No Other Love

by Isabel Morin

  He turned around to face Nathan, standing closer than necessary to make his point clear. Nathan had to look up to meet his eye, a fact that pleased Luke greatly.

  “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if you harass or harm Rose in any way, you’ll answer to me. Rest assured I would take great pleasure in teaching you a lesson. Your place with the railroad is already hanging by a thread. I won’t hesitate to break it.”

  Luke didn’t wait for a reply. Without another word he strode away, anxious to put distance between them.

  ***

  Vivian peeked out the parlor window.

  “Of course he’s there, exactly as he always is. Why would you doubt it?”

  “Do come away from the window,” Rose pleaded. “What if he sees you?”

  “I shouldn’t worry. He doesn’t see anything but you, dear,” Vivian quipped, stepping back and looking at her friend impishly.

  “You haven’t even met him, you goose,” Rose replied, laughing.

  “Perhaps not, but I’ve watched his face as you walk toward him.”

  Rose’s heart squeezed at Vivian’s observation, and she found herself both wishing it were true and hoping it were not.

  Giving her friend a kiss on the cheek, she left the house, restraining the urge to rush toward Luke. Every Monday for the past four weeks she’d made this walk toward him, her heart beating madly, and each time she wondered what she was doing. And then she would answer her own question by reassuring herself that it was just one drive a week, surely nothing to lose sleep over. But the way he looked at her, the way she felt sitting next to him as his deep voice flowed over her, those things did indeed keep her awake nights.

  It was getting harder and harder to write to Will, and harder still to read the earnest and devoted letters she received.

  Luke smiled as she came closer, his eyes never leaving hers as he handed her into the carriage. It had been an uncomfortably hot day but now a faint breeze stirred, bringing with it some relief.

  “I trust you had a pleasant visit with your friend?” he asked.

  “Oh yes. Vivian and I talk nonsense and eat ourselves silly. It’s wonderful.”

  Luke urged the horses on as she settled her skirts about her. There was something at her feet however, and she bent down to move it aside.

  “That’s for you,” he said, his voice casual as he glanced at her and then back to the road.

  Leaning over, Rose picked up a package wrapped in heavy brown paper and bound with string. Carefully she removed the wrapping to find her lap full of beautifully bound leather books. There were perhaps a dozen of them – books by Emerson, Dickens, James Fenimore Cooper, as well as Shakespeare and Marlow. All of them perfect new editions, the letters stamped in gold leaf.

  Rose stared in disbelief at the treasure she was holding. “What is all this?”

  “I thought perhaps you might like some new books for your lessons, or just to read yourself. One can only read the same thing so many times.”

  Rose was speechless. It was the perfect gift. Nothing, no jewel or flower could have touched her more. How had he known? She’d told him about the lessons, but never once had she mentioned needing more books. Tears swam in her eyes as she ran her hands over the smooth leather. But how could she accept such a gift from him? It nearly choked her, but she knew she must refuse them.

  “I can’t accept such a generous gift from you. It wouldn’t be right.”

  Luke reined in the horses and turned to her, but she found herself unable to meet his gaze for fear that he would see how much they meant to her, far more than he could have intended them to.

  “Rose.” Luke’s voice was firm but kind, and demanded she look at him. Tentatively she complied, looking up to find his expression serious and full of understanding.

  “You owe me nothing in return for these. In fact, you need not think of them as gifts to you at all. They are meant for anyone who needs them, and you may keep them or give them away as you wish.” Here he stopped and his expression grew thoughtful. “Charlie told me how much you’re doing for him and the others. I know it can’t be easy finding books to read. This is the least I can do.”

  He made it so easy. Nodding her head, she accepted his gift that was not a gift, finally allowing herself to smile, her joy in the bounty on her lap expanding until she could hardly contain herself. She ran her hands over each book in turn, admiring them all.

  They drove on in companionable silence, and she could see him glancing at her every so often, a pleased smile curving his mouth. This time he stopped closer to the house in order that she not have to carry the books too far. There was no one else about, just the trill of birds delighted by summertime and the distant sound of a woodpecker hard at work.

