Again the Magic (Wallflowers 0.5)(15)

Frowning, Mrs. Faircloth set a tray of soup and toast on Aline’s lap. “It’s time for you to eat something,” she said, masking her concern with a stern voice.

In the month since McKenna had left, Aline had been unable to eat or sleep. Broken and dispirited, she spent most of her time alone. When she was commanded to join the family for supper, she sat without touching her food and remained unnaturally silent. The earl and countess chose to regard Aline’s decline as childish pouting. However, Mrs. Faircloth did not share their opinion, wondering how they could so easily discount the profound attachment between Aline and McKenna. The housekeeper had tried to reason herself out of her worry, reminding herself that they were mere children, and as such, they were resilient creatures. Still…losing McKenna seemed likely to unhinge Aline.

“I miss him too,” the housekeeper had said, her throat tight with shared grief. “But you must think of what is best for McKenna, and not for you. You wouldn’t want him to stay here and be tormented by all the things he could never have. And it serves no one to let yourself go to pieces this way. You’re pale and thin, and your hair is as rough as a horse’s tail. What would McKenna think if he saw you right now?”

Aline lifted a dull gaze to hers. “He would think it was what I deserved, for being so cruel.”

“He will understand someday. He’ll reflect on it and realize that you could only have done it for his own good.”

“Do you think so?” Aline asked without apparent interest.

“Of course,” Mrs. Faircloth asserted stoutly.

“I don’t.” Aline picked up the metal horse from the window and regarded it without emotion. “I think that McKenna will hate me for the rest of his life.”

The housekeeper meditated on the words, becoming more and more convinced that if something were not done soon to jolt the girl from her grief, it might cause permanent damage to her health.

“Perhaps I should tell you…I’ve received a letter from him,” Mrs. Faircloth said, although she had meant to keep the information to herself. There was no predicting how Aline would react to the news. And if the earl learned that Mrs. Faircloth had allowed Aline to see such a letter, there would be yet another position at Stony Cross Park to be filled—her own.

The girl’s dark eyes were suddenly alive, filled with a frantic blaze. “When?”

“This very morning.”

“What did he write? How is he?”

“I haven’t read the letter yet—you know how my eyes are. I need the proper light…and I’ve misplaced my spectacles…”

Aline shoved the tray aside and struggled out of the chaise. “Where is it? Let me see it at once—oh, why did you wait so long to tell me?”

Troubled by the feverish color that had swept over the girl’s face, Mrs. Faircloth tried to settle her. “The letter is in my room, and you will not have it until you finish every morsel on that tray,” she said firmly. “To my knowledge, nothing has passed your lips since yesterday—you’ll likely faint before you even reach the stairs.”

“God in heaven, how can you talk about food?” Aline demanded wildly.

Mrs. Faircloth stood her ground, holding Aline’s challenging gaze without blinking, until the girl threw up her hands with a wrathful sound. Reaching down to the tray, she grabbed a piece of bread and tore it angrily with her teeth.

The housekeeper viewed her with satisfaction. “All right, then. Come to find me when you’re done—I’ll be in the kitchen. And then we’ll go to my room to fetch the letter.”

Aline ate so quickly that she nearly choked on the bread. She fared little better with the soup, the spoon shaking too violently in her hand to deliver more than a few drops to her mouth. She couldn’t seem to focus on one thought, her mind jumbled and spinning. She knew that there would be no words of forgiveness or understanding in McKenna’s letter—there would be no mention of her. That didn’t matter. All she wanted was some reassurance that he was alive and well. Oh God, she was starved for news of him!

Fumbling with the spoon, she threw it impatiently into the corner and shoved her feet into her shoes. It was a sign of how stupidly self-absorbed she had been that she hadn’t already thought to ask Mrs. Faircloth to begin a correspondence with McKenna. Although it was impossible for Aline to communicate with him, she could at least maintain a fragile link through the housekeeper. The thought caused a warm ache of relief inside her, thawing the detachment that had encased her for weeks. Ravenous for the letter, craving the sight of the marks that McKenna’s hand had made on parchment, Aline hurried from the room.

When she reached the kitchen, her appearance earned a few odd glances from the scullery maid and the pair of cook maids, and she realized that her face must be very red. Excitement burned through her, making it difficult to stay calm as she moved around the huge wooden table to the side where Mrs. Faircloth and the cook stood, close to the brick-built oven range over the hearth. The air was laden with the smell of fish frying, the rich, fatty aroma seeming to curdle the contents of Aline’s stomach. Fighting a surge of nausea, she swallowed repeatedly and went to the housekeeper, who was making a list with the cook.

“The letter,” Aline whispered in her ear, and Mrs. Faircloth smiled.

“Yes. Just a moment more, my lady.”