Ashes of Roses

by Melissa R. L. Simonin

  “That I did,” Finn said proudly. “Hearin’ you speak of yer own long-lastin’ hybrids was what prompted me, that an yer genuine interest in followin’ in the footsteps o’ yer predecessors. I’m curious to know which rose will be lastin’ the longest.”

  “Visit us next summer, and find out,” Miles said.

  “Sure, an it’s tempted I am,” Finn admitted.

  “It’s the only way you’ll know for certain,” I replied. “What you can be sure of, is that your seeds are safe with us. Is Cait your hardiest rose?”

  “She stays fresh the longest, though a number o’ others aren’t far behind,” Finn said.

  “Then it’s not surprising someone would be anxious to profit from your accomplishments,” I remarked.

  “You said the stout, balding guy approached you previously,” Miles stated. “Was he the only one to express an interest in marketing your hybrids?”

  “There’ve been others,” Finn said with a proud tilt to his chin, then his eyebrows met in a scowl. “Never before did Lady Carlisle give ‘em the time o’ day. She seemed as proud o’ the manor garden’s unique roses as I was, myself. Never did I believe she’d change her mind, an treat our understandin’ so poor.”

  Much as I wanted to tell him what drove her to such desperation, Miles and I kept that information to ourselves. Lady Carlisle committed a serious breach of contract in taking the stout, balding guy into the greenhouse with Finn’s young hybrids, and in searching for his record book. She was cold, cutting, and cruel, much as she was with her own son. There was no reason to believe she was repentant, so we refrained from lobbying for sympathy. If she wanted to explain herself she could try, although she’d have to find Finn on her own, to do so. She wouldn’t get his location from us, that much was certain.

  Finn couldn’t recall the names of any of those who previously expressed an interest in buying the right to market his roses. He was more concerned with chasing them off than in adding them to his nonexistent address book. We could think of no other questions. Finn gave us his sister’s number in case that changed, and we promised to let him know when the killer, or killers, were found. Not that he intended to enlighten anyone to his location even then, but he wouldn’t mind having his curiosity satisfied.

  We accepted a brief tour of Finn’s newly constructed greenhouse, then made our departure before he could get too interested in how we got to Ireland on the ferry’s off-day. Wouldn’t he be amazed if he knew we bypassed the Isle of Camden altogether, and came straight from our suite at the Lodge! Maybe he’d react like Mom if we told him, although his laughter would likely be tinged with concern. Either these people have weird senses of humor, or they’re nuts! Rather than leave him to decide, we left before he could inquire.

  Miles glanced at his watch as we skirted the hedgerow, then followed the road in the opposite direction from whence we came. If circumstances were otherwise, we’d be delighted to visit some more with Finn’s family, but right now we just didn’t have the time to spare. Avoiding them, also meant avoiding the questions they surely had by now, and the risk of being offered a drive to the dock, or a boat ride all the way back to the Isle. We had our own ride, one we couldn’t possibly explain, and one who might just get us there in time for breakfast.

  “Are we on schedule?” I asked.

  “Unless our footman decided to give up being stately and is hurrying for a change, we’ll make it. We may even have a second or two to spare.”

  Miles stopped and looked all around us, then with his arm snug around my waist and a nod at Trixie, we were back in our room at the manor. The soft rattle of wheels in the hall, and the softer tap at the door, indicated we were just in time.

  We gave Trixie pats of gratitude, then she went on her way, and Miles went to the door. Within minutes, we were seated near the fireplace, and breakfast was spread out before us.

  Despite the woeful lack of a fire and the finicky radiator, the food was both warm, and satisfying. So were the tea and scones Riley and her kids shared with us earlier, but that light meal now seemed like years in the past. I for one, felt nearly starved, so we spent the next several minutes focusing on getting breakfast off our plates, and into ourselves.

  “What’s next?” I asked, while simultaneously stifling a yawn, and thus setting off a chain reaction.

  “Sleep,” Miles said, as he stifled a yawn himself. “We’re operating under a deficit, and the sooner we make that up, the better off we’ll be.”

