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I was strolling the shoreline, the waves crashing rhythmically into the rocks. I could see why the Hodges gave the manor the name Moonspire Castle. It held a certain inspiring quality to it, like a storybook come to life. Here it was easy to find myself believing that it was the last remnant of a placed called Moonspire.
I thought of Tristan’s story, about the great dragon that guarded this world against other worlds. Not just guarded heaven and hell, but guarded all the places in between. Tristan had looked serious, and George had smiled and given a single nod when I had glanced at him. I wanted to believe, even if it was only while I was here.
I crouched down, being careful to get as little of my skirts wet as possible and touched the salty water. It was cold. I could taste the salt in the air.
“I thought I would find you here,” George said, approaching.
I stood up quickly. Too quickly. I let out a gasp of surprise and tumbled. I felt arms grab hold of me, stopping my fall into the water. My eyes locked with George’s.
“Careful there, the water is very cold, even at this time of the year.” George released me, so I turned away to hide the blush I was sure was showing.
I should say something, but what? I rubbed my hands up and down my arms.
“You’re cold.” George took off his cloak and wrapped it around my shoulders.
I glanced at him. He was decidedly handsome. He was also dressed in a black jacket, a cream colored shirt, a dark green vest, and black pants.
I collected my thoughts. “It’s lovely here.”
“It is quite lovely here,” George agreed. “At one time I used to love coming here for the summer.”
“So you didn’t always stay here?”
“No. My parents had duties that called them away a lot, so most of the time we lived ... elsewhere.”
“That must have been hard.”
“Moving back and forth a lot?” George looked out towards the sea as he grew quiet for a while. “Sometimes it was.”
I watched him quietly for a moment. The wind was picking up, and his hair was whipping about his face. I felt the wind tugging my own hair loose as if to mirror a string that was tugging at my heart. I pushed the errant strands back away from my face. I knew then that there was nothing more that I wanted than to get to know this man.
***
I awoke before dawn and found myself unable to return to sleep, so I decided I would take a walk. I slipped on a dress but left my hair down in a long braid. I intended to be very quiet and not disturb either guest or host. I picked up the candle on my nightstand and headed out into the dark hallway. I walked softly to the stairs, and down to main hall towards the kitchen. Perhaps the kitchen staff would have left a snack. I found a small bowl with an assortment of fruits in it, so I picked up a fresh peach. I quietly sat at the table to eat, being careful to avoid getting any of its juice on me. I found a rag, moistened it with water, and wiped the table down where I had sat.
As I was walking down the hallway towards the library, I heard music gently playing. It was a piano. Someone else was awake at this strange hour between midnight and dawn. I blew out my candle and pressed myself against the wall, heart hammering. I slowly inched my way towards the sound. The door to the room had been left open, so I peered in. George was playing the piano. The whispering melody was inviting and lovely, and I found myself stepping into the room. Soft light from the candles illuminated the room.
“Why don’t you join me?” George said.
I felt my heart leap to my throat. I hadn’t realized I had walked into view.
“It’s late, I probably should head to my room...” I protested, and not with meaning. I found I wanted to do exactly that, join George on the bench, however improper.
“I won’t bite,” George teased. “It’s quite safe here, I assure you.”
“I am more concerned about what my aunt would say if she saw me here, alone with you. I mean, alone with a man,” I added quickly, feeling flame dance upon my face.
George chuckled and stopped playing. “You are always safe with me, Elizabeth.”
I could see it in his dark eyes. George smiled, and I felt warm.
“I know,” I murmured as I sat next to George on the piano bench. I liked the closeness of his proximity, our arms nearly touching.
He watched me a moment. “Do you play?”
I shook my head. “Not very well I’m afraid. My musical talent is quite lacking. I’ll make a dreadful wife.” I hadn’t meant to say that last part, and wished I could take it back.
“I highly doubt that, Elizabeth.”
I glanced at George, both surprised and pleased by his words.
