by Mr. King

Installment III,
in which our Heroine is delivered a most cold Rejection and asked a Favor quite unexpected!

Oh, the joy in Ludinca’s heart each time she was included when her neighbors called on one another, making their way from one house to the next in the light of day and the safety of the group! She came to know each of them during these calls and valued their association.

Miss Higgins was kindhearted, of a sharp mind, and the dearest friend one could hope for. The man whose oddly high-pitched voice had so captured her attention when first they’d met a fortnight after her arrival in the neighborhood was Mr. Jennings, and his mother, Mrs. Jennings, was the silver-eyed older woman who’d joined them.

Also among their number during the visits was, nearly without fail, the aloof and handsome Sir Frederick. He never smiled, though he did not truly seem unfriendly nor unhappy, and he never laughed. Though he did not, in her estimation, seem to be that odd sort who lacked any sense of the humorous. He also never spoke ill of anyone beyond the highwayman, and even those criticisms weren’t overly cruel nor sharp, but simply expressions of uncertainty regarding the would-be thief’s character. Sir Frederick was an oddity, a mystery, and more and more, a friend.

Nearly two months after Lucinda’s arrival in the area, after the passage of a lonely Christmas, Miss Higgins very kindly included her in an invitation to do a bit of shopping in the largest town of any note in the area. They departed just as soon as the morning light hit the roads, knowing that if they did not dawdle, they could achieve their goals at market and return home before nightfall. Lucinda prepared a list, one added to by her housekeeper and butler-­gardener-coachman, then traveled with Miss Higgins to the various shops an hour away.

What a delight to be away from home and from the forest that she had come to eye with such suspicion! Maybe, just maybe, Fate was beginning to smile on her.

She purchased ribbons and embroidery thread. She found adornments enough for redecorating a bonnet and salt for addressing the issue of slugs in the vegetable beds. While Miss Higgins shopped for gloves, Lucinda moved toward the stationery shop, wanting to buy parchment and ink, though to whom she would send a letter, she did not know. She simply took comfort in the warm familiarity of such things.

Her path took her past a gentleman having his shoes shined near a sparsely laden vegetable cart. She knew him on the instant, his ice-blue eyes and firm-set jaw identifying him as her handsome neighbor, Sir Frederick.

What a pleasant surprise to see him again. They had enjoyed many a conversation and had, in her estimation, developed the beginnings of a friendship between them. He would certainly be equally pleased to see her. Oh, blessed Fate, to be showing her such kindness today!

“Sir Frederick! What a pleasure to cross paths.”

He met her gaze with little warmth in his own. “Miss Ledford.” His greeting began and ended with that: her name, uttered with neither excitement nor any apparent desire for interaction.

Perhaps she was misunderstanding his tone. She would try again. “Have you come to town to do a spot of shopping?”

His gaze fluttered over her armful of bundles. “Have you?”

Teasing, no doubt. Amusement pulled her lips upward. “I have. My next stop is the stationers for parchment and ink. I haven’t any.”

Far from pursuing the line of conversation, Sir Frederick looked once more to the young boy polishing his shoes. “Mind you don’t miss any spots.”

“Looks a beller-croaker to me,” the poor polisher said, eyeing his work. “But if you ain’t satisfied, I’ll scrub at it some more.”

Lucinda waited, certain her friend would speak with her once more. Surely. Alas, she was to be disappointed. He never looked to her again. He acted quite as if she was not even present.

Humiliation burned in her cheeks. She refused to meet the eye of any of the passersby. Sir Frederick, who had on the many occasions in which they had been in one another’s company not seemed ashamed of her presence, had issued what appeared to be a very pointed cut. Oh, that she were wrong!

“I have enjoyed our conversations these past weeks,” she said, attempting one last time to draw his gaze. “Calling on new neighbors can be uncomfortable, even a touch miserable, when one is newly arrived.”

“New neighbors can be miserable,” he replied.

Oh. She rested her hand against her stomach, which had spun into a knot. Did he consider her “miserable”? It sounded as though he was saying precisely that.