  “I’m afraid I won’t see you for some time,” he said, frowning as though the thought disagreed with him. He took one of her hands in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “I have some business to attend to in the Berkshires that will likely take at least three weeks. Do whatever you can to stay away from Nathan while I’m gone. He said some things today that have me worried about leaving you.”

  “What will you be doing?” she asked, her heart beating fast as she tried to sound only casually interested.

  “Oh, just dealing with some trouble with the route over the mountains,” he replied with an aggravated sigh. “We thought we had a route but the landowners in Lenox wouldn’t sell. It should have been sorted out long before I arrived, but that’s another matter. We’ve been set back by months and a good deal of money, and now the shareholders are getting nervous, as are the people in Albany. They expect to connect our railroads next spring. If we don’t keep up our end of the bargain there’ll be serious repercussions. We’ve decided it’s worth speaking to the owner in person, and as I have to go out there to meet with Whistler, I’ll call on her myself.”

  “How badly do you need the landowners to sell? Enough to make things difficult for them to stay?” Rose asked, knowing she was taking a risk but unable to help it.

  Luke looked at her curiously. “What makes you ask that?”

  “I just wondered. If the stakes are so high…”

  “We’re offering a very generous amount, and I’ll do my best to persuade the owner of all the benefits to her. We’ll lay tracks over those hills, whether she agrees or not, so she may as well benefit from it. You can’t stop progress, try as one might.”

  This last was said almost regretfully, as if he wondered himself about the price of progress. But if he were so ambivalent, why could he not leave her aunt alone?

  “Some people have an attachment to the land that’s greater than any price you could name,” Rose said, angry now as she envisioned her aunt having to encounter Luke on her own.

  Luke looked at her curiously. “I’ve upset you. Perhaps I sound callous, but I do understand loving the land. I have a job to do, and I mean to do it, but I have no intention of strong-arming anyone.”

  Rose didn’t know what to feel. As much as she’d tried not to dwell on his connection to the railroad, it was impossible to ignore. He had no idea how much pain she and her aunt had suffered, nor how closely connected he was to it.

  He looked at her, his expression teasing. “Will you promise to leave your friend’s at a decent hour while I’m away? I won’t be able to concentrate if I have to worry about you walking the roads in the dead of night.”

  “Yes, of course,” she replied, but she couldn’t match his teasing tone. She could no longer even meet his eyes. “I must go before someone sees us,” she said, desperate to get away and think. He was frowning, clearly confused by the sudden change in her.

  She didn’t wait around for him to ask more questions. Thanking him quickly for the ride and the books, she hurried away, clutching his gift to her chest.

  Back in her room, Rose paced the floor, trying to figure out how to get word of Luke’s visit to her aunt. It wasn’t long before she realized it would have to wait until her next visit t
o town. She could only hope her letter would reach her aunt before Luke appeared at her door.

  She would have continued fretting had not Lydia entered the room and exclaimed over the new books sitting on the table.

  “Where did they come from?”

  “Vivian, gave them to me,” Rose replied, knowing it was unwise to tell Lydia the truth. “They’re for everyone. Won’t the others be pleased?”

  “We’ll have the most beautiful reading voices in all of Massachusetts,” Lydia declared, her face beaming so brightly Rose couldn’t possibly regret accepting the books. Already she was looking forward to hearing the students read them, and she was thinking of other ways to keep the lessons fun. Perhaps they might even put on a play.

  Rose threw herself into her lessons in the weeks after Luke left, and a curious thing happened. Staff who had until then been cold and difficult began to soften toward her. Whereas previously Mrs. Beech and Abigail had spoken to her only when absolutely necessary, and then with disdain, they were now almost kind. Even George was civil to her, and he was never more than civil to anyone. The one person who remained decidedly unfriendly was Dottie.