“Besides, I hardly see how a woman’s ability to play the piano affects how good of a wife she is.”
“It’s not just that,” I explained. “It’s everything, though. My needlework is haphazard at best, I can’t sing, I’m opinionated—”
“Enough of that.” George turned to face me better, a serious expression on his face. “I highly doubt you’d make a dreadful wife as you put it.”
“Aunt Pen says—”
“Your aunt is wrong. Tell me things you are good at and enjoy.” George’s fingers started picking out a gentle tune on the piano.
I watched his long fingers dance across the keys. “I have good penmanship.”
George shook his head. “No, not things like that. I don’t want to hear things society thinks you should be able to do.”
I was silent for a while, thinking. “I like reading. And I like looking and listening to the birds sing.”
“Better.” George touched the sheet of music. “Try these notes here.”
I hesitantly put my hands on the keys and played.
After the first few bars, George nodded approvingly.
“I love music,” I added softly as if revealing a secret. “My mother would sit and play for me when I felt troubled.”
“Music soothes the soul.” George smiled, and I knew he understood me.
“I love stars twinkling in the rich darkness of night.”
“Stars are very lovely. Shall we go for a stroll and look for them?”
“What?” I gasped, my fingers stopping on the keys. George played a few more notes before he too stopped. “At this hour?”
“Why not?” George’s grin was contagious.
“I...” I really couldn’t think of a reason not to, outside of how highly improper it was. Running around in the middle of the night with a man.
“We’re not in London, in fact, we’re probably about as far away as one can get from the prying eyes of the Ton.”
“Oh, why not. I really want to see the stars with you.”
George grabbed two warm blankets, and we headed outside. We found a grassy knoll near the shore, and sat, blankets wrapped snuggly around us. I found it very comfortable to lean into George. And so there we sat, quietly talking while the sun rose up over the sea.
“We should head back in before everyone wakes up,” George said taking my hand. “Let’s go in through staff entry in the kitchen.”
When George opened kitchen door the aroma of baking bread reminded me that I was rather hungry.
“Goodness George, what are you doing out so early?” The cook turned towards the door holding a pan of biscuits. “Oh my,” she added when I came in behind George.
“We were out stargazing.” George grinned, grabbing one of the hot biscuits the cook had just pulled from the oven.
“Be careful, those are hot,” the cook scolded, setting the tray down.
George asked me if I wanted one.
I felt my stomach growl as I shook my head no. I put a hand to my middle and hoped no one had heard that.
The cook smiled kindly at me. “I’ll send Lily up to Miss Elizabeth’s room with some hot biscuits and butter, but I do suggest you use the staff stairs to get her back to her room without causing a scene.”
“Thank you,” I murmured as my cheeks colored. “And you can just call me Elizabeth.”
George grabbed another biscuit, which had the grandmotherly cook swatting at his hands. “This is for the staff, George!”
“We feed the staff first,” George explained, as he bit into a biscuit. “This is delicious. Try one, Elizabeth.”
I took a bite. “It is good,” I admitted, savoring the biscuit as it melted in my mouth.
“Now you children scoot on out of my kitchen! I’ll be sending up some biscuits for Elizabeth, but I don’t think you deserve one, George.”
My eyes were wide as I watched the bantering between the two.
“Come on, Mrs. Lund, you always make plenty,” George said ducking away from the swinging wooden spoon.
“Shoo!” Mrs. Lund said. “Out of my kitchen you rascal!”
George grinned, grabbed a third biscuit with one hand, my hand with the other, and led me up a spiral staircase.
I was watching George as he checked the landing. “The floor is all clear,” he assured me as we stepped out and he closed the hidden door behind us. “I should go that way,” he said indicating the way opposite my room.
“Thank you for tonight—this morning—you know what I mean,” I said.
“I’ll see you at breakfast.” George brought my hand to his lips. Then he placed a biscuit in my hand, turned, and slipped away around the corner.