them. The coat Aramina wore hung to her, providing shelter from the cold. She held onto Grandma Cass' hand, the old woman much stealthier than the lady had initially expected.
Rounding corners and switching streets, with every point looking the same as before, Aramina wondered where Philip was going to take them. He wouldn't have more houses to hide her in, would he? If he didn't, it didn't show. His stance was firm, and looking at him, Aramina got an ounce of comfort when her own body shook in anxiety.
Then, he entered a busy inn, and Aramina followed after with his grandmother at her elbow. It was comparatively warm inside. People hung about in small groups, chatting, laughing, drinking and cheering. Philip approached a set of empty seats around a small table and motioned for Aramina and his grandmother to sit.
"I will get something to drink," He spoke, a hand behind his neck as he avoided Aramina's eyes. Then he walked away towards the gentleman making drinks at the wooden counter.
"Are you alright?" Grandma Cass' voice softly flooded into Aramina's ears and she turned to look at the old woman seated across from her.
It amazed her how the woman's house had just been infiltrated by criminals and here she was asking if Aramina was alright.
"Yes," Aramina managed, voice still shaky. She just wanted all this to end. How much more suffering will she cause Philip and his grandmother before this ends? "I think so."
Her eyes wandered around in the inn. She saw all kinds of people, ones celebrating something unique to them, others seeking solitary refuge from a predicament they were in. Suddenly, as if by hallucination or the anxiety, Aramina found her irises caught onto a familiar physique. Short brown hair sporting a dark top hat. A stature she could recognize blind though it wasn't so different from that of most gentlemen she came across in her life.
She gasped. Blinking in a daze, Aramina stood up from her chair and deserted the table, walking towards the person. She heard Grandma Cass call her name from behind, but Aramina didn't pay any heed. The gentleman's dark maroon tail coat was enough to set her heart a flurry. An old conversation played in her mind.
"Maroon's a rather daunting colour, don't you think?" She had said to him when they were but children.
"Maybe that is why I love it," He had declared, "And you can't convince me to abandon it, Aramina."
"I wasn't trying to," She had giggled.
"Jack?" Aramina dared, her voice shaking, heart pounding. The man ahead of her stilled, before he slowly turned around. Aramina spent those dragging seconds wishing with all her heart that this was Jack and that she was home. And by some magic of the new year, and the heavy snow throbbing like a pulse outside, she was.
Lord Jack Beresford's lips parted, his steady breaths now miserably unsteady as his mind went blank. In front of him stood his lost cousin, her eyes vibrant, her presence striking. His heart soared, and his hands shook fearing if this was but a dream.
"Jack," Aramina spoke again, her voice cracking as the tears rushed to her eyes melting her composure away.
"Aramina," Jack let out, his own eyes reddening.
Without warning, she threw her arms around his neck, burying her face in his collar as sobs of relief shook her frame. Jack's top hat shifted off his head and fell to the floor, but he didn't care. His hands wrapped around his cousin's physique, and he shut his eyes tight, taking her presence in and willing all the painful days he had spent breathing without her away.
It was as if a piece came together inside him, like something mended itself. It was the same for her too, for Aramina had spent long days thinking of herself as a burden who never wanted to be saddled with her in the first place. But with Jack? He was her cousin. He was saddled with her in this life whether he liked it or not, and that thought, though mischievous, was a comfort unlike any other.
They broke the hug, and Jack held her elbows, peering into her face making sure she was real and he wasn't just hallucinating.
"Oh, good god. Are you alright? Are you hurt?" The questions poured out of him one after the other, "How are you here? did you escape?"
Aramina chuckled slightly, though the tears were still fresh on her face. "I'm not hurt, and yes I did escape. I had some help."
"That bastard," Jack's face twisted into hatred, the veins in his forehead bulging in fury. "Where is he?"
"Thomas Cranmer isn't in Portsmouth—" Aramina began before Jack cut her off.
"I know, he is in Bakewell, that scoundrel," Jack let out, letting go of her elbows to run a hand through his brown hair. "I mean someone else. Where is this Philip?"
Aramina blinked in confusion. How would Jack know about Philip?
"Aramina," His eyes bore into her, "You tell me where he is and I will wring that dastardly bastard's neck and deposit him at the bottom of a lake to never be found again."
"I—," Aramina started, her brain lagging behind as she struggled to register her cousin's hatred for her saviour. What had given such an impression of Philip when he had been nothing but kind to her?
"No, no, Jack," She managed touching his arm, "You don't understand—"
"Aramina?" Another familiar voice spoke up from behind and the newly found heiress turned to look at the confused face of her rescuer.
Philip looked on edge, cautious. As though he was ready to defend her again against whomsoever he needed to. Philip looked to Jack, and Jack returned the look, suspicion marring both their faces.
