In the Baron’s Debt by Roselyn Francis

Chapter Five

“Good shot!” Augusta cried as Markus struck the shuttlecock with the battledore. Markus smiled, the action stretching his face into a full beam, brimming with pride at her compliment. As the shuttlecock flew towards Augusta, she grabbed the blue skirt of her empire gown in one hand to prevent herself from tripping as she ran towards it. She hit the shuttlecock back towards Markus who jumped to return it.

The shuttlecock flew straight up into the air above them. They both ran to stand side by side to watch its trajectory. They were stood in the open grass section of the garden, bordered with tall oak trees.

“So high I think you could touch the clouds with that one, Markus,” Augusta laughed as she brushed the wisps of hair away behind her ears. They had come loose in the exertion of the afternoon.

Markus had been a little reticent at first when they had begun their game, but a few strikes in he grew to love it, his green eyes alight and his cheeks blushed. An hour later, both were red cheeked and tiring.

“What do you reckon?” Augusta looked down at him with a smile. “Who will be the first to hit it when it comes back down to earth?” At her challenge, the boy raised his battledore into the air. “You will? It is a wager then.” She giggled as she looked back up – the shuttlecock was dropping through the air again towards them.

She made a show of trying to get to the shuttlecock first, but she let Markus jump in front of her. He struck it high into the air again, but this time it landed in the branches of a tree. Rather than returning to earth, it stayed lodged between the branches.

“Oh dear, neither of us put a wager on the tree catching it, did we?” She smiled as she moved to Markus’ side. The boy laughed before turning his gaze back up to the trapped shuttlecock. The smile disappeared. He reached up with his battledore as though trying to poke it free, but he was far too short to make the distance. The branch stretched so high over their heads that Augusta would not have been able to reach it with her own battledore. “I think it is a little high.”

At her words, the boy dropped the battledore on the floor and hurried towards the trunk of the tree about to climb it. The Baron’s story of Markus’ determination to retrieve a lost shuttlecock from the pond came back to her.

“Oh no, Markus,” she moved to his side. “I cannot let you climb a tree.” The boy ignored her and continued in his effort. “What if you were to fall?”

The boy paused and looked back to her. He shrugged as if it did not matter then returned to his task.

“Very well, if you do not mind getting hurt, then do it for my sake. What would your father say to me if I allowed you to be hurt? He would be very cross with me.” To her words, the boy hesitated then walked away from the tree again. “There now, I am safe from his reproach.”

Markus stopped at her side and looked up to her in confusion, wrinkling his small nose. Augusta knew the look well. He did not need to speak for her to understand the problem, she had seen similar confusion in the children of her friends.

“Ah, would you like to know what the word ‘reproach’ means?” She crouched down to his side as the boy nodded. “It means a kind of anger. If you were to get hurt by climbing that tree, your father would understandably admonish me for allowing you to be hurt. He would speak harshly to me.” Markus made a show of stomping his feet on the ground as though imitating his father. “Yes, and he would no doubt stomp around too.”

“Indeed, I would.”

The voice made Augusta snap her head away from Markus to someone standing between the trees watching them. It was the Baron.

* * *

Loftus was amazed at the transformation. In one afternoon of playing shuttlecock, Markus was happily stood by Augusta with a great smile on his cheeks, laughing at her jokes. He had watched from the house window for some time, incredibly relieved to see his son so happy. Yet his eyes had kept drawing to Augusta, seeing the flush of her cheeks and the way she kept picking up the skirt of her dress to run was inviting his mind to wander to places he knew he should not allow.

He was surprised at the ire that had grown at that sight. Anger for himself for desiring her, and angry at her for coming back into his life.

Augusta was looking at him with surprise now as she crouched down in front of Markus.

“Markus knows me well,” he smiled and walked towards his son, patting him on the head as Augusta moved to her feet. “I do have a temptation to stamp around when angered.” He remembered when he had received Augusta’s letter calling off the betrothal – he had never been so angry as in that moment, and he had thought he would never stop marching through the house in an attempt to walk off his fury.

The boy began to do another impression again, stomping his feet on the ground, making the two of them laugh.

