"I didn't mean-"
"My father is in his study upstairs," Aurora cut in, "and besides that, I don't think the two of us should be alone out here. It's not proper."
Elmore had been having quite a lovely time out here, whether it was proper or not, but the look on Aurora's face said not to argue. Instead, he simply gave a nod and followed her along the looping path that led back to the main house.
They passed an outbuilding on the way; not quite a conservatory, not quite a gazebo, but somewhere in between. Tall spiral pillars held up a pointed roof, painted soft green and blue. Ivy climbed along the edge, big floppy leaves blowing in the breeze.
"We have something like this back home," Elmore noted. He hoped, by continuing conversation, that Aurora would begin to relax. Or at least that the trip back to the house wouldn't be so awkward.
She offered a thin smile. "My idea. I thought it would be nice to have somewhere proper to sit, without windows in the way. It keeps you sheltered when it rains too, unless it's also windy."
"Why not just sit at the window?"
"You would be surprised by how much windows change the look of things. I like not having that barrier."
It made sense, he supposed, in a roundabout sort of way. For all his denial about the importance of nature, Elmore's father had still adored his garden. He would have loved something like this.
Ah, but there was no use in thinking of those things right now. Elmore was here for a reason, not to reminisce. He nodded for Aurora to continue walking, and fell easily into step beside her.
She was shorter than him by almost a foot, or at least it seemed that way; but she strode with purpose now, perhaps eager to be out of his company. Or, it was simply how she walked.
When they reached the side door to the house, it was already open. It revealed a dim hallway that opened onto the lower landing, where they were met with several doors. Everything was made of dark wood; the floor was oak, polished to a perfect shine, and the elegant staircase was more of the same, except carpeted with a dark shade of teal blue.
It was nothing compared to the grandiose of Elmore's own home, or even his London one, but it was still a lovely place.
"He should be upstairs," Aurora said with a nod to the top landing. "I can show you the way?"
"Please."
He had attended the last yearly meeting that Mr. Washam held, four years ago now. Yet his memory of the house was fuzzy; even when Mr. Washam was his personal tutor, he spent little time in this house. It was mostly letters they communicated by, and when theydidmeet up in person it was always outdoors, studying nature.
Nonetheless, Aurora led him up the stairs and along a vaguely familiar hallway, where a small painting of the Washam family hung. It must have cost a fortune for such a thing, as detailed as it was; Mr. Washam stood beside his late wife, an arm around her shoulder. Standing in front of them was Aurora, perhaps three years old.
Ah, an artistic representation, then, as Mrs. Washam had never gotten to see Aurora grow. Elmore only knew a little, and had always refrained from asking.
They passed the paintings, and another painting of a wildflower garden, before reaching a closed door.
Aurora knocked and called, "Father? Lord Winters is here to see you."
There was a pause. Silence. Then, "Oh, how unexpected! Please bring him in!”
The door creaked open to reveal a modest study, stacked with books in every available crevice. They were stacked haphazardly on the bookshelf, the window ledge, even on the floor.
Amongst the mess was an older gentleman with greying blond hair and bright, friendly eyes. Mr. Washam had aged in the last four years since they'd spoken, new wrinkles appearing on his forehead — but when they locked eyes, his grin washed the years of ageing away.
"Ah, Elmore, how fantastic to see you again!"
Chapter 6
Aurora Washam
The study was an absolute mess, as it usually was, and so Aurora set about clearing away the books while the men talked. She swore that every time she came in here, there were more books than before. How Father managed to stay organized when everything was so cluttered, she had no idea.
Father and Lord Winters spoke like old friends, although she had the impression that they didn't keep in such good contact these days. Yet wasn't it the true mark of friendship, that they could go so long without speaking and still fall easily into their old ways?
She tried not to listen in, but nobody had asked her to leave and so Aurora assumed it was fine for her to be here. She kept one eye on Father as she tidied, never quite letting him leave her view. It had been a long time since she had seen him smile quite so wide, or speak so freely.
"It's been a while," Father was saying now, "tell me, what have you been doing since we last spoke?"