  And then a rather remarkable thing occurred. It was a scorching day in August, the sun pounding down as Rose hung clothes on a line stretched between two oak trees. She bent over to pull a wet sheet out of the basket and when she stood up Dottie was standing in front of her. But instead of her usual scowl, Dottie seemed nervous, even embarrassed.

  “Would you like some help?” she asked Rose. Without waiting for Rose’s reply she began shaking out pieces of clothing and securing them on the line. Rose stared at her for several seconds, wondering what had come over her, before shrugging and continuing her task. Dottie would say what was on her mind in her own time.

  The two women worked in silence for a few minutes before Dottie stopped and turned to her.

  “I want you to teach me to read,” she said, to Rose’s utter astonishment. “I’m not like the others,” she continued, a note of defiance in her voice. “I don’t know anything besides the alphabet, and I’m not sure I know that too well either. But I’ll pay you five cents a lesson to teach me.”

  Rose thought this over before replying, as this presented an opportunity she could not resist.

  “I don’t want your money,” she said, and Dottie’s face fell in disappointment. Quickly Rose continued. “I’m helping the others for nothing and will gladly do the same for you. What if I said I would teach you to read and write and all you have to do is be nice to me.”

  Dottie looked at her appraisingly. “How nice?”

  Rose held her gaze and tried not to smile.

  “At least as nice as George is,” she said. George hardly spoke to her, but when he did, he displayed no feeling whatsoever. That seemed fair.

  Dottie sighed.

  “Your way sounds more complicated, but I suppose it’s not a bad bargain. I can’t promise to like you though,” she said, and Rose could have sworn Dottie’s mouth quirked up at the corner, as if she were trying not to smile.

  But though relations with the staff had become easier, things had become more trying in a different corner, for Mr. Byrne appeared at Cider Hill every day that Luke was gone. And just as Luke had warned, he was even more aggressive in his attentions. Rose was careful to stay around other servants as much as possible, but the strain of avoiding him was wearing on her.

  She was dusting the drawing room one afternoon, her thoughts far away, when she felt the presence of someone beside her. Looking up she saw Byrne standing before her, grinning with pleasure.

  “What a treat to catch you alone. One would think you’ve been trying to avoid me.”

  Fury welled up in her, but it would serve no purpose to have him see it. Looking back down she continued her task. “I have a great deal of work to do, Mr. Byrne. And as you know, Mrs. Fletcher doesn’t take kindly to servants conversing with family.”

  “You needn’t worry about my mother. I can handle her,” he said, moving closer. “Come, stop for a moment and look at me.”

  “Please let me work.”

  “What’s the matter? Am I not rich enough to tempt you? I’ll soon be wealthier than Luke, you can be sure of that. It’s thanks to me the railroad is being completed.”

  “What do you mean, thanks to you?” she said, on full alert.

  But Byrne wasn’t listening to her. He was growing more agitated, his thoughts turned inward as he spoke.

  “Jonas had no right bringing Luke here. He should have had more faith in me.”

  “Maybe he didn’t understand how much you’d helped,” she said, hoping he’d reveal more.

  Byrne looked straight at her, his countenance tight with malice.

  “Luke’s been gone for weeks, and still I feel his shadow over me.”

  Without warning he took hold of Rose’s arm, yanking her to him so that she fell into his chest. He was smaller than Luke, but still far stronger than she, and though she struggled she was unable to break his hold or pull away.

  Grabbing the hair at the back of her head, he pulled until she was forced to look at him. Before she realized what was happening, his lips were on hers, hard and cruel. His tongue tried to force her mouth open and she nearly gagged. Now she struggled in earnest, with no thought but to break free. She kicked him hard in the shin, hard enough that his lips left hers. He looked at her in shock and fury, his face contorting as if he were about to do real violence.

  Only the sound of several people approaching stopped him from whatever vile act would have come next. Rose was thrust away just before the door opened.

  Mrs. Fletcher stood in the doorway, two matrons just steps behind her. Fury darkened her eyes as she looked at Rose and her son, and Rose could only imagine the picture they made – their clothes in disarray, their faces flushed.