  I couldn’t help making a face at that.

  “I know that’s the truth, but there’s so much investigating to do,” I felt compelled to mention.

  “We’ll get to it faster if we don’t make ourselves sick first, and do a more thorough job of it if our wits aren’t dulled by exhaustion,” Miles reasoned. “That’s also the truth, which I assume is why you’re scowling.”

  “I’m not scowling, I’m trying to hold in another yawn,” I laughed.

  “You and me both,” Miles said. “So next on the agenda, is sleep. After that… then, we’ll come up with a plan.”

  Chapter 20

  “It was simply dreadful,” Katharine declared, and not for the first time, as she set aside her brush a bit more firmly than was necessary.

  James watched in sympathetic silence as his wife’s fingers flew through her dark hair, twisting, curling, and pinning the thick locks in place. Her rapid movements, as much as her tone of voice, cautioned him to withhold comment unless and until it was requested. The snap of her eyes suggested he’d best prepare to wait a while.

  “Helen is doing your cousin no favors, whatever she may think,” Katharine said grimly. “Her intent may be noble enough, but it is worse than misguided to believe such a union will result in anything other than grief for all concerned!”

  Katharine fastened first one earring, then the other, as she glared beyond her reflection to scenes of the tragedy enacted earlier in the day. She closed her jewel case with a decided snap, then spun in her seat to face her husband. There was determination in her eyes, as well as resolve.

  “Something must be done,” she stated.

  James’ eyebrows drew together faintly. It would appear his wife was awaiting a response.

  “Have you an idea what Evie intends to do, herself?” he questioned.

  As Katharine contemplated his words, hope, doubt, and relief chased each other across her face.

  “This family of yours,” she deliberated. “Surely they will put an end to this arrangement when once they become aware, will they not?”

  “If it were my own family of whom you inquire, then most certainly,” James replied. “As for Sir William and Lady Nora, I am not so well acquainted as to answer with such confidence. It is difficult however, to imagine they would do otherwise.”

  “The elder Lady Bannerman is very fond of Evie, and of Helen, as well. She knows as well as I, what occurred. She will see that Evie is not resigned to the fate laid out for her at present,” Katharine said optimistically, but then her eyes clouded. “Though nothing and no one, can spare her the heartbreak she now bears.”

  James rose from his chair, then knelt in front of his wife, and took her hands in his.

  “What I know, is that Evie has a faithful and true friend in her new cousin, who will be of great comfort to her in this,” he assured her softly.

  “I hope it is as you say,” Katharine sighed. “If the love I believed to be mine was lost, I cannot imagine finding comfort ever again.”

  “Then attempting to imagine, is as close as you shall ever come,” James vowed. “You have my love, both now and forever.”

  Katharine’s eyes sparkled, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

  “How fortunate, that finally you came round,” she said teasingly, and he smiled.

  “I could not but do so,” James declared, then kissed her.

  All too quickly, a gong sounded in the distance.

  “I suppose we must join the others for dinner,” James resig
ned himself, as he rose to his feet, and assisted Katharine in doing the same.

  “It shall come to an end eventually,” she consoled her husband, as she reached for her wrap.

  “There is that for which to be thankful,” James agreed.

  “Indeed, it is thanks to you, that we shall not be required to part for the duration,” Katharine replied, then a shadow crossed her face. “Though I do not understand Lady France’s peculiar choice in seating arrangements, I imagine Evie will be all too grateful to avoid dining in the company of Douglas Carlisle.”

  “There is then one redeeming quality in it, after all,” James said with all due sympathy for his young cousin.

  “Do you suppose he will even attend?” Katharine questioned hopefully. “Perhaps Evie’s parents have dealt with the Carlisles already.”

  “It is unlikely Sir William and Lady Frances are yet aware,” James replied. “They have most likely been occupied in the intervening hours by the premature arrival of Sir Douglas and Lady Nora. If however, their eldest is as upset as he expressed himself to be, it is possible that he himself, will refuse to attend.”

