Forgotten Friend (Roselund Heights) Read online

  Contents

  Description

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Dear Reader

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Forgotten Friend

  A Roselund Heights Novella

  By Miranda D Nelson

  Coralyn Fairchild desires nothing more than to leave London, her mother’s rules, and the tedious suitors her mother insists she associate with. After years of refusal, her parents have finally allowed her to visit her relatives in Roselund Heights, where she spent the most joyful days of her youth. Her prospect of a happy Christmas holiday is only increased when she is reunited with her childhood friend, Christopher. Though their connection is tested by more than the changes of the past years, they are able to rekindle their friendship, and a spark ignites between them. But when her most determined suitor from London arrives in Roselund Heights, Coralyn fears she may be forced into the arms of a man she secretly fears, and lose Christopher forever.

  Copyright © 2017 Miranda D Nelson

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Design by Novak Illustrations

  Interior Design by Calequoia Books

  December 1806

  Coralyn paced the small clearing in the woods, waiting. She felt she’d been waiting for at least fifteen minutes, but time is a difficult notion for a ten year old to grasp. All she knew was that if she were late again, she would hear nothing but her mother’s lecture from there to London. She blew out her breath in a sharp puff. As if leaving Roselund Heights was not unpleasant enough as it was.

  The early morning sun did little to warm the chill in the air and she blew on her bare hands to keep them warm. She craned her neck, looking down one of the two paths which led to her favorite clearing, but she could not see him.

  “When will you learn to wear gloves in the winter?” Christopher said from behind her.

  She smiled as she turned toward him. “When will you learn it’s impolite to keep a lady waiting?”

  He bowed deeply. “A thousand apologies, my lady.”

  She giggled. “Listen to you talk.”

  He grinned and moved toward her, taking the gloves from his own hands and giving them to her. “Well, are you ready to go home?”

  “No. I’d rather live with my aunt and uncle here at Lynwood Manor than return to London.” She pulled on the gloves, still warm from his hands. “When do you go home?”

  “Not ’till next week.”

  She glared at him. “How did you get so lucky?”

  He grinned again. “Lady Agnes likes me more.”

  “She’s my aunt! She’s only your mother’s friend.”

  “Her best friend, though.”

  “Even still.”

  “My parents are in no rush to get home.”

  “While mine can’t wait to return to London.”

  “There’s only five months ’till June, then you’ll be back to stay the summer, won’t you?”

  “Of course! And that’s all that keeps me joyful when I leave here.”

  He leaned his lanky form against a tree, folding his arms across his chest. “And how will we entertain ourselves then?”

  Even at her young age, Coralyn knew her friendship with Christopher was special. She also knew it was not typical for a boy of thirteen to be so inclined to spend time with a girl three years younger.

  She considered him. “Will you teach me to shoot?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her. “What do you want to learn to shoot for?”

  She shrugged. “It looks fun.”

  He looked at her with an expression she could not name, then shook his head, chuckling. “If you insist. Your mother will hate it though.” He winked at her.

  “My mother does not need to know.” She turned her gaze to the sky. “Speaking of Mother, I should go.” She scowled at him. “You took too long getting here.”

  “I was only a few minutes behind you.”

  “It felt like longer.”

  “That’s because you are impatient.” He tapped her on the nose.

  She swatted his hand. “And you are impertinent.”

  They grinned at each other before Coralyn sighed. “But now I must go.”

  Christopher took her by the arms. “Just wait, will you?” He turned her away from him, facing her toward the clearing. “Take a moment to remember this place, to remember all the fun you’ve had these last weeks.”

  He stood behind her, looking over her shoulder, his hands still on her arms. His breath tickled her cheek and she tried not to giggle.

  “But Mother—”

  “Forget your mother for once, and just enjoy being here. Look around, Coralyn. Take it all in, hold onto it while you’re away. Maybe it’ll last you until you come again.”

  Coralyn let her eyes embrace everything around her. Though there were many lovely places around Lynwood Manor, she loved this clearing best. The trees welcomed her, opening up to blue sky. A fallen log lay in the perfect spot, sunny in the mornings and shaded in the afternoon. Though dry now, a spring ran along one edge of the clearing, and in the summer, it provided cool refreshment and pleasant sound. She breathed deeply. Even though the shores of Roselund Heights were two miles away, Coralyn could smell salt in the air.

  She let the memories of the last few weeks sift through her thoughts, tumbling one over the other. Horseback rides through the fields, riding on the yule log as it was pulled to the house, Christmas treats snuck into her room by her aunt, her uncle telling stories by the fire, Christmas dinner and presents, strolls through Roselund’s pleasant streets, and the chill afternoon Christopher had lit a fire right in their little clearing. They had sat nearby, gathering its warmth, talking of everything and nothing until dusk settled over them.