  As horrified as Rose was at being caught in such a position, she was more relieved at getting away from Byrne. Picking up her dust cloth she made a few more swipes at a side table for show before hurrying out of the room. Let Byrne stay and answer to his mother’s wrath. Rose would feel it soon enough.

  “Watch yourself, Rose,” Mrs. Craig cautioned the next morning. “The mistress is in a foul temper. Why don’t you do the ironing and keep out of her sight. I don't know what she has against you, but she seems to look for reasons to reprimand you.”

  “Thank you for the warning. I'll make sure to stay out of her way.”

  “Stay out of who's way?” asked Mrs. Fletcher, entering the kitchen.

  Rose paled, but luckily Mrs. Craig answered for her.

  “We were speaking of Mrs. Beech.”

  “I see,” Mrs. Fletcher replied, unconvinced. “No, Rose,” she went on, as Rose made to leave. “I'd like a word with you.”

  Rose reminded herself that she was acting the part of Mrs. Fletcher's servant and so must play her role convincingly. One day she would tell this woman exactly what she thought of her, but until then she must make sure she kept her job. Pride could come later.

  The older woman’s cold gaze pinned Rose where she stood, and for a moment she said nothing. Rose waited in silence for her to speak.

  “I don’t know what I interrupted yesterday, but I won't have scandalous behavior in my house. I insist that you watch yourself with my son and stepson. Men will be men, and that means they can be tempted. But do not think for a moment you’ll better your situation by enticing one of them. You’ll remember that if you want to keep your place here.”

  Rose’s blood ran cold, and she remained silent, unsure how to respond. But Mrs. Fletcher wasn’t finished.

  “Nor will I put up with servants who put on airs. Don't play innocent with me,” she remarked at Rose's look of confusion. “It’s one thing to teach servants to read. But I’ve also heard you speak French and Latin. Under no circumstances may you do so again. Do I make myself clear?”

  Rose forced herself to respond appropriately. “Yes, ma'am.”

  “Very well the
n, you may go.”

  Rose was shaking when she walked away from Mrs. Fletcher. She was lucky she hadn't been turned out directly. If servants were easier to come by so far from town, there was little doubt she would have been sent away this very day.

  She’d have to be far more careful from now on. But that would only go so far, for how on earth would she stop Byrne from accosting her?

  “Drat that Mr. Byrne,” Lydia said. She and Rose were in their beds, the candle between them not yet blown out. “He's a bad one for certain. He’s pestered others, but he’s never been this bad. Then again, Mr. Fletcher took a liking to you. Everyone knows Mr. Byrne’s envious and spiteful about anything his stepbrother has.”

  “But Luke doesn’t have me. He’s merely kinder than he needs to be.”

  Lydia looked at her, one eyebrow raised. “If you say so. But one thing’s for sure. Mr. Byrne is in dire straits. His groom told Charlie that something’s come over him lately. He was never a gentleman, mind you, but these last few months he’s begun drinking and carousing. Mrs. Fletcher is beside herself. You know how much stock she puts in the family’s standing.”

  Rose took in this further confirmation of her suspicions. Something had caused Byrne’s behavior to change radically. If he’d murdered her father, as she thought he had, the timing of his decline made perfect sense.

  Fortunately, whatever Mrs. Fletcher said to her son caused him to stay away from Cider Hill for the next week, allowing Rose some measure of peace. Now instead of jumping at the sound of Byrne’s footsteps, she listened for those that heralded Luke’s return. Maybe she would ask him about his stepbrother’s behavior, though she’d say nothing of Byrne’s violence toward her. Whatever Luke’s response would be to the news, it was sure to inflame matters.

  And yet along with her anxious anticipation of Luke’s arrival rose an awareness of the dangerous line she’d been walking in continuing to let him drive her home each week. Mrs. Fletcher was watching her so carefully, anything between them was sure to be noticed. She couldn’t control what Byrne did, but what about the danger she was bringing on herself?