“Yes, just like that,” Loftus glanced between Markus and Augusta again, amazed at the boy’s progress. He was even making jokes in front of her. No other woman could draw such a behavior from him. “Now, why were you going to climb a tree anyway?”

Markus pointed up to the branch above their head, urging Loftus to follow the gesture and see the shuttlecock himself.

“It rather interrupted our game,” Augusta smiled, drawing his gaze to her. “A good thing too, I was about to lose, was I not?” She looked to Markus who nodded joyfully.

“Well, let me see if I can get it back for you,” Loftus held out a hand to Augusta. She paused for a second, clearly confused by the move. He gestured with eyes down at the battledore in her grasp and she handed it over.

He turned back to the tree and reached up on his toes, poking the branch with the end of the battledore. It took a few goes, but eventually the shuttlecock dislodged – it fell from the tree branch towards them, where Markus caught it. He held it aloft with glee for Augusta to see.

“Well done! An excellent catch indeed,” she clapped in approval. Loftus could see the delight in Markus’ face at her praise.

“Now, before you return to your game,” Loftus pointed to the table and chairs placed at the bottom of the open grass section of the garden, “perhaps we could take some refreshments. You must be thirsty by now, Markus. I have requested some lemonade be brought out for you.” The boy nodded and ran towards the table, picking up his feet with his haste.

Loftus and Augusta walked side by side towards him. With such distance between them and the boy, they could talk in private.

“He has not been this way for some time,” Loftus confessed as he passed the battledore back to Augusta, avoiding eye contact. He was angry at her, but he could not escape the fact that Markus had chosen her of all people to be comfortable with. That had to be important. There was part of him that wished to unload all his thoughts about Markus to her. Once upon a time, he had told her everything. She had always been good counsel, offering sound advice and comfort when needed. He could do with that kindness back in his life. He pressed his lips together instead, preventing himself from speaking.

“I think he is happiest when he is not thinking of what it is that bothers him,” Augusta whispered to him as they neared the table.

“That is your plan, to distract him?”

“At first,” she nodded. He turned his eyes to her, seeing the gentleness of her smile. “By not tackling the issue and just talking to him normally, he relaxes. He is happy.” She gestured to his son. Markus was pulling himself into one of the chairs, crossing his feet beneath him with a smile.

“It is nice to see him so happy,” Loftus agreed with a final whisper as they reached the table. He held out a chair for Augusta to sit. She took it with a little surprise, murmuring her thanks with a glance his way. By pushing in her chair, it had put them in proximity, and he regretted it.

Loftus was startled by her scent. It was the same as it had been all those years ago. It was a mixture of jasmine and orange. He moved quickly to his own chair, his movements jerky with exasperation at himself, trying to distance himself from the scent as the maid moved nearer.

The realization the maid was the one carrying the tea tray to them prepared Loftus for the inevitable. He turned his eyes to Markus, waiting for his reaction. The moment the boy spotted the maid, he clammed up. His smile disappeared and he rearranged in his chair, bringing his knees up in front of his face to hide.

Loftus could see Augusta had fallen still in her chair, watching the boy avidly.

As the maid reached the table, she propped the tray on the surface. The clatter of the china cups made the boy leap into action. He jumped up from his chair and scurried under the table to hide, pushing his small body between the white metal legs. Augusta was alarmed, her mouth wide as she looked between the table and the maid.

The maid could not leave yet. She was moving the teapot and the cups from the tray to the table surface.

“Markus, please,” Loftus leaned down to look under the table. “I promise you there is nothing to worry about.” The boy would not look at him. He had his eyes on his hands that were wrapped around one of the chair legs.

“Well, this is an unusual place for a tea party,” Augusta flopped down under the table and took a seat beside Markus. Loftus felt his eyebrows raise in surprise. She made no reference to what had passed regarding the boy’s reason for hiding. “Here you go, Markus.” She passed him his lemonade. “Now, you will have to let go of the table leg if you wish to drink the lemonade.” The boy made no move to do so, he kept his hands firmly around it. “Oh, very well. I guess I will get to enjoy the lemonade. It is my favorite too.” She made a show of raising the glass to her lips at which point the boy released the table leg and reached out towards her. “Ah, here you go. Next time I will have to be quicker if I am to take it from you.” She passed over the lemonade before turning her eyes to him. “Baron Bardolf, will you join us?”