  “Can you hold onto that joy until June?”

  Coralyn smiled. “I think it will do.”

  Christopher squeezed her arms. “Good. Now, you better hurry. Your mother will be furious!”

  Coralyn spun, hitting him on the arm. “I told you so!”

  He laughed. “I know, I’m sorry. But you need to learn to embrace the small pleasant moments, Coralyn. Don’t let your mother take them all away from you.”

  She watched him, wondering at his wisdom. “Thank you, Christopher.”

  He grinned at her. “See you in June?”

  She walked backward toward the path with the shortest distance to the house. “I’ll be waiting.”

  “Not if I get here first!”

  She laughed, turning and running when she reached t
he trees. Her mother would be more furious she was late than that she was running. And she was right. When she arrived at the front of the house, her father was already in the carriage, her mother pacing angrily beside it.

  “Coralyn Fairchild, you are late! How many times must I tell you that to be on time is of the utmost importance?”

  “I’m sorry, Mother.” She didn’t offer an explanation.

  Mother motioned toward the carriage. “Get in.”

  Coralyn looked at her relatives who stood nearby. “Can’t I say goodbye?”

  Her mother sighed. “Very well, but be quick.”

  Coralyn sprang over to her aunt, who wrapped her in her arms. “Hurry back to us, my dear niece.”

  “I’ll do my best, Aunt Agnes.”

  Her uncle hugged her just as tightly. “Travel safe. Write to us if you are ever in need of help.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Her cousins bid her farewell with less enthusiasm, which was not unexpected of boys aged thirteen and sixteen. She again felt a surge of gratitude for Christopher’s friendship. Cousin Dinah, only eight years old, was too distracted by Christopher’s younger sister, Alice, to worry much about saying goodbye to Coralyn.

  As the carriage rolled away, her mother began on a lecture on the importance of timeliness. Coralyn listened with half an ear, while she watched Lynwood fade into the distance, still enjoying her memories.

  “Thank Heavens we won’t be returning.”

  Coralyn’s attention snapped to her mother. “What did you say?”

  Mother looked at her with a nonchalant expression. “I said we’ll not be returning to Lynwood.”

  Dread poured into Coralyn’s heart. “Why not?”

  “It’s time you learned to become the proper lady you ought to be. And I do not see how running through the forest and riding all across the hills will help you accomplish such a goal.”

  “But…” Coralyn could hardly form thoughts, let alone words. “But I love Lynwood. And Roselund Heights!”

  Mother looked out the window with awful tranquility. “We should have stopped coming years ago, but as Agnes is my sister, there was little avoiding it.”

  “How shall we make our excuses now?” Father asked.

  Mother tilted her head. “We’ll determine a proper course when the time comes. Perhaps invite them to London instead.”

  Father nodded, apparently satisfied never to return as well.

  But for Coralyn, it felt as though her world had collapsed. Never return to Lynwood? What do I have to look forward to now?

  As she reached her hands up to wipe the tears from her eyes, she realized she had not returned Christopher’s gloves. And now I may not ever be able to. The thought scratched at her throat. I may never see him again. Tears fell uncontrollably from her eyes.

  Mother must have noticed. “Oh, Coralyn. Do control yourself. It is not so bad. In time you will see you do not miss Lynwood at all.”

  But as Coralyn stared out the window, tears blurring her vision, she was certain that would never be true.

  December 13, 1814

  Coralyn Fairchild strained her ears to hear the faint chiming of the clock in the entry, yearning for the ball to be over.

  Nine. Ten. Eleven.

  She sighed with relief. Only one more hour and she would be free. Free from London and all its rout. Free from the constant efforts to raise one’s status. Free from the constraints of her parents’ demands. Free from the dull company she had long been forced to endure.

  It was not that she did not enjoy a ball; she certainly did, and Mrs. Thorne’s gathering did not disappoint. The grand ballroom of the grander house teemed with London’s most eligible ladies and gentlemen. Coralyn was lucky to be the daughter of a baron, or so her mother told her. Else she would not catch the attention of the ton.

  The evening thus far had been tolerable, as far as her evenings went. The music was certainly lively, the company adequately sociable. And yet Coralyn felt untouched by any of it.

  As was her mother’s custom, she had been made to dance with London’s most dull and uninteresting gentlemen. The women her mother guided her toward were equally unpleasant. They spent their time looking down on those around them and complaining of the woes which befall all the wretchedly wealthy.

  Yet Coralyn was willing to withstand it all. She would endure whatever dull company her mother made her keep, however many rules of propriety she insisted on. She would endure it all, if it would get her to Roselund Heights.

  Now she stood with the dowager Lady Seton, who would not desist in her lamentations of Coralyn’s impending departure.

  “We are quite forlorn that you will abandon us for the country, Miss Fairchild. Our Christmas ball will not be the same without you,” Lady Seton said, the expression in her eyes leaving her compliment empty.