  “As well he should,” Katharine said shortly, as James assisted in placing the wrap around her shoulders.

  “Rather than speculate further, shall we see for ourselves what transpires?” he asked, then offered her his arm, which she accepted.

  “Let us waste no more time in doing so,” Katharine agreed.

  The sounds of light talk and laughter drifted from the drawing room into the hall, as Douglas and his brother Daniel made their approach. Anger, resentment, and betrayal simmered beneath the surface, and grief deeper still, but outwardly Douglas’ demeanor had the appearance of calm.

  Rather like that before the storm, Daniel thought apprehensively, as he glanced at his older brother.

  “What is it you intend to do?” he dared ask, as they neared the doorway.

  “I intend to join the rest for dinner, of course,” Douglas answered lightly. His placid tone, combined with the glimmer of steel in his eyes, gave less assurance than if both expressed a singular frame of mind. Cheerful indifference would be preferable, and seething anger might possibly be contained. But together, the opposing moods came across as rather unbalanced.

  Before Daniel could formulate a response, the doorway was reached, the young men were announced by the footman, and their entrance was made.

  Douglas coolly took in those seated at one end of the room. Sir William and Lady Frances, Mr. and Mrs. Bannerman, and the elder Lady Bannerman. His gaze passed indifferently over Helen, as he acknowledged the rest with a nod.

  “How lovely to see you this evening, Douglas,” Lady Frances said graciously. “I do hope your day has been a pleasant one.”

  “It was a fine match of clays you missed,” Sir William added jovially, leaving Katharine to conclude Evie’s parents were yet in the dark as to his feelings for one other than their daughter.

  “Yes, I am afraid I was rather preoccupied in other pursuits,” Douglas responded, still with that unnerving mix of indifference, overlying the simmering rage.

  Helen cast him a furtive glance, which he ignored. The elder Lady Bannerman observed the lack of acknowledgement in troubled silence.

  “I do hope you were met with success,” Lady Frances remarked.

  “I cannot say that I was,” Douglas replied evenly.

  “I do rather envy your skill,” Daniel rapidly addressed James. “I fear the wound to my pride may be a mortal one.”

  “The same could be said for us all,” Sir William remarked jovially. “Your husband is indeed the marksman.”

  “As well I know,” Katharine said proudly, with a glance at James.

  “Not without a good deal of practice, I assure you,” he replied modestly.

  “Lord Whittington of Devonshire, and Lady Arabela,” the footman announced, and the conversation was interrupted by the steady arrival of the remaining dinner guests. The hum of the many voices as they engaged in a number of separate conversations, was a relief to Daniel. The less attention focused on his brother, the better.

  Katharine kept one ear tuned to the talk around her, and both eyes on the doorway into the hall. If Evie did not make an appearance soon, either she did not intend to arrive until after the start of dinner, or not at all. Katharine could hardly fault her for it, if she didn’t.

  Lady Frances, was another matter. She too, kept a wary eye on the doorway. If only she knew what her daughter witnessed earlier, perhaps the disapproval in her eyes would be directed elsewhere. Katharine certainly hoped it would be so. Personal experience, combined with the observations made since arriving at the manor, did little to assure her.

  Sir Douglas and Lady Nora made their arrival. Douglas’ jaw tightened at sight of his father, and there was the promise of future reckoning in his eyes. Helen averted her gaze, and the eyes of his parents’ passed over her without recognition. The elder Lady Bannerman’s expression was grim, as she studied them critically.

  The clock chimed the hour, the dining room doors opened, the butler swung them wide, Lady Frances stood in resignation, and Evie entered from the hall.

  Lady Frances gave a silent sigh of relief, though she did wonder at her daughter’s choice of dress. The plainness and somber shade were more befitting a wake, than a wedding. It was not what she would expect, but perhaps it was a sign of Evie putting aside childish ways, and embracing her future as a married woman. Whatever the portent, she was present, and for the moment it was enough.

