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“Yes. You certainly are.”
“Do you have brothers or sisters?”
“No.” Courtney felt that now-familiar constriction in her chest. “It was just Papa and I. And now
he’s gone.”
“Slayde told me what happened.” Aurora’s gaze met Courtney’s. “You’re very brave. I didn’t think I’d survive when my parents died.”
“If I recall Papa’s stories correctly, you were quite young when that happened,” Courtney noted. “It must have been shattering.”
“I was ten. And, yes, it was. But, in truth, I don’t think there’s ever an easy time to lose someone you love. Especially through a violent death.”
Courtney’s lashes drifted downward. “The pain is more numbing than all my injuries combined.”
“Were you and your father close?”
“Very. He captained a ship. I sailed everywhere with him.”
“How exciting!” Aurora’s whole face glowed. “I’ve never been anywhere, at least not since Mama and Papa died, and even then, it was never farther than Scotland. While you—you’ve traveled the world, seen everything. How wondrous never to be confined to one place.”
“Ironic, how different our perspectives are,” Courtney replied, her voice choked. “I would have been thrilled to settle down. To live in a cottage on a hill, with my own room and a window overlooking the cliffs and the water. I used to dream that Papa would surprise me with exactly that. But my dream wasn’t meant to be. Papa’s life was the sea. And, since I desperately wanted to be with him, it became my life as well.”
Aurora ingested Courtney’s words with an intense expression that made her look all the more like Slayde. “ ’Twould seem there is more than one way to be lonely, wouldn’t it?”
“Yes,” Courtney answered, pondering the fact that beneath all the youthful recklessness Slayde had described lay a strong, insightful woman—one she was suddenly quite eager to befriend. “I believe there is.”
“How old are you?” The forthright Aurora was back.
“I’ll be twenty next month.” Courtney smiled wistfully. “Papa’s gift to me was going to be twofold: a puppy, which I’ve wanted since I was a tot, and one full week together as a family. On land. Just Papa, the pup, and me. Both gifts were to be presented to me later this summer, after the Isobel returned from delivering its cargo to the Colonies. Lexley—Papa’s first mate—was going to oversee the brig so Papa and I could travel the countryside together. By carriage, not ship. But now…” She broke off.
Impulsively, Aurora leaned forward, seizing Courtney’s hand. “Perhaps we can have a small celebration of our own. Here, at Pembourne. That is, if you choose to stay with us. Please, Courtney—may I call you Courtney?” She paused only to inhale, not to await Courtney’s ensuing nod. “And you must call me Aurora. Please stay. I know Slayde can be aloof and difficult, but he’s scarcely home. And the servants, for the most part, keep to themselves, except when they’re checking up on me, of course—which they’re far less apt to do if I have a companion to keep me from straying off Pembourne’s grounds. So you’ll be allowed as much or as little freedom as you wish. I shan’t invade your privacy, or your grief. But Courtney—” Another breath. “Sometimes grief is better shared. Else it grows larger rather than smaller. My brother is a perfect example of that. He keeps everything to himself. Thus, he’s alone. And lonely, whether he chooses to realize it or not. Well, I won’t let that happen to me. Nor to you, if you’ll accept my friendship.” A dimple appeared in each of Aurora’s cheeks. “Let’s see,” she mused aloud, “we’re about the same size, so buying a wardrobe won’t be necessary. You’ll simply wear all of my clothes—beginning next week, when you’re up and about. Shortly thereafter, you’ll be ready for long strolls. I have just the place for us to visit. ’Tis my favorite spot in all the world, and the ideal site for your birthday celebration. I’ll take you there, introduce you to the most fascinating and caring man. His stories are mesmerizing, and the view from his window spectacular—the very cliffs and water you’ve dreamed of.” Aurora’s grip tightened. “Say you’ll stay.”
Grief temporarily supplanted by awe, Courtney stared at Aurora, touched by her generosity, wondering if Aurora knew just how contagious her enthusiasm was—and how healing.
Unexpected tears filled Courtney’s eyes. “Do you know, Aurora,” she managed, intentionally using the given name she’d been requested to, “I never realized until this minute just how bereft I was of friendship. I’d be honored to strive to earn yours.” A shaky smile. “Yes, I’ll stay. And, yes, please call me Courtney. And, yes, I’d love to visit your lighthouse.”
Joy—followed by surprise. “Slayde told you about the Windmouth lighthouse?”
“Not by name, no. Only that you’re drawn to it, time and again.”
“That’s all he could tell you. ’Tis all he knows, or rather, all he chooses to know,” Aurora added with a resigned sigh. “The lighthouse is an adventurer’s dream and a wanderer’s haven. Mr. Scollard, its keeper, is my dearest friend. He’s a prophet and a genius. Nothing he says, or relays, is without meaning—if the listener is shrewd enough to search for it. I remember the very first story he told me. I was five years old. ’Twas about a smuggler who transported a chest of jewels to England with the intention of burying it in a forsaken cave at Cornwall. But before he could reach land, his ship was dashed on the rocks, and the jewels were forever lost at sea. Sometimes, late at night, you can still see the gems sparkling across the waters of the Channel. And—”
“That’s enough, Aurora.”
Slayde loomed in the doorway, his expression as dark as his tone. “I said you could meet our guest, not wear her out. You’ll have plenty of time to regale her with Mr. Scollard’s nonsensical yarns—if she still chooses to stay at Pembourne. A quarter hour with you might very well have altered her decision.”
“Not at all,” Courtney inserted. “If anything, it’s reinforced it.” She smiled at Aurora. “I look forward to hearing more. And to meeting Mr. Scollard—not once, but countless times.”
A dazzling grin lit Aurora’s face. “Cook will bake a splendid cake when your birthday arrives. We’ll take it with us to the lighthouse. Maybe Elinore can join us there. Oh! You asked who she was. Elinore is the Viscountess Stanwyk. She lives in Teignmouth, less than two miles from here. She was Mama’s dearest friend. But don’t let her age fool you; she’s as vibrant as a young girl. In fact, she’s the one with whom I spent this past week in London. Tomorrow, after you’ve rested, I’ll tell you all about our adventures there. The important thing is, I’m sure Elinore will be delighted to partake in our birthday celebration. As will Mr. Scollard. And who knows? Perhaps he can tell you something wonderful about your future.”
Her future.
Courtney felt the constriction in her chest return.
“Say good night, Aurora,” Slayde commanded. “Miss Johnston is exhausted. Matilda is on her way up to change our guest’s bandages and bring her some supper. Then she must sleep. You’ll visit again tomorrow.”
“Of course.” Aurora rose. “Sleep well, Courtney.” She paused, her buoyancy vanishing in the wake of solemn perception. “The grief will subside,” she vowed, squeezing Courtney’s hand. “And remember—you’re not alone.”