  “Yes, missing it will be a deprivation indeed.”

  Lady Seton reached forward and patted her arm. “You are a sweet girl. I do not know how you shall survive the country for so long. Three weeks is such a lengthy time to be away from Town.”

  Three weeks is certainly not long enough.

  “I am hopeful I will find some way to amuse myself.”

  Coralyn’s mind wandered to the pleasures which lay before her. After years of refusing to allow a visit to her aunt and uncle at Lynwood Manor, her parents had finally agreed last year, on the condition that she upheld her mother’s wishes. But they promptly revoked their consent when Coralyn rejected a proposal from a handsome but stuffy earl. Though thoroughly disappointed, Coralyn would not agree to a marriage she was certain would not suit her.

  The arrangement had been offered again before this season began. Coralyn had learned well from her first season and had been careful this year. She had been pleasant, but not flirtatious, kind but not encouraging. Success was hers, as she was to leave on the morrow for Roselund Heights. There was only one hour before midnight, when her parents intended to leave the ball. Her dream lay within her grasp.

  Coralyn returned her attention to Lady Seton, whose dark eyes were fixed on her, eyebrows arched.

  Coralyn lowered her gaze, as she’d been taught, though she did not fear Lady Seton’s disapproval. “Forgive me, Lady Seton. I must not have heard you.”

  Lady Seton looked down her elegant nose, the false kindness gone from her expression. “You ought to pay more attention to your betters, Miss Fairchild. It is rude to make a person repeat herself.”

  Coralyn made her best effort to appear sorry. “Forgive me, Lady Seton. I will not allow it to happen again.”

  The contempt Lady Seton felt was clear, though her tone did not betray her feelings. “I wondered if you had danced with my son yet. I know he intended to ask you. The boy could speak of nothing else all day.” She lifted her fingers to her lips and tittered.

  Coralyn repressed her own laugh. At thirty-five, Lord Seton could hardly be called a boy. His hair had already begun to gray and lines creased his forehead, no doubt a result of his perpetual scowl.

  Coralyn had spent the majority of the evening in an effort to avoid the marquis. To be certain, she had avoided Lady Seton as well. But the woman had cornered her after the last set had ended, ensuring she could not escape. Coralyn glanced around anxiously, knowing the son could not be far, but she did not see him. “No, ma’am. I have not had the pleasure.”

  “You may have it now,” a male voice said behind her.

  Curses!

  Lady Seton’s smile was unbearable, and Coralyn was more than pleased to turn away from it. “Good evening, Lord Seton,” Coralyn said, forcing a graceful smile as she lowered into a curtsy.

  He bowed stiffly and not even his eyes reflected her smile. “You are a difficult woman to catch.”

  I certainly hope so.

  “Miss Fairchild is very popular this evening.” The tone in Lady Seton’s voice made Coralyn feel as if she ought to be ashamed for such a thing.

  “Indeed she is.” Lord Seton extended
his hand. “Would you dance the next with me?”

  She wished she could decline, as Lord Seton had been the most persistent of her suitors. But as she had no real reason to refuse, she placed her palm in his. His long fingers wrapped awkwardly around her hand as he led her to the set. She had danced with him often enough to know that his grave manners and awkward fingers were a good indication of his skills in dancing.

  However, the dance was lively and included several changes of partners. Coralyn tucked it away as one of the pleasant moments of the evening to embrace and remember when the night was over. With this thought in mind, she found herself enjoying the dance and was mildly disappointed when the number ended. Lord Seton took her hand, but paused. “Would you allow me a moment to speak to you in private?”

  Coralyn’s heart raced. No, not now. There was only half an hour until midnight. Her freedom rested so close, yet now it seemed so much further.

  She made an attempt at escape. “My mother does not permit me to speak to gentlemen alone.”

  His gaze met hers evenly. “I’m certain she will allow this conversation.”

  Without waiting for Coralyn to accept, Lord Seton placed her hand on his arm and led her out onto a balcony. He released her when they arrived at the parapet before resting his hands on the stone, looking out over the dark garden. Coralyn stood beside him, looking the other way, inwardly begging him not to speak.

  He turned to her at last. “I had hoped to see you more this evening, Miss Fairchild. I had hoped to woo you throughout the night.”

  Despite the anxiety creeping into her stomach, she choked back a chuckle. The idea of Lord Seton wooing anyone was ludicrous indeed.

  “I have been highly impressed with you as of late. I have always seen you as a silly young girl, completely undeserving of my attention. However, you have matured this last year, which has allowed me to pursue my initial attraction to you.”

  Coralyn felt her jaw tighten. While she would agree that she had matured in the last few years, the persona London society saw was nothing short of an affectation of who her parents wished her to be.