  Katharine studied the face of her husband’s young cousin. Gone was the childlike innocence, and in its place was the grave maturity wrought by disappointment and heartache. Whatever Evie’s feelings were now, they were well-hidden, aside from her complete failure to glance in Douglas’ direction. Daniel wondered at that, and the cool look in her eyes.

  The lack of acknowledgement wasn’t what Douglas was expecting either, and he wondered at it himself. He had yet to decide how thoroughly to snub his unwanted fiancé, but by the look of it, he would first have to gain her attention in order to do so.

  “Dinner is served,” the butler announced solemnly, and Lady Frances commenced with arranging each guest in proper order. Introducing the groom to his future bride, would just have to wait. All that mattered at the moment, was that no excuse need be made to explain her absence.

  “Mr. Carlisle, if you will escort Miss Jamison,” she directed, and noticed not how the words robbed the color from Helen’s cheeks, and caused Douglas to flush. He cast his father an accusing glance, and was gratified to see the shock and pallor on both his parents’ faces. They looked very much as though they just witnessed a return from the dead.

  “Any doubt they were privy to her survival is now laid to rest,” Daniel commented quietly.

  “So it is,” Douglas replied grimly, with one last scathing look at their father. He stepped forward as instructed, and offered Helen his arm. She obliged, and stood quietly by his side as Lady Frances swiftly assigned places to each remaining guest.

  “Mr. Carlisle,” she addressed Daniel. “If you will escort Miss Bannerman.”

  Daniel nodded, and with a glance of concern at his brother, he joined Evie on the other side of the room.

  “Miss Bannerman,” he greeted her cordially. “How wonderful it is that finally we meet, though I must say I’ve heard so much about you, I feel as though we are already acquainted.”

  Evie looked back at him coolly, as she rested her fingertips but lightly on the arm he offered.

  “I see,” she replied cryptically, and gave no more encouragement than that.

  Daniel was more than a little surprised by her obvious lack of interest. He wasn’t sure what to make of it.

  Of one thing, Evie was absolutely certain; that this man would have no more satisfaction out of her. Of course he felt he knew her, after reading the letters she wrote in response to his own false missives. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she recalled the innermost thoughts, fee
lings, and dreams she shared, believing the recipient to be true. But he wasn’t true, after all. The man she loved, the man who professed to love her, existed only in this man’s cruel pen.

  Daniel Carlisle thought he knew her, and perhaps he once did. He did not know her now, and unless he was an utter fool, he would be content not to.

  Helen’s shoulders ached with tension, as she...

  A soft buzz dragged me back into the present. I puzzled briefly over its source, and determined to ignore it. I wanted to get back, and see what happened next!

  Another buzz. And another.

  Miles stirred, then reached for his phone. The buzzing stopped.

  Helen’s shoulders ached with tension, as she—

  Miles sighed, then carefully slid his arm out from under me. I frowned.

  “Where are you going?” I wondered.

  “Not far, and not for long,” he assured me. “I’ll be right back.”

  “Better be,” I half warned, half yawned. He laughed softly, then kissed my cheek and climbed out of bed. I rolled over, pulled the covers up to my chin, and closed my eyes.

  Helen’s shoulders ached—

  The knob turned, the hinges creaked, and my eyes popped open. So did the door, though to be entirely truthful, it creaked more than it popped.

  “Edmund, what’s going on?” Miles asked quietly.

  I rolled over again, not that I could see through the bed curtains, but I could hear, and I wondered the same thing.

  “It would save time to list what isn’t,” Edmund half-laughed. It wasn’t the truth, but it was how he felt. “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “It’s alright,” Miles replied. “We were just making up some lost sleep.”

  “Truly I am sorry then, but I need very much to ask your assistance,” Sir Edmund said rather desperately.

  “Alright…” Miles responded.

  He was wondering the same thing I was. Did Lady Carlisle tell Sir Edmund the manor was in danger of being consumed from within, by dry rot? Was he hoping to avoid the strings Delacroix’s help would include, by seeking that help from us?