Elisabeth Fairchild

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gone into its construction and the amassing of numerous calf-bound, gold-leafed books and folios--this room bathed in the color. Long, bright, and high-ceilinged, the space was beautifully coffered--as was most of the Hall--with gold leaf and gilt. Carved doorjambs, window frames and bookcases were delicately trimmed out in gold leaf as well. One wall boasted a golden gray-veined Sienna marble fireplace, in which crackled a fire that added just the right note of warmth to the room’s gilt-edged comfort. Above the fireplace hung a particularly fine antique mosaic of a golden lion devouring a gold-and black-spotted leopard.
    Aurora knew she would find Rue ensconced in this glittering respite most hours of the day scribbling away at the manuscript he allowed no one to examine. He was a most obliging brother in every other way she had to admit, to come with her all the way to Holkham as her escort, when he had not the slightest interest in sheep, their shearing, cattle or farming implements. He was, he told her, content to explore terrain of quite a different kind, in the gilt-edged pages of the books that the masters of Holkham had collected. He even stayed relatively current on the latest agricultural news by perusing the periodicals Thomas Coke subscribed to, without ever setting foot in field or barn. But, this morning Rupert was not engrossed in a book or scratching feverishly away with his pen. He was standing before one of the windows, leaning on his cane and staring at the view.
    Aurora got the feeling she interrupted a profound state of reflection so intent was his concentration.
    “Rupert?”
    He started and swung his auburn forelock out of eyes the grey-blue color of Wedgewood in turning to look at her. He would bewitch a female some day with those eyes. Aurora was sure of it. Despite his missing leg, Rupert was an engaging fellow.
    “Oh, it’s you,” he said unnecessarily. Of course it was she. Who else knew to seek him out, here, in Coke’s private sanctuary?
    Feeling far too green in this golden room, dressed as she was in her Bowman’s colors, she plumped herself down on a comfortable gold damask sofa that faced the fireplace and the antique mosaic above it. Aurora found the lion devouring the leopard an intriguing subject choice for the quiet comfort of a library. It added an edge of violence, of adventure, to the still peace of the place.
    “I have come to tell you what I mean to do today.”
    Strange, how she felt compelled to do so. Aurora was not in the habit of informing anyone of her whereabouts now that mother and father were gone. Her brothers had never required it of her. But today she felt the need to tell Rupert of her intentions.
    Rupert looked as baffled as she by this sudden accountability for her whereabouts. With a shrug he returned his attention to the view. “Yes?”
    Aurora gazed at him a moment, as if she gazed at a stranger. Rupert was not the most handsome of her brothers, but there had always been a contained steadiness, a physical self-possession, and a level of unruffled intellectual strength about him that she found attractive. These admirable characteristics had served him well in the military. Perhaps, too well. They had taken him to Wellington’s battlefront at Vitoria and lost him a leg.
    Rue had dealt quietly, almost unemotionally, with the loss of his limb. Reserved and studious to begin with, his introverted tendencies were magnified. As for his physical self-confidence, he got around well enough on his peg with a crutch to assist him. His staggered gait was not so distracting as to offend, but Rupert would never be graceful in what was left of his body. He was not yet comfortable with the looks that turned in his direction whenever he limped into a room. Crowds, noise-making and shows of high emotion were an anathema to him. He tucked himself, instead, into still, quiet corners, writing and reading, the lion in the library.
    Aurora did not understand such a continuing

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