“A pleasure seeing you again, Miss Ledford.” The bow he offered was brief and small, and unmistakable. He kept his foot on the block used by the tiny shoeshine boy. There was not so much as a glance of farewell in her direction.

She had been dismissed, coldly and swiftly. The rejection had drawn the notice of a lady and gentleman not far removed. The lady commented behind her hand to her companion, both watching Lucinda with a humiliating degree of pity. To be made an object of ridicule when she was so very newly arrived in the area, striving to be accepted, struggling to feel any degree of hope for her future in so strange and terrifying a place was a heavy burden for her heart to bear, and proof that Fate did not, in fact, look on her with any increasing degree of fondness.

“Forgive me for disrupting your day, Sir Frederick,” she said quietly before moving as far from him as her suddenly very weary and overwhelmed limbs could take her.

Cruel Fate, it seemed, took delight in her misery.

Two days passed in the silence of Calden Manor. Lucinda had ample time in which to contemplate Sir Frederick’s refusal to speak with her save to indicate that her company was “miserable.” What was she to do if he convinced the rest of the neighborhood to shun her as well? Could she live here year after year so utterly alone? How could it be endured?

Night had not yet fallen, though dusk threatened on the horizon. Lucinda stood at her bedchamber window, looking out over the thick forest. What was hidden within those trees that so frightened her neighbors? Their worry had etched its way into her heart, making her eye the dark expanse with great misgiving. All the neighborhood lived in terror of the forest. There had to be a reason.

She leaned against the window frame, watching the branches and treetops sway in the wind. Her lungs filled with the air of her room, air nearly as cold as that found outside owing to the lateness of her ordered delivery of coal.

She heard what she was certain was a knock at the front door. Her housekeeper took to bed every night just as Lucinda finished her evening meal, and her butler-­gardener-coachman never came in the house. If she had indeed heard a knock, she would have to be the one to answer. She, alone. Undefended. With no one to turn to should the unexpected visitor have nefarious intentions.

Another knock, unmistakable this time.

“You mustn’t be a simpleton,” she said. “The night is not yet dark. You can most certainly answer the door.”

One trembling step at a time, she descended the stairs and crossed the entryway, knocks continuing to sound at broad intervals. No matter that she assured herself she had no reason for alarm, her pulse quickened with every step she took.

She opened the door an inch, peering through the tiny crack between the door and the frame. As the identity of the new arrival became clear, her burgeoning fear gave way to confusion.

“Sir Frederick.”

He dipped his head. “Miss Ledford. I am in need of a moment of your time. I have come on a matter of great importance.” He motioned to a child, a girl no more than ten years old, whom she’d not noticed before, cowering behind him and watching her with concern.

No matter that he had treated her most rudely when last they met, she could not be cold to a child. She motioned the two of them inside, closing the door behind them.

“What has brought you here, Sir Frederick?” she asked.

“I have come to beg a favor.”

That was unexpected. “Have you? Do you not think it presumptuous to ask a favor of someone whom you would not even speak with two days ago?”

“I would not presume to do so were the favor for myself,” he said. “I ask, rather, on behalf of the child.” He motioned to the small figure beside him. “Tell her why we’ve come, little one.”

The child looked up at her with fear.

Lucinda opened her arms, and the little girl rushed into them. She leaned her slight weight against Lucinda, clinging to her.

“Please, miss,” she said, her breath trembling with each word. “Please don’t make me return to the forest.”

“The forest?” Lucinda looked to Sir Frederick. “This child was in the forest?”

He nodded. “She needs a safe place away from the dangers she has escaped.”

“And that safe place is here?” Lucinda could not account for his decision to bring the child to her.

“I am hopeful that it is, indeed.” He offered a dip of his head.

This was not the apology nor the explanation she was owed, but it was a help just the same. Whatever his reasons for not speaking to her in town were, he would trust her with the welfare of this little girl.

With another nod, he stepped from the house, disappearing into the quickly approaching night. The tiny child clung to Lucinda.

“Am I to stay here?” she asked.

“Of course, dear,” Lucinda said. “And I will endeavor to keep you safe from whatever you’ve fled from in the forest.”

The girl’s chin quivered. “The forest has . . . a monster!”