"Philip," Aramina spoke, ready to introduce him to her cousin and end Jack's preconceived misunderstanding.
But before she could say anything more, Jack scoffed in anger. "Philip," he repeated, tone lined with hate.
Instantly, Jack neared the man and his fist collided against Philip's face, throwing the latter back stumbling to the floor as the customers in the inn gasped and backed away.
Aramina let out a cry. "Jack! Don't."
But Lord Jack Beresford was on Philip again, grabbing him by his neck and forcing him up against a wall.
Aramina hurried to her cousin's side as Jack's fingers pressed deeper into Philip's neck as he struggled, skin turning red and purple as his node bled with fervour.
"Jack, no," She cried, tugging at his arm, "Philip saved me. He isn't who you think!"
Jack Beresford glanced at his cousin and met her pleading face and glassy eyes, his own anger slowly melted as his grip on the neck in his hands loosened slightly.
"He saved me from where uncle was having me kept," The words tumbled out of her quickly, afraid of what would happen if they weren't said, "He took me to his grandmother's home. I've been there all this time. Please, he isn't the one responsible. He rescued me."
Jack immediately let Philip go, and the latter slid to his feet on the ground. Aramina bent down at his side. "Philip, I'm so sorry. Are you alright?"
"Yeah," Philip managed, a hand aggressively wiping away at his face and smearing the blood from his nose.
༺♥༻
The sledge rolled on and Aramina clung tightly to her cousin's elbow. Philip and his grandmother sat opposite, the old woman fussing over his broken nose as Philip shrugged her off every five minutes. Jack hadn't said anything to the man, after Aramina's declaration. He had simply exited the inn with her and told her he was taking her to Berkshire Abbey, and that Philip and his grandmother could come along if she wanted them to.
Aramina had insisted Philip and Grandma Cass to come along, since their house was not exactly the safest place for them to be at present.
Philip hadn't met her eyes when he had agreed. In fact he hadn't seen fit to meet her eyes after Jack had assaulted him. There was a certain new annoyance in Philip's manner that tugged at Aramina's heart. As though he now considered their paths changed entirely, with no point in any conversation or interaction. After all, hadn't he only promised to keep her safe for a short while? There had been no further vows made. He owed her nothing else.
Aramina shut the painful thoughts out of her mind. She was going to be home. Jack had found her, and everything will be alright now. She will see her aunt again soon, she will be with the people she loves and will force herself to forget these last weeks like a sleep paralysis dream.
Jack cleared his throat suddenly, and shifted in his seat. Aramina could tell that he was going to speak to Philip, because nothing took more discomfort for her cousin than speaking to someone he did not want to.
"Philip," Jack began, and Aramina looked at her cousin, still holding his elbow. "I can not, in good conscience, go on without apologizing for my behaviour. You must understand that Aramina is one of the most dearest people in my life and these past few weeks have been torture. I have come from Southampton, searching for her day and night. And my outburst at the inn was a description of exactly that. As a gentleman with understanding, you cannot blame me for thinking the worst of you."
Philip straightened himself, his grey eyes blinking as he nodded his head. "Yes, sir. I understand completely."
Jack nodded in expectance, satisfied with his answer. "You can call me Lord Beresford. That is my name."
Philip nodded his head, eyes fixing themselves to the rushing snow clad landscape outside.
After a pause, Jack turned to Aramina. "You remember my friend Oscar Seymour?" He asked with a smile."
Aramina smiled in return, the small conversation she had had with Lord Seymour at Wycombe coming to her mind.
"I do," she spoke, "Is he at Berkshire Abbey?"
"No," Jack continued, "He is in Bakewell, he went after Cranmer and well— someone else that I will have Lady Diana Buxton tell you about when we get to Berkshire. Lady Buxton is Oscar's cousin. She's been hosting us at Berkshire and her husband, Lord Buxton, has been an immense help in trying to find you."
Aramina willed her composure, taking small breaths. Lord Oscar Seymour had spoken of his cousins briefly, but never had Aramina imagined people she did not even know were trying hard to offer help in finding her.
"Lord Buxton managed to get the entrances and exits to the city in our control. We've been monitoring and making sure Cranmer's presence is detectable, before we realized he wasn't in Portsmouth at all. And now, his men will be rounded up. They won't be able to get out of the city."
"And Lady Buxton," Jack breathed out, continuing with a sigh. "She told me her theory about Philip here, but my angry disposition obliged me against listening to her. We had no facts."
Aramina blinked. "Lord Seymour's cousin knew Philip rescued me?"
"She suspected it, but it's no matter now. Don't tire yourself. I will tell you everything once we get to Berkshire Abbey."
Jack patted his cousin's hand as she nodded and rested her head on his shoulders.