Loftus was not sure how to reply, too stunned by what had passed.

“Under the table?” He asked with a smirk.

“Well, Markus wishes to have our tea party down here. Do you not, dear?” She looked to the boy who nodded. “I think it is a splendid idea. Each day we have tea together, we can pick a new wonderful place. What do you say Markus to us taking tea tomorrow amongst the flowerbeds?” The boy smiled at the idea.

“Very well,” Loftus sat straight again to collect the teapot and teacups, then brought them back down to the grass as the maid hurried away. He found he watched Augusta carefully throughout their tea party. She continuously talked to Markus. With each surprising topic of conversation that she chose, the boy relaxed even more.

When it came to the time for the tea tray to be collected, Augusta had persuaded Markus back into the chairs by complaining her back was a little sore and asking if he would take pity on her. When the maid came, Markus would not look at her, but this time, he did not run away. Augusta continued to talk to him of their shuttlecock game and he kept his eyes to her.

I know, son. I find it just as difficult to tear my eyes from her.

* * *

The parting with Markus had been a little sad for Augusta. She found she was developing a true affection for the boy, but as she stood in the doorway bidding goodbye to the Baron, she felt a little pride too at the day’s events. She had managed to soften the boy’s reaction to the maid during their tea.

I can help him.

She had enjoyed her time with Markus, so much so, that the business deal she and the Baron had arranged almost seemed unfair. He had sacrificed money, but she had sacrificed nothing. She had simply gained a new friend.

As she stood in the doorway, she turned back to face the Baron, her manner suddenly nervous. She looked at his surprised face, struggling with what to say. He was angry, impatient for her to be on her way. She realized how indebted to him she was. Had it not been for his kindness in returning the money, James could be in debtor’s prison by now.

“Baron Bardolf?”

“Yes?” He appeared distracted by something. He looked behind him into the hallway, he was watching Holmes and the housekeeper as they were walking down the corridor discussing something.

Augusta knew she needed his full attention. She had to thank him properly for what he had done. Seeing he was still distracted she took a step back towards him and reached out for his hand. He did not pull away, but his hand did not move to completely encapsulate hers, his hand froze in hers. His head flicked back towards her, with his eyes wide in alarm and fury.

“Miss Creassey –”

“Please allow me to thank you,” her words came out in a hurry, “for what you have done for me and my brother.”

“You have already thanked me.”

“Not enough,” she shook her head and held his hand tighter. Still, he did not pull away, though his manner betrayed his discomfort. “I am indebted to you. Markus is a joy to be with. If the only repayment I can ever make you for returning my brother’s money - is to enjoy Markus’ company, then I have truly been blessed by your kindness.”

“Miss Creassey,” his voice was a warning whisper, the words harsh. “It is a business arrangement. That is all. If you enjoy my son’s company, then of course I am delighted, but you do not need to thank me further.”

“I truly do. For my brother’s sake.”

“Do not thank me for your brother.” He shook his head, his eyes lowering to their connected hands. She followed his gaze, seeing their palms pressed together. His hand was warm against hers.

“But I must.”

“I did not do it for him.” His whisper was so quiet, she was uncertain for a minute if she had heard him correctly. The touch between them was like a spark in Augusta’s stomach. As though Loftus had struck a light in a tinder box – that sudden spark of fire burning.

She looked up to him again, seeing his green eyes watching her.

She was reminded of the last kiss they had ever shared. It had been in the very doorway where she now stood. He had stepped outside with her to hide from prying eyes of the staff. The kiss had been passionate. He had pressed her against the back of the door, holding her waist with both of his hands. She had wound her fingers in his hair, pulling him towards her.

She blinked as she watched him now. Amazed by the desire that was stirring for him in her stomach at just the touch of their hands.

“I must go.” She pulled her hand sharply away from his, as though it had been burned and hurried back down the steps, hiding her hands in the sleeves of her pelisse. She did not look back to the doorway as she was too afraid to see his face or his reaction.

She wondered if he could remember that kiss at all.