Maxwell Manor stood ancient and modest. It had only ten bedrooms—five for family and five for guests—with a ballroom that could fit no more than ten couples, and a dining room that could seat even fewer. Truthfully, it was far too small to host any type of societal event, though that was actually a positive characteristic in Luke’s eyes. No, it was not the size that bothered Luke; it was the coldness. Nothing about Maxwell Manor was warm. The house itself was so ancient and drafty, not even a bonfire could successfully warm it, or light it, forthat matter. Darkness loomed. Shadows covered faces. Everyone walked around in long woolen coats. In truth, it was a bit spooky.
All this could have easily been forgotten, in the right company.But that is not what I will find here,Luke complained as he opened the carriage door.
“Oh, dear boy,” his mother fussed the moment he entered the small foyer. “Luke, how you’ve grown!” She scurried over to him, her steps somewhere between a flighty bird and a skittish mouse. Her eye twitched slightly as she squinted up at him. “How was your journey?”
He bent down and kissed her cheek. “Uneventful,” he replied quickly. “How is your health?” Though he did not think it possible, Lady Maxwell looked even more pale and slender than she had when he left. She had very little of her once dark hair remaining on her pale head.
“A bit better,” she whispered as she rang for tea, “a bit better. Though, I have news.”
Mother shook as she tiptoed back to her reading chair.I should not have left her, he thought guiltily. Lady Maxwell was quite young. The doctors could not determine a cause for her ailments, but there were many.
You did not abandon her. You went to Rosecrest to observe a lord. You are learning how to care for her.He sighed. She needed someone who could care for her now, not in three years. “Where is Uncle?” he asked, looking about the room.
“Why yes, that is what I was about to tell you, my dear.” She stared blankly at the wall. “He is dead.”
“What?!” Luke jumped in shock. Though, truthfully, it was not that surprising, the man had probably been the oldest person in England. “When did he pass?”
“A few days after you left,” she replied in a bored tone, her green eyes still fixed on nothing.
“Mother,” his voice came out annoyed, though he wasn’t sure that was truly how he felt. He crossed the room, kneeling at her feet and taking one of her cold, bony hands. “You should have sent for me.”
“Oh, the butler took care of everything. There was no need for you to be here.” Her left toe began rhythmically tapping the floor of its own accord, andthe movement finally broke her gaze. “School starts soon?” she asked, turning to him.
“Mama.” Tears pricked his eyes. “Mama, I am not going back to school.” She rolled her eyes. Every year they had the same conversation, though usually she convinced him he was not needed. That would not be the case this time. Uncle was dead. Mother was unwell. It was time for the true Lord Maxwell to take his place. “I will stay here with you and my tenants.” His voice sounded noble, almost martyrly, as if staying in his own home was equivalent to laying down his life.Perhaps it is, he thought as he looked at his decaying mother. Maxwell Manor seemed to suck the mortality right out of its residents.
Mama’s head shook, though Luke wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. “I shall not be here.”
That was far more shocking than his uncle’s death. “Where will you be?”
“Spain.”
“Spain?!” She may as well have said the moon. “What is in Spain?”
“My betrothed.”
Luke released her hand and removed his glove, checking Mother’s head for a fever, but like everything in the room, it was as cold as ice. “Mother, perhaps you should lie down,” he gently urged.
Avianna Maxwell laughed. “I am not ill in the head, Luke.” She looked at him, and for a moment, her countenance brightened. She looked a little less gray, a little more rounded. For a split second, Luke could picture a woman who was not sick. “I have known Alfonso since my childhood,” and then she quietly added, “I have loved Alfonso since my childhood.” Again, her face filled with color. She looked younger, and happier, and … beautiful. It was a lot to take in.
“Alfonso proposed just days after mourning ended for your father. I told him I would not consider it until you were grown.” She put a hand on Luke’s arm. “But I should have left long ago.”
Luke took a large breath. The news was shocking, but he felt … relieved? Just acknowledging it filled him with guilt. Shouldn't he be sad his mother was moving to the continent without him? Shouldn’t he be worried for her? But simply speaking of her love made her look healthier than he had seen her in years, surely being with him would do her good. Luke loved his mother. He knew this. He wasn’t trying to get rid of her. He only wanted what was best for her.
“May I have your permission, Lord Maxwell?” It was the first time she had ever referred to him as such, and it was sobering, yet appropriate. In the last few minutes, their relationship had changed forever.
“How will you get to Spain?” He needed a bit more information before he could consent.
“Alfonso’s sister is coming, along with her husband and several servants. They shall escort me.” He could see no issue with that plan.
“When do you leave?”
“Three weeks.” Which, by no coincidence, was exactly when he should depart for school.
The maid arrived with the tea, and Luke rose from his kneeling position, accepting a cup of the hot liquid before returning to his green chair. He watched her as she shakily lifted her dish. The ticking was back. Her face looked ashy. He could see her deteriorating right in front of his eyes.She is not happy here,Luke thought regrettably,and if things do not change, she will not live long enough to ever be.Perhaps it was not a physical ailment that afflicted her, but a mental one. Sadness and loneliness were silent, unseen killers.
“Will you be happy in Spain?” he asked quietly.
Mother’s gaze drifted to him, focusing in a way she had been unable to manage for years. “Yes.” Her eyes filled with excitement.
